B.iketani Instagram 06/03/2024

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡ 

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago. 

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch. 

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you. 

“I wanna see Max.” 

“She has to be here somewhere.” 

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest. 

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here. 

Steve frowns at you worriedly. 

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers. 

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips. 

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Is it awful?” you ask. 

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult. 

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask. 

“Dustin. He’s outside.” 

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.” 

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes. 

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?” 

“Like you like him.” 

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?” 

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?” 

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings. 

“Looks like something. Are you dating?” 

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.” 

“He was touching you a lot.” 

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely. 

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh. 

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s— 

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder. 

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug. 

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly. 

Oh, boy, you think. 

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy. 

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet. 

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.” 

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.” 

“Steve.” 

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.” 

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty. 

“What?” he asks. 

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles 

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What?” 

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.” 

“I sounded weird?” 

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.” 

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it. 

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do. 

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.” 

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.” 

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something. 

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie? 

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged. 

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews. 

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way. 

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused. 

“You were in the way of the light.” 

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself. 

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?” 

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks. 

“It’s good.” 

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.” 

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you. 

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise! 

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this. 

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing. 

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs. 

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes. 

“You okay?” he whispers. 

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek. 

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen. 

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say. 

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.” 

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.” 

“I thought…” And of course he did. 

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.” 

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.” 

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes. 

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious. 

“Yeah.” 

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.” 

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.” 

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.” 

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks. 

“I like you too!” he says loudly. 

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?” 

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again. 

“You okay?” he asks tightly. 

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?” 

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.” 

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?” 

You nod vehemently. 

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm. 

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.” 

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you. 

“You can be my parasol.” 

“Your what?” 

“It’s a sun umbrella.” 

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up. 

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.” 

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay. 

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur. 

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?” 

“That’s perfect.” 

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly. 

“No… I’m thinking.” 

“Nothing good ever comes of that.” 

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth. 

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight. 

“It’s a question.” 

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world. 

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.” 

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.” 

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.” 

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start. 

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem. 

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur. 

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it. 

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke. 

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

SIDELINES.

you haven’t seen jesse pinkman since high school — and he’s the last person you ever expected to connect with. however, times have changed — and so have you.

part 1. | part 2. | part 3. | part 4. | part 5.

༄ PAIRING. | jesse pinkman x [female] reader.

༄ FORMAT. | one-shot, multi-part — not requested.

༄ WORD COUNT. | 9.6K.

༄ WARNINGS. | drug use, references to substance use/addiction, past jane/jesse, emotional trauma/hurt, jesse’s internalized hatred/guilt, acquaintances to lovers, smoking, smut, smut with plot, making out, dirty talk, breast play, cunnilingus, hair pulling, bottom!jesse, riding, morning sex, aftercare.

༄ AUTHOR’S NOTE. | I don’t know where I’m getting these ideas, but I have a lot of projects in the works right now. Some are horror-related and some aren’t. Honestly, I’m just happy to be writing again no matter what the content is. Thank you guys for your continued support & love. I couldn’t do it without you all! Peace! ☺️

The scent of marijuana, pungent smoke, and a toxic amalgamation of sweat and AXE body spray wafted throughout the house, music jacked up so loud that it made your ears ring. You remained at your perch, stuffed along the wall of a stranger’s house while your friends got stoned in another room.

You were dragged to this party out of sheer loyalty to your friends and a boredom that outweighed anything else. Regret rippled through you, nose stinging from the foul smells that hung like a noxious haze in the living room. The drink you clutched within one hand was watered-down, tiny slivers of ice swirling around within the cup.

Some mediocre hip-hop song blasted throughout the house, bass loud enough to shake the very foundation — you were thoroughly surprised that the police hadn’t been called in for a noise complaint.

Grey wisps of smoke drifted in your direction, and you swatted at it with a wrinkled nose. It wasn’t your typical scene — the sort of party, at least. Partying was something you were accustomed to — harmless college parties with drinks and weed, but this was something else.

There were people snorting lines of cocaine off of a glass coffee table, and you swore that one person had passed out entirely in the kitchen. A strange sensation crawled across your flesh — a feeling that you weren’t exactly meant to be here. Your friends had driven you down here, but you were prepared to take your chances with walking home.

“Wanna hit?” A man asked you, gsze half-lidded, lips curled into a less than attractive smile. He propositioned you with a jerk of his head, motioning toward the thin line of fine, white powder sitting along the coffee table.

“No thanks.” You waved one hand in dismiss, weaving through the crowds to retrieve another drink. The kitchen was destroyed, ravaged by strangers with little respect for the home. Debris, trash, and the remnants of marijuana were everywhere. You nearly stepped on broken glass.

It felt like an out-of-body experience — as if you were simply a spectator, an observer who watched the chaos around you. You didn’t thrive or revel within it — you were indifferent. The vices of your friends differed greatly from your own, to quite an extreme degree.

As you watched the swarm of people, all huddled together within the living room, the air became stifling and stuffy, as if it threatened to suffocate you altogether. They reminded you of zombies — barely moving in one place, all drugged-out from whatever concoction of pills and illicit substances were available at this party.

You silently slipped outside, abandoning your drink somewhere on the windowsill as you stepped out into the cool night breeze. You inhaled, greedily drinking in the crisp freshness of dusk, hands roaming over your thin cardigan as you began to shuffle to the edge of the porch.

Moonlight pooled through the wispy clouds as they fluttered through the night — everything was so much quieter outside. The thumping of the bass had diminished, and the skunk-like scent had dissipated altogether.

The door opened behind you, a figure slinking out onto the porch a few feet away from you. “Hey.”

It was somewhat unfamiliar until you’d actually glanced over your shoulder, gaze landing upon a most familiar face — Jesse Pinkman. The two of you made eye contact; Jesse’s face blossomed with a subtle realization.

“Holy shit,” You let out a bark of a laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Jesse Pinkman, right? You went to J.P Wynne.” You hadn’t seen Jesse Pinkman since high school graduation — you distinctly remembered his social circle.

Jesse recognized you sometime during the midst of the party — a true wallflower, despite your popularity in junior high. It surprised him to see a girl like you at one of his drug-laden festivities, but then again, life was full of surprises. He looked tired, skin pale and eyes baggy as he leaned against one of the columns.

“Yeah,” Perusing his pockets, he fished out a cigarette, placing it between his lips. “You were one of the Honor Society members, right?” Jesse recalled your stellar academics and social standing — his polar opposite.

You made a face, keeping your arms folded across your abdomen. “Yeah.” Admittedly, Jesse wasn’t exactly someone you were friends with in high school. Cordial was a good word for it — your parents never would have allowed you to hang out with someone like him, anyway. “We were in Mr. White’s chemistry classes together.”

Upon mentioning Walter White, Jesse stiffened slightly, feigning innocence as he cracked a thin-lipped smile. “Jesus,” He exhaled, reaching for his lighter. “It’s been awhile.”

There was a prevalent exhaustion that hung within his eyes, a loneliness that almost felt tangible within that moment. He avoided eye contact with you at-times, hands fidgeting when you stepped closer.

“It has.” You paused, rubbing your palms across your arms. Despite the acrid heat that New Mexico produced during the day, the temperatures dropped drastically at night. You shivered, a delicate smile creeping across your features. “Did the party get a little boring for you, too?”

He’d forgotten about you a little bit — forgotten about just how beautiful you were. You’d only gotten prettier, too. Jesse felt the sting of sheepishness and inferiority that came with being around someone like you — a good person, someone with responsibilities and respectable morals. You weren’t a criminal — you hadn’t killed somebody.

Jesse almost felt as if he shouldn’t be speaking to you, but he pressed on. “I guess. Needed some air, you know?” He noticed your constant shivering, prompting him to remove the baggy, black jacket he wore. “You cold?” He asked, gesturing toward the garment he carried.

“Oh,” Warmth crept along your flesh, brows knitting together as you shook your head. “You don’t have to do that, Jesse.” It was a thoughtful gesture, something you didn’t expect, but you were freezing and the dress wasn’t doing you any favors.

“Nah, go ahead. Might smell like cigarettes, though.” Jesse forewarned, tucking one hand underneath his arm. The long-sleeved Henley he wore was more than enough for him.

You thanked him, slipping into his hooded zip-up. He wasn’t exactly incorrect — it did smell of cigarette smoke intermingled with the cologne he wore. You didn’t mind, though.

Silence drifted between the two of you, awkward enough to make you uncomfortable as you fished around for your cellphone. Minutes ticked by without a word. Jesse appeared to be a little nervous, and you wondered if it had anything to do with you.

There was a string of texts from your friends inquiring about your whereabouts. It was a little after ten o’clock, and you fully intended on walking home. “It was nice seeing you, Jesse. I hope you’re doing well.” You cleared your throat. “I’m going to head home.”

Jesse opened his mouth to speak, lips fumbling around the unlit cigarette. Surely, you didn’t want to talk to him — Christ, he was practically a stranger. It felt cruel of him not to offer to give you a ride home, or something like that.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse cleared his throat, clamoring after you. “I can give you a ride home. Could be stalkers or crazy people around.” His reasoning was weak, but it seemed to resonate with you, oddly enough. He felt strange — he barely knew you outside of what he perceived in high school.

You knew that Jesse had gotten in trouble with the law in school — everyone knew. Gossip was prevalent at J.P Wynne. Part of you screamed to refuse, to politely decline and endure the lengthy trek home, but a sliver of you wanted to accept, to indulge in your curiosity.

Jesse had always been kind to you in the very rare, occasional interaction you’d had with him. He hadn’t given you any reason not to trust him. It was a nice change of company — refreshing, almost. There was a clean slate between the two of you.

Your shoulders slouched and sluggishly lifted in a weak shrug as you rubbed your hands together. “You don’t mind? It’s on Nauman Drive, past downtown.” A decent drive, for sure — a half an hour or more. You expected him to reject you given the distance.

