Breaking Bad x Male Reader

Chapter 1: American Dream

You take a glimpse at your flip-phone, bright white light showering your pupils. Looking back up you're now totally sure this is the place. An empty mall parking lot. Cars pass by idly on the road behind, sending a constant flurry of distant whirled sounds towards you.

On your left sits a small gas station, cars consistently pulling in and out of it.

An old Daytona pulls around the corner half-hazardly, the driver a familiar face; Jesse Pinkman. Your best friend, even if he is a few years older then you. You met two years ago after your father's overdose on fetanyal laced meth. He was the friend of your fathers, that's what he said at least.

You smile at his arrival, the front license plate saying Cap'n. It slows to a stop in front of you, a grin on his face.

Quickly, another car pulls into the lot; small and grey, like a family car. It's shiny, recently cleaned. The driver an old man, brown hair and a brown beard. You instantly recognize each other and lock eyes. Mr. White; your chemistry teacher.

"Hey!" Jesse calls, drawing your attention him.

You walk closer, leaning down to stare at him through the driver window. "Whats up?" You question. Glancing at Mr. White before turning back to Jessie.

His smile never fades, "We have an offer for you." He says, breath smelling like weed, nodding towards the Nissan pulling to park.

An offer? You gotta get home soon anyways, so you might just decline.

Mr. White climbs out of the car and approaches you hesitantly, sunlight glinting in his eyes causing him to narrow his eyes. "Y/N?"

"Mr. White?" You ask, glancing from Jesse to your teacher.

"Yeah.." His voice draws out. He glances at Jesse with his brown eyes and shakes his head. "This wasn't what we agreed to."

"Like hell it isn't, he's way smarter then me Mr. White, trust. He can help." Jesse argues your case, one you haven't even agreed to. One hand hanging out of the window as he speaks.

"Help with what?" You question, eyes shifting between the two skeptically.

Jesse stares at Mr. White, "He wants to sell meth."

Mr. White quickly denies, shaking his head angrily. "No! No- that is not what-"

"Yes! Yes it is. he isn't dumb!" Jesse says, taking a cigarette from the cup holder and lighting it.

"Sell meth?" You ask, head twisting slightly. You had the knowledge to assume that Jesse sold something, just not meth.

Mr. White shakes his head. "Yes! And since he needs help he wanted you" He points at you charismatically then at himself "and I to help him." Jesse takes a puff from his cigarette and allows it to sit idly from his mouth.

"He recommended you." Mr. White says quietly.

Your eyes fall to the ground; deep in thought. Head rolling through each thought quickly, what are the chances of you getting caught. What will happen if you do. How much money can you make from this and will you be able to make it?

"Can I think about it?" You call to Jesse.

Jesse nods, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. He rests it between his index finger and middle finger.

"Course' man, just let me know." He answers, nodding. He flips the cigarette from his fingers and turns them into a fist for you to hit which you do as a goodbye.

"See you man." You say, smiling.

He nods, "See ya."

Slowly, you turn around and begin to stalk away. Leaving the two men behind.

Your thoughts were clouded as you went through the boring phases of the day. Going to work at a part time job being paid only ten dollars an hour, a complete scam but it was the only place that would hire.

You clocked out early, five minutes to be exact. Considering that was the final night shift it didn't matter. You'd already made up your mind, you'd quit and find a new, different job that would actually fit with your schedule, and let you have time to actually see your sister.

Having such a small amount of free time, working with school and a job to take care of the bills of your one room apartment left you saddened.

Your thoughts were muffled when a sudden feeling of sadness overwhelmed you. Your sister, the one you raised is sitting at home with a neighbor when you should be there, taking care of her.

You pulled the flip-phone out, screen brightened with a light blue overtone reflecting off your face. The streets were quiet, almost no sounds were audible except for your gentle breaths.

The screen had already revealed your plan, black letters spelling Jessie piled the top of the screen. A single line blinked in succession, a constant rhythm. Waiting for you to begin typing.

You hesitated, staring at the phone screen intently. This was life-changing, there was no worrying about food anymore. Your only worries would be that you'd get caught. Or your sister would find out.

You began to type quickly, pressing the buttons in rapid succession.