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cappincooks · 2 years

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your fault, by the way.

[Fluff ] Jesse Pinkman x Reader

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

"Jesus Jesse, your place stinks ass."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now you got his eyes on you.

"Why..?"

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

He was anxious now.

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

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

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

"It's you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shut up."

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

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

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

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

Damn did he prove you wrong.

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

"Ow?! What was that for?!"

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

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

"By completely cutting me out of your life?"

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

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

"I would never."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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levithestripper · 9 months

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Wanna Bet?

summary:

“Jesse’s hands meet your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your clothing. ‘That’s a lotta big talk there, baby. Want to put money where your mouth is?’ You smirk, putting on a show of pretending to think it over. ‘I’m game. I bet you’ll go to every single class and love it.’”

or, Jesse wants to take a woodworking class, and you propose a bet.

warnings: gender-neutral reader

length: 2.1k || read on ao3

notes: this has been sitting in my drafts for god knows how long, i hope you enjoy it!

Sharing his rented condo with you is everything Jesse could ask for and more. Having moved in a handful of months ago, the two of you were settling in nicely, making a good home for yourselves. With you around, Jesse regained something he lost when he began cooking with Mr. White: a sense of normalcy. Never having been in a committed, long-term relationship before you came along, this newfound feeling of stability in his chaotic life was a godsend. Gaining a new safe place allowed Jesse to discover new things about himself. He finds himself doing things he never used to enjoy, like watching sitcoms and cheesy made-for-television movies.

But if Jesse was forced to pick one thing he likes most about living with you, he’d pick watching you do the things you love. He doesn’t know what it is about watching you put together a puzzle or draw in your sketchbook; it just fills him with insane amounts of joy. It lit a fire under him, inspiring Jesse to rekindle the old hobbies of his childhood, specifically woodworking. The thought of returning to woodworking excited him yet filled him with anxiety at the same time. After a week of keeping his worries to himself, Jesse asks for your advice over dinner one night.

“Yo, so I was thinking—”

You snort, interrupting him, “No wonder I smelled smoke earlier.”

Jesse makes a face at you, rolling his eyes. “Oh, shut up. Anyways, as I was saying, I was thinking about taking up woodworking again.” He broke your gaze, looking down as he picked at the food on his plate. “What do you think?”

You hum with a mouthful of food, finishing your dinner. “I think that’s a great idea, love. You said you were good at it in high school, right?”

He nods, still picking at his food. “You think I’ll uh… you think I’ll still like it?”

“What? Of course, you’ll still like it! Why wouldn’t you?”

Jesse sighs, slowly finishing his dinner, stalling for time. He mumbles something unintelligible, regretting bringing it up.

Being practically fluent in Jesse-ese, you sensed something was up, not like it was hard to notice. You knew there was no use in trying to pry whatever was wrong out of him, so you didn’t waste time trying. Instead, you take a different approach. “Jess, I can’t blame you for being worried. You’re stepping out of your comfort zone; that’s hard for anyone to do.” You reach across the breakfast bar and grab his hand, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. “If anyone can do it, it’s you; I believe in you.”

“Thank you, baby.” Jesse offers you a small but sweet smile, which you happily mirror. “You’re sure ‘bout this?”

You kiss each of his knuckles, making him chuckle like always. “One hundred percent sure. When am I ever wrong?”

He raises an eyebrow, teasing you. “You really wanna go there, sweetheart?” Jesse’s confidence returns quickly, his anxiety curbed by your words.

You get up from your chair and walk to his side of the counter, sitting on his lap, arms draped over his shoulders. “Mmm, I don’t know, maybe I do. After all, I am always right.”

Jesse’s hands meet your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your clothing. “That’s a lotta big talk there, baby. Want to put money where your mouth is?”

You smirk, putting on a show of pretending to think it over. “I’m game. I bet you’ll go to every single class and love it.”

“And what do you want if you win?” he asks, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. His hands migrated from your hips to your back, sliding under your shirt.

The unexpected sensation of cold hands touching your skin made you shiver, only fueling the fire you had lit within Jesse. “When I win, you mean.”

“Yeah, whatever, babe, just tell me what you want if you win,” he replies, a smug look on his face.

“When I win, I want you to make me something with the skills you learned from the classes.” Your fingers twist the short hair on the back of his neck into points. The tingly feeling ran up the base of Jesse’s skull, pulling a shiver from him; revenge for touching you with freezing hands.

Jesse grumbles at you in a half-hearted attempt to appear apathetic, but you see right through it with practiced ease. “If I win, which I will, you have to do whatever I say for twenty-four hours straight.”

“Deal, but your demands must be within reason.”

“Deal.” Jesse tugs you down for a kiss, sealing the bet with a smug grin.

———

Once he found a co-op offering free beginner’s lessons, Jesse signed up for two months of classes. Every Friday night after dinner, Jesse kissed you goodbye before leaving for the co-op, never hinting that you were winning the bet. And he hated it, hated how you were right—like always. Jesse had forgotten how rewarding it is to create things. It took nearly all his self-control to keep himself from living at the woodworking studio. He revels in every moment he gets to spend there, questioning why he ever quit in the first place.

As weeks pass, your excitement grows as you wonder what Jesse could be working on. You’re hopeful he’ll bring a project home with him, but it never happens. Every Friday night, a routine forms between you, beginning with dinner in front of the television. As he’s getting ready to leave, Jesse kisses you on the forehead and says, “See you in a couple hours; love you.”