“Nauman?” It was a nice area, he knew that much. “Yeah, I don’t mind. You care if I smoke?” Jesse inquired, gesturing around toward the garage. He didn’t care about the house — it almost seemed to fade away into the background. He needed a break, time to think.

“Go ahead.” You trailed after Jesse, following him toward the paved stretch of driveway. A 1984 Toyota Tercel sat, red paint beginning to fade and show signs of weathering. It was beat-up, but certainly held a bit of rugged appeal.

Jesse awkwardly shuffled to open the passenger door, and you thanked him, sinking down into the felt seats. The car smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap air fresheners, but it was tidy and clean inside. You placed your purse down onto the floorboard in front of you.

Blowing a pillar of smoke into the air, Jesse hastily finished his cigarette, fingers beginning to quiver as he opened the driver’s side. He hadn’t really spent time with a girl since Jane — but you didn’t remind him of her whatsoever. There were many qualities you possessed that certainly contrasted from her, not that it was a bad thing.

“Do you live here?” You asked, head canting to one side. There were other cars scattered around the block and parked on the street, but his happened to be the only vehicle in the driveway.

“Uh,” Jesse glanced at you, absentmindedly wetting his lower lip. “Yeah, I do.” He turned the key forward, car rumbling and puffing to life. “Bought the house months ago — used to be my Aunt’s.” He clarified, wondering if you would ask about the obscene amount of drugs.

“You don’t think it’ll burn down while you’re gone?” You questioned, lips twitching into a thin smile as you rolled down the passenger window, letting your elbow rest up against the ledge.

Jesse let out a huff of laughter, and shrugged his shoulders. He began to back up, rolling out onto the empty roads. “It’s been through worse shit.” His wry statement only made your smile flicker again, but he vehemently focused on driving instead.

You felt the barrier melt a bit at that — it was comforting to know that the two of you didn’t have to behave like complete strangers. Silence simmered again, settling between the both of you as he concentrated on finding something on the radio. It served as suitable background noise.

“What are you doing nowadays?” You avoided the topic of the party — it wasn’t worth mentioning. A cool breeze whipped through the car as he began to drive, causing goosebumps to prickle along your shoulders.

“I don’t know,” Jesse confessed, cerulean hues flickering in your direction. “Drifting, I guess.” It was the first time where he’d revealed a sliver of his true feelings. The parties were a worthwhile distraction — soulless events where he could find solace in all of the chaos surrounding him. “Shit, it’s a long story.” His laughter was shaky.

“You don’t have to do a full confession, Jesse.” You reassured, playfully prodding at your cardigan. “I’m not wearing a wire.” With a gentle exhale, your tone softened as he pulled out onto the highway. It was almost soothing — driving back home with somebody you never expected to see again.

Jesse laughed at that, running a hand across his disheveled hair, and then planting it against the back of his neck. The support groups he’d been attending didn’t work — there was no comfort he’d been able to find.

Everything felt like some massive distraction from the root of the problem — the residual pain he was dealing with from Jane, from Gale. His heart hammered within his chest, and he looked at you again. Oddly enough, your nonchalant behavior and lack of judgment would’ve been enough for him to spill in a different setting.

“Hey, what about you? What are you doing these days?” Jesse immediately shifted the focus away from him. He was far more interested in what you had to say than his own life. Besides, it would pull him out of his own head for a little while.

The inquiry was unexpected but not unwelcome, causing you to adjust yourself within the passenger seat. “Oh,” You cleared your throat. “I’m in college at the University of New Mexico. I’m still trying to figure out what I’d like to study — getting basics out of the way. I work at a cafe.”

Normal, uneventful, peaceful — Jesse envied you.

You were achieving something mundane yet safe, something that he wished he would’ve done long ago. Maybe things wouldn’t have happened in the way that they did. His countenance became a touch forlorn, but it wasn’t the time to become mournful over the past. He couldn’t go back, not anymore.

“Yeah, that’s …” He nodded, attempting to conjure the right words to say. “That’s good, really good. You know you could do anything you wanted. You were always really smart and shit.” Jesse replied, gaze hyperfocused upon the road as headlights raced past.

You could detect that Jesse was holding something back — that minuscule flicker of pain had crossed over his visage before being forced to dissipate. Your eyebrows furrowed together, and you reached over, gently prodding at his shoulder.

“Hey,” You began, tone laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

Jesse felt his heart constrict within his chest, wisps of air stolen from his lungs. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked that — and genuinely meant it. It wasn’t out of obligation, that was easy to tell. He felt his throat grow thick, but he staved off any tears.

“Yeah.” It was a blatant lie, spoken through a clenched jaw. He nearly winced when you touched his shoulder, feeling as if he were souring the mood entirely. “Just, uh … You know, going to therapy and rehab right now. It’s been tough.” A very threadbare half-truth, but it was enough to placate you.

“Oh.” A warmth crept into your voice as you withdrew, countenance softening as you sank back into the passenger seat. “That’s understandable, Jesse. I’m sorry.” You replied, tucking strands of hair behind your ear as you looked out the window again.

Albuquerque was a sprawling city, and as the two of you neared the nicer end, Jesse knew that Nauman was only ten minutes away. He didn’t want to go back to the party anymore — but it might’ve been the best option. If he stayed with you, he knew the pain it would cause. He feared losing people — it was present all the time, a nagging dread that never stopped.

“Don’t be sorry,” Jesse interjected, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. “Did that shit to myself, you know?” Addiction was behind him. He rarely participated anymore — he was just a silent observer, fueling everyone else’s vices while he withered away. What kind of a life was that?

You canted your head to one side, lips parting slightly as you spoke. “Jesse, that’s not entirely your fault. You can’t blame yourself for your environment or circumstances out of your control.” You were right — but he made the choice to shoot Gale, and he made the choice to shoot up with Jane before she died.

He was silent, feeling the sensation of tears swimming within his gaze. Jesse didn’t want to even remotely consider crying in front of you — he barely knew you. Instead, he focused on the road, taking the exit towards Albuquerque Studios. Nauman wasn’t very far away.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d had a conversation with someone else that was this raw and vulnerable. Jesse’s discomfort was palpable and very real to you, and you felt horrible. Your countenance glistened with concern, brows furrowing together.

After the exit, Jesse drove onto Nauman Drive. There were rows of beautiful, lavish houses and apartment complexes, ones that he probably could’ve bought with the dealing money. He was blowing it all away right now on drugs for the parties — he was beginning to ask himself ‘why?’

“My apartment is at the end of the drive.” Your voice had softened, hands planted within your lap as he followed your directions. It was a smaller apartment complex but much nicer, your driveway occupied by your vehicle.

Jesse pulled up along the curb — it was eerily silent, aside from the cacophony of crickets that provided a steady ambience, and the occasional bark of a dog. He put the car in park, still gripping the steering wheel. “You got a nice place.” He murmured, a halfhearted attempt to shift the conversation to something else.

“Hey,” After unbuckling your seatbelt, you leaned over the center console, palm resting over his hand, the one that was strangling the wheel of the car. “Why don’t you come inside? I can make you coffee or something and you can just space out for a little while. We don’t even have to talk.”

The offer was generous — admittedly, Jesse wondered if it would benefit him in any way. If he could just lay on your couch, decompress, let the emotion off of his chest. He didn’t care about the state of the house — he didn’t care about anybody at that party. What he did care about, however, was you, and how you made him feel.

It was as if the invisibility he’d been safely floating in for so long was shattered, but there was someone who could actually see him — see the veil he’d been maintaining for this whole time. His gaze finally flickered toward you, who appeared genuinely concerned for him.

You were good — truly good.

There wasn’t an ounce of maliciousness or an underlying agenda. You didn’t smoke, you hadn’t touched drugs, you were in college with a steady, normal job that never got you involved with the wrong people. Jesse knew what he’d be putting you through if he let this drag out for too long. If he fucked up, people could hurt you.

“Listen,” Jesse swallowed, palm planted against the back of his neck. “You’re really sweet, okay? You’re nice,” He wanted to word it in a way that wouldn’t hurt your feelings. “I just — I can’t. I’m not in a good spot right now. I don’t wanna drag you down with me.” That sounded fair, didn’t it?

You could accept that.

If it had something to do with the drugs, which you assumed that it was, then you understood that he was trying to protect you. You wanted to encourage him to try, but the last thing you wanted to do was pressure someone in a fragile state.

“Okay, Jesse.” You hesitated, pressing your tongue against the inside of your cheek. “I just want you to know that you're not alone. If you need someone, I’m here for you. I know that there was a wedge in high school, but I don’t see any reason why we couldn’t reconnect.” You shrugged, popping open the passenger side door.

As you stepped outside, you made sure to remove his jacket, draping it over the center console as you shut the door. Jesse didn’t say anything as you rounded the car — he was biting his finger, eyes squeezing shut as you made the short trek toward your front door. It felt like an eternity until you’d actually gotten inside.

Jesse exhaled, hands trembling as he hastily wiped away straggling tears that he’d been withholding during the span of the whole drive. Part of him knew that he could use a positive influence like you in his life, but the danger that lurked around him, the cloud of loss, he was afraid that you’d become lost in all of that, too.

The deliberation between going back to his house and biting the bullet to stay with you was a tedious process. He sat out in the car for a long time — he was surprised that you hadn’t come back outside asking why he was sitting there with his head pressed against the steering wheel.

When he finally made the choice to go up to your door, the walk felt like a lengthy, eternal drag. Jesse rocked forward, pressing his hands against his face as he composed himself. Back in high school, he was suave — much more of a charmer. Nowadays, he felt incompetent, but it was largely due to an amalgamation of nerves and drug use.

He knocked a few times, skin crawling with a nervous sensation, but there was something exciting about it, too. You were familiar yet new, a breath of fresh air that he desperately needed. Jesse watched as the door opened, and there you were.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse stuck his hands into his pockets, rocking back upon his heels. “Is the offer still on the table?” He’d ask, and your lips split into a gentle yet bemused smile.

