Rest, Weary Traveller | GTA V Fanfic [Trevor x Reader]

Chapter One

This is a slow burn explicit smut fic. If you are a minor DO NOT read this fic or interact as per the author's wishes. Thank you. 

I finally made it. Los Santos, you thought to yourself with pride. Some hippy-dippy farmer agreed to let you on the back of her blue, rusty Yosemite truck as she made her way to the organic farmers' market. You went slack-jawed as the cloud-touching buildings faded into view. You peered into the back window of her truck; she wasn't paying any attention to you. You took a few oranges and tossed them into your backpack.

You didn't want to admit it, but you were low on money; there was only $25 to your name. At the beginning of your trip, you had nearly $2,000. Where did I go wrong...? Oh, yeah. The souvenirs. You sheepishly glanced at your backpack, which had dozens of keychains picturing various cities hanging off every zipper. Don't forget the assload of money I had to pay for a new phone and phone plan, you thought with a grimace. Your previous cell plan only happened to cover the western portion of Ambarino (Good ol' AM.) and none of the other states. You'd dropped your phone in a gas station toilet two hours after upgrading. 

As if your phone knew you were bitterly reminiscing, it lit up with a notification. It was from one of your few friends back in AM, a girl your age named Gabi. Sighing, you opened it. 

hey, [Y/N]! you warming up yet?? im so fuckin jealous of you :(( lucky duck..

You let out a bitter laugh.

my dude, if u only knew the half of it LOL, u should totally send me a little bit of cash if u can. im on my last $25. ill get u a souvenir or smth i promise... <3

She left you on read; after several minutes of no reply, you figured she didn't want to give you any money. You couldn't blame her; who would want to send money to a friend on a journey they didn't have the balls to go on? The truck came to a stop and the farmer hopped out of the truck. 

"I'm afraid this is my stop, kid," she said. 

"Thank you for the ride, ma'am. I really appreciate it," you said meaningfully. You nodded your head to her and went on your way. 

This part of town didn't seem the safest, but hey, at least it wasn't 2°F out here. You began walking across a huge bridge with more lanes of traffic than you could ever have seen back home in AM. The more you walked, the heavier your backpack felt. The west coast heat seemed to pile on quadruple the weight you were carrying. Beads of sweat trickled down your face by the time you made it off the bridge. To your left, there was a crusty-looking old factory with the rusty words DARNELL BROS standing at the top of it, peering down at you. You began to walk that direction when you noticed there was a space under the bridge. Shade. 

Once you made it to the underside of the bridge, you slumped down to catch a breath. The shade may not have been nearly as cold as you were used to, but it was at least 10° cooler beneath the hulking mass of concrete. As soon as you were cooled off enough, you began looking at the details in your surroundings: the roof and walls were littered in graffiti, and there was a dumpster several feet away from you with an unpleasant aroma. You tried to remember the last time you'd had a proper shower in running water; the closest you'd gotten to it had been a week ago when you bathed in a river. Grimacing, you continued to look around, still hardly able to fathom you were finally in the place you'd been going to for so long. 

Then, you saw it. 

A delivery van beneath a tarp. A GoPostal Boxville, to be exact. 

Curious as to what a van like that was doing beneath a bridge, of all places, you got up with your bag and made your way over to it. The tarp was only partially covering the van; you recognized the logo easily. You lifted the tarp over you and began making your way to the back doors of the vehicle. To your surprise, the door was slightly ajar. Your curiosity deepened and you slipped into the van. Fuck, it's nice and cool in here, you thought to yourself as you peered around. You'd never seen the inside of a van like this; to your surprise, there was only one box, a crate that was roughly 4x4x4 and also covered by a tarp.