Told y'all I'd remake this!! Sorry it took absolute eons though, life's been a bitch recently. Was listening to non stop pop as i made it so lets hope it helped.
REMINDER, NOT PLOT ACCURATE!!
Summary; After doing something as great as The big one, you'd definitely thought it was a good idea that some celebrations were in order. After agreeing to it, you completely forgot that those celebrations would include a drunk old friend... or fuck buddy? Who knows...
The big one, the huge one. The one no-one dared hit due to how impossible it seemed. Yet, here you stand, with your lifelong friends and with millions of dollars in your credit card from it. It had almost cost your life, but where was the worth if it didn't? Micheal had suggested a celebratory party from the success, which was fair, he wanted to enjoy his life after getting such a lick of near death, it made sense. Everyone wanted it too.
With the automated doors closing behind you, you drove into the fine home. Micheal and Franklin were here, presumably with Lamar, for whatever reason. Amanda's car was also parked in its usual spot. 'Bitch'. You thought. You never knew what Micheal saw in her, she always treated him and his friends like less than shit. Go back a few years and you could almost feel the way Trevor lunged past you at her, purely for sighing at you. Trevor.. that's right. He's also supposed to come. Great.
You didn't talk to him when he came back first. Well, when he arrived. He never was dead, was he? You quite literally walked right out of the kitchen from where he'd announced himself in the heat of an argument between Micheal and you. You'd only communicate in grunts or blunt answers when necessary on missions.It's not like you wanted to ignore him... it's just you didn't want to believe he was truly back, you didn't want your heart broken all over again. Besides, he hardly noticed anyways.
He never noticed anything about you. Micheal warned you at first, that he was bad. You'd insist you'd be fine, after all you'd known him the same amount of time. Oh, how wrong you were. Every fight, every fuck, everything, just hurt. How he'd cry to your soul one night and act like he was only there to fuck the next. It was so confusing, so harming, yet you still loved him.
Though to Trevor, it was different. He didn't know how to love you. He didn't want to purely for the sake of knowing you'd probably up and leave like the cheap hookers he'd sought out. He'd stopped for a while after he got led to believe you were dead. Dead on impact, he could hardly believe it. You were always such a good getaway driver, hell the train didn't even hit you in Yankton as you escaped, so how did a little ice cause you to drift and slam into a pole?
He could never dwell on it, hell he thought you actually escaped with him. He couldn't get a look at you as Micheal pulled him and Brad from the car, proceeding to get 'shot.' and killed. Truth be told, you were in on the plea deal. The WPP. Micheal forced you, well, manipulated. Claimed that Trevor was like a dog with rabies, claimed he was wild, he'd never love you the way you love him. Fast forward and there you were, watching 'Micheal' go down the burial hole, whilst you stood next to him, wondering just where Trevor was, if he was even alive.
After some time, some searching, Micheal and Lester came to an unspoken agreement. They paid Dave Norton, the FIB agent in charge of your Witness Protection to tell you to stop, for Trevor was dead. Killed in a road rage like the 'animal' he was.
That's why you simply left that kitchen that time. You couldn't process it, couldn't deal with it. And when he didn't even bother seeking you out it bothered you, turning every interaction into a ball of awkwardness and anger. Not at each other, but knowing him he'd take it out on you at some point anyway.
You sighed as you bit your lip, realising you were just sitting in your car as you got out, closing the door. The music was loud enough to be heard outside, but not loud to disturb the neighbours. Inside, the family were in the sitting room, Tracey being the first to notice, ran up to you, screaming. You hugged her as you said your greetings to everyone, not failing to notice the lack of mess, the lack of him. It made you nervous, not knowing when he'd arrive.
A few hours had past like nothing. It was sometime after PM, and you were starting to feel the effects of a good get together. Smiling, you excused yourself as you stumbled a little bit up the stairs, you reached the bathroom, throwing yourself in with urgency. You spent a bit longer than necessary up there on your phone, but perhaps that's what made you realise that he was here. You could smell the booze from the floor below, presumably drinking enough for seven before arriving here. His voice vibrated through the floorboards and swears and slurred speech shook off the walls.
Pulling up your pants, you did your hygiene before you approached the banister cautiously. Sure enough, his voice echoed up the stairwell, flooding your ears as easily as his tongue once filled your holes.
You groaned, he was already causing a fuss. Micheal was outside, last you'd seen, chatting with Frank and Lamar, so that left you descending down the stairs, already hating how you had to prep yourself up to pull him away from Amanda, since some of the other heist members were scattered around.
