#i need the meth jesse

[akabendyfan]

jesse we need to cook

[tender-hearteddd]

i just started breaking bad and i love walt and his dynamic with his family compared to his dynamic with jesse (esp in the tuco episode) but from my very brief scroll through breaking bad tumblr i have a feeling this will change………………….

[gilded-gheists]

Fem Breaking bad be like:

My name is Winona Hartwell White. I live at 308 Negra Arroyo Lane, Albuquerque, New Mexico, 87104. This is my confession. If you're watching this tape, I'm probably dead, murdered by my sister-in-law Hannah Schrader. Hannah has been building a meth empire for over a year now and using me as her chemist. Shortly after my 50th birthday, Hannah came to me with a rather, shocking proposition. She asked that I use my chemistry knowledge to cook methamphetamine, which she would then sell using her connections in the drug world. Connections that she made through her career with the DEA. I was… astounded, I… I always thought that Hannah was a very moral woman and I was… thrown, confused, but I was also particularly vulnerable at the time, something she knew and took advantage of. I was reeling from a cancer diagnosis that was poised to bankrupt my family. Hannah took me on a ride along, and showed me just how much money even a small meth operation could make. And I was weak. I didn't want my family to go into financial ruin so I agreed. Every day, I think back at that moment with regret. I quickly realized that I was in way over my head, and Hannah had a partner, a woman named Guadalupe Fring, a businesswoman. Hannah essentially sold me into servitude to this woman, and when I tried to quit, Fring threatened my family. I didn't know where to turn. Eventually, Hannah and Fring had a falling out. From what I can gather, Hannah was always pushing for a greater share of the business, to which Fring flatly refused to give her, and things escalated. Fring was able to arrange, uh I guess I guess you call it a "hit" on my sister-in-law, and failed, but Hannah was seriously injured, and I wound up paying her medical bills which amounted to a little over $177,000. Upon recovery, Hannah was bent on revenge, working with a woman named Heckie Salamanca, she plotted to kill Fring, and did so. In fact, the bomb that she used was built by me, and she gave me no option in it. I have often contemplated suicide, but I'm a coward. I wanted to go to the police, but I was frightened. Hannah had risen in the ranks to become the head of the Albuquerque DEA, and about that time, to keep me in line, she took my children from me. For 3 months she kept them. My husband, who up until that point, had no idea of my criminal activities, was horrified to learn what I had done, why Hannah had taken our children. We were scared. I was in Hell, I hated myself for what I had brought upon my family. Recently, I tried once again to quit, to end this nightmare, and in response, she gave me this. I can't take this anymore. I live in fear every day that Hannah will kill me, or worse, hurt my family. I… All I could think to do was to make this video in hope that the world will finally see this woman, for what she really is.

Why do you like Breaking Bad? It's such a masc interest

DO YOU HAVE A BRAIN THAT YOU USE

[eyesfromhell]

Breaking Bad headcanon that the season 4 finale would've been very different had Mike been in America. Not because he would've saved Gus but because Jesse would've talked to him before confronting Walt and in one way or another Walt wouldn't've been able to convince him Gus poisoned Brock

[slavhew]

breaking badifies them. happy pride motng

au elaboration under cut

this is just copypasted from twt i forgot to post yetsterday

I imagine that the Dirkjake dynamic would be down on his luck partyboy and the estranged high school friend that coerced him into a drug dealing operation. For reasons he refuses to elaborate on. Jake doesn't really want to be cooking meth but he needs the cash and sees Dirk as the one stable thing in his life really. Dirk really needs a partner and an in to the business and is most of the brains behind the operation.

Dirk is also doing a fair bit of posturing to keep them both safe but Jake... hooo Jake. Dear whining Jake will become a loose cannon when it counts. The power balance would fluctuate alluringly.

To be honest I imagine their dynamic would be much closer to a hypothetical high school au turned drug-dealing and wouldn't be much like Walter and Jesse. Wanna think there would be a happy ending but realistically they'd sink into their worst traits & probably end up in a saw trap by the end of it. I wanna imagine most plot beats still happen... gf dies... "gale" dies... Codependent yaoi and corruption arc flourishes.

I imagine Dirk's wardrobe would start to resemble more and more of Bro's and some of his personality might too. But I also don't think he'd go as far or be as bad as Walter, since here there's a care and concern for Jake as more than a pawn and stand-in (aka the Walter special). Damage would still be done though. The love didn't save anyone etc etc.

Bro and Grandpa would have a dynamic MUCH closer to the s1/2 duo. Devil-may-care stoner and the guy who needs cash FAST and doesn't have time for this shit. I dont think Bro has the tender heart Jesse but he definitely develops some terrible loyalty complex regardless. Honestly have a LOT less idea how their story would go so I'm all ears

[justauthoring]

just hold me.

it's hard to find out the truth, but despite it; you still just want jesse.

a/n: no one will probably read this but i love jesse <3

pairing: jesse pinkman x f!white!reader

tw. for attempted sexual assault. also, you're walter white's daughter but no description of the reader is given.

Truthfully, you’re not even sure what you’re doing here.

But the tears pouring down your cheeks won’t stop, and your feet don’t stop moving beneath you. You’re just walking with no real destination. Your hands are shaking and everything hurts but you don’t want to go home to your apartment; it’s too silent. Going to your parents wasn’t an option either because then you’d just be riddled with questions. You thought about going to your uncles, but he’d be just as overbearing in a completely different way

And you certainly couldn’t go to Jesse’s.

He was the whole reason you were out here in the first place and you weren’t ready to face him.

Not yet.

You’re not sure if you ever would be.

“Oh, God…”

You take a sharp turn, not fully aware of where you’re even going. It’s late and dark and you don’t even really know what part of town you’re in, just that it’s far away enough that no one you know will stumble upon you–exactly what you want. You don’t want anyone to see you, not like this, and you can barely form a coherent thought in your own head so trying to explain your state would surely be nothing but bad.

No, it was best to be alone.

Try to sort out your thoughts.

Because what even were your thoughts?

It was one thing to find out your boyfriend was a drug dealer, but another to find out it wasn’t just the small things; which sure, were just as unsafe but still… not–not crystal meth and certainly not things as big ties to the cartel. You weren’t stupid and it wasn’t like you didn’t know who Jesse was. You’d gone to high school with him, and you knew the sort of people he hung around and the things he’d done… no. You weren’t stupid.

You’d known. Had a suspicion, even if you’d never asked. Because honestly, it didn’t really matter to you all that much. He was careful to keep it separate from you and he wasn’t like that with you. He’d never once tried to force you to try something or get you involved. There was a clear line he’d drawn and he refused to let it blur and you were okay with that, even if you shouldn’t, for the simple and plain fact that you loved him.

But the cartel was different. That was bigger, even if you didn’t understand the whole scope. That was a whole new scope of danger that didn’t settle right with you.

That you couldn’t just ignore. Couldn’t just turn the other way because of your feelings.

And to top it all off, he was doing it with your own father.

Cooking and selling meth with Walter White.

Your father.

You’re not thinking straight. You surely can’t be.

Because… because there was no way. There just couldn’t be.

But you remember everything that’s happened the past few months with him, starting when he’d been diagnosed with cancer all the way to the way him and your mother had been acting with each other. 

Everything had been off. You didn’t need to still be living in the house to see that.

Skyler wouldn’t tell you, even when you pressed her on it but you knew she knew something. And now you had no doubt in your mind–she knew that your father was cooking and selling meth and…

“What the hell,” you huff, shaking your head in disbelief of the whole thing. It was crazy, plain and simple and it was entirely, without a doubt, true.

You realize somewhere along the way you’d stopped, found yourself in some sort of alley and had pressed yourself up against the wall to give yourself a minute. You’d been so upset and out of your mind that when you left Jesse’s you hadn’t grabbed a coat; you’d barely given yourself time to put on your shoes. He was coming towards you, trying to explain things, but you couldn’t handle listening to his explanation and had slammed the door shut in his face before he could reach you. 