“Of course.” You’d changed into your pajamas — a baggy, oversized graphic t-shirt and cotton shorts that were dwarfed by your top. “Did you want to watch a movie? I was about to start Watchmen.”

Jesse watched as you stepped aside to invite him in, closing the door behind him and latching the lock. You had a weird itch for security, especially at night. “Yeah, that sounds cool.” He replied, having a look around.

Your apartment was tidy and very cozy, with a rather comforting aesthetic and atmosphere. Jesse felt a little more relaxed, wandering around in the small living room. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the plush sofa, scattered with throw blankets and pillows.

As you prepared coffee, you wondered what changed his mind. It was a question that would likely nag at you until you asked. You understood being lonely — aside from the occasional hangout with your friends, you lived alone.

“Make yourself at home,” You chimed, weaving around the coffee table to place your steaming mugs down, settling into the couch. Jesse sat a comfortable distance away, arm slung over the back of the sofa. “What changed your mind?”

Your question caught him off-guard, but he wanted to be transparent with you. He owed you that much, especially after talking to him — after this, after everything. “I knew that I’d be miserable if I went back,” He shrugged. “I don’t wanna keep being miserable.” Loneliness also played a factor in this, but he didn’t really want to own up to it just yet.

“I understand,” You began, tucking one knee toward your chest as you played the movie. Admittedly, it served as better background noise than anything else. “I’m glad you came over.” Your lips split into a soft smile.

Jesse hesitated, glancing over at you as he stayed silent. He was most definitely drinking you in, gaze subtly raking you over as you took a sip of your coffee. For a moment, he envisioned this — getting close to you, hanging out with you, just getting to be himself, or as close as he could get again.

“I’m glad, too.” Jesse confessed, rubbing at the back of his head. He nearly shriveled at the eye contact you made with him, but he maintained it instead, lips twitching into a faint smile.

You nudged your drink back onto the wooden table, wordlessly slinking closer to Jesse until you were curled up beside him. The silence simmered with something else, perhaps a crackle of affection. Your gaze glistened with a peculiar softness, flickering between the movie and him.

Admittedly, this was the last thing Jesse expected — but that didn’t stop him from wanting it to happen. Once you initiated, he decided to meet you halfway, draping his arm around you, cheek pressed against the top of your head.

He’d been craving something like this for a while now. Jane left a void — a massive, gaping wound that he feared wouldn’t heal, but now? Maybe there was an end in sight — maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Jesse relaxed, sinking into you as you cuddled up with him.

Your hands intertwined, fingers brushing together until they joined. Just like Jesse, you were chasing after the sensation of touch, chasing after that feeling of fulfillment — no more loneliness. You’d been dealing with it for a long while, trying to manage the sea of emotions, and this was a nice break from that.

“I understand feeling miserable,” You murmured, head resting comfortably against his collarbone. “Sometimes it feels like you’re alone out on a raft, in the middle of the ocean.”

Jesse’s jaw tightened, but there was a mutual sense of empathy and understanding within your words. That was how he felt oftentimes — just himself, attempting to stay afloat. He didn’t say anything, but he did caress your knuckles with his thumb as a form of acknowledgment.

As the movie progressed, the two of you occasionally made small talk, but you were a little engrossed by the film, and so was he. It was comforting to just be near him — let him hold you, keep it light with gentle touches and whatnot.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie that Jesse cleared his throat, glancing down at you with exhausted eyes. “Thanks for this,” He murmured, absentmindedly wetting his lower lip. “Would you wanna do it again? Like, uh … Hanging out, or something?” He was intent on cleaning up his place, now.

“Yeah,” You replied, twisting within his hold enough to peer up at him. “I would.” There was something special about this — perhaps a feeling of renewal, of starting something with someone you never expected. You had a feeling that Jesse needed a little bit of support, and you didn’t mind providing that.

“Shit,” Jesse breathed through a soft laugh, visibly bewildered yet pleased by your answer. “Okay.” He didn’t expect that from you — he didn’t expect anything, really.

The both of you were smiling, now. Watchmen dissipated into the background once more, simply serving as ambience as the two of you nestled together. “Okay.” You parroted, lips curling into a lopsided smile as Jesse gathered his bearings.

You had little time to fully comprehend his next actions — he moved inward, cerulean hues dropping from your face to your mouth. Everything about this screamed sudden and intense, but you didn’t care. He tasted like cigarette smoke and spearmint gum — he had a very sweet kiss.

Jesse inhaled, relaxing into you, careening right into the warmth of your body. Every fiber of his being felt electrified, and he became so incredibly nervous — he hadn’t done this since Jane. He didn’t want her death to tarnish the moment, but it was inevitable.

He pulled away, opening his mouth to speak, yet nothing emerged. Words turned to ash upon his tongue, dying then and there as he hung his head, fingers toying with yours.

It wasn’t difficult to tell that he was struggling with this — you didn’t want to pry, but you didn’t want him to feel obligated, either. “Hey,” You murmured, dragging one hand toward his face, fingertips grazing over his stubbled jaw. “What’s wrong?” It was written all over his countenance, this underlying sense of pain.

“Nothing, just …” Jesse shivered when your palm cupped his jaw, shamelessly leaning into the sensation you left behind from your hand. “I just don’t wanna leave.” It sounded so pathetic — he didn’t want to go back home to a drug-laden pit.

Your lips twitched into a faint smile. “Is that it?” You left it open-ended, attempting to stay on the side of not being invasive or pushy. You wanted him to be comfortable.

Jesse huffed, idly tracing the pad of his thumb across the delicate plane of your knuckles. “Nah,” He admitted, cerulean hues flickering toward your face. “Haven’t really done this in awhile.” Telling you the visceral, painful truth would’ve been too much for him, so he settled on something else, something superficial.

“What, kissing?” You teased, keeping it mellow and lighthearted before he shook his head. “If it’s any reassurance, I haven’t done anything, either. Don’t feel like it’s just you.” With a soft sigh, you watched as Jesse leaned back just an inch or two, head craned to rest against your couch.

There was something forlorn about him, a light aura of melancholy that swirled around his being. You didn’t want to ask, but you couldn’t help but wonder what happened. You were able to look past that — he was attractive. You’d always thought that he was handsome.

“You, uh … You mind if we do it again?” Jesse asked, head cocked to one side. He was some amalgamation of sheepishness and a suave charm, smile somewhat feeble as he held your hand.

“I don’t mind.” You replied, but before he could lean in again, you had something on your mind. “Jesse?”

Jesse stooped closer, forehead nearly pressed against yours. “Yeah?”

“Would it help if you stayed tonight?” Whatever was plaguing him, being alone around drugs was the last thing he needed. You didn’t mind him staying the night — you didn’t mind whatever came with that, too.

He remained silent for a few moments, and immediately felt as if he should say no — and against his own inner turmoil, he wanted to be with you. He didn’t care if the house was a mess or if it had been reduced to nothing — he’d rather stay here with you.

“I don’t wanna disturb the peace,” Jesse began, nose wrinkling slightly when you rolled your eyes. “I can crash on the couch.” Admittedly, that sliver of him that was desperate for affection also wanted to sleep with you, but it was only polite to keep his distance until you said otherwise.

“You’re not disturbing anything. Promise.” You reassured, fingers creeping toward the nape of his neck as you tilted forward. “I want you to stay.” You uttered, your own desire for fulfillment and company mirrored his own want to not be alone.

Part of him really wished you hadn’t said that — but once the gate was open, Jesse couldn’t stop himself, and neither could you. His gaze fell to your lips, thumb briefly caressing your jaw until the two of you were colliding into one another.

Jesse kissed you again, compassionate and borderline needy, hand dropping to grasp at the curve of your hip. His free hand still remained tangled with yours, eyes fluttering shut as you shuffled forward, partially planted within his lap. It was enough to make him forget about the downward spiral he was on, and it was as if the plummeting had ceased — for now.

You didn’t know where this would lead, but that was the exhilarating part about it. The uncertainty and the newfound territory that was Jesse Pinkman elated you. Maybe this was what you needed; he was what you needed — you needed a fresh start.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse whispered against your mouth, fingers teasing the hem of your baggy shirt, grazing over your thigh. “Where we going with this?” It was spoken with compassion and concern, out of total thoughtfulness for you. Maybe you didn’t want to sleep with a junkie — he couldn’t blame you.

“I think I know where I’d like to go,” You confessed, head canting to one side. “Where do you want to go?” You asked, idly trailing your digits through his hair. You noticed the subtle bobbing of his Adam’s apple, accompanied by a peculiar sheen within his eyes.

If it was something serious that you were after, Jesse was unsure if he even had that capability. After Jane, it almost seemed to shatter — fall apart. Maybe it didn’t have to be that way forever. Perhaps, there was a light at the end of the tunnel for the two of you.

Instead of recoiling, Jesse held you closer, wordlessly ushering you into his lap, palm splayed out underneath your shirt, resting soundly at the curve of your hip. “I just,” He hesitated, completely enamored by you — you were beautiful. “I don’t know if I can be what you need right now.” He admitted.

You respected him all the more for his candor, hands coming to rest at the nape of his neck. You decided to kiss him, slow and steady, tilting to one side for something deeper. When you withdrew, your lips twitched into a smile. “I’m patient.” With that conclusion alone, Jesse relaxed.

He felt a bit of pressure relinquish itself from him, like a weight being removed from his chest. Jesse was worried that you’d want something serious, something strict off the bat. He didn’t intend on sleeping around, but he was afraid of disappointing you more than anything.

Given the implication of your interactions, Jesse had something on his mind — he figured that the feeling was mutual.

Jesse remained quiet for a moment, pressing a sweet kiss against your jaw, and then another to your neck. “Where’s your room?” He murmured, nearly shuddering in delight when you absentmindedly tugged on his hair.

“Come on.” Reluctantly, you removed yourself from his lap, taking ahold of his hand as you led him down the short corridor towards your bedroom. It was, as Jesse expected, lavishly-decorated and aesthetically pleasing. It far outweighed the dump he was living in.

