Trevor Philips X Reader (Stepping into his Dangerous World)

Feds Coming Out of The Toilet

You awoke next to Trevor once again, feeling safe in his embrace. You thought that really was warped. He killed people, sold drugs, probably guns and who knows what else. You knew he killed Johnny, everyone knew. It should make you scared shitless. Lots of people actually liked him, for a biker dude he was kind of nice. You should have been at least a little frightened that an enraged psycho came to your door at 2AM, incredibly pissed off. What did you do? You fucked him. 

You studied him as he slept, he really did look peaceful when he was sleeping. No underlying shifty looks, or a strange sadness that seemed to wipe across his expression at times. You wondered if anyone else noticed it too. Your body was facing his. Trevor's hands were wrapped around you, one of them instinctively groped on to an asscheek, keeping you in perfect place for him to cuddle. He was so strong you couldn't have moved if you wanted to, so you just laid there in a sleepy cuddle bliss. Sometimes he grunted in his sleep while he dreamt, his muscles tensed as he held onto you. It did make you a little nervous. 

"...Trevor?" You whispered to him, examining his expression. His brows were pressed together seriously, whatever he was dreaming about obviously wasn't pleasant. "Hey, T." Your voice elevated beyond a whisper. You poked his nose repeatedly. "Treevvvvooorrr." 

"Gnuh, What." He grunted as his eyes fluttered open. "Fuck." He put a hand to his forehead. "My head hurts. I need some fuckin crystal." 

"Uhhh you know I only have weed."

"Yeah, yeah, I can just walk over to my trailer." He rubbed his temples with one hand, and released his grip on you with the other. 

You rolled over and got off the bed. "Well, let me wake and bake and then I'll come with you." 

"God it is sexy hearing you say shit like that." He stared at you, taking in all of your beauty. A soft blush spread across your face. He really liked doing that to you. Trevor began to really wonder what pulled him to you so much. He also wondered why you didn't seem scared off yet. "You know that I do bad things right? And- its like all the fuckin time. I'm just out here ready to fuck shit up, shake the system and grab every dollar that falls my way, alright? Other people? They have a soul, a fuckin conscience. Me? I have a demon inside. I have a need to feed on the darkness- the danger- the death." His gaze was intense. 

You sat back down on the bed, facing him. "I think there's more to you, though. You can tell me every bad thing you've done, and just- let me love you anyways."

He looked a little amazed. No one had accepted him wholly, and fully before. He had to use intimidation, subjugation, humiliation, and manipulation in order to get people to do what he wanted. It bewildered him that you were just ready to jump into his world with him. "Love? You love me?" He asked. 

Fuck, that's not what you had meant to say. Part of you meant it, though. "Yeah, I think so."

"I think I... kind of love you too." He looked awkward as he said it. "But don't tell anyone else that or I'll fucking skin them." Truth was, if anyone knew that he loved someone, you'd become a target... maybe. They'd have to have one hell of a death wish.

"You got it." You put your hands up in surrender. With that, you went to your preferred little bong and took a few hits. After that, you brushed your teeth and picked out a (f/c) tank top, and some jean shorts. It was a hot one in Sandy Shores today.

"I need uppers. Fuck." He rolled out of your bed, and put the clothes on he was wearing from last night. "Are you ready, or what?" He asked in a grumpy tone. 

"Yeah." You replied.

With that, he led the way, opening your door for you as you left. For a psychopathic killer, and drug dealer he did have this gentlemanly side to him that was charming. It was a short walk to his trailer, only around the corner. It was swelteringly hot, the cicadas were buzzing, and you could see the heat roasting off the pavement. His home was right next to a liquor store. It was covered in weeds, which kind of made it look pretty. On the fence in front of his lawn, overgrown weeds outstretched, purple flowers dotting among them. His garage was made almost entirely out of scrap. He walked into his trailer, sighing a little relief that he could indulge in amphetamines. You followed after him, not expecting how messy it would actually be. There were fast food wrappings, dirty magazines, and cockroaches. His table was knocked over into the corner of the room, redwood cigarette cartons to be seen everywhere, half-eaten food on the floor and general messiness. I mean, yeah your trailer wasn't  beacon of cleanliness but come on, man. He noticed you weren't sure where to even sit and just dumped everything from the couch onto the floor. 

"Told you your place would be cleaner." He grunted. 

"I mean, you're a busy guy." You shrugged. "Plus, haven't you been holed up in LS at Wayde's Cousin's place?" You asked him. 

He coughed, taking a hit from a crack pipe. "Yeah. Darling Deborah ain't home so, we were planning a score. Merryweather was testing some kind of super weapon, and I stole it." He said proudly, before his face twisted into a grimace. "But then a certain sickly little gremlin of a man ruined my fucking fun. Had to put it back or I'd have feds coming out of the toilet." He huffed and muttered under his breath, "Bullshit."

"Well, then let's plan our own score." You shrugged.

"You think it's that simple?" He asked. "I've been researching this job since I got into LS." 

You squinted your eyes at him. "You only got in LS a few weeks ago."

"Fine, then let's hear you come up with a heist." He crossed his arms

You thought about the Jewelry store heist that happened not too long ago. It would be really fun to make off with some jewels, pearls. Didn't have to be a super fancy shop, it could be a really nice pawn shop. Yeah, that would be perfect. "I wanna rob a pawn shop for jewelry."

He looked impressed. "Now that, my twisted cupcake, is doable. We can go in, take a some shit, and get out clean. Just have to find the where and the when, I can get my guy, Ron on it." He kicked the trailer door open, yelling to a neighbor, "RON, you pathetic wreck of a man! I have a job I want you to look up."

"What kind of job?" A small man in a bucket hat busted out of the trailer next door, scurrying his way onto Trevor's porch. 

"I need a decently high end pawn shop to rob. Something that has lots of jewelry. Expensive shit." His eyes shifted dangerously. "Think you can do that?"

"Of course! I'll get right on it." He replied.

Trevor introduced the two of you. "Ron, this is (Y/N), she's my... woman. She's going to be the one coming with me on this job, so you make sure that it's one hundred percent safe, you understand me?"

"I'll do my best, Trevor. You know what happened with the last one." He said meekly.

Trevor raised a fist as is he was going to punch Ron, but restrained himself. "Just. Fucking. Do it." Ron ran off to his trailer, presumably to work on the logistics for the robbery you were about to commit. "Alright, now that he's gone, we need to get you to an actual range. Beer cans ain't shit when it comes to really getting good."