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Holy shit this is a mistake D: I don't do crossover fics what was I thinking this ain't even April Fools sob

Not related to Volatile Times or anything, still dunno if I will continue that but I was suddenly compelled to write this. No Breaking Bad spoilers but it'll make the most sense if you watched up to Season 5 Episode 9. Takes some major canon divergence from there. Also pretend the series happened in modern times lol.

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It was a rare night where Jimmy Donaldson stayed in his actual home. Sometimes he wondered how useless it was to even own it. At this point, it was merely for show, just an incubator for when he had company. But tonight, he went there on his own. An odd and swift feeling of claustrophobia had struck him harshly, to the point that the apartment on Beast Campus felt restrictive. His house had lots of land and space for him to wander and shake this anxiety away.

Contrary to popular belief, when his mind wasn't dead focused on making the best videos possible, he was quite philosophical. That evening, he pondered on what fate made this day of all the other possible options the one that he decided to go to his house. The Beast Campus was his home, so why here, why tonight? Was something horrible going to happen if he stayed, had he dodged a bullet?

A knock on the door. His pacing came to a sudden halt. MrBeast, an internet icon, took a deep breath. Fate didn't want him to live, fate wanted him to die. It was the only possible conclusion. No calls from friends suggested they were coming over, he didn't order anything. If you're going to get robbed it often happens in the midst of a bustling day, Jimmy had learned over his years being associated with money and riches. It's at night when they come to kill you. So, Jimmy braced himself. He was the type to knock during the day, to sweep in on a brisk summer afternoon and rob people of their sorrows and fears and awful circumstances. He'd replace it with something brighter... But he never knocked at night, it only made sense someone else would come knocking in his place. Approaching the door, he peered through the ball of glass in the center of the door, a shady-lookin' fellow stomping out a cigarette...

"Look I know you're home... I um just wanted to give you something." That was when Jimmy noticed the two duffle bags over his shoulders. Curiosity got the best of him, it was either that or calling the police so he decided to take the more exciting way out. With the door out of the way, he could get a better picture of the guy in front of him. Around his age, shorter than himself, blue eyes shaded a downward stare and a beanie pulled low.

"...Well...?" He prompted, not wanting his time wasted. The two duffles dropped to the ground with a loud thump. "The hell is in there, guns?"

"...5 million in cash, 2.5 in each." The world around him stopped, 5 million dollars IN CASH? Leaning down, he unzipped one of them and Jimmy pulled out one of the many stacks inside. Pulling one of the Benjamin's from its casing, he felt it, listened to the sound, and stared it down for clues. As far as Jimmy could tell, this was the realist bill out there. 

"I... bro what are you carrying around 5 million in straight cash for? You know all the cash I use is fake right? We write them all checks after, this is just insane. Are you asking to get robbed? And you're in fucking crazy town if you think I'm taking this with no questions."

"You might wanna launder it first... look it was either this or I was going to throw all of this cash out into people's lawns but I thought that was going to get me caught by- ...If you don't want it I can give it to literally any other philanthropist." Jimmy looked upward, flicking the bill between his hands.

"I don't think any other philanthropist is stupid enough to take what is clearly blood money." The man winced slightly at the wording, now tapping his foot lightly.

"I just want this money to help people. You're smart right? Make good use of it. Unless all of your videos are fake or something in which case I fucked up I guess..."

"Do you even know who you're talking to?" Jimmy couldn't help but reply with a laugh.

"Kind of, you give away cars sometimes. I don't fuckin' know I mostly watch you when I'm high."

"Hm... what was your game plan here?" He asked, standing up with a stack in his hand. "Bring me 5 million in what... some sort of criminal money, and expect me to just take it? This could be a set-up to frame me for illegal activities, or it could just be you getting it off your hands. But why would a hardened criminal do the latter? Were you caught?"

"I didn't come here for a goddamn interrogation! Ok bitch!? You couldn't have gotten this big without doing some crazy shit so just take it, you've got people who can launder it somehow I'm sure! Hell, I could even get you, someone, to do it for you!" Jimmy couldn't help but burst out into a laughing fit after that, the man raising an eyebrow. "THE HELL ARE YOU LAUGHING ABOUT BITCH!?!?"