“Cute.” Jesse couldn’t help but comment, lips twitching into a smile as he observed your choice of style and the many pillows piled up on top of your mattress. Admittedly, it all felt so cozy and welcoming — it even smelled good.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you watched as Jesse nudged the door closed. The both of you were swallowed by the lower, dim lighting of your bedroom, slivers of orange encompassing your scantily-clad frame.

He pressed closer, hands roaming across your body, one palm gently slipping underneath the hem of your shirt to brazenly grab at your ass. Locked in another heated kiss, your hands moved to push his jacket away, draping across his shoulders.

The sensation of your fingers roaming through his hair was enough to make his knees weak, a low groan resonating within his throat. You tasted sweet, like the twang of strawberry chapstick and the citrus seltzer you’d been drinking at the party. Jesse kissed you again, greedily this time, one hand cupping the curve of your hip.

As the two of you fell onto your bed in a feverish heap of limbs and mouths, you withdrew for a moment, getting yourself adjusted. You prepared to remove your shirt until you saw Jesse laying there, eyes half-lidded. Exhaustion was scrawled into his face, as if it were a permanent feature.

“Are you tired?” You asked, more concerned about his state of wellbeing. You were getting hot and bothered, but your own desire could be put on hold for a little while.

Jesse appeared embarrassed, but with the bags underneath his eyes and the perpetual state of tiredness that hung around him, he couldn’t lie to you. “Yeah,” He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “Shit, this feels pathetic. I’m practically blue-balling myself.” He mused, and it made you giggle.

“It’s not pathetic, Jesse.” You reassured, opting to climb into bed and make yourself comfortable. Jesse kicked off his shoes, following suit until he was resting at your side, arms tangled around you. “You look like you’re seconds away from crashing. I think we can put sex aside for now.”

Begrudgingly, he felt you cuddle against him, head near his collarbone as he made himself comfortable with you. His erection happened to push into your rump throughout, but before you could make a playful comment about it, his breathing had steadied.

“Jesse?” You whispered, receiving no response. He was most definitely asleep, and you confirmed this by simply rolling over. His expression was cast into one of bliss, still clutching onto you even through slumber. You sank back down with a smile, and decided to sleep, too.

—

Slivers of dawn’s first light trickled through the gossamer curtains — faint enough not to draw any attention, but enough to signal to Jesse that it was early in the morning. He’d stayed the night, and even then, it didn’t seem real.

You were asleep at his side, still nestled against him, but beginning to stir. Jesse couldn’t tell if it was because you were really waking up, or because his hard-on was protruding into you. He remembered last night — kissing you before he’d fallen asleep.

It wasn’t one of his smoothest moments — not by a long shot.

“Hey,” As the haze of grogginess began to lift, you were elated to find Jesse — still in your bed, and still next to you. Even being disheveled from sleep, Jesse found you to be astoundingly gorgeous. There was perfection to you that he wanted to drown himself inside of. “You’re here.” You smiled.

“Did you think I ditched or something?” He asked, arm draped around you as you shook off the feeling of slumber. Admittedly, part of you thought he’d wake up and leave, but he proved you wrong.

“A little bit,” You confessed, feeling his hand trace idle patterns into the dip of your waist. You wriggled closer, pressing a soft kiss against his stubbled jaw. “But I’m glad you didn’t.” It was complete and utter bliss, waking up with him — it was the last thing you expected, but you could get used to it.

Jesse huffed, hand dragging from your waist to your face, palm cupping your cheek as he caressed your jaw with his thumb. “Nah,” He smiled this time, cerulean eyes boring into you, becoming lost in the mere presence of you. “Didn’t even cross my mind, if I’m being honest.”

You smiled, eyelashes fluttering in rapid succession before you planted a sloppy, slower kiss against his lips. “What crossed your mind instead?” You asked, careening into the sensation of his palm cradling your face.

Jesse felt much better, no longer plagued by the desire for sleep. Instead, there was something else he wanted — he wanted to pick up from last night. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours, hand skimming toward your thigh.

“Lots of stuff,” He began, coaxing you against him as he answered your question in between a series of heated, needy kisses. “All about you.” Jesse confessed, peering at you through his lashes before his hand gently grabbed at your ass.

“Yeah? Do you wanna show me?” You asked, becoming a bit breathless whenever he kissed you. It was accompanied by plenty of groping, ensuring that you were flush against him as the tension rose to a boiling point between the two of you.

You weren’t about to recoil, reciprocating his kiss with a passionate one of your own, stomach churning with anticipation. Your hand moved toward the nape of his neck, fingers lightly grabbing at his hair. Each kiss was sweet yet sloppy, and you could feel Jesse’s hand underneath your shirt.

“Yeah, I do. Do you wanna do this?” Jesse murmured, ensuring that he wasn’t jumping the gun. You could’ve changed your mind from last night — that was certainly a possibility, and he’d be just fine with it. He was partially on top of you, but he leaned back enough to gauge your answer.

“Absolutely.” You smiled, sitting up enough to get your shirt off, which Jesse kindly assisted with. The both of you sank into a rather peaceful moment, blissfully quiet as he wriggled out of his shirt.

Jesse leaned forward again, capturing your mouth in a passionate, heated kiss, his hands finding the smooth curve of your hips. “You’re so pretty.” He exhaled, feeling that little pang of nervousness. He hadn’t touched a girl since Jane, but he wasn’t about to let himself be thrust into the past, not now.

Heat saturated your skin, crawling all over you like a fever. In the wake of Jesse’s compliment, you felt sheer elation, feeling his lips roam from your mouth to your jaw. His hands were everywhere, inevitably finding their purchase against your thighs. He peppered a string of kisses from your jaw to your neck, though his kisses soon turned to suckling.

“Jesse.” You moaned, haplessly grasping onto his shoulders as he left a series of hickeys on your neck. You felt his digits curl around the waistband of your panties, but he made no motion to remove them just yet.

Your moan was enough to make him shiver in delight, gaze following the path of your hand as you hastily unclasped your bra. You had such a beautiful body — Jesse felt some semblance of awe, snug against you as you got comfortable atop the comforter.

Continuing his previous route, Jesse’s mouth kissed down your neck and collarbone, stopping above your breasts. Even your smell was intoxicating — everything about you reeled him in. “Jesus,” He mumbled against your sternum. “You’re beautiful.” It was an endless string of softspoken praises that escaped him.

He was scrawny, with a lanky musculature — you found it attractive in the best of ways. Your gaze occasionally fell across his many tattoos, committing every detail to memory. Your fingers continued to tug and pull at his hair, body jolting into him when his mouth wrapped around your nipple.

A low groan resonated from his throat, rippling across his chest when you continued to toy with his hair. His hand traced down the plane of your stomach, slipping underneath the elastic trim of your panties. You nearly buckled, writhing underneath him when his digits slipped against your cunt.

You felt his mouth suck and kiss at your breast, in-tandem with the teasing ministrations of his fingers. It was feather-light, enough to drive you to the brink of frustration. “You wet already, angel?” It was almost an incredulous statement instead of a question.

Fuck — the nickname was enough to send shockwaves pulsating through your body. Your skin became awash with warmth, lips falling apart as you peered down, enough to catch a glimpse of those half-lidded, cerulean eyes and the adoring tilt of his lips. Goosebumps snaked across your spine, back arching off of the bed.

Jesse wasn’t dumb — he knew that your reaction was from the nickname. He pressed his tongue against his cheek, pressing a string of kisses from your breast to stomach, tattooed hand curling into your panties as he inched them past your thighs.

“Say it again,” It was a command that fell from your mouth, and not a plea. Your fingers happened to tense within his hair, enough to make his jeans become uncomfortably tight. “Please.” With a breathy exhale, you felt Jesse’s lips trace across the curve of your hip.

He felt his heart hammer with erratic excitement, tongue absentmindedly flicking out to trace across his lower lip. Christ, you looked so perfect like this — Jesse watched you, breathing intensifying as you spread your legs just a little bit. He often walked the line between nervousness and confidence, feeling a sense of boldness swell within him.

His breath fanned across the inside of your thigh, lips ghosting over the soft skin there. Jesse’s gaze remained fixated upon you, glistening with a sheen of lust as he finally began to kiss his way to the throbbing between your legs. “Where do you want me, angel?” Jesse murmured, assuming that he knew the answer.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt this way — floating, so unbelievably slick and warm that you felt feverish. Jesse brought out a new level of neediness and desperation that you never thought possible. “Jesse,” You moaned, squirming haplessly as you urged him closer. “Please, please.”

Jesse swallowed, wordlessly following the motion of your hand as he lapped at your cunt, tongue dragging along the length of your slit. You were whimpering, one hand grappling at his freckled shoulder. He was so turned on from the noises you made, enough for him to grind his hips into the mattress.

You sputtered a very pitiful apology when your hips bucked forward, but you were met with a barrage of needy licks and a faint moan. Slivers of morning light pooled through the curtains, falling across Jesse as he buried his face between your thighs. His weeks-old stubble rubbed against the sensitive flesh of your legs.

Nimble digits skimmed forward, one palm splayed against your pelvis as the other gripped down on your thigh. You wanted to sob from how good it felt — he was talented with his mouth, that much was for sure. His tongue flicked over your clit, gestures rhythmic and steady.

A knot formed within your stomach, a coil that continued to tighten, threatening to burst if Jesse kept it up. It all felt like some foreign fever dream, but you much preferred the current reality — Jesse Pinkman, eating you out until you cried. You felt his hand brush against yours, a gesture that was startlingly tender.

One hand untangled itself from his hair, deciding to give him a break, going to hold his hand instead, fingers lacing together. You felt his lips begin to purse around your clit, simultaneously eliciting another noisy, elated moan from your lips.

Your chest heaved with a myriad of throaty, high-pitched whimpers as he sucked on your clit, stars rippling past your vision. No one had ever gone down on you with such reverence and passion before, but now that you’d gotten a taste, you wanted more.