You’d heard him screaming for you but you’d gotten in your car before he could reach you and drove off, wound up in some bar to drink the thoughts away and now you’d gotten lost on your way back to your car.

And found yourself in an alley, all alone.

Pressing your palms to your cheeks, you let out a shaky breath.

What were you supposed to do now?

You let your head fall into the palms of your hands, trying to push the heavy thoughts from your mind without much luck. It isn’t until you felt a hand fall on your arm did you look up, a gasp leaving your lips as your eyes settle on a man, a few years older than you, leering down at you with a small smile.

Your lips part but no words leave your lips.

“Hey there, little lady, you okay?”

His voice is gravelly, eyes sunken despite not being that old. His skin looks pale from what you can tell in the dark and somewhat sickly, but despite that, his eyes are set firmly on your own, and that smile never wavers.

“Uh, y-yeah,” you stammer, remembering yourself. There’s a tightening to your chest as you feel his grip tighten on you the second you move and you’re pressing your hands against the wall behind you to try to push yourself up. “S-Sorry. Long night.”

“Looks like it,” he laughs but it isn’t pleasant at all. “You look like you’ve been cryin’.”

Raising your hand, you wipe at your cheeks, pulling back only to see your smudged and ruined mascara. “Oh,” you laugh lightly, forced, glancing to your right which leads back to the street; you hadn’t realized how far you’d crawled into the alley and just how sketchy everything around you looks. 

“Yeah,” you nod at him, shuffling to the right. “Th-thanks for checking on me, but I should get going.”

“Now, hold on.”

Your chest tightens, letting out a small cry as his grip turns bruising around your arm and he gives a small tug. You’re still not sober enough, wobbly on your own feet as you stumble towards him, the movement surprising you. His free hand catches you by the waist and you tense.

“It’s too late for a lady like yourself to walk home all on her own,” he moves to explain, still with that ever unnerving smile. “Why don’t you come with me?”

“No, no, really–” you argue, pressing a hand against his chest as you try to pull your arm away. He just squeezes tighter, enough to pull an actual cry from your lips as your eyes widen, the panic doubling as your heart pounds against your chest. “Please. You’re hurting me!”

“Shh,” he says, leaning in to press his face into the crook of your neck, the hand at your waist slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. “It’ll feel good. I promise.”

You try to push against his chest again but he just digs his nails into your arm and then he’s shifting, slamming your back against the wall you’d been leaning against a few minutes ago. The panic seizes you completely, your inebriated mind trying to get your limbs to work enough to shove him off but your body isn’t working the way you want and your vision is blurred. His grip is tight, shifting to press your hands together above your head and using the other to grab at your shirt, pulling it up.

“Stop,” you cry, “no! Stop!”

But he doesn’t listen. And no one else does if there even is someone else in the alley with you.

You’re completely alone.

His lips ghost across your neck and you feel like you’re going to be sick, the brick of the building biting into your skin and his nails digging into your wrist, harsh enough to draw blood. He’s raised your shirt enough to reveal your bra and his hands are working fast to unclasp the back, giving a tight squeeze before his fingers drift across the expanse of your stomach and around to the back.

You’re crying, you realize. Somewhere along the way the tears had started, pouring profusely down your cheeks, sobs wrenching from your lips as you’re defiled. The weight of him against you is suffocating and you can’t breathe properly. 

You feel your bra loosen around your chest and you cry, trying to fight his grip on your hands with a new struggle, before suddenly the weight disappears off of you. You see a blur rush past you but you barely pay mind, your legs giving out beneath you as you sink to the ground, knees coming to your chest as you let out a cry.

None of your body listens to you and you can’t move even as you hear a cry and a familiar voice yelling. There’s a loud thud, followed by a repeated lighter thud, and you try to force yourself to move, push your body, and a small cry leaves your lips as you do and suddenly there’s a body in front of you.

At first you’re worried it’s the man but there’s a familiar voice calling for your name and then you recognize the blue eyes staring back at you.

Oh.

“Jesse…”

His name leaves your lips in a broken whisper and his face twists, a curse leaving his lips as he gently grabs you by the waist, pulling you towards him. “It’s okay,” he breathes, voice soft, gentle and it’s soothing in a way you can’t right describe. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

He’s wrapping something warm around you and you realize how cold you are in that moment, relishing in the warmth that envelopes you as you grab onto him. “Jesse,” you cry, this time your voice stronger but in a way that’s heartbreaking as your voice pitches and cracks. “Jesses, he… I couldn’t…”

“I know,” he huffs and he sounds mad. Is he mad at you? “I… it’s okay. He can’t hurt you, okay? Let me take you home, okay? Let’s go home.”

You grip onto him tightly, scared he’ll disappear from your own hands. “Yours,” you whisper, “i wanna go… to yours.”

He nods, even if you don’t properly process it and then his right arm is wounding around your waist, pulling against him as he slips his right arm under your knees. He holds tight but in a way that isn’t anything like the man before and it makes you feel entirely different too.

Safe.

It makes you feel safe.

Enough that finally, your eyes fall shut

-  

When you open your eyes next, you’re in a bed.

And your mind is a lot more clear.

You blink, recognizing the ceiling, and then you’re pushing yourself up. You realize that you’re in one of Jesse’s shirts and a pair of your leggings, meaning he must’ve changed you when he brought you here. You’re thankful for that, and as you prop yourself upwards, you notice the bruises lining your wrists and the one on your arm and frown, touching it faintly, hissing at the pain that radiates as a response.

Then, a pair of footsteps pull your attention towards the door.

Jesse’s eyes widen when he sees you awake and he’s rushing forward, setting the cup of water on the table next to the bed as an afterthought. He falls on the edge of the bed and he moves to reach for you, before suddenly halting, his eyes widening and moves to pull back.

You grab for him before he can, hand falling on his and squeezing as his eyes snap up to yours.

“Thank you,” you whisper, quiet. “For saving me.”

“Fuck,” Jesse curses, face twisting. “I went looking for you everywhere… I couldn’t find you and then I found your fucking car but you weren’t anywhere near it. It wasn’t until I heard you crying that I found you and the sight of that… that man on you–like that, I just—fuck… I could've killed him.”

Letting go of his hand, you wrap your arms around yourself.

“I went to a bar after… after I left and drank too much,” you explain, eyes downcast. “I wasn’t thinking straight and I ended up in that alley and he just… that man just–” You can’t finish your words.

Jesse and you are quiet for a moment.

Then, Jesse shifts. “Listen… um… I understand if you, well—don’t want to see me anymore. I can bring you home and then go find your car for you. It’s no problem. I just…” He hesitates, scratching at his head as he avoids your gaze. “I just—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, especially with Mr. White too or–or for you to get hurt like you did… I should’ve–that never should’ve happened.”

“Jesse,” you whisper, shaking your head. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

He frowns, brows furrowing and he just huffs; “yes, it was…”

It wasn’t. You want to argue but you know he won’t listen.

So you move on.

“I do want to see you still.”

Blinking, Jesse’s eyes snap to yours.

“I know I shouldn’t,” you explain, letting your hands fall into your lap. “I know I should be… be angry or at least scared… but I’m not. I was, in the moment. But I’m not scared of you, I could never be. And I’m not angry or upset either. I just… I just want you.”

You turn to look at Jesse, begging with your eyes and he turns to look at you, hesitating–like he knows this is wrong.

So, so very wrong.

But you just look at him, pleading and he caves even if he shouldn’t. Because he just wanted you too.

So much.

So he caves and he reaches for you, arms grabbing you as he pulls you towards him, into his lap and against his chest and holds you as you cry and cling onto him.

And he never lets go.

