Trevor Philips X Reader (Stepping into his Dangerous World)

Fan-f*cking-tastic

You were standing in a dingy alleyway at dusk. Garbage piled up on the sides, pale light just barely hitting it from the purplish sky. Trevor was in front of you, back turned. He was holding a knife in his hand, his body was rigid, and stiff.

"T-Trevor?" You asked cautiously, stepping towards him a little. As you got closer, you saw blood dripping off the blade. "T?" You called again, no reply. You were only inches away from his large, intimidating form. 

"Its not enough." He growled lowly. 

"What- what are you talking about?" You asked, fear slightly building. 

"I said its not fucking enough." Without warning, he turned and stabbed you in the gut. 

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Your eyes sprung open, you awoke screaming, and thrashing. 

Your sudden outburst even frightened Trevor out of his slumber, and he awoke with a jolt. "Woah!" he grabbed ahold of you to calm you down. "Hey! Hey! Its okay- alright?" He lowered his voice a little, to a more soothing tone. "Shhhhh, it was a nightmare, alright? You're okay, you're with me." He stroked your hair softly. 

You weren't even sure how to feel. The man you just dreamed about killing you, slept next to you. He was unmatched in strength and could easily just snap your neck any time he so chose. You pushed away from him, getting out of his hold, and bringing your knees to your chest on the opposite corner of his bed. 

Trevor raised an eyebrow. "What the hell is up with you? What was that nightmare about?" 

You pondered if you should tell him the truth or not, but somehow you knew he would see through your lie. Your (e/c) eyes rolled around as you tried to find the right words to tell him. There was really no nice way of telling him though. Maybe deep down, there was still some part of you that was scared you were going to end up on Dateline, or worse, Steve Haine's shitty show. 

His deep brown eyes looked at you expectantly. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but then just closed it again. You closed your eyes, and looked away from him, afraid to see the look on his face. "I dreamt that you killed me... You just, stabbed me like it was nothing." Your eyes wandered from around the room, and then finally met his.

He wore an unreadable expression on his face. "Is that what you really think of me?" He asked.

"No- Trev- I-."

He cut you off. "You think that I would just kill you, like you're nothing?" He rose his voice.

"It was a dream- I can't control my drea-" 

He got off the bed, and stormed out of his room. You went after him, not that it was much of a distance to walk. When you looked up, you saw him with his nine millimeter pressed to his temple. Your eyes widened. 

"Trevor!"

"I will FUCKING DO IT. If you don't want me around, just fucking consider me dead!" His words were filled with a mix of sadness and rage. 

Hot tears began to roll down your face, you dropped to your knees. "Trevor, no, please..." 

"Do you understand?! If you want me gone, I will fucking die for you!" The anger dripped away from him when he saw you crying on the ground. A nagging feeling pulled at the dark man's core. He put his gun down, flipped on the safety, and put it back in his waistband. In the small trailer, all that could be heard was your sobbing. He dropped to his knees. There was something about you that had a way of making him just a little softer. His hands hovered over you for a moment, not sure if he should touch you in your fragile state. His voice came out smooth, and soothing again. "I would hurt myself before I would hurt you. Okay? Please..." He made the decision and wrapped his strong arms around you. "I love you, (y/n)."

You sobbed against him. "I love you too..." You sniveled in response. 

He tilted your face up to look at him, and wiped your tears away. "Are you okay?" He asked. 

You shook your head and got off the floor. You wiped your face with your sleeve and then sat on his sofa.

"Okay." He smiled softly, not an expression that dwelt on his face often. "I'm gonna give Mikey a call about that shrink, and then I have to go talk to Ron for a second, alright?"

"Alright." You replied. 

"You can eat anything I have in here if you're hungry." He nodded towards the refrigerator before walking out the door to make his phone call. He pulled Michael's contact up on his phone, but waited a moment before pressing the call button. "RON!" He practically screamed at the trailer next to him. 

Th paranoid little man kicked the door open. "Yeah Trevor?" He asked. 

"Get me some fucking coffee would ya? I gotta give Mike a call real quick." He turned his attention back to his phone, pressing the little green call button. 

"I'm on it, T!" Ron said like a soldier in battle, and scurried off.

Trevor took in the air of the dusty desert while it rang. By the time he exhaled Michael answered his phone. 

"Yeah what do you want?" He asked.

"Well that's no way to greet a friend now is it?" Sarcasm filled his tone. He heard Michael give a little sigh of irritation, and smirked at it. 

"Look, I'm getting a massage right now, so what do you want?" He asked again. 

"Ooo, pampered are we? Sounds like a gay old time. Got some guy on guy action or do you have some of them little strong lady Asian hands?" Trevor had a fun time of irritating Michael. It was something he enjoyed doing even when they were in high school. 

However, that was the comment to set Michael over his edge. Anger filled his tone, "Trevor! Tell me what the fuck you want or I'm going to hang up the god damn phone!" 

"Geez, alright, you're no fun. I'd say try relaxing but it seems like you do plenty of that. Look, my woman is having some problems. I know you see some quack to talk about your shit, so can you give me his number?" 

"It ain't cheap T, you know that."

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to? I have money, just text me his number, she's having nightmares and she's upset and..." He trailed off. "I don't like it, alright?" 

Michael was a little impressed on the other side of the line. Trevor had his own strange way of caring, but with you it was an entirely different thing. It was almost as if he was capable of being a rational human being. "Alright, I'll send his stuff on over when I'm all done with this, sound good?" 

"Sounds great Mikey, enjoy your-" Michael hung up the phone before Trevor could finish his sentence. 

Ron came up to Trevor with two cups of coffee, one was for himself. "Here you go, T." He held it out for him to take. 

As he grabbed the cup he looked into Ron's eyes deeply. "Who fucked the batch up? I know it wasn't Chef." 

"Gosh, we're still trying to figure it out! I mean I-I-I tried. I talked to Chef and everybody and they all don't know anything."

"Then maybe I should call a fuckin meeting, eh?" Darkness sparked in Trevor's eyes. 

"O-oh I mean... After how the last one went, do you think uh... Do you think that's a good idea, boss?" Ron asked. 

Trevor squinted his eyes. "I think its a wonderful fucking idea, Ron. Call everyone up. You know what to do, and when to do it." 

The geeky little man rubbed his arm. "A-Alright, T. I'll get it all done."

"Fan-fucking-tastic."