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levithestripper · 9 months

Text

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.

#jesse pinkman #jesse pinkman x reader #jesse x reader #jesse pinkman breaking bad #jesse breaking bad #jesse brba #breaking bad fandom #breaking bad fanfiction #breaking bad fic #breaking bad x reader #breaking bad x you #brba x reader #brba x you #brba fandom #brba fanfiction #x reader #x you #gender neutral reader

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genocidehim · 1 year

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brief presence was enough to slowly obsess him.

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

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

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

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

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

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alexiswritingstuff · 10 months

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Just wanted to let you know that I've been binge reading all of your writings and I love them so much, keep up the good work! :)

I know you might have a lot of Gus requests, so it's okay if you put this one on the back burner for a bit. But I read the "Not So Scary After All" work and I was wondering if you could write a sort of sequel to it?

Maybe Jesse keeps trying to tell GN reader how obvious it is that he likes them. How he's seen him try not to smile when talking to reader, the softer tone of voice, things like that.

Reader obviously doesn't believe him and thinks that Gus is just being nice to his employees, especially the ones that are responsible for the cooks.

Anyways, after a few days of Jesse pestering the reader about it something happens to make them realize he might be right. I was thinking maybe they would make another mistake with the cook and Walter is there to see it. Maybe he gets mad, a little TOO mad, and Gus walks in 🤭 Or anything else works too! I just love the premise of a protective Gus that doesn't like to show how protective he actually is

First of all, thank you for the comment about my writings, I'm glad you have enjoyed them so far! Initially I didn't think about writing a part two, so I hope this does it justice, as well as that I hope it was what you were looking for!

Thank you for sending this in!

Not so scary after all. 2/2

Pairing: Gustavo x gender neutral reader.

Other appearances: Jesse Pinkman, Walter White.

Warnings: arguing, walter being a douche.

also be aware of spelling mistakes, or other errors. I do read these over but I can tend to miss stuff either way!

A/N: my brain has been fixated on other characters recently, so if these guys seem ooc then that may be why. It's hard to write scenes where gustavo is interested in another person because we barely get to see that in either show, so I also hope my portrayal of him just generally feels correct.

I hope you enjoy!

more Gustavo fics.

Taglist- @sukunamybeloved - @viviennemuerte - @miwagila - @marksassybanana

previous part.

It never mattered how many times you had gone through the same routine. Surprisingly, considering your line of work, waking up in the morning was always the most jarring part.

You could’ve had a great nights sleep, not woken up at any point, had no distractions or noisy neighbours. Yet the second you were in that car to get to the laundromat, it was like you had to force your eyes to stay open.

Which was apparently the same for Jesse too as there was a series of mumbles and grumbles that would fill the car every few seconds.

Each time you spared a glance to the passenger seat he would be leant further and further into window, his head bobbing whenever there was a difference in ground level or direction of the wheels.

It had you amused, but also a little concerned, “Did you wake up too early, or too late?”

Seeking no comfort from the hardness of the glass, and after his temple ended up smacking right into it, Jesse got himself to sit upright in a speed that closely resembled one of those stairlifts.

He groaned, having to make consistent attempts to keep his body from just slumping all together, “Both?” His hands raised to his head, the sides of his fingers beginning to rub at his eyes as if it would rid them of their tiredness.

In all honesty, outside of the cooking sessions and other shenanigans you found yourself in, you and Jesse never really... hung out. There would be times where you had lunch together, or had to show up to his house if there was something to drop off.

But that was mostly it.

And there wasn’t exactly a reason as to why. You had absolutely nothing against Pinkman, it was like the opposite. The more you spent time with him, the more you felt like some kind of guardian watching over some kid. Even if he also was an adult.

“You had breakfast, though, right?” Your gaze was trained on the lane ahead despite your ongoing conversation.

You had just turned onto a state road, meaning that, regardless of it being early in the morning, people were up and about. Trying to get to their jobs.

It always made it seem busier than it was.

At first, in response to your question, Jesse simply emitted another mumble of something. He was thinking, the intensity in which he rubbed at his eyes increasing for a moment, and then his hands dropped. “Oh,”

“Shit, I don’t... I don’t know.”

You supressed the urge to sigh. It had already happened a few times. Depending on what he did the night before, there would be some mornings where his mind was rattled enough that he would almost forget where he even was, so.

You came prepared.

“Well, I guess luck is on your side today.” you commented, flexing your fingers against the grips of the steering wheel, “There should be a sandwich or something in the back.”

By now Jesse’s head was leaning into the headrest, definitely having the same problem of trying to keep his eyes open like you did. The heat outside probably wasn’t a helpful factor either. “Seriously?”

You didn’t want to take your attention off of the road. The cars in front were starting to slow, and you needed to keep note of the distance from the ones at the back. “Check.” you told him, adjusting the rear view mirror for better visibility.

Jesse sort of rolled his head to the side after a moment, his chin almost knocking into the bone of his shoulder as his gaze cast onto the few items that were in the back seats.

He lazily blinked for a good few seconds, his eyes trying to adjust to the redirection of a sunlight beam. And then he saw it. Right in the middle.

A brown bag.

“No way.”

The next move he made was so fast that the seatbelt strapped around him had immediately stalled against his body, attempting to keep him in place at the assumption of sudden danger.

But that wasn’t enough to stop him at all.

He pushed against it once, then twice, and then one more time before simply manoeuvring himself around the belt so that the top half would basically be protecting the car seat instead of him.

When Jesse leaned himself between your seat and his, it was so much harder to keep your attention on the road. He was reaching out, arm extended as far as it could go and waving almost madly, until eventually, he grabbed the bag.

Jesse practically had to shove himself backwards to sit upright again, but soon he was able to resume his previous position with a big sigh of relief. Your head could only shake.

Now, there was this sound a rustling paper that filled the entire car as you moved onto the accompanying lane. Something that was definitely not supporting your concentration. “Damn.”

His voice was muffled, the noises coming out of his mouth barely even sounding like a word which in turn made you send him a look.

He had finally gotten to the sandwich. “You make this?”

“Nah, I had too many errands to run.” you informed with a slight sigh, finally beginning to let yourself relax in your seat, “Would’ve done it if I had the time, but I think that is better anyway.”

Jesse didn’t even have to speak for you to know his response. He had taken another bite, nodding his head just slightly in proper approval. If his eyes were closed it would look like he was in pure bliss.

After relentlessly chewing for a hot minute, he attempted to swallow it down, “I didn’t-- I didn’t take you as an early riser.” Yet his voice was still almost unintelligible.

“Well, believe it or not, other people are in fact active in the mornings.” you pointed out, slightly leaning to the side for further emphasis on who the comment was aimed at in a way that had Jesse rolling his eyes.

You swear you saw a clump of crumbs fly from his mouth when he next spoke, “Yeah, yeah-- You sure your too many errands wasn’t just you making sure that you looked good for a certain Fring?”

Your head snapped in his direction in a way that had looking back to the road immediately after, and probably almost gave you whiplash. But you saw it either way.

That damn grin had taken over his lips.

Again.

“Please don’t do this right now.”

Jesse had to clear his throat to stop himself from almost choking, “Aw come on, man, it’s-- There’s nothing to be ashamed of if you did.” Your head shook like it had done before, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

It was always so stupid to you how the indirect mention of someone made your body react the way it did. You were only trying to get to work, yet your heart was acting as if you had just gone for a run.