"Oh my god you are so lucky I'm such a nice person."

"Huh?"

"I have a security system all around my house, it's all very hidden and undetectable. A ring home security set is easy to spot unlike what I've got. And it's recorded everything you've just told me about. Imagine what a fun time the Greenville Police Department would have with this little shitshow. But you're are so lucky I'm a nice person." Jimmy smirked as he watched the sweat drip down the guy's forehead.

"Damnit... I investigated earlier, there was nothin' there."

"I told you, it's super crazy high-tech shit. But I'd be willing to delete all of that security footage, even take your dirty filthy money if you let me pick your brain for a bit."

"...How are you being so confident about all of this? You never struck me as... that type."

"I'm not, worst on my record is a brief stint in custody for going 120 on the 64 bypass. But I'm intrigued... I have this terrible habit of surrounding myself with people that interest me, no matter how bad they might be, and you certainly got a story to tell."

"Pfft, this is a trap."

"Left knee cap to god it's not."

"Left knee cap?"

"Well everyone does right hand to god, so it's not as trustworthy. If I rat you out despite meeting my criteria, you have full permission to chop off my left knee cap."

"I... I'm armed bitch are you sure you wanna do this?"

"Heh, I'd think less of you for not being." The man before him was absolutely shellshocked by the events that has played out. A foolish decision driven by a high actually worked out this well? "Are you going to make me keep the door open? Flies have surely gotten in at this point." He took a step forward, then another one, still being prompted to keep going. "Got a name? Or should I call you beanie guy?"

"Um... Jesse. I'm Jesse."

"No last name? Ooh, emo. Nice to meet ya Jesse Edgelord! I'm Jimmy Donaldson. Or MrBeast I guess." And so night turned to day for Jesse and Jimmy. Jimmy just kept asking questions and Jesse kept answering, a disturbing urge to trust him at face value. But Jimmy compensated in full with his own stories. A life obsessing over one thing made it difficult to talk to people according to him but Jesse was enthralled. It was edging toward dawn when Jesse No-Last-Name, former meth cook turned kingpin by his lame high school chemistry teacher who might not be so lame and actually kind of fucking insane, yawned, and Jimmy Donaldson, YouTuber turned philanthropist with this strange sense of apathy for the rules that structured his life, offered the druglord his spare bedroom. He promised him he'd take the money, but that he had a deal for him to hear out in the morning, some friends to meet. Under most circumstances, Jesse Pinkman would be scared, but something about Jimmy... he couldn't understand why he trusted him so easily...

***

"Dad!" Walter White entered his son's room to see Junior seated before his computer.

"Yes?"

"They added someone new to the Beast Gang!"

"Huh? Oh like from that YouVideo or whatever it's called?"

"It's YouTube dad, and ya! They give away money and stuff." Walt leaned over to watch the screen. He didn't really get a lot about these social networks, but he found those guys to be mildly entertaining. (Nothing was entertaining considering the things he's done, the person he got to be for just a brief moment, but Heisenberg was dead anyway) But the guy he saw in the video made Walt's eyes go wide.

"Hm? Do you recognize that guy?"

"Oh um... he looked like one of my former students, he's not though false alarm! Very cool Junior..." To most, they probably wouldn't notice the colored contacts or the fake glasses, it'd just seem normal. But Walt was observant, he could tell. Ontop of the walk, the posture, the attitude, the tiny mannerisms he studied so meticulously. It was in all ways Jesse Pinkman, his partner that just randomly disappeared one night, money gone the next day. He had been gone for a month and ended up there of all places!?!? Leaving his son to watch his videos, Walt began to feel an anxiety he hadn't felt in months. One he somehow missed...?  In the drawer of his bedroom was a burner phone that has laid abandoned for sometime now, but it just felt right in Walt's hands. Jesse Pinkman being some YouTube co-host didn't work in his plans. If he wanted out, he had to lay low. What if the DEA watched MrBeast? They could easily discover it's him and track him down, then track down Walt. He couldn't risk it. So he did the one thing you do when your meth cook thinks giving away millions on camera is the only way to repent for what he's done. 

"Saul- ...Yes it's me I know relax. I'm not cookin' again I swear. I just need a favor... it's not for me it's for Jesse."

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