[paramar]

walt: jesse we need to do SOMETHING about the strange phenomena that’s been going on in the meth lab. equipment floating around, stuff burning, FLIES everywhere, they defy all logic jesse! it's almost... like the lab is being haunted by two ghosts that were buried under dramatic circumstances and are constantly at odds with each other! we CAN'T keep cooking meth like this, jesse. we need to get rid of them SOMEHOW.

jesse: yo mr. white, don’t worry. i think i found the guy for the job..

[lostcherise]

Kiss and Tell

pairing: jesse pinkman x f!reader (established domingo/krazy-8 x reader relationship)

summary: Jesse Pinkman had a tendency of playing with fire - he was cooking meth after all. But the riskiest thing he could do was go behind Krazy-8's back, with his girlfriend of all people - you.

word count: 6,317

warnings: domingo being an asshole, infidelity, smut, bathroom sex, piv sex, fingering, blowjob/mouthfucking, nipple play, praise kink?, squirting, creampie

a/n: i don't condone cheating, just to clear things out. i haven't proofread this yet, but i'd love your feedback, it means a lot!

 Another sigh angrily slipped past your lips.

How many more could you take.

This would be the last one, you thought silently to yourself. 

The bass from the speakers behind you thumped rhythmically, and although it was loud enough to block out all outside noises, it did jack shit at blocking out the freight train that was your thoughts. The vibrations traveled all the way from your head, just right above the back of your neck - that one spot that once had you shivering whenever Domingo would use to brush his lips against your skin, just the way he knew you liked it - all the way to your toes. 

Another party Domingo had dragged you to, yet another party you were left alone at. At first you liked coming with him, but for the past year, as he delved deeper into drugs,  Domingo had grown more distant and cold; things had shifted. Consequently, so had your feelings for him, too. But by the time you had realized, you were already in too deep to back out. 

Thirty minutes in, while you two were mingling with some people you didn't quite know, Domingo was dragged away from you. A "business" partner. Since you didn't toy with the idea of spending the rest of the night with a bunch of strangers, you decided that that was your cue to leave. That is how you had ended up on some stranger's couch all by yourself. Getting sick of your own wallowing, you decided you needed a drink. You sprung up from the old leather couch and with swift steps you found your way to the kitchen, and made a beeline for the assortment of booze and mixers that were laid out on the kitchen island. 

"I thought that was you, yo!" A voice spoke a tad too excitedly behind you.

You turned around and were met with a familiar pair of icy blues. "Jesse, hey." you greeted him. 

"Now," he spoke up, coming up to stand close to you. Too close, you thought; just when he leaned in a little closer to grab the bottle of vodka in front of you. "What are you doing out here by yourself?" he asked, his voice now an octave lower. Jesse was studying your face closely, but you avoided his intense gaze. With a deep sigh you tried to regulate your fastening heartbeat, and kept your gaze locked in on a spilled Cola stain on the granite top. 

"Did he ditch you again?" Jesse gave you no time to reply. Tonight was the third time he had found you all alone after Domingo had ran off to somewhere. You still could remember the first time it had happened perfectly, despite all the alcohol in your system that time. You remembered all the bits and pieces you shared of yourselves, you remembered the way you both laughed at embarrassing childhood stories, and you most definitely could remember the way Jesse was staring at you whenever it was your turn to speak. Jesse would look at you so intently, so deeply; he was literally staring into your soul each time you talked. 

It was after the second time this had happened when you realized that you may enjoy his presence as more than an acquaintance. That was also the time you realized that you could not let your guard down and let Jesse come waltzing in with his baby blues, perfect sm-

"That obvious?" you snorted, pushing your previous thoughts away. You smiled up at Jesse, though it never reached your eyes and he could tell, but he chose not to make any comments on it. 

"That's why I came to the rescue, yo!" Jesse exclaimed, reached for a can of tonic water. A small smile played on your lips while you watched him fix you a drink. 

"My knight in shining armor," you took the red cup from his outstretched hand. "Truly." you emphasized after a generous sip, of what was 3/4 parts vodka and 1/4 tonic, barely. You supressed a gag through gritted teeth, as the alcohol burned its way down your esophagus and almost burning a hole through your stomach. 

You fell into conversation; it really came to you like second nature. He was so attentive to every little thing you said, looking into your eyes intently with each word you said, to show that he really listened, and he made you feel at ease. 

Jesse rested his chin on his palm while he studied you as you spoke, subconsciously leaning in closer to you. One move from you and your lips would meet in a fiery kiss that you had been longing for since the last time you two saw each other. 

Though the next moment he pulled back and looked behind you. Fear flashed for just a second through his eyes, before he broke into a fake nonchalant smile. 

"Yo, Kraze, we were just about to come lookin' for you. Right?" Jesse laughed nervously, his eyes moving to meet yours briefly, to make sure you were on board with his impromptu lie. 

"Yeah, babe," you agreed, voice sickly sweet. "Been lookin' for you all night." your tone came off a bit more snappy than you intended. 

Tension loomed heavily over the three of you, with Jesse stuck smack down in the middle. He looked nervously back and forth from you and Domingo, chewing on his bottom lip; neither of you said a word to one another, yet a lot was said by your shared silence. 

"Well," Jesse cleared his throat, and bravely broke the silence first. "You found us first, so..." he trailed off with an awkward laugh, raising his hands and letting them fall against his thighs with a slap. "See you around." and with that he grabbed his drink and left. 

Domingo turned his head, watching Jesse walk out of the kitchen. He turned to look at you with an accusatory look, one eyebrow raised and his lips pressed into a frown. A few seconds passed like this; you paid attention to his flared nostrils moving with each deep inhale he took. He took slow steps towards you, it almost felt as if he was a predator sizing its prey. 

"So, what now?" he spoke, his voice dripping venom. "I leave you for a bit, and you go running straight to your new boy toy?" he spat the accusation your way. He was now standing right in front of you, and you watched rage dance around in his eyes. 

With that it was your turn to scowl, a deep line forming between your furrowed brows. "How fucking dare you?" is all you could muster at that moment. Instinctively, your hand moved up to slap him hard accross the face, but he caught your wrist mid air. You gasped, only now realizing what you were just about to do and fear started burning deep inside you. 

"Don't you ever," Domingo growled through gritted teeth, his face reddening as his anger grew deeper; his grip around your wrist tightening. "Think about doing that again." 

"I'm sorry, I-" you stammered. Your chin quivered while you gnawed on your bottom lip to bite back down the whimper that threatened to escape. It hadn't registered in you yet why you felt like crying exactly. Maybe it was anger, or disappointment. Disappointment at Domingo that he would accuse you of cheating. 

Or maybe you were mostly disappointed at yourself for even wishing it had happened. 

"Save it." he raised a finger in indication to shush you. 

"Babe I-" 

"I said fucking save it." he yelled, catching you off guard. "Let's just fucking go." Domingo grumbled and grabbed you by your elbow, tugging you harshly behind him. 

He dragged you through the other unsuspecting party goers, your body bumping heavily against them while Domingo dragged you out of the house. A few curses were aimed your way but you weren't in the right headspace to deal with that. Searching through the small crowd, you hoped to catch Jesse one last time. You spotted him laying down on a bean bag, a small glass pipe in his hand. Jesse locked eyes with you and followed your retreating figure; his brows wrinkling with worry. You smiled reassuringly to which he only pressed his lips in a tight line in acknowledgment and gave you a wary wave before you disappeared out the door completely. 

The walk back to the car was silent, your hed hung low and you hugged yourself, following Domingo with slow steps down the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath your platforms. By the time you arrived on the passenger's side, he was already in with the engine already running, waiting for you while he tapped his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel of his Buick. You had just barely gotten your right foot in, and moved to close the door when you were already moving. 

You shot a glare his way that fell unnoticed, given how he refused to even spare a few seconds of his time to look at you the moment he dragged you out of that forsaken party. With a sigh, you silently admitted your defeat and shifted in your seat, your body just ever so slightly turned to the right, with your back halfway turned on him and just stared out the window the entire drive back home.