“But I do.” The look you sent Jesse almost had him wanting to put his hands up if he wasn’t so focused on his sandwich, “What? I do-- Look, I may not have that much experience, or whatever, but there is totally something going on.”

“Definitely on his end at least.” He moved the sandwich around in his hands, trying to locate the best part to bite as he had finally swallowed the last one, “I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve seen him give you the look.”

Your eyebrows furrowed within seconds, “The... The what now?” You tried to turn in his direction for confirmation, but he seemed a bit too busy to notice your movement.

Due to a junction being up ahead, your foot had moved onto the foot break, watching the lights fully change the closer you drew.

“The look.” Jesse finally repeated, his mouth full all over again in a way that needed real concentration to understand the words coming out of it, “Yeah, he gives you the look, like, all the time.”

Soon, the car in front of you had fully stopped, and then so did yours as you put it into first gear, keeping your feet on the first two pedals.

The moment the car had stopped moving, you turned to Jesse within seconds, eyebrows furrowed more than they had ever been. “What is the look?”

Pinkman gave you a simple glance at first, thinking that you were just messing around as he kept munching away... But no matter how much time went by, you didn't move. Still watching him.

His chewing slowed when his head turned back in your direction. He just blinked for a moment. “You don’t know... You don’t know what the look is?”

Your chin lowered, your eyelids slightly doing the same, “Does it sound like I know what it is?”

“Okay, but... how?” Despite Jesse’s previous complete interest in his sandwich, it lowered with his hands to his lap. There was utter confusion written all over his face while he remained smacking away. “How do you not-- How old are you?”

Your attention went to the road ahead all over again, the back of your head sinking into the headrest as a huff left your lips, “Older than you.” you pointed out, trying to sound more authoritative, but that just seemed to spark an already lit flame.

“Then how do you not see it, huh? I mean, even I can tell that it’s pretty obvious-- And not just because of the look either,” Jesse fully twisted in his seat so that he faced you, “He like... He wants to actually, like, talk to you, and shit-- I’ve seen him smile-- genuinely smile at you, okay?"

“Now, if he was doing it to me? I would... Man, I would be terrified-- But it’s you, it’s... different.” You were trying so hard not to shake your head again, but Jesse’s voice practically being right in your right ear was making it a lot more difficult. “It’s something else--”

“It’s not...” You regripped the steering wheel, “You do realise we’re talking Gustavo Fring, right?” Your head attempted to turn back to Jesse, though your eyes were trying to keep the attention on the road as one of the final vehicles seemed to cross through the junction.

“Exactly!” Jesse practically threw his arms up, almost losing his grasp on the sandwich in the process, “You should be caring about this more than you do.”

Your head shook as your gaze fully went back to the road, your foot readying to release the clutch while your fingers tapped against the steering wheel in anticipation.

You were trying to find something to zone in on, something to distract yourself from the kid sitting in your passenger seat as he was still eagerly trying to get you to see the things the way he did. But you weren’t giving it to him.

“Fine then.” Jesse reached behind him, grabbing the top half of the seatbelt, pulling it until it was in front of him again, before he ducked himself beneath.

“But I’m telling you, Y/n.” It was back, slinging diagonally across his torso by the time he was seated properly, and also by the time the lights had finally turned green.

“You’ll see.”

There was something about this day that was starting to feel a little familiar.

You and Jesse had arrived ages ago. You had gone down the windy red stairs, did the whole thing of taking off unnecessary clothing so that you wouldn’t completely boil in the obnoxiously yellow protective suit you would put on next.

And at first, once you were all geared up, the two of you stood in front of the machines. Your heads were raised, eyes cast up to the walkway above as you awaited the arrival of your usual partner at their usual time...

But the door never opened.

There was no proper estimate for how long the two of you just stayed waiting as you had set your watch to the side, and the clock was on the other side of the room, however, there was one thing you knew for sure. Someone was late.

Eventually, the two of you were trying to compensate, finding something useful to do while giving the benefit of the doubt that maybe it was just tough traffic or something going on that made them lose track of time.

Though, the ability to sympathise got smaller and smaller the more minutes began to turn into full on hours.

You found yourself at your usual table with your hand supporting the weight of your head, attempting to occupy your mind by looking over the paperwork from passed cooks. A habit that you only recently developed.

“Dude,” you heard somewhere to your side before there was an exasperated sigh, and a quick creaking of a chair, “What the hell is taking him so long?”

Earlier, Jesse had taken one of the other wheeled chairs from the table connected to yours and had rolled somewhere, enough so that you could only see him from the corner of your eye.

His body was slumped back, the seat beneath him creaking with every move that he made. And considering that he didn’t have anything to do, that was like every. Single. Second.

He had tried out the difference created when he would shift his weight, tested what it would feel like to have his legs hanging over the left side of the chair and then the right, he had pushed his feet onto the floor to roll himself backwards and forwards against the smooth tiles.

And now, as apparently none of that had seemed to have settle his mind, Jesse had resorted to zipping and unzipping the protective suit he was so ready to take off by now. Over, and over... And over again. “Okay,”

“That’s it.”

The pencil held in your gasp was cast to the side of the notepad, you were barely looking at this point, before your hands moved to the edge of the table so that you could push against it enough that your chair started to roll.

You stood up, winding round the seat that was still on the move as you began to walk towards one of the pathways between the machines. Jesse fully planted his feet on the ground, “Yo, Y/n, where are you going?”

Your fingers grasped onto the zip of your suit and you yanked it down as far as you could without having to bend for the rest, beginning to pulling your arms out one after the other moments after.

You moved round that damn settling tank and soon ended up at the wall where you would keep or hang up your loose items. “I...” you began, your voice becoming strained as you bent down to free your feet of those big welly boots, “am going to find out what the hell is going on.”

The squeak of a chair echoed somewhere to the back of the room. “Well, don’t-- Don’t leave me in here by myself.”

Finally, after one last tussle, your, once worn, protective suit was now sprawled on the ground beside the clothing rack. You moved to your usual shoes, putting either feet in their respective ware before tying the laces to make sure they wouldn’t fall off.

Before Jesse could even appear by your side to complete the same process, you were on the move once again, directing towards those windy red stairs that always made you feel like you were going to fall up and/or down them.

“Y/n, wait, dude, wait-- Just give me a minute.” You could hear the hurried rustling of plastic suit echoing through the steps you took on the metal staircase.

Eventually, when your movements had allowed you to arrive at the cat walk, you found yourself complying to Jesse’s words... While the man himself was still trying, and failing, to get the suit off.

It gave you a moment to catch a breath you hadn’t been able to take all day. You were stood high, looking down at the problems below, and not drowning neck deep in it like you usually did.

A deep breath sucked into your nostrils as you let your eyes fall closed, the air of the lab starting to cool the warmth that had festered across your skin--

A sharp whistle squealed through from your left before it bounced around each wall one after the other.

Your eyes had snapped open as soon as the sound appeared, but it wasn’t until your head had started to turn that your brain realised what it had come from.

It was the door.

Your body twisted in the direction of the man who was almost stumbling across the cat walk, a series of huffs and puffs spluttering from his mouth that would have you worrying any other day.

But as of now, all you did was cross your arms over your chest.

“Yo, Mr. White! What the hell took you so long, dude?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he began through a slight wheeze that ended with him doing this horrendous cough. And once he was about three steps in front of you, he stilled his apparently over exhausted body, using a hand to shift his weight onto the railing, “There was... car trouble, and stuff with the kids, you-- you know kids.”