Jesse hadn’t realized it, but somewhere in the thick of hooking up with you, he was feeling like himself again. It almost felt as if he’d been transported back to a time before he’d met Walter White, to a time where he was slinging crystal and simply enjoying life. Each moan, every little mewl and keen that escaped you was akin to music.

“Jesse,” You panted, breathing somewhat ragged as he lapped at your clit. That coil began to unfurl, blistering heat coursing through you, a white-hot rush of sheer ecstasy that caused you to moan and cry out. “Jesse!” You felt him squeeze your hand, a silent reassurance to let go.

Unbothered by the mess, Jesse groaned, feeding off of your orgasm as he lapped at your cunt, ministrations lacking the vigor from before. Your stomach felt like mush, but you wanted him to fuck you senseless — you almost felt embarrassed for how wound-up you’d become.

He was quiet, kissing your thighs as he began to sit back up, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. Jesse ogled you, head cocking to one side before he spoke. “You are so beautiful.” It wasn’t something spoken lightly during sex — you felt it seep right into your bones, genuine as ever.

“So are you.” You replied, and you watched his throat bob as he swallowed. Jesse crawled up, and in a flurry of unrestrained passion, he kissed your mouth. You could taste yourself, taste him — it was enough to make your cunt throb again, still dealing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Could you, uh …” Jesse mumbled, erection pulsing and rubbing right into the pliant flesh of your thigh. “I want you on top.” He was used to climbing on top of girls and going to town until he ran out of stamina, but he had different reasons this time. “I wanna see you.”

Your heart fluttered within your chest, and you nodded, watching as he rolled over, making himself comfortable atop the mound of pillows lining your bed. There was something eerily intimate in the way that he spoke — maybe it was just you. It was soft and sweet, enough to make you shudder as you straddled his hips.

Reaching for his belt, you unfastened it, moving enough for him to kick his pants off. His hands moved toward your thighs, fingers caressing across your flesh as the both of you worked to remove the final article of clothing. He was quiet this time, staring up at you with a searing, intense look — it was almost adoring.

He was unbearably hard, hips writhing slightly, desperate to be inside of you. Jesse nearly melted at the sensation of your hand wrapping around his cock, giving it a few, sluggish strokes, thumb swiping across the head before you lifted yourself up just enough.

Jesse groaned in tandem with you as you sank down onto his length, digits tensing into your thighs as you adjusted yourself, lips falling apart. You reached for his hands, fingers twining together. Goosebumps erupted across his body, chest fluttering with an unshakable warmth.

“Jesus.” Jesse breathed, watching as you stooped down to press your mouth against his, open-mouthed and sloppy. His tongue traced across your lower lip, and you responded by rolling your hips forward. He exhaled, reciprocating with another heated, messy kiss.

He released one of your hands, enough to grip onto your hip, guiding you into a steady rhythm. Your pace was somewhat sporadic and erratic at first, slipping into a natural flow once he held onto you. Jesse groans, unable to keep from staring at you as if you were perfection incarnate.

You whimper, using your knees to rock yourself up and back down, sinking onto his cock until he’s bottomed out. The intermingling of your moans fill your bedroom, accompanied by the faint squeak and creak of your bed frame. “Jesse.” You mewl, feeling his lips smack against your collarbone.

What started as something slow and sluggish had gained traction, your pace increasing slightly. A crackling, familiar heat raced across your body, making your stomach churn with anticipation, simultaneously pooling with warmth.

A soft moan tore past his lips, skin flushing with a rosy shade as you careened forward, one palm splaying out across his chest. “Shit,” Jesse’s voice emerged again as an excitable pant, squeezing your hand as you continued to piston yourself up and down. “You feel so good, baby.” Any little nickname was enough to make you preen.

Heat rippled through you, continuing to consume your body in waves. He sat up, enough to be within reach of you as he pressed a messy, sultry kiss against your collarbone, clamoring for your mouth as you tilted your head downward.

Your hand snaked from his chest to the nape of his neck, gripping his hair once. Your motions became somewhat uneven and less rhythmic as you rocked yourself on his cock, mewling and whimpering, noises intertwining with his strenuous groans. His palm grabbed at the curve between your thigh and ass, gripping you tight as you rode him.

“M’close,” You huffed, prying your lips away from his, only for you to press a trail of haphazard kisses against his stubbled jaw. “Jesse.” Another whine escaped you, followed by a cacophony of lewd noises. Your thighs felt a strain and burn from pistoning yourself onto his cock so many times, heat pooling between your legs.

Jesse was right there with you, though he wasn’t entirely sure where you wanted him to unload, to put it mildly. “Where do you want me?” He asked again, mirroring his inquiry from earlier. You slowed somewhat at that question, but he shook his head. “Keep going.” Despite the sting of borderline overstimulation, he didn’t want you to stop.

Both of his hands redirected themselves to your hips, guiding you along, letting you grind yourself forward, rolling your hips up and back onto his length. He groaned again, forehead pressed against yours, skin feeling as if it were set ablaze. The hold you had on him already was rather ironclad.

He kissed you again, unusually intimate and full of desire, digits groping and kneading into your curves. Your skin felt velvety underneath his fingertips, and your scent invaded his senses, overwhelming him in the best way possible. His cock was throbbing, swallowed by your tight cunt as you whimpered his name.

“Not inside.” You cautioned, breathlessly clashing with him again — all tongue, teeth and want as Jesse nudged you back. With your newfound position, legs locked around his lanky musculature as he rutted into you, you felt like you were seeing stars. “Holy shit, Jesse!” You moaned.

Jesse wasn’t grotesquely well-endowed, but he knew exactly how to utilize what he had. He felt like he’d broken the barrier right then and there, bottomed out inside of you before he pulled out, cumming onto your stomach. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen as thin ropes of slick seed fell across your abdomen.

His chest heaved with recuperative breaths, perspiration glistening along his brow as he hovered over you. The two of you sighed in-tandem, both coming down from a blissful high. Those pretty, cerulean eyes of his consumed you over and over again, fluttering in rapid succession before he lowered himself to kiss you.

It was slow — too slow, almost, but Jesse savored you, instead. Your nails ghosted across his forearm, tracing around the intricate pattern of his tattoo before skimming toward his shoulders. You reciprocated the kiss with a familiar sweetness, unhooking one leg from his waist.

“Sorry,” Jesse mumbled, gesturing toward the sticky mess that was splattered all over your stomach. “You look so pretty like that.” His tone lowered, taking on some delicious pitch that itched a certain part of you, sending goosebumps trailing across your spine.

Before you could respond, Jesse slipped off of you, tugging on his boxers as he wandered toward your bathroom to grab a towel. It was the first one he could get his hands on, returning to you with a rather adoring look in his eyes.

As you cleaned yourself up, making sure to discard the towel into your laundry basket, Jesse reappeared with a glass of water. It was quite endearing, watching the way he took care of you afterwards without being asked to. He sat next to you, watching as you pulled your panties back on and your t-shirt.

“That was really nice.” Admittedly, you needed it — but it felt better than before, all due to Jesse. You curled up next to him, head resting against his collarbone as his palm moved to cradle your face.

“Yeah, it was.” Jesse murmured, wishing that he could stay with you. He needed to get back home — the house was likely ruined. He’d also briefly glanced at his phone and noticed four missed calls from Mr. White’s number. “I wanna do it again.”

You giggled, nose wrinkling in amusement. “Hanging out together or having sex?” You asked, and he scoffed, lips twitching in a brief flash of a smile. “You can be honest, Jesse. I can handle it.”

“Both,” He confessed, savoring the feeling of your hand delicately tracing over the tattoo on his collarbone. “What if I took you out somewhere, yeah? Like on a date.” Jesse couldn’t believe that he’d asked you, but it was out in the open, now — no going back.

“Okay.” You mused, gaze flickering toward his lips. You would never get tired of kissing him — the taste of spearmint and cigarettes had become borderline addictive. “You can take me out.” With that, you leaned forward, pressing your mouth against his.

Jesse exhaled, reciprocating your kiss with one of his own. He squeezed his eyes shut, pad of his thumb caressing over your jawline. “Shit,” He sighed, a forlorn look within his eyes. “I gotta get going. I don’t want to.” He didn’t want to leave, but he had a feeling he’d be seeing you again soon. His phone vibrated again.

You yearned for the contact when he’d rolled out of your bed, getting himself dressed again. Once he found his jacket and keys, you decided to walk him to the door, standing with him in the cool morning breeze. Sunlight glittered down, bathing the both of you in picturesque lighting.

“Jesse,” You murmured, hand poised along the doorframe. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” You asked, watching him linger around on the front step as he glanced toward his car. After everything that happened, from last night to now, you were a little worried. He wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind — that much you knew.

Jesse hesitated — he didn’t have a viable answer to that. His house was a drug-laden pit, he was beginning to spiral, but you’d kicked him back onto a different path. It was an unpredictable road ahead. Even he had no idea how he’d feel by the end of the day, but one thing was for certain — he’d be okay for you.

He swallowed, and then nodded twice. “Yeah, I think so.” His chest tightened with a flurry of emotions, ones he hadn’t felt since Jane was around. Jesse was absolutely enthralled by you — and he wondered if that would lead to your doom.

With that, you nodded, beginning to turn around. Before you could, you felt a hand curling around your wrist, as if guiding you elsewhere.

“Hey,” Jesse muttered, reeling you back in for a gentle kiss. “I’ll see you later.” It was a promise to himself, more than it was to you. He was reluctant to pull away, but the buzzing in his pocket became rather urgent.

The kiss caught you off-guard, stealing every wisp of air right out of your lungs, warmth creeping across your skin until it burned something hot within your cheeks. You opened your mouth, unable to keep from smiling.

“See you later, Jesse.”