With vigorous movements you towel dried your hair, lingering on the entrance of your en suite bathroom and you studied him, him sitting on the edge of your king sized bed; elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, his pointer fingers pressed against his lips. After what felt an eternity, you decided to break the silence first. 

"Not talking isn't going to make things right, you know." your voice came out shakier than you intended it to be. The last time you had felt this type of scared was when your dad had found you and your cousin secretly smoking one of his cigarettes when you were both 11, you had stolen the entire pack right out of his pocket during his daily afternoon siesta. Your heart thumped with the same vigor it had that day, when his towering figure had loomed over your tiny self, the sunlight that was shining behind and around him had cast a shadow over him, making him all the more menacing. 

"There's nothing to talk about." he groused, hands still on his face. 

"Nothing to talk about?" 

Silence. 

"Nothing to talk about, really?" you repeated louder this time, a newly found surge of courage came over you. "How 'bout," you paused, stepping to stand in front of him, hunching over to be in his line of vision, "You accusing me of cheating on you! On what conjecture, please, enlighten me?" 

"Oh, don't act dumb on me now." Domingo chuckled dryly, standing up on his feet. "I've seen you." 

The thumping in your chest picked up its rhythm. Your mouth closed and opened like a fish out of water, yet no sounds fell past your lips. With one step Domingo took towards you, you took another one back. Until your butt bumped on the edge of your dresser, the various toiletries on top rattling softly upon the impact. 

"I've seen how he looks at you." he muttered, his breath hitting your face with each word he spoke. 

"Just because he has a silly crush on me doesn't mean I want him." you rebuted, and the lie came easy to you. Maybe if saying it out loud would make you realize how foolish this situation was and that you'd move on from this incident, and cuddle each other to sleep like you once used to do, almost a year ago. Maybe denying his accusations would make your growing interest in Jesse dissipate. It was normal, after all, for couples to hit rough patches along the way. It really was normal that most days out of the week Domingo would opt to fall asleep on the couch instead. It was normal for him to start hugging you less. It was normal. 

"Whatever helps you sleep better at night."

You slept alone that night too. The only thing different this time was you dreamt of Jesse.

──────────────────────────────────────────

The loud thumping was instantly muted the minute you dragged the balcony door shut behind you. Another party; this time you were alone. All the days leading up to today, you tried to act as if the real reason you decided to come, alone at that, wasn't in hopes of bumping into Jesse. Now, although the two of you had exchanged contact infromation, it felt like a bold and shameless thing to reach out to him, considering you were in a relationship and Jesse regularly worked for Domingo. So, you chose to go a more subtle route. 

You decided the party was too boring for you after realizing Jesse wasn't there and went out for a smoke. Maybe you'd go home right after. Reaching into the back pocket of your boot cut jeans, you fished out a crumbled up packet of Malboro Menthols. A small lighter was nestled in between the last three cigarettes, of which you grabbed one and put it on your lips. 

The sparkwheel rolled against the pad of your thumb and the lighter scritched. You rolled it again, the flint scraping once more but to no avail. 

Chk, chk, chk. 

"Oh, man. Come on." you mumbled, the cigarette in your mouth bobbing up and down. You tried once more, nothing. With an angry grumble, you tossed the broken lighter through the balcony, it landing somewhere on the lawn. Truth is, you didn't really care about littering some stranger's lawn. 

"Here." A voice sounded from next to you. Jesse was leaning against the railing, a lazy smile dancing on his lips and his outstretched hand was holding an already lit lighter. Your eyes widened in surprise and you leaned in towards it, and took a drag, the end of the cigarette lighting up with a fiery ring. 

"Thanks." you exhaled. 

"Your knight in shining armor strikes once again." he jested, referring to when you called him that the last time you two were together. Your laughters died out and you fell into silence. To you it wasn't awkward, it felt sort of comforting. Though, you couldn't say the same for Jesse. You softly scrunched your brows and watched with squinting eyes as he figdeted anxiously. His eyes wide and set on nothing in particular as he stared right in front of him. 

"Menthols, huh." Jesse pointed out, internally cringing at his sorry attempt to start a conversation. He gripped the balcony railing, mentally berating himself for not being able to keep his cool around you, something he came to find out was impossible to him. He avoided eye contact, the white chipping paint seemingly more engaging to him. 

"Yeah, why? I like the taste." your reply came off more defensive than you intended too. Domingo sometimes would tease you for smoking them, often saying they were 'too girly.' 

"Nah, I fuck with menthols, yo." Jesse replied, and oddly enough you found that little fact about him comforting. 

You smiled, mostly to yourself, occasionally flicking ash off of the edge of the balcony. Having almost reached the end of the cigarette, you threw it on the floor and squeezing it beneath the tip of your boot. Instinctively, you reached for another one, with shaky hands. Your nerves were getting to you and you smoked like a chimney when nervous, going through a whole pack in one go, easily. Being around Jesse alone, completely alone, wasn't helping. 

"You, uh," Jesse's voice broke the silence once again. "Here alone?" his tone rising a bit, you swore he almost sounded hopeful you'd say yes. 

When you gave an affirmative answer, you noticed Jesse visibly relaxing and gaining a bit of confidence. His back straightened up and his shoulders rolled back and he nodded, taking in the new exciting piece of information. If he didn't take Domingo's absence to his advantage to shoot his shot with you, he'd beat himself up for it for the rest of his life. He observed you, how that one stubborn piece of hair kept falling out of place and you kept pushing it behind your ear. How he wished he could be the one brushing it off of your face, to softly graze your skin, so he could take the chance to memorize how soft and warm you felt against his fingertips. He silently admired you from the side, taking in your side profile. You really were beautiful from whatever angle, all around.

His chest constricted once the realization hit him. He rubbed his nape with a tattooed hand, an action he always did whenever he was really nervous, his cheeks ballooning as he exhaled deeply. Sure, to him you were gorgeous, but each time he got the chance to spend time and talk to you, it was becoming clear to him that he wasn't into you just for the sex. The sex would be just another added bonus.

However, there was a huge obstacle. Domingo. His brows lowered into his eyes, a thought occuring to him; you were here alone. Jesse watched you nervously fumble with the cigarette pack in your hands and immediately reached into the pocket of his oversized hoodie, for his lighter. Although he could simply hand it to you so you could light your cigarette yourself, he'd rather offer his flame to you. It felt sort of, intimate. 

With a smile, you graciously accepted, lighting your second cigarette, and you mumbled in thanks. 

"You and Kraze broke up or something?" And although Jesse tried to play it off all cool and nonchalant, you could hear the hopefulness in his voice. 

At that, your smile faltered and you were brought back to reality. "No, but you wish we had, don't you?" 

Jesse stared at you with wide eyes, surprised that you could see right through him. His cheeks reddened in embarrassment and he tried to mask it with a laugh. "Nah, I-"

"It's okay, you don't have to lie." you reassured, although it was mostly said to tease him. Now, his entire face was red and you smiled triumphantly, glad that it had worked. 

Jesse looked at you ashamed. That only lasted a second though, and before you could register what was happening, Jesse's lips came crashing against yours. His hands found his way around your neck, while yours remained frozen at your sides. His kiss was hungry, yet unexpectedly soft, so soft it had you reeling. You felt your knees buckling and braced yourself against the metal railing. Just as you began to relax against him, you harshly pushed him off, the reality of what you had just done crashing on you like a tidal wave. 

"What the fuck, Jesse?" 

"Shit, I'm sorry. I thought..." his voice died out as he took in your distraught state. 

"I need to leave." you whispered and bolted the scene.

What you failed to pay attention to was that Jesse was tailing you. You weaved through the crowd and up the flight off stairs, in desperate search of a bathroom, feeling the need to throw some nice, cold water on your face to calm the raging heat coursing through you. Turning your body to the side, you tried to avoid the couple making out at the top of the stairs and continued your way down the corridor.