“You would think, maybe, after the first one that it was going to get easier and then...”

In the midst of Mr. White stabilising himself, his head had turned to the right in at attempt to locate Jesse, which wasn’t hard to do considering the fact that he was still taking off that damn suit, to further emphasis his... guilt?

But instead, after he did a sort of double take, he began to slowly face you once again, “Why aren’t any of the machines on, why... Why aren’t you wearing your suit?”

“We were waiting for you. I was just about to try and find at least someone to tell us where you were.”

“Wait... Wait a minute,” Mr. White started, holding his hands up while he took a step closer. “You didn’t start?” His chin slightly lowered in a way that made his eyes peer at you over his glasses.

“No?” you stated simply, your eyebrows furrowing at the sudden change to his demeanour, “After last time... We didn’t think you wanted us to do it by ourselves.”

“But that was-- That was last time, Y/n.” With every word that the man spoke, his hands rose higher and higher until they were inches away from touching his face, “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?”

The urge to scoff was stronger than ever, and you had to hold it back more than you ever had in your life, “I think I should be asking you that question.”

The man before you began shaking his head in a way that was almost not visible. “I told you... I was having problems with my car.” For a moment his expression remained the way it was, a visible attempt at holding back what you were guessing was anger.

But then it failed.

“I have... a family to take care of...” His hands dropped to his sides. When he next spoke the corners of his mouth slightly downturned like there was utter distaste for the words coming out of his mouth, “They are not going to be put at expense because, again, you weren’t able to do a simple job.”

Regardless of how loud it usually was when someone walked up the windy stairs, right now, as Jesse began to do just that, it was barely audible to your ears. The sound fading more and more the longer you stared at the man before you. “Guys, can we just--”

“I am doing my job just fine, Mr. White.” you started up with this lack of emotion to your voice, trying to make it as clear as possible that you wanted to get this over and done with, “We just didn’t want to do another batch all by ourselves, simply, because you couldn’t be bothered to show up.” Though it seemed your mouth had other plans.

There was something that almost satisfactory when you saw a side of his face twitch. But soon, it was one that ended with this sort of smile curling at his lips, his eyebrows raising more than you had ever seen in your time working with him. “Oh.”

“So, you want me to apologise for making a singular mistake? Is that it?” He took yet another step towards you, “You know what, how about we count how many times you have made-- No, caused, a mistake, hmm?”

You couldn’t count the amount of voices that were telling you to take a step back, to move away the closer he got to stand directly in front of you, “But that wasn’t only my fault-- There’s a big difference between actually trying and just not showing up.”

Your feet remained planted on the ground beneath. Your arms were held tighter than ever across your torso as you tried to maintain the blankest expression possible.

“Dude, both of you just... just chill out, please.” Jesse tried to insist as he walked up the last few steps, but no one paid any attention to his words, “We can-- We can work this out--”

“You allowed a contamination,” Mr. White began, narrowing his eyes as if in disbelief, “How did you-- Did they not teach you to read, or listen, to instructions in school?”

“My education has nothing to do with this.” you insisted without missing a beat. And regardless of your attempts to keep your composure, it was inevitable that something began slipping into your voice.

You had been up early.

You had been running back and forth to make sure that certain things were sorted for certain people, had to drive all the way to downtown to pick up Jesse and then all the way back up to get here. To work.

And then, while at work, you weren’t even able do your damn job because your other partner, that was supposed to be there at a specific time by contract, just didn’t show up.

Which then lead you and Jesse to have to stand and do absolute jack shit for hours on end.

Walter just shook his head again, even raising his hands like he was about to shove you or something, though he might have wanted to simply point a finger, “Well, apparently it does, because if you still aren’t competent enough to follow something so basic, then--”

“What is going on here?”

Within the next second, the man in front of you had twisted round in a way that almost gave you whiplash just from watching. He stepped to the side, and moved backwards until he was practically next to you. “Oh, Gus, I, uh... We were just... Slow start.”

But, of course, he was still a little ahead.

Your feet, however, hadn’t moved an inch. In fact the only move you made was to let your arms finally fall free to your sides as you stared onwards.

It was Gustavo. He was stood in the doorframe, one hand pressing against the weighted metal so that he had enough time to take in his surroundings. And then he took the final step inside.

It was only when the door closed behind him that you realised you hadn’t even heard it open in the first place.

The lab was back to what it had been minutes ago. Silent. No sound at all filtering throughout the entire room.

Gustavo stilled himself not far from the door he had walked through, but enough so that you could feel his presence as well as see it. His arms were unmoving by his sides, a trait that would’ve carried out through his entire body if he hadn’t started moving his head.

Like Walter had done when he arrived, Gustavo looked at the room below. He studied it, looked from one section to the other while noting the quietness that was effecting even him.

And then he turned back to the people across from him, the expression on his face unwavering, “Why is that? There’s nothing in the machines.”

“You know, ex-- exactly.” the man to your side suddenly spoke up, snapping your attention from the other guy you wanted to look at a little longer. “I had... countless problems with a lot of things this morning, and I wasn’t able to arrive on time.”

Walter sort of took a step forward, but instead of what you would naturally think of when someone carried out such a movement, he didn’t properly face Gustavo.

He stood side on, his body turned towards the machines so he could look at you or his boss with a simple movement of his head. And as of now, you seemed to be his main target. “Apparently they couldn’t be bothered to start the batch themselves.”

“That’s not true.” You mirrored his stance, faced directly towards him, instead of the man who was just trying to seek answers, as your eyebrows furrowed as much as they could.

Walter tilted his head, “You sure?” he asked, using the most condescending voice that would of set you off had you already lost the grasp on your, slowly dissipating, self control.

“Yes, I don’t understand--” Your hand rose to your face, fingers pressing into the skin beneath before dragging down to your chin. And then they dropped. You took in a deep breath. “Look... I admit it, sure, we could have started the cook. But.”

“Me and Jesse both thought it was smarter to wait after the previous mistake,” you began, emphasising your point by gesturing to the dude who was now stood behind, and his eyes sort of widened at the sudden attention.

This time it was you who took the step forward. “But yet again,” You made sure to hold yourself back from blinking as you stared right at the man who was trying so hard not to cut you off, your fists clenched at your sides. “You. Weren’t. Here.”

Your heart was thudding in your ears, a sound louder than any other thing in the room. The exhaustion was rampant through your body, continuously attacking system, and at this point testing your patience that had already become thin.

The ability to control anything was about one minute away from collapsing.

“Why were you late, Mr. White?”

When Gustavo’s voice caught your ears, you hadn’t even bothered to look his way despite the fact that Walter did. In fact, he took the chance to move away from you, which almost made him bump into the other railing.

“Car troubles, and, uh... family stuff, too, you know... all that.” he informed, his voice and the look of his face switching into one that you could instantly tell was the fakest attempt of trying to get sympathy.

“And you didn’t inform anyone of these... troubles?”

Your head turned in about a second, your gaze snapping to the man who hadn’t moved a singular inch since the last time you properly saw him. His attention was only on Walter, his eyes now slightly narrowed.

“What...” Mr. White started, the shock clear within his voice and the expression on his face, “Are you... Are you trying to say that this is my fault?”

“I am not saying anything, Mr. White.” Gustavo’s turned in the mans direction with such slowness that had a look of regret taking over anything else that was threatening to appear on Walters face. And once he stilled, he had even slightly tilted it to the side, “I am simply asking questions to understand why a job hasn’t been completed.”