You really hoped that you would.

rip keith sorry i thought you were a serial killer

in bennys words “what happens in purgatory stays in purgatory”

sami hitting roman with the chair and then immediately apologizing to jey is going to have me fucked up for the next 7-10 business days

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

thanks to everyone who liked the first part, i appreciate y'all🥰

Summary: You and Osferth are in love, but neither of you know the feelings are reciprocated.

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), heavy angst, idiots in love (emphasis on idiots), Osferth being a manwhore and insecure (and Finan being his wingman), canon divergence (baby monk will NOT die), whump, PTSD references, hurt/comfort, fluff (promise), fingering, oral (f!receiving), and cockwarming (if you squint)

word count | 6.2k🤙🏻

part 1 | part 2

It had been a long, long time since Osferth rescued you.

Months had passed, a year almost having gone by, your past soon becoming somewhat of a distant memory. With the help and support of your newfound friends, you were able to live life to the fullest. Of course, you still had moments when you were back in that horrid little village, but your mind slowly started to figure out that you weren’t in constant danger anymore.

Due to Uhtred’s decisions that you couldn’t really understand, you all had moved on from Coccham, traveling north to Rumcofa where it was always cold. It wasn’t all that bad, you did prefer the cold to the blazing heat when all you could do was strip down, and even that wouldn’t be enough. So the cold was a nice change.

You finally had your own little house, in a more secluded part of this new town, which you appreciated but was fearful of all the same. A part of you, a big part actually, just wanted to stay with Osferth.

It was soon after your realization that you were in love with Osferth, is when he inexplicably started to pull away.

You didn’t understand it. Based on his interactions with you, you thought he might’ve felt the same. He started to spend less and less time with you, opting that beginning to train with Finan again was better for you, considering your swift progress with the sword. And Finan had forgiven you pretty quickly after your accidental outburst, finding out that he was more understanding than you originally thought. But you wanted Osferth to train you. You wanted his smiles of pride, not Finan’s. You wanted his hands on your body when having to demonstrate the correct combat posture. You just wanted Osferth.

The night you watched Osferth enter his own house with a lady on his arm, your heart broke into pieces.

All this time you had been hopeful he’d see you the way you see him, but seeing this display just confirmed your fears. And the worst of it was, that you were still in love with him. Even when he never made for you, even if he ignored you sometimes, even if he preferred the company of ladies with loose morals, you were still helplessly in love with him.

It was inevitable, but your mind started to go to the darkest places. Did he never see you this way? Did he find you undesirable? Was it because of your past? Did the things that were done to you make him disgusted? Has he ever seen you as whole?

You thought back to the night he gave you his cross, fiddling with the silver absentmindedly. He used to always wear the cross, why would he give something so special to you if you weren’t in fact, special to him. So, what changed? Why was he never around anymore? Did you do something to make him this way? And if so, what could you do to earn his forgiveness?

It’s not like you could’ve known why Osferth retreated from you. He didn’t really understand it himself. The two of you were…perfect. You were so incredibly important to him. He loved you, that much was true. That’s why he couldn’t burden you with the knowledge of how incredibly difficult it was for Osferth to be around you without desiring you. Carnally.

It felt like all his thoughts, night and day, were about you. How you’d look beneath him, what sounds he could elicit from you with his fingers, his tongue, his cock. He hated feeling this way. He hated that he felt no better than your former master, using you for his own pleasure whether you agreed or not. Of course, Osferth wasn’t actually doing these horrible things. But he thought of you, especially in the throws of his ecstasy, whether it was by his own hand or a woman of the night’s cunny. He was ashamed how often he needed to bed a woman, just to be rid of the aching feeling inside him whenever he gazed upon you.

Osferth could tell how confused and hurt you were by his actions, his arms becoming a safe haven of sorts. But he didn’t know if he could control his thoughts or actions in your presence, which is why he removed himself all together.

Osferth often thought what would happen if he came onto you like he’s so craved. He couldn’t possibly imagine you reciprocating his affections, so he thought of the worst case scenarios. You scream and cry, pushing him away and saying you never wanted to see him again. He thought of you being terrified to be anywhere near him. He thought of you seeing him as no better than her former master, and the idea often brought him to tears. So he decided, he’d rather you feel betrayed than scared by him. You could hate him, but he would rather die than have you scared of him.

So he continued to bed other women, pleading out your name when he reached his end, much to the dismay of these women. It wasn’t like he was doing this to hurt you, it was quite the opposite, he didn’t even realize he was hurting you until Finan talked to him one night. “You know she’s in love with you, right?”

Osferth blanched, his eyes widening at the mere idea that you could feel the same way about him. “What are you on about, Finan?” He asked, trying to make sure he heard him correctly.

“You’re mad if you can’t see it, mate. She’s obsessed with you, much like you’re obsessed with her. Can’t believe you’re still dancing around each other.”

Osferth blushed, much to the enjoyment of Finan. “I’m not…obsessed.” He almost laughed at himself with how clearly that was a lie.

“Thou shalt not lie, baby monk.” Finan teased, eliciting an eye roll from the younger man. “I don’t know what you’re so afraid of. Clearly, it can’t be rejection.”

“I don’t want her to be frightened of me.” Osferth admitted, making Finan furrow his brows.

“Why would she be frightened of ya?” He asked, concern etched into his features.

“Because I’m…I'm a sinful man, despite my best efforts. I’m so full of lust, it’s hard to even think.”

“You would force yourself on her?”

“No! Of course not! I’d sooner plunge my own sword into my heart.”

“And we know that. Everyone who knows you, knows that, baby monk. You’re scared of yourself for thoughts you can’t control. But you can control your actions. Just because you have bad thoughts doesn’t make you a bad person, especially if you’re appalled by these thoughts. Your mind just likes to fuck with ya.” Finan watched as Osferth pondered this, a pang of annoyance rippling through his body. “Talk to her tomorrow. If you don’t, I’ll kick your shins in.”

There wasn’t much room to argue after that.

The next morning, Osferth woke up with a sense of hopefulness, a shy smile decorating his face as he saw the run rise. His conversation with Finan really gave him some clarity, and he was terrified still, but he decided he didn’t want to live with regret. But first, he needed to gain your trust back and he just hoped you’d give him another chance.

Osferth fussed with his appearance for a moment before heading to your house, his pulse thrumming beneath his skin, his heart beating in tandem. He didn’t stop his pace, afraid if he slowed down he’d stop altogether. But when he saw you were already outside your house, sitting in a rocking chair reading a book, Osferth froze. He was always so stunned by your beauty, even doing the most mundane things like simply reading. God, he was so in love.

Osferth winced when a twig snapped beneath his feet, alerting you of his presence, watching as your head jerked up and made eye contact with him. “Osferth…” You whispered, barely audible but just enough for him to hear, and he swore his heart skipped a beat. The sound of your voice, it was like a weight lifted off his shoulders.

“My lady…” Osferth replied breathlessly, his voice wavering with emotion. “I was wondering if I could join you?”

“You want to read with me?” You asked in slight amusement, making him blush.

“I just meant, if you’d do me the honor of allowing me to be in your company?”

You frowned. “Why now, when you haven’t wanted my company for some time?”

Osferth took a cautious step towards you, continuing when you didn’t shy away, sitting on your porch at your feet, looking up at you with the most remorseful expression he could manage. “I’ll tell you everything, my lady. But first, I just wish to tell you my absence had nothing to do with you. I’ve been…dealing with my own troubles. But every day I’ve been away from you, my life has been awful. I’ve missed you…so, so much.”

Unwanted tears sprung to your eyes, the pure emotion in his voice making your heart swell. “I’ve missed you, Osferth.” You bit your lip when your voice wavered, but it only caused him to gently take ahold of your hand. He still sat by your feet, looking up at you like you strung up the moon and stars in the sky, practically resting his cheek against your knee, the sight eliciting an inappropriate thought to cross your mind.

“I wish to tell you much more. The most important thing I need to tell you is…” Osferth exhaled a shaky breath, “is that I’m in-”

Screams echoed sharply throughout the village, Finan calling Osferth’s name, interrupting his confession and causing the two of you to stand on high alert. “Osferth?” you asked, frightened.

“Take your sword and stay hidden, alright? Promise me.” Osferth spoke sternly, looking into your eyes with such intensity that you agreed without hesitancy, following his instructions to the best of your ability.

A group of soldiers waltzed into the town, looking like they were on a mission, their swords already drawn. It took naught but a few moments for a fight to break out, blades clashing together and fists being thrown. They were separating Danes from Christians, killing any Danes, men, women, and children. You couldn’t just stand there and watch, you had to do something.

You had been in very few fights, especially fights like these, but your morals gave you little choice. When you saw a soldier strike a child to the ground, about to push his blade into their little neck, you struck first. Blood dripped down your blade, onto your hands, as you pushed your sword into the back of the soldier, the sound of the flesh being pierced making you gag. But you saved the child, bringing them back to their parents before moving on to help the next resident of Rumcofa.

If Osferth had the time, he would have been pissed. He told you not to get involved, yet you were. But he couldn’t blame you for that, in fact, it was nice to have another helping hand. He was good at multitasking, he thought, fighting off two burly men while making sure you weren’t in danger. Osferth was lucky, it followed him around, to being able to join Uhtred and his men to finding you in this lifetime, he figured he was the luckiest man around. But a person’s luck has to run out sometime.

Osferth exhaled a sharp breath as an excruciating pain resonated through his body, his mouth filling with blood as he fell to the cold ground. He heard screams, your screams, and suddenly he wasn’t thinking about the pain.

You shrieked as you watched the brute of a man shove his blade into Osferth’s side, his form crumpling to the ground. Rage overwhelmed you, and you didn’t think as you charged forwards. You couldn’t know what you even planned on doing but it didn’t matter. You felt like you had been stabbed yourself and all that was on your mind was getting revenge. And despite all your training, and the few soldiers you managed to get the best off, your mind was in the worst place, going on pure adrenaline with no thought behind your attacks. It wasn’t that surprising when the man knocked you out, stealing the sword from your hands and hitting your temple with its pommel, plunging your world into darkness.