After accidentally walking in on a drunken threesome in a spare bedroom, you successfully found the bathroom. You were about to close the door behind you, when the tip of a sneaker prevented you from doing so. You peek through the door and you're met with the one pair of ocean blues you were trying to avoid. 

"Why are you following me?" you demanded, trying to push the door, to which Jesse pushed back this time using his body too, to stop you from closing the door on him. 

"Look, let me explain." he grunted, fighting you to push the door open. "You're surprisingly strong." he thought out loud, giving one final push and making his way in, closing and locking the door behind him. 

With a huff, you angrily crossed your arms against your chest, pushing one hip out and raising an eyebrow at him in an indication to keep talking. Jesse licked his lips and your mind drifted back to a few minutes ago, when those same lips were pressed against yours. And, oh, he tasted so incredibly sweet; like the first taste of ice cream on a hot summer day. And you mentally beat yourself up for wanting, no, needing more. 

"I like you, like a lot." he scoffed and widened his eyes for emphasis on 'a lot.' "If that's not obvious by now." he chuckled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck so hard it turned red. Sighing, he kept rubbing his neck, his hands moving upwards and pushed his beanie off as he did so. His light brown locks were disheveled and all over the place and he lightly pulled on them in frustration. Jesse was so nervous it almost looked as if he was in pain. He looked at you with a serious gaze, "The question is if you feel the same." he asked, his voice thick with emotion. 

"Look, I'm not stupid, okay?" his voice rose a little, getting tired of your silence. "You yourself told me how shitty Kraze has been treating you, and I know you like me too. Why fight it?" he whispered the last part, now standing closer to you, searching your eyes with a pleading gaze. 

With a turn of your head you tried to avoid looking at him, hating the fact that he was right about this. That Domingo was also right about this. But no matter how you tried to fight your feelings, Jesse kept pulling you deeper and deeper into him until he consumed you, like a black hole. 

"Tell me you don't want this, and I'll leave you alone." he mumbled. 

"I don't want this." you whispered, your gaze transfixed on the 2 in 1 shampoo bottle on the edge of the tub. 

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want this." he mumbled in defeat. "Please." he cupped your cheek and turned your head, forcing you to look at him. 

You opened your mouth, ready to lie to his face. To tell him it was all a misunderstanding, that you saw him as nothing more than a friend, that you were happily in a loving relationship. Yet no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't force the words to come out. You silently stared as a swarm of emotions swam through the ocean of his eyes, and you swore you saw a sliver of hope in there. 

Because to Jesse, your silence was enough of the answer he needed. 

Jesse leaned forward and closed the distance between you, this time he moved more reluctantly. When you wasted no time in kissing him back this time, he visibly relaxed and sighed happily into the kiss, one hand snaking around your waist to pull you flush against his body, while the other cupped your jawline. This time, your hands moved to wrap around his shoulders, allowing your body to fully relax against his, his hand rubbing circles on your waist, before reluctantly moving down to squeeze the soft, round flesh of your ass with his palm. 

You let out a high pitched whimper into his mouth, almost feeling embarrassed at your reaction. To your defense, it had been a while since you were last kissed and touched like this. Jesse took this as a chance to let his tongue explore your mouth, his tongue clashing against yours and tasting the menthols you were previously smoking. Pulling away from the kiss, he turned you around, your back now facing the door, and walked towards it, until your back met the wood with a soft thud.

Wasting no time, Jesse resumed on his work, but this time he buried his head into your neck, kissing and biting, leaving angry red marks in his wake. He didn't care if your boyfriend saw the marks littered across your supple skin, in fact, it turned him on more just thinking about Domingo finding them. He bit and sucked harder, and your head fell back against the door as a loud moan fought its way past your lips, and Jesse only took advantage of the access you had just given him. 

While Jesse worked his way on your neck with his mouth, his hands busied themselves with your breasts, cupping and squeezing through your tank top. You weren't wearing a bra and most definitely Jesse could tell by the way he could feel your hardened nipples against his palms. 

"This is getting in my way." he mumbled in between kisses against your skin, referring to your shirt. And with no warning, he pushed the neckline down, your breasts spilling out with a bounce. "Fuck." he groaned at the sight of them, your nipples were so hard, they were practically begging for him to have his way with them. Jesse involuntarily bucked his hips against yours at the thought, and you could feel him hardening against you. His fingers squeezed your breasts softly and while one hand remained on your breast, massaging it, his other moved to give some much needed attention to your nipple. With the pads of his thumb and finger, he began massaging your hardened nub, occasionally pinching it, to which you moaned every time. He tugged and pinched, admiring the way you writhed in pained pleasure. 

"Harder." you whispered, ashamed of what you had just asked him to do. Never in your life had it crossed your mind at how into this you would be. 

Jesse grinned smugly, silently complying and gazed through hooded lids at how your face scrunched up, as you let out yet another moan when he pinched and tugged at your nipple hard. He dove his head down, his lips enclosing around your sore nub. His lips were soft and wet, just what you needed after his assault on your breast, the contrasting feeling of pain and pleasure had you rolling your eyes back into your skull. He groaned softly against your breast, his tongue lapping in circles around your nipple, occasionally sucking and grazing it with his teeth, and it only had your mind wandering on how good he could eat you out.

While his lips were focused on one breast, his other hand worked on your other breast, sending your mind into overdrive. Deciding his work was done, he moved his lips on your other newly sore nipple. And while he busied himself on your chest, his tattooed hand slowly made its way down to the hem of your shirt, nimble fingers sneaking beneath your shirt, and down the waistline of your jeans, not caring about unbuttoning your pants. 

"Mhm, you're doing so well." Jesse mumbled against your breast, before leaving his mark on your skin. His right hand was now nestled on your clothed cunt, his middle finger drawing circles against the wet patch of your lacy underwear. "And you're so wet already." he groaned and moved your underwear to the side, to slip a finger in. 

"You're nice and warm, can't wait to feel you around my cock." he continued his praise, pushing in and out in a slow and steady pace. "Would you like that?"

You merely nodded in response. His hand cupped your jaw, pulling your head down and forcing you to look into his eyes, pupils blown out in pleasure. "Use your words, baby." he commanded in a soft voice. 

You nodded. "Yes, yes please." your voice came out in a broken moan that was silenced by his fervent kiss. He added his ring finger into your pussy and picked up his pace, pushing into you knuckle deep. His fingers pushed into the soft spongy part inside you, hitting that perfect spot just right, his palm pressing against your clit as he did so. 

"Oh, fuck, Jesse." you moaned his name, and another string of curses followed suit as he sucked on your breasts like a man starved, his pace nice and steady against your cunt. With each thrust of his fingers, your pussy grew wetter by the second, your slick coating his fingers and seeping through the thin fabric of your underwear and onto your jeans. Your face flushed as you felt an almost forgotten, but familiar sensation pool at the bottom of your stomach, fighting its way to push through you with vigor. 

"I'm so close." you whined, holding on to his shoulders for support for your impending orgasm. 

"Be a good girl and cum for me." Jesse whispered hotly in your ear. And that was all you needed to tip over the edge, your vision flashed white for a moment and your breath hitched in your throat as the first wave of your orgasm hit you, your walls pulsing around his fingers as you came hard. 

"Fuck." you groaned, slowly coming back to reality. Jesse pumped his fingers two last times before pulling out of you with a lewd sound. 

Pulling you off the door, he turned you both around and he leaned against it this time and quickly moved to unbuckle his belt. Feeling needy and desperate for him, you assisted him in unbuttoning his jeans and letting them pool around his ankles. You licked your lips hungrily, admiring the way a wet spot had formed on the side of his burgundy boxers, right where his leaking tip was. You fell down on your knees, immediately burying your face in his clothed crotch, mouthing his hardened dick through the cotton barrier of his underwear.  