Walter let out this sort of scoff of a sound as he gestured with his hands like before, “Well, then your asking the wrong person, Gus.”

He pointed towards you, this time not even bothering to look unless it was to make sure his finger was actually aimed in your direction, “They... They have been here for who knows how long, I... I-- I mean, the batch could’ve finished by now, if they just--”

“You are putting the blame... on them?” Gustavo’s voice was low, deep in pitch that it was almost gravelly and harsh to any ears that heard it. There was no direct tone, or emotion clear within it. But paired with the slow step forward, anyone could tell that it wasn’t good.

“You are putting the blame on a person who was actively trying to solve a problem that you created... because you weren’t competent enough to make a phone call?”

You were use to his intimidation tactics. In all honesty, usually, it seemed even more affective when he wasn’t using them, like when he wore that smile that never really reached his eyes.

But this...

This was different.

When Gustavo wanted to intimidate someone, or remind them of their place in the bigger picture. He had relationships to maintain, an act to keep up so that nothing could expose him and/or his business, so he never risked insulting a person in case it would backfire, create unnecessary problems.

Gustavo Fring wasn’t a man who directly insulted someone unless he was going to gain something from it... Well, apparently, until now.

For the next few seconds it seemed that Mr. White couldn’t find the exact reaction he had. His lips twitched almost every way that they could, his mouth would open and close again and again like he was mimicking a fish, all the while his head began to shake once again, “I don’t... I don’t know what to say-- I can’t... Gus, I just--”

“I have heard all I needed.” There were no movements that accompanied his words. No change to his voice a part from a mild show of a tested patience. Gustavo just stared at the man before him, unblinking, “You still have plenty time to cook.”

“You can’t be serious--”

“That’s what you came here to do... Is it not?” Gustavo pointed out simply, his head tilting to the side in a way that almost made him look like a puppy. But his face said all that it needed to.

Walter sort of cowered, avoiding the mans gaze as he took a moment to think, “I... I-- Well... Yes, but--”

In about a second, though there was almost nothing displayed on Gustavo’s face, everything sort of... dropped? His eyelids lowered in a way that wasn’t enough to hide his eyes but it was still visible, his jaw unclenched, his lips almost looked like they were turning down the way.

But again. Not once did he blink.

“Then cook.”

For a solid ten seconds, there was just utter silence. Someone could have drop a pin on the other side of the room, and it would still echo like any other sound. No one moved. No one twitched. No one spoke.

Walter took in a deep breath, his shoulders deflating when it made its way back out. And then he turned, beginning to do just as Gustavo said this time without any argument.

But the moment you started to do to the same thing--

“Not you.”

You froze. Your body hadn’t even managed to twist yet, so after sending a look to Jesse who sent one right back, you simply rocked back on your feet, resuming the same position you were in before.

His eyes were only on yours. The first time he had fully looked at you since he had entered the room.

“We have... other matters to discuss.”

After you left the room, it was practically silent when you began to walk.

There was the usual sounds that occurred from the machines within the laundromat, and the workers who you were still not sure knew about the giant meth lab beneath there feet, but between you and Gustavo there was nothing.

No exchange of words and barely even the sound of your own footsteps.

He was a few steps ahead of you, which may have been one of the main reasons, as he lead you across the paths that had big machines towering over you on each side.

There would be a few moments were you had to duck, or even completely manoeuvre, around certain objects that were hung, either needing to dry or they were connected to a moving system that would bring clothes from one section to another.

You had no idea where you were going. The second the two of you had officially exited the lab, his lips had became sealed. He just started walking, and of course, you only had one response to that.

Your gaze pretty much remained on Gustavo’s back no matter how far you went, only fleeting to make sure that you weren’t going to bump into anything, as you followed the man in front of you like a lost duckling... Though, you felt more like a child getting ready to be told off.

Eventually, after stopping yourself from getting caught up in the thoughts swirling through your mind, you found yourself walking out of the big vertical door. The entrance of the laundromat.

If your heart wasn’t pounding before it sure was now. And no matter how badly you wanted to just focus on the feeling of fresh air after being stuck in an underground room for what felt like, and probably was, about five hours... Gustavo stopped walking.

He was stood at the edge of the paved platform, hands moving to clasp behind his back as he resumed that usual straight posture.

Your steps grew slower the more close you got to standing by his side. You wanted to gage his mood, predict what was about to happen or what he was going to say, which was a bit difficult considering that you could only see the back of his head.

You cleared your throat when you had arrived to the right of him. Your eyes were slightly narrowed, adjusting to the sudden presence of the sun, while you gently leaned back and forth on your feet.

“Sir, I... I’m really sorry about this... Again,” you had begun, but almost immediately your speech planned in your head seemed to have fallen apart.

You turned your head to the side, trying to properly convey your apology through your face more than your words. “I know it doesn’t help the business, but I really, really, don’t know why this keeps happening--”

“Y/n.”

You had already been looking at Gustavo throughout your words. And maybe it was because you were too caught up in your mind, or because originally the man before you had been gazing into the distance with the usual expression that barely gave you anything to work with.

But now he was looking right back at you.

“Yes?” you answered subconsciously in a way that had your mouth snapping shut immediately after realising that you didn’t need to actually do that.

This time, Gustavo’s chin lowered, “I’m not going to scold you, Y/n.” His gaze was the most gentle you had ever seen it, along with sound of his voice. He may have said the words simply, and matter of factly, but his face told you otherwise.

You sort of just stood there for a moment, blinking at him. “You... You’re...” And then your eyebrows furrowed all over again, your body turning so that you faced him directly, “You’re not?”

Gustavo kept looking at you, and finally, since thatsituation with Mr. White, you weren’t presented with an expression of judgement. It wasn’t a look that visibly told that they thought whatever they were seeing was utter stupidity.

He took in a breath, letting his eyes fall back on the busy town ahead for a split second, before they were back on your own, “I want you to go home.”

His voice was lighter, the expression on his face no longer holding the tension that had clung to his skin.

Your lips parted, even if no sound initially came out. You stared back at him for a moment, your eyes a little wider than they were before, almost unblinking, “Did I mess up that badly?”

Gustavo’s eyebrows furrowed so quickly that you hadn’t caught onto it until he turned his body in your direction, “Forgive my phrasing.” he started, his hands remaining behind his back no matter the change of position, “This is not a punishment.”

With his next words, Gustavo made sure that you were looking at him, right into his eyes, just in case his meaning was conveyed through his voice, “You are not in trouble for the wrongdoings of another man.”

... Were you missing something? Why would Gustavo take you out of the lab?

I mean, sure, you made the deduction that not starting the batch might’ve not been such a great idea, and honestly at some point expected to get a good talking too because of it. Maybe it would be the final straw...

But here you were. Theman himself, the big boss, stood right in front of you. Directly telling you that you’re not in trouble.

“Then... I’m going to have to say that I don’t understand, Sir.” The muscles beneath your brows were getting a good work out from consistently changing between being normal and then furrowed within, practically, every thirty seconds, “We still have a batch to do, a deadline to follow.”

Influenced yet again by a man stood before you, “And who is that for?”

Your whole body felt like it wanted to deflate, fall limp and just collapse on the ground. This time it wasn’t in anger, or fear, or annoyance. It was because after everything, you could exhale the nerves that had clung to your insides. There was no use for them now.

You lightly nodded your head, the fact of not being in trouble officially processing in a way that had your gaze lowering, “... You.”