All Osferth could do was watch in a panic as you fought to defend him, calling out your name as the attacker knocked you down, your eyes rolling back as you stopped moving.

Finan was sprinting to Osferth, but he yelled at him to make sure you were okay first, your well being more important to him than anything. And after a few moments, Finan deemed you alright, getting his wife to look after you for now as he kneeled beside Osferth with tears in his eyes. As Osferth felt his best friend’s arms around him, his fear and panic washed over him, drowning him. “Oh my God, oh my God, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die!” He cried, holding on tightly to Finan.

“No, no, baby monk. You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay. I won’t let you die.” Finan sobbed, screaming for help.

Osferth whispered your name, gaining Finan’s attention back. “She’s okay?”

“Yes, yes, she’s alright.”

“Tell her,” He choked, “tell her how much I loved her. Tell her that she was the most important person in my life and that I’m sorry.”

“Tell her yourself, you daft prat. You’re gonna survive this, I promise.”

When you came to, your first thought and first word uttered was, “Osferth.”

The last thing you remembered was Osferth getting stabbed, and you running to his attacker to make sure he wasn’t stabbed again. Much use you were, you thought bitterly, you couldn’t even hold your own against this man for more than a minute. Pitiful. But that didn’t matter now, all that mattered was making sure he was alive.

You ignored all the pleas and urges from Finan’s wife and other healers taking care of you and rushed out of your room, trying to find your friends. Finally, your gaze met Finan’s, and he looked distraught. No, you thought, you wouldn’t believe it. But before you could even open your mouth to speak, Finance answered your silent question. “He’s alive…somehow.” The Irishman spoke in a broken voice, clearly just as affected as you were.

“Can I see him?”

Finan nodded solemnly. “He’s sleeping, and probably will be for a while, Ingrith tells me.”

As soon as you walked into the room, you had to hold in your gasp as you saw Osferth’s state. He was so pale, from blood loss and the cold, you’d think he was dead if you hadn’t been told otherwise. “When will he wake?”

“We don’t know…” He sighed, making your heart drop.

“But he will wake?”

“That’s our hope.”

But he didn’t wake, not for more than a few seconds at a time, muttering incoherent words before falling back asleep, not even when the surviving residents of Rumcofa had to relocate where it was more safe. You didn’t sleep, you didn’t eat; all your time was devoted to making sure Osferth’s heart was still beating, putting your ear to his chest multiple times every single day, praying to every god you could think of to just let him survive.

It was only a few days after settling in a more secure place that Osferth did finally awake. 

You were at his bedside, as you often were, reading to him and holding his hand, thinking that your voice might stir him. You almost fell off your chair in shock when you suddenly felt his hand weakly squeeze yours. Your head snapped up and saw that his eyes were already on you. “Osferth…” You called out softly, letting your book fall by the wayside to move to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. “You’re awake. At last.” Tears filled your eyes, falling down your cheeks and landing on his hand that you were now holding tightly, afraid that he’d fall back into unconsciousness.

Osferth spoke your name so softly, his voice cracking and hoarse from not using it for so long. “I must be dead, for I see only an angel before me…”

You chuckled tearfully, bringing up his hand to kiss his knuckles. “No, you’re alive. You’re alive.” You repeated, mostly trying to convince yourself.

“How long have I been asleep?” He asked, looking around the room he was in and furrowed his brows. “Where are we?”

You froze, unsure of how much you should say. You didn’t want him to faint from shock, but you couldn't lie to him either. You could never lie to him. “We left Rumcofa several days ago, everyone who survived the attack. But Uhtred is off to fight another war for Edward. They all wanted to stay until you woke, but…”

Osferth nodded solemnly. “What use would a man on the brink of death be, yeah?”

“They’ll be mad with joy to hear of your recovery, I’m sure. Especially Finan, he wept for you badly.”

“And did you? Weep for me?”

Your face flushed with heat, avoiding his gaze and instead fixing your eyes on your conjoined hands. “Yes…” You whispered. “I’ve wept every day since you were wounded. But you’re better now, awake and healing up nicely. Ingrith told me you might wake as soon as the fever leaves your body,” You placed the back of your other hand to his forehead, warm but not too warm, “and you feel fine now. Before, your skin was hot to the touch-” Osferth grabbed your wrist as you moved to pull away, eliciting a gasp from you. “O-Osferth?”

Osferth blinked, as if he suddenly realized what he was doing. “Sorry.” He stuttered, releasing your wrist.

“I’ll go get Ingrith.”

“No! No…please, just…I’d like to be alone with you for a moment longer. If that’s alright, my lady?”

You nodded, a bit too eagerly. “Of course. I’d love nothing more.”

And stay with him you did, up until you insisted you tell Ingrith and had her check on him. The wound was healing nicely, a deep red scar forming over the stab. It really was a miracle that he was alive, the blade barely missing the vital organs the body needs to function. You don’t know what you would've done if Osferth had died, the thought making your chest tighten uncomfortably, panic overriding your senses. But all you had to do to rid yourself of those feelings, was to simply look at Osferth, gaining his strength back more and more every day and starting to walk without help. 

Almost two weeks went by until he started to train again, though very carefully. Seeing grow stronger didn’t help ease your nerves as much as you thought it would, you figured you’d keep him on bed rest forever if you had any say. It took Ingrith assuring you that he was practically fully healed for you to stop fretting over him like a concerned mother. But Osferth didn’t seem to mind it all that much, a soft amused smile gracing his features every time you asked if he was alright. His answer was always yes, and he even told you not to worry so much, trying to come across as nonchalant so it didn’t seem like he was completely affected by your concern.

Osferth never did get a chance to confess to you that day, the fight in Rumcofa having such unfortunate timing. Though, you never brought it up, the fact almost making his insecurities come back and suffocate him. But he trusted Finan, and even though he was an occasional prankster, he’d never try to give someone false hope.

Osferth tossed and turned one night, thinking about you and his suspended confession. It’s ridiculous, why couldn’t he have gotten the words out quicker, rather than prolong those simple words. He said it to you every day in his mind, the words coming out so easily and repeatedly. Ridiculous. This was ridiculous.

As soon as the thought appeared in his mind, Osferth jumped up from bed. He knew it was entirely inappropriate, thinking about coming to you in the middle of the night, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he told you how he felt. And to his utter surprise, when he opened his front door, there you were. 

It was raining, the droplets of water pelting the roof of the timber home, the occasional thunder rumble making the frames vibrate. And there you were, a wet and shivering figure, your clothes melding to you like a second skin; Osferth could see your breath coming out in quick and shallow puffs. Even in the dark with naught but a lantern that he lit to light his way, he could see the tears in your eyes, only a keen eye would’ve been able to differentiate the rain from the tear drops. His face immediately fell in concern, and it only took him calling out your name softly for you to collapse in his arms.

Osferth quickly pulled you past the threshold of the doorframe, bringing you in from the cold and holding you tightly to him, the uncomfortable feeling of his dampening clothes the furthest thing from his mind. “My lady?” He spoke gently, like he was trying not to spook you, “What’s happened?” You mumbled words incoherently, your face pressed against his chest muffling what you were attempting to say. Osferth had to pull you off, not completely, just to look at your face. “What was that?”

“You were dead.” You cried, “You were killed and I couldn’t do anything but stand there and watch!”

“A dream…” He realized, sighing in sympathy and pulling you back onto his chest. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay. Here-” He took a hold of your hand, pressing the tips of your fingers to the pulse point in his neck, the blood flowing through his veins, the throbbing pushing at your fingertips minutely. “Do you feel? And you hear by heartbeat?”

“Mhm.” You sniffled, starting to calm down in the soothing cage of his arms.

“See? I’m okay. I’m not hurt anymore. I’m safe. We both are.”

“I’m sorry…” You hiccupped.

Osferth shook his head, cupping your jaw gently and forcing your eyes to his. “Hey, none of that. It’s not your fault. Understand me?” Reluctantly, you shook your head, wiping away your tears with your already damp hands. And you shivered, your body suddenly registering the cold. “Let’s get you warm, okay?”

And in a matter of minutes, Osferth had lit a fire in his hearth, the flames roaring to life and eliciting a sigh of relief from you as you saw in front of it on a pile of wool blankets he’d spread out for the two of you. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, Osferth, truly. It’s just…when my mind showed me such a vivid thing-”

“I understand completely, my lady. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same in your place. Besides,” Osferth grunted softly as he plopped himself down beside you, your knees barely touching, “I was about to come see you myself.”

You furrowed your brows. “Why?” And suddenly, Osferth was that same scared boy he was before he met Uhtred. He hadn’t meant to be so brazen, but he wanted to ease your mind so badly, he didn’t think you’d ever ask why.

“Uh, um,” Osferth swallowed thickly, his body becoming much too warm for his liking, “just wanted to check on ya, is all.” Liar.

“Oh…” You seemed to say in an almost disappointed tone.

Osferth sighed. Ridiculous.

“Actually,” He almost winced, his body, one thinking this was a good idea, was suddenly betraying him. No, he thought, he wouldn’t repress his feelings any longer. “Do you remember our conversation before the fight in Rumcofa?”

Your face flushed with heat, an achy feeling spreading in your heart. “You said you missed me.” You smiled softly at the memory, but your brows furrowed. “But you were trying to tell me something else, weren’t you?” Osferth nodded nervously, running his hands up and down his thighs, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. You playfully bumped his shoulder with your own, “Well?”

“I’minlovewithyou-” He gasped.

“What?” You almost squawked, his words jumbled and rushed, making entirely no sense to your ears.

But suddenly, Osferth grinned, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. He said it, finally. That’s all it took really, just to get it out there to make it more easy to say. Sure, it wasn’t the best way to go about it, but he did it. “I’m in love with you.” And this time, he didn’t rush. In fact, it was the most clear and precise you had ever heard him. He took his time saying the words this time, savoring them, just in case it was the last time he could.

“You’re…in love with me?” You were looking up at him with wide eyes, an adorable childlike awe displaying in your expression.