"Fucking cock tease." Jesse grumbled and impatiently pushed his boxers down, his cock springing free and hitting you on the cheek. 

You wasted no time in your work, grabbing the thick base with one hand, your lips enclosing around his leaking head, lapping up at the pearly beads of precum coating his slit. Circling your tongue around his shaft, you slowly made your way down before pulling back entirely halfway through. Flattening your tongue on the unerside of his dick, you ran a long strip all the way down to his balls, not wasting a chance on sucking on them one at a time, before licking your way back to the tip. 

Hollowing out your cheeks, you made your descent towards the base, struggling with his length against your mouth, gagging softly as he hit the back of your throat and you tried to relax your throat around him to  take him further down. Breathing through your nose, you finally made it all the way to his pelvis, your nose rubbing against his trimmed hair. Your gaze was transfixed on him, patiently waiting for him to look down at you.

When he finally did, a string of curses ripped through him. His hands moved down to your face, gently pushing your hair out of the way, in contast to how he was bucking his hips against your head to meet you halfway. He pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail and used that to his advantage to easily push your head further down on his cock as he bucked his lips into your mouth. 

"You're so perfect." he breathed out in pleasure as you licked the underside of his dick. You hummed in response to his compliment, bobbing your head up and down a bit faster. "Shit, keep going like that and I'll cum in your mouth." he laughed and decided that was enough for today. He needed to be buried deep inside you, now. Pulling you off his dick by your ponytail, he moved his hand behind your head and guided you back on your feet, eyes locked on one another. He pulled you into another searing kiss, this one hungrier and needier than ever before, before turning you pressing you face first against the bathroom door. 

Without saying much, he unbuttoned your jeans and you helped him pull them down, just as desperate for him to fill you up with his length. They fell all the way down to your knees, and you spread your legs open, angling your ass back just right for him to enter you with ease. 

"Look at you, so needy." Jesse cooed, pushing all of your hair to the side, exposhing your shoulder, on which he placed soft kisses, singing his praises. You, lost deep in pleasure, could barely form a coherent response, nothing more but a few whimpers. 

"Need you." you managed to croak out, shaking your ass against him, feeling his cock brushing against your ass; long and hard. With a steadying hand on your hip, he inched closer to you, his other hand wrapped around the base, helping him angle himself better against you. Teasingly, he circled your slick entrance with his tip, and slid his length against your folds, gathering up your wetness and naturally lubricating himself, before he pushed his way in. 

Gently at first, he buried himself deeper into your needy cunt, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust and he bottomed out with a groan and ground his hips against you before slowly pulling out. With only the tip inside, he pushed back into you in one swift movement, repeating again before picking up his pace into a steady rhythm, that had you moaning uncontrollably. 

Your knees buckled and you desperately tried to steady yourself against the door, thank God for Jesse gripping your hips and keeping you upright as he fucked his length into you. Jesse looked down at your connecting bodies, enjoying the way your pussy swallowed him right up, and you fit around him like a glove. 

"You take me so well." his voice shaked as he tried to keep his composure. 

"Don't stop, please." you mewled, your chest slipping further down the door, causing you to bend down deeper, opening up to him more and allowing Jesse to plow deeper into your wetness. 

"Tell me," he groaned, his hand moving around your throat, just below your jaw and pushing your head back, making you look at him. "Does he fuck you like I do?" 

Your breath came out in a shocked gasp, not expecting that question at all, Domingo not having crossed through your mind for a second, until just now. Jesse's upper lip twitched while he picked up his pace, your moans only growing louder with each thrust of his hips. 

"Tell me." 

"N-no, he doesn't." you admitted. 

"That's what I thought." he grinned and released you from his grip, and pulled out of you entirely. You looked up at him with a confused frown, before he pulled you into a kiss and guided both of you towards the large bathroom counter. Without breaking the kiss, he placed his hands beneath your thighs and picked you up, sitting you on the edge of the counter, the marble feeling cold against your bare skin. Now tugging on your jeans, he removed them entirely. Out of their own accord, your legs spread wide open, exposing your throbbing pussy. 

With a smile, Jesse pushed himself back in, starting off slowly and picking up his previous pace, this time adding his thumb to the mix, rubbing circles against your swollen clit. Your hands gripped his shoulders for support, your legs hanging off in the air. Jesse leaned down and moaned into your neck, and placed sloppy kisses on your exposed shoulder. 

"I'm so close, Jesse." you moaned, running your fingers through his tousled hair and moved to wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer  to you. 

"Me too." he groaned, fucking into you deeper, faster, harder with every bit of strength he had left in him. 

Jesse continued fucking into you like this for longer than you anticipated, occasionally moving up to kiss you. With each thrust of his you felt the familiar heat pooling around your lower abdomen, also feeling your walls tightening around his cock. With a steady hand on the back of your head, he held you in place, leaning his forehead against yours, his baby blues staring back into your eyes with so much emotion. 

"Cum for me, baby." he cooed. 

You obliged, feeling the familiar heat bursting inside you, although this time it hit you harder and longer, your thighs trembled as you gushed, squirting your come all over your thighs and his. "Fuck!" you screamed, as your orgasm continued pulsing through you in waves, and he continued fucking it out of you. His thrusts grew sloppy and uneven; he was close. 

"Shit, shit, shit!" Jesse thrust into you two more times, before unloading himself into you. You pushed his exposed ass with the heels of your boot, and kept him in place agianst you as he filled you up with his cum, coating up your walls. His hips had now fallend into a lazy rhythm, as he continued fucking into you, small droplets of cum falling out of your sore pussy. He stilled, his dick now almost complety soft and pulled out of you with a wince. However, he still remained in between your legs, kissing you, caressing you. 

After a couple of minutes, you both cleaned up in silence and now that the cloud of lust had dissipated, the harsh reality hit you hard. You had to break up with Domingo. You weren't sure telling him about Jesse would be wise, although, he would put two and two together and figure it out on his own, but leaving that part out was the best move. 

After all, you never kiss and tell. 

[an-angel2u]

hiii i literally love how our taste is the same lmaoooo !!

could i get reader comforting a whiny sub!jesse pinkman after he gets into another fight with walter in the lab and needs to be told how much he's worth to us <333

thank you!! 🫶🫶

beneath the weight

all jesse wanted to do was support you. the both of you. if that meant that he had to make blue meth in a laboratory with his former chemistry teacher who was dying of cancer… then that’s what he was going to do.

the job was tough, not only illegal and tedious, but he had to deal with said former chemistry teacher. he nitpicked everything that jesse did.

when he came home in the wee hours of the night, not only would he be tired, he’d feel like he was unimportant and a burden to everyone in the world.

tonight was different, it was worse than before. you couldn’t even imagine what walter could’ve said to jesse to make him this upset.

he slammed the front door, and you heard him kicking off his shoes and throwing the keys in the bowl.

you had prepared for him to come in like this, today was already an off day for him. the night wasn’t going to be any different.

you sat up in bed, waiting for jesse to come into your shared bedroom. his eyes were red and so was his nose. he had been crying.

“jesse…” you got up out of the bed and walked over to him, lifting his head up by his chin. his body immediately tensed as you touched him. your eyes took in his entire expression. “what happened, baby… talk to me.”

“i don’t know why i keep letting that fucker get to me. every damn time!” jesse raised his voice, he raised his hands, intertwining his fingers and placing them on the back of his ear.

you let him calm down for a second before you pulled at his wrists allowing you more access to wrap your arms around his neck.

“listen to me,” you spoke into his neck. “white doesn’t know shit, okay? he doesn’t see you, the way i do.”

“fuck, you don’t get it.” he pulled away from you, and you noticed the tears welling up in his eyes. “he says shit like ‘i don’t need you’ or ‘you’d be nothing without me.’ he calls me pathetic every god damn day.”

that made you feel a way, walter white of all people, giving jesse shit. “that old fuck doesn’t know anything. you are not pathetic. not to me, not to anyone who truly knows you.”

he wiped his eyes, trying to rid himself of the tears he shed. “come here.” you tilted your head over to the bed before laying down and resting your head on the headboard.