Gustavo wanted to smile. He wanted to display his pride of finally cracking the code that was your mind, having created even a bit of equal understanding, but he could still see the ghost of the previous expression that held your face hostage. The genuine concern over possible harming his business.

And him.

“I am not asking you to leave because I think that you are bad at your job, or that you don’t do anything for this business-- Because that would be entirely wrong.” he started up with this new voice that was difficult to ignore, “I am simply saying that you have the day off.”

“It is... normal in a workplace, is it not?”

By the time your eyes met Gustavo’s, your brows had furrowed once again, though now, it was for a very different reason, “I mean... Yes-- But not in this business, just...”

There was a huff of air that passed through your lips. Theexhaustion from earlier was presenting itself back into your system, making the want to talk become a lot less than before, “Let me-- Let me go back in there, we can work, we can... we can get it done.”

Gustavo’s head began shaking before you had even finished your sentence, “I can’t do that.”

“And why not?” you questioned, leaning back slightly so that you could fully take in his demeaner, analyse any look that took over his face, “I thought you said that I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“You didn’t.” he insisted almost immediately, the expression he wore going blank the way it usually did. But now wasn’t the time. “Then...” You took in yet another breath to cut off your words, trying to suppress the urges to sigh, scoff, or the sudden want to raise your voice, “Why?”

To say this day felt long was truly an understatement. Things just kept happening one after the other and still you were left in the dark. No answer as to why things progressed into the situations they had.

“Y/n, I am not... risking the loss of more time to arguing.” It was like you could visibly see the words he chose to say. The pure caution, decisions careful enough so that he wouldn’t set off the things he could see getting ready in your eyes, “I know that if you go back in there, Mr. White will not... let go. Not unless I place someone in there to stand and watch at all times.”

“All I am telling you is that you are free to go while I... sort things out.” Gustavo somehow made himself stand taller, trying to prove the confidence in which was already heard in his voice and to also prepare for the possibility of you finally reacting in the way that your body had wanted to for hours.

But despite what he had envisioned playing out, or tried to predict, it was pretty much the opposite. In fact, the only proper reaction to his words was your shoulders deflating, ridding your muscles of its constant worry.

And then you crossed your arms over your chest, sniffing as you did so, “And what about Jesse... Mr. White? What-- What about them?” you questioned, waiting for the words to settle before you looked back into those other pair of eyes, only to find that the look from earlier had repossessed his face, “It may not seem like it, but I assure you, Y/n.”

“Mr. Pinkman and Mr. White can handle it themselves.”

For the first time throughout the entire day, you felt the want to smile. “Okay then.” You nodded your head once, your grip tightening on your arms as you took a step backwards, “Thank you, uh... Mr. Fring. It seems you have saved me again.”

“Gus. Call me Gus, and please, there is no need to thank me.” Gustavo started up before you could even try to turn in the direction of your car, “It comes under being an employee.”

Your body stilled after about one more steps backwards, your eyes narrowing at the man before you, playfully, “Then how come I haven’t heard you getting protective when someone else makes a mistake?”

Gustavo mirrored the look on your face, “I wasn’t... I wasn’t being... protective?” In his case, however, he wasn’t doing it in a teasing sort of manner, he was just genuinely confused at the comment. “I simply understood the situation and acted accordingly.”

Your arms loosened in your hold until they lowered to your sides once again, “And yet you defended me.” If you were close enough to Gustavo you would probably have started circling him, “Even though I was in the wrong... both times.”

Gustavo unfurrowed his brows, “You weren’t in the wrong just because some man has an incorrect idea of authority… and a very poor concept of time.” His tone was the flattest you had ever heard it. There was no emotion behind it until the words of... slight insult.

The urge to smile grew stronger that had you pressing your lips together to stop yourself from letting out a laugh. “Still,” Though, after a moment, you managed to compose yourself, “If you hadn’t arrived when you did...”

Gustavo huffed air through his nose, bowing his head a tad before he let it shake a few times. When he looked back up it was clear that he was trying to hold back whatever was wanting to take over his face, but you could see it in his eyes.

“Go home.”

There was this feeling of giddiness begging to erupt in your chest. It spread a warmth to every part of your body until it was a collective feeling. It caught you of guard, causing the smile you were trying to hide begin to curl at your lips.

So, after a sharp breath and a nod as a thanks, you sort of ducked away, twisting yourself around so that you could make your way towards your car.

However, the nearer that you got to the vehicle, it seemed there was a thought pushing itself further and further to the centre of your mind. It may have been more of a feeling, as you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted to go back to your house.

I mean, sure, being able to take a nice long shower, grab a bite to eat, and completely flop on your bed sounded... Well, pretty nice actually.

But the next session for a batch was now going to be days away.

Days from your work and a certain Fring.

You had completely stilled about a step away from your car. There was a quiet breath that huffed through your nose, one that only you could hear, “You know what, actually.”and then you turned on your heel, the concrete practically scuffing under your shoe. “I’ve worked for you for quite some time now, and yet…”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been inside your restaurant.”

The man your eyes managed to focus on seemed to be closer than he was the last time you saw him. A fact that made your brain almost completely miss the words that came out of his mouth. “Well, it’s not an obligation.”

There was something about the look on his face. Something about the way he pressed his lips together immediately after he finished speaking. He may have assured that the visit wasn’t needed, but... there might have still been a want.

“What hours is it open?” you asked, the sound of your voice almost echoing through the parking area, even if the noises from the active laundromat were louder.

Gustavo’s head slightly rose after a moment, one of his brows slightly twitching as he processed your question. And then he cleared his throat, “That would depend on the day.” he informed, readjusting the hands he still held behind his back.

You hummed in response, letting your gaze fall into the distance as you thought.

Honestly, after the past few hours you could barely remember what part of the week you were in right now. So, instead, you thought back to what a usual week would look like.

What was the day that was perfectly set between the times you would possibly be able to see Gustavo at work? Right in the middle?

“How about Thursday?” you suggested, now watching as Gustavo began to make his way across the concrete, slightly nodding his head, “Then... Seven to ten, I believe.”

“All right,” you breathed out, the speed in which your heart beat increased the more the man approached. “One less lunch to plan for the week.” You practically gulped as you reached backwards, fingers patting against the cool metal of the vehicle for a moment until they located the handle.

Gustavo stilled himself about three steps in front of you, the look on his face signalling that he was thinking about something as he wasn’t making direct eye contact, “Actually... I would suggest to come around dinner time.”

Just as you were about to tug on the handle, your hand froze, along with pretty much every other part of your body.

The man was now looking right at you, his voice sort of timid in a way that caught you even more off guard. And apparently himself too. “It’s... more quiet.” He cleared his throat, “Less people around.”

Your arm slowly moved back to your side, releasing the warm handle from any sort of grasp.

There was a fight going on in your chest. A want to give into the urge of running away like you would’ve done in a situation close to this as a kid. But you weren’t a child anymore, far from it.

It took a good moment for any sound to be able to roll off of your tongue. And as soon as something eventually had, it was like your lungs remembered how to properly function. “Will you be there?”

You felt younger. The two of you may have been stood pretty much right in front of the other, yet neither of you could maintain eye contact longer than a few seconds before you collectively had to look away, no matter how confident either one of you tried to seem.

Gustavo cleared his throat, though it sounded like it had barely done anything. “I believe so.” he finally confirmed, and regardless of the fact that his voice was still quiet, there was this tone that took over his words.

“Well, good...” That giddy feeling returned, even if it had probably never left. “I think I probably would still go if you weren’t there, but... it would be a lot less... fun.”