Every week, you ask how it went, and Jesse replies eagerly, happily talking about what he learned. But when you inquire about what he was working on, all you get is a variation of, “Nah, it’s nothing special. Don’t wanna bore you by talking about it. It’s coming along nicely, though.” Jesse’s uncharacteristic defensiveness plants a seed of worry within you. You hope that his reasoning for brushing off your inquiries was that he was nervous to show you his work, nothing else.

———

Moonlight filtered in through the living room curtains, illuminating the room in a soft glow. You sat at the breakfast bar, working on something unimportant, the TV playing in the background. The front door opened, quickly drawing your attention away from your laptop. You stand to greet Jesse at the door, but he beats you to it, rushing over to the counter to give you a kiss. Fumbling with the TV remote, you turn it off, far more interested in your boyfriend. “How was your last day? Finish everything you were working on?” you ask, sitting back down.

Jesse sat down across from you, nodding as he did. “Yeah. Place had a real great vibe to it, you know?” He gnaws on his bottom lip, eyes flitting between you and his lap. “Might sign up for a higher level class. Haven’t done this since high school; I forgot how much I enjoyed it.”

A loving smile spreads across your features. “I’m proud of you, baby. Wish I could’ve seen the pieces you made.” You don’t miss the subtle blush that dusts itself over Jesse’s face, the sight making your heart flutter. There’s a pause between you two, and you’re quick to fill the heavy silence. “You know I’d never make fun of you or your work, regardless of how good or bad it is, right?” You take his hand to reassure him, worried he didn’t bring anything home for fear of criticism.

Giving your hand a squeeze, Jesse fixes his posture, leaning against the counter instead of slouching. “I’m sorry I’ve been so secretive about,” he motions with his free hand, “all this.” He scratches his head through the black and yellow beanie covering his hair. “I know you never would—” Jesse stammers, “—would be scared to show you anything.” You sigh with relief, Jesse’s words lifting a weight off your chest.

“Then why did you hide your enjoyment from me?” you ask, sadness laced throughout your words.

Your question pulls on Jesse’s heartstrings, only now realizing how his actions had affected you. He squeezes your hand again, kissing your knuckles apologetically. “Close your eyes, and I’ll explain?” he offers, pulling out the big guns: his patent pending puppy dog eyes.

You look him once over before complying, wondering what he has up his sleeve this time. Whatever Jesse was doing, he was quick about it as you were opening your eyes after what felt like mere seconds of having them closed. The first thing you see is your boyfriend nervously fidgeting with the drawstring of his hoodie and chewing on his bottom lip. The second thing you see is a small trinket box. It’s stained a deep, rich color and sanded to such perfection that you could almost see your reflection. You look at the box, then at Jesse, silently asking permission to touch it, which he gave. Gently opening the lid, you saw the inside was patterned with a different style of wood, something striped to contrast the solid color on the exterior. “Oh, Jesse,” you whisper with awe, “This is beautiful, a work of art.” Your fingers trace the edges as you take in his stunning craftsmanship. “Is this what you’ve been working on the whole time?”

Jesse nods, still playing with his hoodie’s drawstrings. “Took forever to get it just right. The inside is zebra wood; I had to wait a week for it to get restocked. Made one like this back in high school. Loved it more than anything; even my parents liked it. Everyone said I should gift it to my mom,” he pauses, needing a moment. “I almost did, too. But I traded it. Barely got twenty bucks of pot for it.” Jesse shook his head as if he were dismissing the bad memories from view. “But that’s not why I remade it.”

Engrossed in his story, you do your best to reign over your emotions, rubbing your eyes free of tears. “Why did you remake it then?”

Jesse motions for you to turn the box upside down, which you do. “Your answer is on the bottom.”

Looking at the underside of the box, you find words—along with the year—carved into the woodwork.

Thank you for believing in me ♡

—J

Once he’s sure you’ve read it, Jesse continues talking. “Remade it so I could finally have the chance to gift it to someone I love.” He meets your gaze for the first time since he revealed your present.

You got up from your chair without saying a word, rushing around the breakfast bar to pull your boyfriend into a near-bone-crushing hug. “What did I do to deserve someone as perfect as you?” you ask rhetorically, face buried in his neck. “I don’t even know where to begin; I love it so much.” Jesse wraps his arms around your midsection, hugging you impossibly tighter. He peppers soft kisses over your cheek and jawline, holding you close to his chest.

“I should be the one asking that, little bird. You have no clue how nervous I was, worried you wouldn’t like it or it wouldn’t turn out how I wanted it to,” Jesse sighed against your skin, and you could feel all that anxiety he spoke of leaving his body. “Not mad at me?”

You can’t help but giggle as you lift your head from his shoulder. “Not mad. Although, I’m not used to you being so lovey-dovey and mushy like this. Kinda like it, if I’m being honest.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jesse rolls his eyes with a smirk. No matter how badly he tried to hide his amusement, you could tell he liked it, too. He moves a hand to your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss. One kiss turned into two, three, four, all soft and full of stupid amounts of love. Jesse squeezes you tightly once more before releasing you. “Just wait; you’ll like what I make next even more.”

“Oh yeah? You sound pretty confident about that,” you smirk, tugging teasingly on the ends of his hoodie.

Jesse bit his lip, looking up at you with a glint in his eyes. “Oh yeah, you wanna put your money where your mouth is?” he snarks back, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your neck. He uses his newfound leverage to drag you back in for another kiss, only this one has the heat of a promise behind it the previous ones did not.

A promise of a long, sleepless night for both of you.

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