“come on…” you spoke again, this time with a softer tone. he huffed out a sigh before walking to your side of the bed, laying on your chest with his legs between yours.

“you know everybody makes mistakes, even white. you know what i love about you…?”

“what?” his doe eyes looked up, inspecting every bit of you.

“that you never let that shit get in your way. you still get up every morning and go to the lab. do i like the line of work you’ve decided to go for… not necessarily. nonetheless, you take care of both of us. i’m so thankful to have you in my life. regardless of what walter has to say to you.”

you brought your hand up to his face, rubbing his cheek with your thumb. his eyes softly closed immediately after you did that.

“i’m not gonna go anywhere. you know that you’ll always have me. it doesn’t matter what that… thing says… okay?” jesse scoffed at hearing your name for walter.

“okay…”

“now let me get some of that stress away, alright?”

[xxradzxx]

LOSERS! SHAKING HANDS!!!

I need Adam and Jesse to shake hands and call it a day.

[depressopax]

Being in a relationship with Jesse Pinkman would include...

SFW version only + extra headcanons (Smut version can be found here) Pairing: Jesse x gn!reader Genre: Fluff Warning(s): Breaking bad spoilers!  Mentions of alcohol, drugs and injury Mentions of trauma Words: 1336 Summary: What would dating Jesse Pinkman be like? English is not my first language so please let me know if I make any mistakes so I can evolve as a writer! :)

He would just LOVE having you around. All the damn time.

For example: When he throws parties in his house, he’ll have you by his side all the time. 

“But Jesse… I need to work!” “Work can wait, babe. I’m having a party!” “But…” “Pleaseeee! It’s not a good party if you’re not around…” “...Fine.”

When he falls in love, he falls hard.

Even if you’ve dated him for a short while, he would express his love for you early on.

He would be very insecure at the beginning of a relationship, so he needs lots of reassurance that he’s doing the right things etc.

He’ll brag about you for everyone, ALL THE TIME.

Jesse: “I’m telling ya! My partner is the best. Skinny Pete and Badger: “...Here we go again.” Walter: “I literally don’t care. We have work to do!”

His love language is touch. Every opportunity he gets, he wants to touch you (with consent ofc) This includes:

- Holding your hand when walking

- When sitting down, he’ll either make sure your legs are touching

- …Or have his hand resting on your thigh. 

- He loves having you sit in his lap, so he can cuddle you and rest his face against your neck. It relaxes him.

Jesse doesn’t mind PDA. He likes showing his you off. He often feels like you are “too good for him”, and therefore wants to brag, because he has such a wonderful (and hot) partner. 

He tends to get awkward when you call him nicknames or show him affection around his friends, since they tease him for being “a simp”.

You like it tho. 

Sometimes you’re extra “lovey-dovey” towards Jesse when his friends are around, just to tease him and watch him blush. 

Since Jesse earns lots of money in the meth business, he would buy you expensive gifts. 

…And make lots of impulsive purchases. 

You try making him stop spending so much money on gifts, but even if he promises to stop, he doesn't… 

He LOVES seeing you wearing his clothes. And if you don’t, he would probably ask you to wear his shirts, when sleeping etc. He just enjoys the sight of it, and for him, it’s the most adorable thing.

His phone would be full of selfies of you and him, but mostly pictures of you. He’s the guy to make you his lockscreen.

The two of you have a playful banter. There’s lot of teasing going on, and you have inside jokes (most of them are mocking Walter together)

He likes playing video games with you. This would be the one of the few times he’s rude. He is very competitive and tends to take games a bit too seriously. 

If he wins the game, he won’t shut up about it. He’ll tease you for it, until you tell him to shut the hell up

…If he loses, tho… He’ll be a baby about it. 

“Impossible! You cheated!” “I’m just better than you, Jesse!” “Yeah, right…” “...Are you mad at me?” “...Maybe”

If you don’t like alcohol and drugs, he would try to not use it in front of you. He would try quitting, but it would be a long journey. He hates seeing you worried for him, and that would be a motivation for him to quit, or at least try.

When cuddling and sleeping - He doesn’t care if he’s the big or little spoon. Whichever you prefer.

Comforting each other. 

Whenever you’re sad or angry, Jesse does everything to cheer you up. He tends to get awkward when someone cries, so he doesn’t know how to react. But he always does his best to cheer you up. 

He would want to introduce you to his friends. He wants everyone to know how amazing you are. 

He also likes the idea of being able to hang out with his friends and his partner at the same time.

But this would also include jealousy and Jesse being overprotective. 

He doesn’t like being the possessive boyfriend type, but if one of his friends tries hitting on you, he'd stare them or “playfully” threaten them. 

If someone flirts with you when he’s around, he either gets really insecure, or will just simply walk up to you and be affectionate (basically his way of saying: “They’re mine, back off bitch”)

This also includes his work. In dangerous situations, he prioritizes your safety before his own. 

…Although you’d probably end up being the one protecting him.

He would probably try keeping the relationship with you a secret, since he’s scared you’ll become a target.

At first, Jesse tried to lie about his career, but him being away for such a long time everyday made you suspicious.

The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was cheating. Afraid of losing you, he decided to tell you the truth.

You were shocked, of course. 

…But most of all, you were concerned. Knowing how dangerous his work is, and how he risks going to jail or getting killed, you got very worried for him.

It would probably lead to arguments, since you both are so concerned for one another. 

Learning he’s too stubborn to quit, you give up the attempts to convince him.

But he would definitely make promises to you, that he will be careful, and not shut you out.

Jesse wants good communication with his partner, and the two of you would always be honest, and never keep secrets from each other. 

In his free-time, he spends a lot of time with you. 

If you guys don’t share the same interests, that’s ok with him.

He tries being a supportive boyfriend, and you’re the one to decide where to go and what to do. 

This includes small, simple things, such as: Food, movies, music and games.

Even if he’s bored, he’ll try to not show it. (...Although he would fall asleep against you when watching your favourite/”boring” movies)

Date nights include going to loud parties and getting wasted, going to a bar or restaurant etc…

But it can also be “calm” dates - watching movies at home and eating snacks or playing video games. 

This man gets beaten up ALOT. He tries hiding it from you (but fails in every way). You are the one that patches him up and cleans his wounds.

At first, he thought it was embarrassing that his partner had to take care of his wounds, but he grew to like it.

Having you tending him feels good.

…And he loves watching your focused face when you clean his wounds and patch him up if needed.

Jesse also enjoys hearing you mutter threats against the person that beat him up. 

He may be protective over you, but you’re also very protective over him. 

His “enemies” are your enemies. 

When moving to Alaska, you would come with him.

He refused at first, since he was scared that something would go wrong.

But it was the opposite. You both got a fresh new start, and under new identities, you guys could finally have a normal life.

He wants to take things slow, but he also wants to marry you one day.

And eventually start a family too, if you want to. He wants to have children with the person he loves, and be able to give them the life he never had.

He would be such a good dad omg

After all the stress and trauma he’s been through, he just wants to “settle down” and live a calm life together with you. 

He would also want pets lol

I see him as a dog person, so he would definitely, with or without your liking, buy a dog. 

(Going out on long walks at winter with the dog <3)

He has lots of trauma, and has moments where he doubts himself and has breakdowns, but having you around helps him alot.

Of course, you are always there to support him and help him through difficult times. 

…Basically: Your relationship would be so pure, dramatic but sweet.