The man before you let the slightest smile curl at a side of his mouth, “Well, we wouldn’t want that now would we?” He sounded more breathy this time, a natural progression from his already quiet voice. But it wasn’t because of nerves, or a reaction of his lungs, which you had initially thought. It was intentional.

“Not at all.” Your voice in question was more full than his, however, there was this slight whisper to it, as if Gustavo should be the only person allowed to hear it.

“Then it’s settled,” he began, slightly lowering his head in away that had your back pressing into your car. His normal tone had seeped back through his words like he was back in boss mode. But not quite Gustavo Fring just yet. “How does... eight o’clock sound? Unless you eat earlier?”

Your head shook practically without a second of hesitance. The ability to move your lips was barely thereso you resorted to moving to the side, finally pulling on the handle of your car door until it swung out far enough that you could stand behind it.

You could see Gustavo raise his eyebrows just the slightest as the door had created a sort of separation, and it had you biting back a grin. “It’s perfect.” you insisted, trying to sound as neutral as possible despite the, possibly, clear ways you felt at that moment.

And then you lowered yourself into the car, having to slightly shifted backwards a little bit to properly get into the drivers seat before you swung your legs inside.

Your hand grasped the inside of your door, your fingers making certain that they had a good grip, before your eyes landed on the figure through the glass of the window that hadn’t moved an inch.

And then you smiled.

“Gus.”

#gustavo fring #gus fring #gustavo fring x reader #breaking bad x reader #breaking bad #brba #gender neutral reader

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sardonic-the-writer · 1 year

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal yo."

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

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1ivinqdeadqir1 · 1 year

Text

Porcelain Doll

Walter White x Student! Reader

a/n: this is shorter than usual for my fics but lmk if you guys would like chapter two as this was sooooooooo fun to write (one where maybe Walt makes a move on the reader after arguing with Skyler about Ted... ;) )

word count: 1.8k

WARNING(s): Teacher - Student relationship, the reader is big brain, Walt is conflicted icl but when is he not conflicted? nothing inappropriate yet just an allusion to mutual sexual and romantic attraction. READER IS 18 but she is STILL a student so it's a taboo relationship nonetheless

“Are you listening to me?”

You looked up at the man standing in front of your desk, his weight pivoted to one side as his arms were crossed and folded. His green knit sweater looked warm, smiling, you wondered what it’d look like on you, and whether or not he’d find it attractive to see one of his best students wearing his clothes.

“Yes, sorry, I just… zoned out for a moment” he sighed and brought a hand to his chin, where his forefinger and thumb grazed the scruff of brown facial hair in thought.

“I don’t think you are, y/n”

You go to open your mouth but close it again when he raises his hand as if to tell you to be quiet.

“Your grades are slipping again, you’ve gone from an A+ to a D in less than a few weeks, we’ve only just gone over the molecular structures and bonding and you seem to have gotten the working out right but answers wrong… I don’t get it, it’s like-“ and then there’s a pause, and you fiddle with your nails- eyes staring down at your lap as Mr White seeks out the right way to put it, “it’s like… you know what to do, but you’re just intentionally changing the answers from your correct working out”

You scoff, and he furrows his brows, glasses catching the artificial light in their lenses. “Maybe I just don’t understand what to do with my working out once I’ve finished with it,” you argue “There are so many different routes you have to pursue to find the final answer, maybe I just picked the wrong one” shrugging, you rest your forearms on the desk, tipping forward slightly as you do. You draw shapes across the cold surface with your fingers.

“Yes but you set it out in such a way that it doesn't make sense for you to pick the wrong one, there are other students who make a mess organizing their answers- they scribble out and write over until it’s almost impossible to make sense of,” his hands motion toward two imaginary groups as he illustrates his point, the hair above his upper lip shifts as he speaks.

“But your answers are structured in a way it’d be near enough impossible for you to not know which answer is the final one, do you understand my concern?” You nod, and the embarrassment of being found out seeps through the wall of pride you’d tried to sustain. “You’re my brightest student, so it’s just surprising to see such an obscure mistake in your work”

Your cheeks burn warm and red, you hope he doesn’t notice- it’s pathetic, really. Crushing on your teacher, a cliche that a lot of people found insulting. You’d tried to suppress your feelings for him, but the little chemistry jokes he’d make sometimes in class alongside how enthusiastic he was about the subject was enough to make you swoon. It was adorable, and you wanted to just pinch his cheeks. He’d acknowledge your potential in the past: ‘excellent as always’ along with other kind messages was scribbled across a majority of your homework and tests, a crudely drawn smiley face with glasses doodled alongside in matching red ink.

But as of recently, he’d been paying less attention to you and your work. Occasionally, you’d stay behind once the bell had rung to ask him chemistry questions and chat, but now whenever you did he’d just shut you down with a dismissive ‘I’m busy’ or a ‘maybe tomorrow’ despite ‘tomorrow’ sometimes being a Saturday.

You knew he’d still speak to Barry for failing, so you figured that maybe you’d have to start messing up for him to start talking to you again. It was selfish, sure, but you wanted him to like you, to like talking to you as you did with him.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ve just been a bit..” you try to find an excuse, but when you can’t you purse your lips together- your eyes scrunched shut as you prepare yourself for what you’re about to ask, “Mr. White, have I done something wrong? I-I know that’s weird to ask but- hear me out, okay?”

His green eyes widen momentarily, he stumbles for a reply but eventually finds that an ‘Alright’ slips past his lips with as much decorum as a baby giraffe trying to find its feet.

“I like your lessons, a lot, they’re my favorite part of the day, and-” your hands tremble against the surface of the table, so you ball them up and push them down to rest atop your thighs. “I can imagine you're busy, but I feel like I’ve done something to annoy you- you know? Like when I used to ask questions after lessons and we’d talk…” your eyes don’t dare meet his, and you feel like you’re going to start crying as the shame and embarrassment bubbles in your chest.

“You’re the only person I actually feel comfortable opening up to, and I know you still talk to Barry about his work when he messes up, so I figured I’d-“

“-You decided to intentionally write the wrong answers on the tests to get my attention…” he’s in disbelief, and you look up, eyes meeting him as he shifts his weight onto his left leg and pinches the bridge between his nose.

“Yes, it’s stupid, but I really like talking to you, Mr. White, I like talking with you about Chemistry and I like listening to your… weird teacher stories, and shitty-“ fuck, “-interesting, jokes… I love spending time with you"

You exhale, finally, as it feels like you’ve been holding your breath for the last five minutes. Relief overtakes the shame you’d felt, and the anxiety of opening up. It was done now, there was nothing you could do to take back what you’d just said. It wasn’t an outright statement admitting your unrequited feelings for him, but he was smart enough to infer that you liked him more than you’d liked anyone else.

“I-I’m sorry for making you feel like that, Miss l/n” he starts, leaning against his desk as you meet his stare- one that’s so familiar but now is like looking at a stranger. “I’ve been busy, I- you know I’ve told you about my wife, right?”

Swallowing back the word you’d been trying to ignore, you nod, “yes,”

“Well, you know that it’s been hard to stick around here after hours because of the baby- there’s just a lot going on at the moment,” and the fact his wife is cheating on him, but he refrains from mentioning that.

“Oh, congratulations” in an ill attempt to sound happy for the man you were in love with, you manage to sound more disheartened than you would’ve initially.

