Random x Reader Imagines

Jesse Pinkman x Male Reader ~ XII

word count: 2,572

~
+ based on the song 'Walk You Home' by Sir Chloe
=  soulmate AU (handwriting is the same as each other)
~ italics; reader
~ bold; Jesse
~ underline; lyrics
~

Faded lips, red
Down your chin bled when you watched him go

you hadn't intended to start a bar fight, it just kind of happened. someone pissed you off, so naturally, you defended yourself. however, as anyone would, the guy got offended and threw the first punch. eventually, someone pulled him off of you, but you were kicked out, not him which only pissed you off more. you'd tried to wipe off the blood, but you had a split lip, making the dried blood more painful to just try and peel off, so you left it. you'd get it cleaned up after you got home.

Swear he saw you
In the crowd and didn't say hello

'there's that guy again...' you think to yourself, your mood perking up slightly. it was one of the few things that made your day slightly better; seeing the mid-20s adult making his way through the packed streets and sidewalks. you had a feeling that, at the least, he liked seeing you too. he always gave you a small smile as you passed each other, your cheeks flushing a light pink when you'd see his lips curl up. sometimes you'd even wave at each other, but that was rarer than the kind smiles. this time, however, you were looking for him, lips still bloody, and you would've put cash money down that he'd looked at you, but before you knew it, he'd disappeared just as quickly.

Just a pretty girl with a shot glass
In your Sunday dress and coat
I find you in the bathroom like that
Help you up and say hello

finally shoving the door open, i step into the rather empty bar and take a seat at the counter. today was shitty and stupid... 'but at least you saw him today' i reminded myself. i smiled to myself and mutter a thanks to the bartender. they knew my orders off by heart; every day was different. not that i came here every day, but every day had its own drink. back to him. he was different, i could tell. walking by him every day may not seem like a lot to some people, but if you know where to look and what to look for, you know how to figure people out. i knew he was different... he had to be. i sat there for a good half hour before deciding it was best to take a piss (or rather give one) since the subway home would be too long. sighing, i push the door open and see him. my heart starts pounding and i briefly consider the alcohol, but know i would just be lying to myself- i feel this way every time i see him. he makes my heart screw up and my hands sweaty with nerves. attractive, i know. he looks like he could use some help... he was leaned up against a toilet stall wall, a shot glass of something gripped in his fingers. he was dressed in a slightly unbuttoned-button-down shirt and black jeans... he was, for a lack of a better word, hot. i force myself to walk over to his side and he looks up at me, my cheeks automatically breaking out into an uncontrollable grin, "need some help there?" i hold my hand out to him, watching him look to it before taking it slowly. it had a tenderness i wasn't expecting, not that i was complaining, but... i couldn't help imagining what it would be like to hold it for hours. i pull him to his feet only for him to lean against me, head on my shoulder, "th-thank you... i'm so drunk... c-can ya help me out a bit wit' that?" i chuckle a bit, but nod anyway, "yeah, let's get you home."

I've been around the block, and I see you cry a lot
Can I walk you home?

a week later was when you saw him again. you look for him in hopes he would show his angelically beautiful face yet again. he did, but his eyes were red and he looked upset. you wished you could stop him to ask what was wrong, but he was on the other side of the street and you didn't dare try crossing it during the busiest time of the day. you'd have to try and catch him the next time you saw him...