[kylejsugarman]

like walt obviously never wanted to or tried to focus on his cancer as a disease, it just became a nebulous entity that was in turns an impetus to Get what he Wanted and an exit sign, and thus was never a huge component of his jesse/business-facing identity, but it’s so excruciatingly clear that the cancer as a disease WAS a big part of his identity to jesse. walt worried about people perceiving him as withered and diseased, but jesse perceived him the complete opposite way and transitioned to that “digital short about making a meth comic” hero worship state of walt partially because of his cancer. jesse not only has a well documented affinity for protecting the vulnerable (and like it or not, cancer is an inherently vulnerable disease), he has an early established personal connection with cancer thru his late aunt ginny. his and ginny’s relationship is a story told almost exclusively through offscreen events and visual or conversational cues, but that just makes it all the more wrenching because this story falls into place in near perfect tandem with the show’s deepening and softening of jesse’s character. we realize that he’s a loving, insecure, vulnerable person just as we’re also piecing together that he lived for years with this woman who loved him as he Was and who he cared for devotedly until she died. her things remain in her house untouched; when he invokes her name, there’s an unusual degree of reverence to it that we don’t typically see with jesse. he clearly still reveres ginny and those emotions transfer to walt as soon as jesse learns about his cancer diagnosis. that protective instinct emerges, that sense of urgency returns. when walt says that his cancer is stage 3a, jesse unconsciously mumbles “in ur lymph nodes”—not a fact u would expect him to just know offhand. jesse knows this from his time with ginny and in that line—the quietness of it, the impulsivity of it—we see that jesse is thinking about Time. realizing how little of it walt must have left if it’s in his lymph nodes. and so he submits. jesse submits and follows his protective instinct despite the harm it leads him to because he wants to buy walt more time. walt and ginny have become inextricably linked in his mind and when walt dispenses those rare bits of affection and approval, those links only grow stronger. we see all these newly uncovered parts of jesse—the part of him that cares deeply for the vulnerable, the part of him that needs validation from a parental figure, the part of him that is no longer there following ginny’s death—bending to accommodate a generous perspective of walt as a sort of hero who is fighting cancer and graciously allowing jesse to fight by his side for a greater good. and if jesse can reach the bar that walt has set for him, if he can just do what he’s told and chase walt’s approval, maybe he can earn them that victory and save walt from what happened to ginny. i just think that if ginny weren’t a part of this equation, we wouldn’t have gotten the walt and jesse relationship we got. in any case, we certainly wouldn’t have gotten jesse lovingly drawing and inking a literal comic book superhero version of walt and their adventures.

[jesse-pinko]

Walter White on the phone two hours after calling Jesse a slur and shaking him like a cocktail and telling him go on get out I don’t need you anyway: Jesse if you don’t *hic* cook meth with me I’m gonna kms

[ichorai]

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.” 

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.

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.

[izzythehutt]

I love that there's really no "scientific" explanation for why Walt and Jesse are the only people who can perfectly cook the blue meth. It essentially functions as a kind of alchemical sorcery, the supernatural, demonic gift born from their twisted pact with the devil, their souls in exchange for the partnership and the "blue stuff."

It keeps them coming back together over and over again ("Your meth is good, Jesse. As good as mine.") and tears them apart (Gus only needs one person to cook it, and so he turns them against each other.) It's what Gus needs from Walt for his revenge on the cartel and motivates his manipulation of Walter back into the drug business, it's the one thing Jesse believes he's ever been good at so he goes back to doing it alone—until Hank's pursuit of them drives him back into his old partner's waiting arms, because however brilliant of a chemist Gale Boetticher is, he's not Jesse, the only partner in Walter White's life of crime he's ever actually wanted.

Jesse believes his gift the only reason Walt ever cared about him ("[Walt] made you a 50-50 partner. He didn't need to do that." "Yeah, he sort of did. I'm the only one near as good as him, so...") The happiest the two of them ever were in their partnership, the most emotionally fulfilled, peaceful and in-sync they ever were, was when they were making the blue stuff together.

Literal chemical poison.

The promise of Heisenberg's talent is what motivates Jack to come to the To'hajiilee even after he calls off the hit, when Walt himself is ready for it to be over, the fact that only Jesse can compare in skill is why he's kept alive, enslaved (as all are enslaved to sin), forced to make this perfect, blood-soaked poison or see his loved ones killed, one by one.

It's neither chemistry nor art. It's a perfect, crystal blue prison that binds them together and trapped them in a cycle of pain, death and betrayal.

[nyasbae]

sleep deprived

pairings: gustavo fring x fem!reader

summary: your boss noticed you’re overworking yourself and decides to do something about it.

a/n: gus got that email rizz

warnings: really messy lol

masterlist

You couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t. Gus had you making ninety pounds worth of meth every week, and due to your partners’ sudden disappearance, you were stuck doing all the work by yourself. You sighed, thinking back to how you got into this position.

You were a just a broke college student, trying to pay off your loans when you you met Jesse. You knew each other back in high school, and now he was your dealer. The two of you became buddies and one day you walked in on him and Walt talking about somebody named Gustavo Fring, the owner of a fast food restaurant with an undercover drug business.

You needed money and you convinced them to let join in. Realizing that the “the more the merrier” shit you had pulled really was just that, shit. After they had taught you the recipe, you ended up doing everything, always.

Gus had put to lines under the deadlines, signifying that if you didn’t get this done in time — there’d be consequences. At the same time you had a lot of due college assignments, and skipping all your lectures. So you practically lived in the lab, sleeping and eating there, until you had no time for either of those things.

You were leaning against the counter with a hand on your jaw, steadying your face. Your eyes shut and light snores coming out of your mouth. As Gus inspected your face, he realized you’d never once look so peaceful as you did in that moment.

“I see you’re getting a lot of work done,” he commented, knowing it’d wake you. Gus needed to talk to you about this. He had cameras everywhere and had been paying very close attention to how much time you’d been spending at the lap. You had your laptop and school books there, a few snacks and amount less cups of coffee.

The sudden sound of his voice startled you as you woke up with a final snore. “Shit– I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t even notice I was, uh’falling asleep” your slurred, your words blurring together due to your grogginess. You looked up at him with lazy eyes.

Gus looked at you through his glasses, his expression as emotionless as usual. You thought you saw a glimpse of emotion in his eyes, though it was probably just your sleep deprivation making you see things. Gustavo Fring doesn’t care for anyone. Especially not some random meth cook who can’t even do her job right… right?

“You should get home and get some rest, ___. Your drowsiness is affecting your work performance.” Stated as a fact, though functioning more as an excuse.

“I can’t, sir! I’ve only made like, half of the meth I was supposed to and–“ you rambled on, but he interrupted you almost instantly. “Stop it, ___! You have done your part. Your partners’s neglect of their responsibilities is not your problem,” as he shushed you, his expression remained the same though his voice got notably more aggressive. “I’ll consider getting you new partners, you’ve mastered the arts of cooking now.” In that moment, you couldn’t be bothered by his comment on your friends; all you wanted to do was go back to sleep.

“Are you absolutely sure? I’ll get back to work as soon as I wake up, I promise!” You insisted, and he shook his head. “No, you’ll have the rest of the week off,” he said. “I value your effort but I cannot have your drowsiness affect my product.” Gus explained while putting a gentle yet firm hand on your shoulder. You eyed the hand and as did he, though he didn’t let go before he you reluctantly agreed.

“Alright, I guess,” you sighed. He smiled professionally as he took out his notebook, scribbling something something. “Fantastic! Write down your email and we can discuss your work ethic further.” He demanded suggested, handing you a note and a pen. You smiled as you messily wrote down your email address and gave it back to him.

When you went to sleep that night all you could think about was your interaction earlier, and how this might’ve been his stiff attempt at flirting with you. Although you figured this could’ve easily been your head playing tricks on you agin.

When you woke up the next morning you noticed a gmail notification. Written bellow a gusfr@gmail.com it read:

Hello, I hope you slept a worthwhile and woke up energetic and better. I suggest we meet up at my restaurant to further discuss our game plan.

Sincerely, Gustavo Fring.

Did Gustavo Fring just ask out out on a date?