“Thank you,”

There’s another awkward silence, you look down at your feet, picking at your fingers. Walter moves from his desk to around the side of yours, he leans his hand on the table and sighs, you hadn’t even noticed he was there until his Clark wallabee shoes slip into your peripheral.

“Look, you’re a lovely young lady and I enjoy talking to you, but you’re my student, you're smart enough to know how wrong that is,” he waits for a reaction, and you nod, glancing at him as you take your teeth between your lower lip. Now you really feel like crying. This is a nightmare, you should’ve just said your imaginary dog died, maybe then you’d avoid this awkward conversation.

“And believe me when I say I’m flattered,” more than flattered, actually. You were an attractive young woman and he’d be lying if he denied having thoughts about you that were similar to those of when he’d first set eyes upon his now wife. Yet still, he valued his job, and he loved his family. Despite how much of a bitch skyler had been recently, they were married, and if someone found out about him having an affair - let alone an affair with a STUDENT - he’d be done for.

“you’re young, you should be focusing on yourself and your future, with that head on your shoulders you’ll without a doubt do amazing things. And I’m not ‘just saying that’ to appease you.”

You look up at him, and he’s smiling in a way you’d smile at someone who’s just lost something precious and dear to them.

“I-I didn’t mean to feel like this, I just… I love everything about you it’s hard not to like you, I- I've always liked older guys, no offense or anything but.. it really is difficult,” you pause, and he goes to add something but you cut him off before he can, “This was stupid, a stupid idea I know and I should’ve just waited it out, but… can I ask you a question? And be honest with me, please, I won’t tell anyone.”

For a moment he contemplates, but eventually gives in. The look of desperation that glimmers in your eyes as they glaze over with tears was enough to push him over that edge. You had this crush on him, you really did think he was perfect. God, he felt horrible. How little you knew of what he’d done.

“Do you- if-“ you sigh, turn to face him, hands in your lap as your cheeks flush- almost matching the red ink that graces your failed test paper, which still sits on the table between the both of you. “If I wasn’t your student, hypothetically, and you saw me in a bar or out in public and I talked to you, would you like me back?”

He wants to say no, but deceiving you after all that is dishonorable. He figured that you deserved the truth after being so open and honest with him now.

“Yes, I think”

You forget you’re sitting in a classroom when you move your hand to his left, which is pressed against the table. Tracing the pads of your fingers over his knuckles- feeling the gold wedding band that fits him perfectly, you smile and he smiles back.

It does boost your ego a little to know that had you not been his student, you would’ve had a chance with this man. God, it sounded silly now. Crushing on your 50-year-old chemistry teacher. He was a person behind that facade, a father and a husband.

Despite how selfish you could be, you wouldn't force him from that. He was a good man, intelligent- you valued his word.

“You… don’t think… less of me now, do you?”

He chuckles, it’s low within his chest and he reaches to brush your hair back with his fingers. You close your eyes and melt into the warmth that’s there. He does it with such care and delicacy, as though you’d break beneath the slightest amount of pressure.

A porcelain doll, pure and fragile.

A/N: alright that's that! let me know what you guys think down below and lmk if you're all up for a part 2...

#walter white x reader #walter white x student!reader #walter white #breaking bad #brba #breaking bad x reader #walter white x you #walter hartwell white #walter white is pussy whipped on the dl #reader has daddy issues 100%#teacher x student #teacher x reader

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icabrth · 1 year

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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 [email protected] 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?

#breaking bad #breaking bad x reader #gustavo fring x reader #gus fring x reader #gus x reader #gustavo fring #gus fring #x fem!reader #x reader

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sundaytears · 2 years

Note

hello!! I saw ur bb reqs were open? totally feel free to ignore this but I was wondering if you'd do a general reader insert set around s2/3? readers basically an information broker/researcher for walt n jesse but is like part of the main group as well, gets 1/3 of the cut, etc. anyway how do you think meeting/interacting with saul would go? can be romantic or platonic totally up to you !

JESSE AND WALT’S PARTNER MEETING SAUL!

[ gender neutral ]

— warnings: none

“So sorry I’m late, you know how traffic is!” you apologize, stumbling into the lawyer’s office. “It’s quite alright..” The man, who you assume is Saul Goodman, trails off, waiting for you to introduce yourself.

“Oh, Y/N!” You sit down in the chair in between Jesse and Walt, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “You don’t mind if I smoke in here, so you?”

Saul stammers, looking for words. Luckily, Walt grabs the cigarette out of your hand before you can light it. “This isn’t a club, this is serious.”

You turn to Jesse, mocking Walter, “Blah blah, isn’t a club, this is serious!” The cancer ridden man huffs and smacks you on the head.

“Y/N, this is Saul Goodman, our lawyer.” Walter speaks as if you’re a child, but then again, he treats everyone like that. “Yeah, I think I got that.” You reply sarcastically.

“So like- you know about the meth?” You ask, quickly being shushed by all three men. “Yo, don’t say it!” Jesse scolds you, and you throw your hands up in defence, “Jeez!”

“I- yes, I know. Obviously.” Saul scoffs, and you can practically taste the sarcasm dripping off of him.

“Okay, why am I the only person getting shitted on? Jesse is just as sloppy as me!” You defend yourself. “Sloppy? I am not sloppy, bitch. Capn’ Cook is not sloppy!” He argues with you, soon devolving you two into a loud argument, something that happens very often. “You literally added chili pepper! If I didn’t tell you, you wouldn’t know what taxes were!”

“Okay- okay! Clearly you two need to.. sort that out.” Saul gestures to you both. Walter waits with a stone cold face, already uses to you and Jesse’s petty arguments.

“Whatever. We all know he’d be arrested without me.” You joke, chuckling when Jesse rolls his eyes dramatically. “That’s so not true, yo.”

“Okay, yes, y/n has their perks.” Saul nods. “Yeah, bitch! He likes me more than you!” You laugh, and Mr. White scoffs.

Never in a million years did you think you’d be helping Jesse Pinkman and your old chemistry teacher sell meth.

#breaking bad x reader #saul goodman x reader #jesse pinkman x reader #sundaytears #walter white x reader

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depressopax · 1 month

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The first - Part 1

Fandom - Breaking Bad/Better call Saul

Pairing: Multiple characters x gender-neutral reader (Nacho, Jesse, Kim, Jimmy, Mike, Howard) Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, one-shots Warning(s): Mentions of sexual tension, weed and alcohol. Cuss words Words: 1.5k Summary: The first kiss with the BrBa/BCS characters English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 »» AO3 link || Masterlist || Request ««

The first kiss

Nacho

You and Nacho had been friends for quite a while during this time. One day, you were chilling in his house and talking and it kinda just happened. Having a complicated life, Nacho was scared to drag you - one of the people he cares about mostly - into it. But the sexual tension between the two of you reached a tipping point when you got into the topic of relationships.

“If things were easier, maybe I’d actually have time to find love” Nacho sighed.

“You deserve to be happy, Nacho.”

“I am. With you.” He realized how it sounded and shook his head. “...Nevermind.”

But you’d heard enough to know you were not crazy. He liked you, too. Without another word, you pressed your lips against his. At first, he responded but soon pulled back.

“We shouldn’t.”

“I know.”

Silence fell, and after a moment, you stood up, walking to the door before you felt Nacho grab your arm. Before given the chance to react - he spinned you around and pulled you into a kiss. With his palm cupping your face, he kissed you in a way no one had done before. It was passionate and needy. Afterwards, he held onto you, breathing hot air at you whilst your foreheads pressed against each other.