“Yes.” He smiled. “Completely and hopelessly. I…have been, for a while now. I wanted to tell you sooner but, ya know.” He gestured to his stab wound. You felt breathless, your throat constricting as you tried to fight back another bout of tears. But Osferth took it the wrong way. “I’m so sorry, my lady. I knew there was a high chance you’d be completely repulsed. That’s why I tried to stay away for so long because I didn’t want you scared of me like-”

“Osferth.” Responding to his name and your touch to his jaw, turning him to face you, he didn’t see one trace of disgust or fear in your eyes. “I could never be repulsed by you, or scared. Why would you ever think that?”

Osferth blushed a bright red, the flames from the hearth making his skin look an even darker red. “Since I’ve decided to be so honest tonight…you should know I also yearn for you, my lady. Your…touch. But I also want you to know it’s because I love you, not because I’m some…lecherous sinner. Although, I suppose I am that too.”

“Why would you think I’d be repulsed because you desire me so?”

“Well, because…because…uh.”

You closed your eyes in understanding, nodding slightly. “If you think I’d ever be able to compare you, sweet boy, to that monster, you’re sorely mistaken. You are nothing like him. Do you really think I would’ve kept close to you if you had been?”

“I suppose not. I just never wanted you to feel like I’m pressuring you into something you don’t want…”

“And that, my dear Osferth, is why I’m completely and hopelessly in love with you too.”

Osferth’s eyes widened. “R-Really?”

You smirked. “Shall I prove it to you?” You’ve never really kissed or been kissed, willingly at least, so as you leaned forward, you prayed that Osferth wouldn’t laugh as you softly pressed your lips against his. 

It was unlike anything you had ever experienced, the aspect of your choice in the matter only amplifying the sensation. And for Osferth? It was hard to keep in the whimper that was so desperate to escape him, but you pulled away, all too soon. You opened your eyes to see Osferth’s was still closed, his lips chasing yours with a blissed out expression on his face. He whispered out your name so softly, you could scarcely hear it. He sounded so needy, it lit a fire in your belly, much like the one still blazing in the fireplace.

“I shan’t ask for more, if you do not wish to give more.”

“I do, though, want more. I fear I want much, much more.” Your expression had noticeably darkened, lust filled, and Osferth had never seen this of you before. It wasn’t a bad change, though he was apprehensive.

“Are…Are you sure, my lady? I don’t want you to regret this. I’d hate for you to regret this.”

“I find that I have no regrets with you, sweet Osferth. Just promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“You’ll stop if I ask?”

“I wouldn’t dare disobey you, my love.”

“Good,” You leaned forward to give him another kiss, a bit more forceful and more sure of yourself, “because if you do, I’ll kill you with the sword you gifted me, baby monk.” You teased, making him giggle, the purest sound you would ever hear in your lifetime, you were sure. And this time, when you each pressed your lips together, it was filled with an altogether different feeling, charged and motivated, the thought of something more promising if you continued fueling your actions. It probably was because of the fire, but your body warmed and warmed to the point you thought your clothes would melt off your body if you kept them on any longer. “Can you help me take these off?” You asked shyly, gesturing to your still damp clothing.

Osferth’s eyes widened comically, that ever present blush on his face warming your heart better than fire in the hearth next to you. “S-Sure.” He stuttered, carefully and delicately removing each article of clothing (after asking if you were sure a few more times) until you were down to your bare skin. “Have I ever told you how absolutely breathtaking you are?”

You giggled, slightly self conscious. “I don’t think so.”

Osferth gently slapped himself. “What an idiot I am, huh?”

“You will be if you don’t take off your clothes too.” And with that, it was almost at the speed of light that all Osferth’s clothes were thrown into a pile of the floor, mingling with yours. You inhaled a breath as your eyes traced his frame, his pale skin making his battle scars more prominent, but you found that they made him more handsome. You didn’t mind that he was doing the same to you. “I don’t know quite what to do now…” You whispered, gently taking his hand and kissing his knuckles. “Will you help me?”

“Of course.” He replied back shakily, moving closer to you until you sat side by side, your exposed skin rubbing up against his, causing you to shiver pleasantly. “We’ll take it slow. I don’t want to rush this, not with you.” 

Osferth maneuvered you so that you were laying on your back, him resting beside you, propped up on one elbow, his other hand gently running up and down your torso. Gooseflesh rose along your skin as his calloused fingers marked a path across your body, from your jaw, down between the valley of your breasts, down your stomach to the tufts of wiry hair at the beginning of the apex of your thighs. “I have to ask again, love. Are you sure you want this? Want me?”

You could’ve whined, but you maintain your composure, however much was left. “With every iota of my soul.”

Osferth leaned down to kiss you passionately, that whine you had been holding in finally coming out when you felt his fingers dip in between you already silk folds. “So soft…” He hummed, trailing kisses down your neck to your breasts, covering one of your pebbled nipples with his tongue, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. You hadn’t realized how sensitive you were until now, his mouth sucking you in deeper as he slowly inched a finger inside you.

You moaned as he curled his finger, finding your sweet spot with inhuman ease. “Osferth…” You breathed, and he answered by gently tapping your sensitive nub with his thumb as he added another finger. “Osferth!”

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked immediately, causing you to chuckle wantonly, his eyes darkening as he felt your walls squeeze his fingers.

“No, heavens, no. Please, keep going.” You didn’t have to tell him twice, as he continued his ministrations with an added ferocity that had you aching your back of the blankets, moaning and bucking into his hand. A strange sensation that you couldn’t quite put into words seemed to keep building and building in the pit of your stomach, your eyes rolling back each time a deep pang of pleasure resonated through you. And as Osferth kissed you roughly and added a third finger inside you, the building sensation spilled over; like a fire doused with gasoline, you ignited, flames licking you from the inside out as you rode out the glowing waves of ecstasy with little care how loud you became.

And when it was all over, Osferth was there to soothe your burns.

“Are you alright, my love?” He asked softly, running his hand along the inside of your spread thighs.

“More than alright.” You smiled in a haze.

As you looked down, you couldn’t help but notice Osferth’s hardened length. You were surprised how it grew in size, always a wonder how such could fit inside a woman’s body. You absentmindedly reached out to touch him, a soft huff escaping his lips as you ran your hand along the silky skin. “We don’t have to do anything else, if you aren’t ready. I’m perfectly content having given you the pleasure you so deserve.”

“I told you I wanted you, Osferth. I meant that. I want you. All of you.”

Osferth pulled your hand away, kissing it before moving to settle in between your legs, the tip of his length prodding at your inner thigh before he guided it to your entrance. “Just tell me if you want to stop, for any reason. Promise me.” You sealed your promise with a kiss, nodding to him and he nodded back before very slowly pushing himself inside you, the both of you letting out gasps at the feeling. “Oh Lord above…” He groaned, bottoming out and stilling, burying his face in the crook of your neck, giving you however long you needed to adjust, but you found you didn’t need much time.

You whined, trying to cant your hips to get some very needed friction, but Osferth was too heavy. “Please…”

“I’m afraid…if I move so soon, I will not be able to last for very long, my love.” He spoke, his voice and body shaking. “I want…I need this to last.”

“Hey,” you lifted his head, looking at him lovingly, the flames of the fire shining in his bright blue eyes, “this will not be the first and last time we make love.”

“You don’t know that. I fear danger lurks around every corner now. We aren’t promised tomorrow.”

You kissed him, trying to push all his worries away. “Then make love to me as many times as you can.”

“Please?” He whined.

“Please.”

You cried out loudly as Osferth began to thrust into you wildly, moaning just as loudly with you, his cock hitting you in just the right places, the loud slapping of wet skin making your cheeks flush with heat. Your walls squeezed him perfectly, almost sucking him in deeper. Every ridge and every vein you could feel drove you wild, that same sensation building in you yet again. If you weren’t in such a pleasured haze, you’d be worried who might be able to hear you and Osferth, just from your moans alone.

“Oh, God, love. Feels so good. You feel so good.” Osferth groaned, his cock twitching inside you. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” And before you could reach another peak, he pulled out quickly, his warm spend shooting out of his tip, white streaks coating your stomach. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry.” He moaned breathlessly, his blissed out expression the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“You’re beautiful, Osferth.” You whispered, the borderline predatory look in his eyes making you shy.

“You almost came again.” He spoke apologetically.

You smiled. “It’s alright. You already took care of me once.”

“‘S not enough.” He growled, lowering his face to your weeping cunny and before you could ask what he was doing, the words were stolen from you as his tongue licked and sucked at your nub, your denied peak building back up rapidly at his talented mouth.

“Oh, Osferth…” You almost sobbed, overly sensitive but not enough that you wanted him to stop, and from the moans he released, it seemed he was taking as much pleasure from this as you were.

“Come for me, my love. Please.” He begged, his words and moans causing vibrations against your mound, the pleasure overwhelming and all encompassing, your peak spilling on his lips and tongue.

Osferth rested against your inner thigh, his hooded eyes watching your cunt quiver and spasm as you came down from your high, the urge to dive back in almost too overpowering. But he withheld, coming back up to lay at your side with a crooked grin. “Are you okay?”

“How many times have you asked me that tonight, do you think?” You teased, catching your breath and moving to lay on his chest, listening to the steadying beat of his heart.

“If you’re annoyed with how many times I asked? Then just enough.”

Needless to say, neither you or Osferth got much sleep that night.

By the time everyone else returned for Osferth, the pair of you were inseparable. Where you go, he goes, and vice versa. It didn’t take a genius to see how disgustingly in love the two of you were. And neither of you expected to get away without a little bit of teasing.

As Finan watched the two of you, his words escaped him before he could even stop himself.

“So, when’s the wedding?”

tags: @tssf-imagines, @little-diable, @fan-goddess, @hiraethrhapsody, @chainsawsangel, @lauraneedstochill, @greenowlfactif, @st-eve-barnes

thanks for the support😊

Okay... I will definitely watch this show.

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