Trevor Philips X Reader (Stepping into his Dangerous World)

The F*ck Did You Do?!

A thought of you crossed Trevor's mind as he pulled into Martin Madrazo's driveway. He decided he would throw a text your way, because guilt still panged at him for just leaving you in the dust. 

"I love you so much. i wish i wasn't so fucked up so I could love you better. i want this, i want all of it. i want the pointless fights and late night texts. i want to hold your hand all the time. i want to call you mine, forever. i want the sarcasm, and wrestling, and text messages where we spill our fucking guts out. or after we fight or something stupid. i want to be one of those best frend couples, and i want it all with you. sorry i was a dick."

Trevor knocked on the door to the expensive country home. He was greeted by the soft face of Martin's wife, Patricia. "Hello. Are you here to see Martin?" She asked. 

Martin yelled, "The fuck do you think he's here for? Let him in already!" 

The small woman obliged, letting Trevor in. He stepped inside, briefcase in hand. 

"Ah! Trevor, hello! Thank you for getting these for me." He smiled like a shark as he took the files. 

"Yeah. No problem, amigo." He squinted his eyes at him. "So uh, you never did say how much you were going to pay us for this favor that we did you." The air in the room thickened. 

"This was a favor, for a friend. Or do you not remember that?" Martin asked Trevor. 

"Michael's your friend. I'm not. I want to be paid for going halfway across the state for something that wasn't pussy. Otherwise, it's a waste of my time and hard effort!" He raised his voice. 

This is where Martin lost the charming façade he put on, and the real monster revealed itself. "You think I owe you something?" He slammed his hand on a table. "I need your trust. Respect- before I even think about trusting you with money, huh? I am Martin Madrazo!" He said his name like he was a king. "I am feared! And you will respect me. You come up in my house, and ask me for money? Who the fuck do you think you are?!" He yelled.

Trevor got equally angry, stepping closer to his fellow psychopath. "Yeah, considering a whole four people died to get your stupid files, I do. I do think that you fucking owe me something!  Not to mention that's how the world WORKS." He huffed. "You go to school, you learn. YOU DO A JOB, YOU GET PAID. And if you think otherwise than you're a fucking fascist piece of shit!"

Martin shook his head. "Get the fuck out." He said coldly and pointed to the door. Trevor didn't move a single inch. He wanted his money, and he wanted it right then. Both his cut, and Michael's. Martin shoved Trevor toward the door this time, which was the wrong move. 

"You cheap motherfucker!" Trevor yelled and connected his fist harshly with Martin's jaw. Martin wasn't weak by any means, though. He took the punch like a champ. He came back with an equally hard punch, but it didn't phase Trevor much. He gave a couple more, hitting him in sensitive areas, actually knocking the wind out of Trevor at one point. 

The drug lord swept a leg under Martin's and caught him off guard. He fell to the ground, and hit his head on a table as he did, and he was out cold. "And to answer your previous question, I think I'm Trevor fucking Philips." Patricia was in the corner looking frightened. He got a twisted idea in his head, holding Patricia for ransom seemed the perfect way to get his money out of Martin.

It was a simple matter of strength and intimidation, and he got Patricia to hand over the keys to Martin's car, and then subdued her with duct tape. When she was safely in the truck and he was driving down the road, he called Michael. 

"There's been a change of plans, you don't need to come to the ranch, meet me at Stoner Cement Works. A little up Senora Road from there."

"What are you doing, Trevor?" Michael asked cautiously. 

"Nothing you wouldn't do." He replied, and with that, he hung up the phone

                                                       *          *          *         *

Trevor rolled up in Martin Madrazo's vehicle. It was a large, black SUV. 

"The fuck has happened?!" Michael demanded. "Why do you have his car?"

"That piece of turd, huh?" he squinted brown eyes at his friend's blue ones. "No wonder people are stabbing him in the back." He walked around the vehicle and opened the front passenger door. 

"What happened?" The blue eyed criminal was persistent in his questioning. 

"Cheap bastard." Trevor went on. "You know I really don't know why you mess around with people like that, Mikey. I mean really, I don't..." He avoided his questions.

Michael exploded, "TREVOR! Answer the fucking question!"

"I asked for a fair day's pay after a fair day's work. Then he kinda got a little angry, so I admit, I kinda got a little angry."

"Did you kill him?" Michael asked seriously. 

"What kinda fuckin' animal do you take me for? No, I didn't kill him." Trevor replied. 

"Oh fuck." he sighed in relief. 

The taller, slumlord opened up the trunk of Martin Madrazo's car. "But I did kidnap his wife!" 

"Oh no!" Michael looked seriously worried. He knew Trevor was impulsive, and a psycho, but this was just on a whole other level. "Oh shit! The fuck did you do?!"

Trevor lifted the small, bound Mexican woman with ease. "Ohhhh, I just told you what I just did. Now, unfortunately, I think that we're gonna have to lay low for a while y'know, we discuss things with Martin?"

Michael looked like he was going to be sick. "Oh, you think?" He asked sarcastically.

"Why don't you pop in the back, alright? Now, Patricia-" He pointed at the woman in the passenger seat, "She's already called shotgun. Ha-hah, And I know a little place we can hang out, y'know it's a very relaxing little spot. A little getaway, if you will. A cabin in the woods, you know what I'm sayin'."

It seemed that even though Michael didn't want to be stuck in Hillbilly Hell, now he was forced to...