“Stay.”

You nodded.

“I’m not going anywhere”

Jesse

Jesse invited you to one of his parties and since you liked him, you decided to go. Little did you know, he felt the same… Opening the door to the house, you were hit by loud music, loud voices and the smell of alcohol, sweat and weed. At least 20 people in the living room vibing to the music whilst getting drunk and high. You felt a bit disoriented entering the place, directly scanning the place for Jesse. You found him sitting in the living room together with the friends Skinny Pete and Badger. When seeing you he smiled and greeted you.

“Yo! I’m glad you made it here.” After hugging you he dragged you along to the kitchen. “Something to drink?”

“Yes please!” After handing you a beer, the two of you sat down next to Jesse’s friends and talked. They kept glancing at the two of you and grinning, like they knew something you didn’t.

“Man… You’re so down bad for them, Jesse.” Badger mumbled whilst smoking his joint. Jesse looked like he wanted to murder his best friend on the spot, whilst Pete just laughed. So that’s what they were grinning about…

“Is that right, Jesse?”

“I…” He stuttered an explanation, but none was needed.

“Maybe I like you too?”

“If you’re playing with me right now…”

“Jesse.” You said firmly. “I mean it.”

After that, Jesse basically grabbed your hand and walked out of the house, with his friends whistling and laughing at the scene.

“Sorry ‘bout them. They’re such damn jerks.” Jesse muttered and looked at the night sky, his face turned away from you to hide the blush.

“You like me.”

“And you like me, too?”

“Yea.”

“Perfect.”

Without realizing it, the two of you had moved closer to each other. When he leaned down, you didn’t hesitate. It was like you could taste the smoke on his soft lips as you kissed. It was intoxicating. Afterwards, you both looked at the sky.

“We should have done that a long time ago.”

“Yea”

Kim

Kim was overworking herself - as usual. And being her worried friend, you couldn’t stand the sight of it. During her lunch break, you went to her office at HHM only to find her buried in paperwork.

“Kim, for fuck sake…”

She barely noticed your presence so you had to walk up to her and tap her shoulder.

“Hey…” she said absent-mindedly.

“Kim…”

“I’ll be done soon, don’t worry”

“You’ve said that for days, Kim.”

“Yea? Well why don’t you-” realizing she was about to snap at you, she went quiet really fast and looked at you in shame “I’m sorry.”

After some convincing, she finally agreed to leave the office and let you buy her a coffee. Seeing her holding the warm paper cup containing cappuccino melted your heart. She looked so calm, for once.

“I’m worried for you.”

“That’s sweet of you… But really, I’m fine.”

You were not satisfied with the reply, and she noticed that - since you had stopped walking.

“Hey… What’s the matter?” she said softly and threw the empty cup in a near bin before standing before you.

“I care about you, Kim. I don’t want you burned out…”

She stroked your cheek, and you could no longer hold back the feelings you harbored. When you kissed her, she didn’t pull back. Rather, she pulled you closer to her.

“Will you stop nagging if I take the afternoon off?” You could only nod in reply, still in shock after the kiss.

Jimmy

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Hmmm? What?” you looked at Jimmy, who drove the car. “Yea, of course. You told me about some clients.”

“...If I bore you out that badly, just tell me, sugar.” he muttered before parking the car.

“You don’t bore me, Jimmy.”

“Sure seems like it.”

He left the car and you had to run after him.

“Look, I’m sorry… It’s just, I’m worried, I guess.”

“Worried? Why?”

“You should hear yourself sometimes, Jimmy.” You hissed. “You’re dealing with some dangerous people. And you always put yourself in shit situations!”

“I got this! Ok?!”

“Yea, sure you do. Sure.”

He rolled his eyes and continued walking.

“Why do you even care?” he grumbled. You had to bite your tongue to not say anything stupid. Because what could you even say? “...And you’re back to ignoring me. Thank you, sweetie.”

“Because I just care, ok?” Tears burned in your eyes, and now he noticed.

“Hey… Sweetheart-” he sighed, seeming uncomfortable with your emotions. “I’m sorry, ok?”

He squeezed your shoulder.

After a minute of awkward silence, he tried lightening the mood with saying:

“You got a lil crush on good ol’ Jimmy, eh?” Your reaction told him everything. “You do??” he chuckled.

“...Idiot.”

“Your idiot.” he murmured before stepping closer - he tilted your head up and forced you to look at him.

“I knew you got the hots for me, sugar. Don’t worry. I feel the same.”

And then he kissed you. At first, you wanted to pull away. You were still angry at him - after all.

But it’s hard to be mad at someone that kisses you like that.

And the way he smiled against your lips - Oh god…

Mike

You had just found out about Mike’s work, and just what he does for his boss Gus Fring. And you were not happy. Saying “you needed to think”, you rushed out from his place.

“Can you at least let me explain?” Mike hissed, following you - one step behind.

“Mike…”

“Please.” Something in his voice had changed. It went from the usually calm but firm tone - to a pleading one. It caught you off guard and you turned around to look at him. He seemed stressed.

“What?” you muttered.

“Please, let me explain.”

And seeing how desperate he seemed, you couldn’t say no. So you listened to him, letting him tell you about his career and why he did it.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Why would I?” he scoffed, but quickly realised how harsh it sounded. Before you had a chance to leave again, he grabbed your hand.

“Because I care about you. I’m not pulling you into my bullshit.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his next words…

“I can’t lose you. Please.”

And then…

He kissed you. Just like that. And how could you pull away, when you’d been dreaming of this moment for so long?

The kiss said more than thousands of words.

Everything made sense now.

Howard

You had known Howard for quite a while and he invited you out for lunch during one of his breaks.

“Over here!” you saw him sitting by a two-person table at the restaurant, waving at you with a big smile. You joined him.

“Jeez, Howard! This place looks… Expensive!”

“Only the best lunch restaurant in town!” He said cheerfully, but you could sense some sort of… Nervousness? In his voice. “Tell me about your day!”

“Well uhm… It was-” He looked at you intensely. It was both cute but a bit weird. “...Are you ok?”

“Of course!”

After lunch - which he insisted on paying - you tagged along when he walked back to HHM and his office. Before saying goodbye, he stopped you.

“Wait! I actually need to talk to you.”

“Alright… Shoot.”

“I…” he gathered his thoughts and cleared his throat before continuing - or at least trying to. “I kinda… Y’know…”

You couldn’t help but smile. The blush said everything.

“Howard…” you cooed, and then leaned in and kissed him. He was startled, but then kissed you back and sighed in relief at you initiating this.

“Was that what you were trying to say?”

“Y-yea…”

“Well… I definitely feel the same.”

AHSHSHS this is prob one of my cheesiest one-shots yet- HOPE Y'ALL LIKED IT EITHER WAYS <3 Next part will be "First date". If you like this concept like, comment or reblog! Would mean a lot. :) MWAHHH

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slamminslamminmcgill · 1 year

Text

IM NOT SHADOWBANNED ANYMORE FUCKING FINALLYYYYYYY

send me writing prompts pls

#breaking bad #brba #breaking bad x reader #saul goodman x reader #jimmy mcgill x reader #jesse pinkman x reader #better call saul x reader #better call saul #bcs #lalo salamanca x reader

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bowieandqueen11 · 2 years

Text

You Make Me Happy / Jimmy McGill Imagine

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

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

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

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

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

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

‘Jeez, your feet are freezing.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Your ass is on your chest?’

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

‘Make me.’

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

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

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

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