"See...You, Mikey chose you purely..because it was to spite Brad, he doesn't love you!" He sneered as he swayed, already hating how the first person he saw was the perky tittied bitch of a best friend's wife. He hiccuped a little as he raised his hand, pointing to nothing in particular, ready to rant yet again, until it hit something.
"Fuck o-ff Mikey i'm in the mid-" He started, but stopped once he saw you. You, who'd been avoiding him the past few days, and you who he fought tooth and nail for, numerous times. T, stop." you huffed quietly as I pulled him away from Amanda, a surprised look on his face as she put her hand on her hip and walked off.
"The- fuck, you hate her alm-*hic* as bad as I do!?" He grunted out, throwing his arm out of your grasp dramatically, as you stood in the kitchen, somehow it was quiet, with everyone moving outside. "You've been here about five minutes, and you've already gotten into trouble and probably got kicked out of four bars!" You hissed quietly, folding your arms against your chest as you glared up at him.
He glared down at you, an unintentional sneer on his face as you stared at him, and for a moment, a tense, dangerous moment it felt like a punch was going to be thrown. But it wasn't, instead, he slowly raised his hand. "Five." He said with a fuck-ass smug grin on his face. "Oh fuck you!" You scoffed as you twirled in annoyance, not even knowing what to say to him.
You could see his face, his scars, his oddly bruised face, like it was fresh. Despite everything, you were still you, you still looked at him with those pretty eyes he loved so much. And he could still read you like an open book.
"Mikey." He said, with a small slur as he pointed to his black eye. Then his bruised cheek. "Mikey." He pointed to all the bruises and scrapes, like a child showing you a scraped knee from falling off their bike, hoping you'd be proud that they even rode their bike. You didn't know what to say, you just sighed. "Typical." You scoffed, pacing. "Why were you two fighting?" You demanded.
"Whooahh... Funny story sugartits." He giggled, as he hiccuped. "Basically- i- wanted to y'know..pay a house call, and he got a lil' angry, so in turn, I got a lil' ang-" "Trevor I swear to fucking god I don't want to hear about patricia!" You stopped him in the middle of his drunken rambling. "oh." He said softly. "Well- Mikey Schmikey wouldn't tell me where you were hiding out!" He defended. "So i did what i knew best, and.." He made a boxing motion that looked more like a wave than anything.
"You fought him?" You raised a brow. He nodded as he sat on the barstool looking up at you. "Course i did- *Hic*- Look at you!" He whoozed as he swung his legs. You stared down at him. Normally you'd kiss him and take him home in this state, make him some food and maybe fuck, but the hesitance in your gaze made him sober in almost seconds.
"You still don't trust me." He stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "No, I do. I just don't...I don't know." You countered. You didn't exactly know what he meant, but that gaze he left on you as he stood almost made you whine under pressure. "I'm right here, ain't i? I'm fuckin' real, ain't I?" He demanded, his voice rising with anger. You were once his, and he fucked it up, he was aware, but the way you were right now, not knowing what to do with him, ignoring him all these months after years of believing you were dead, it pained him, and when in pain, Trevor gets mad.
"Y'now all these years, I thought you were in that second casket, I thought you were buried there, in Yankton with Mikey, but no! He's out there shittin' in his pool and you're in here, actin' like you don't even know me! Runnin' off after everything and I can't even follow because fucking Al deDickio out there won't tell me where you are! Do you have any idea how much shit I wasted on your grave!?" He angrily cursed, as he advanced. He'd never hit you, no, but he wasn't the best guy either, as he smashed his fists off the countertop, not hard, but enough to dull his anger slightly.
"After all these years, after all this time." He hissed, each word having ten years of anger backing it. "You just run, not even a hi or hello, you fucking run. I didn't get your fuckin' name all over my back, or fucked the shit out of you almost daily for that treatment!" He spat as he gripped your shoulders. Yes, he was angry, but there was something else in his eyes, it was clear by the way his voice was shaking, this was a man pure heartbroken and drunk.
"Listen- It wasn't my- Wait, what!?" You tried to defend yourself as he huffed and practically almost cried into you as he stepped away. "Gotta show you that too, huh? Will that convince you- huh?" He demanded, not even giving you a chance as he ripped off the blue jacket, and white tank as he turned. And there it was.
The massive flower, open to its fullest, your name making up the stem, and everything he'd associated with you on the petals. Trevor wasn't a romantic, and hell was he a thinker, which meant all these details were burned into his memory, and now his back. You reached out, tenderly touching it in shock. But the second your hand touched, he whipped around, grabbing it and shoving you back into the pillar.
He was staring at you with such an intensity that it would've been scary if you weren't so into it. He began to ramble again, yelling and swearing but you couldn't focus on it. You just pulled him down like many a time before, and kissed him, so ferociously. The kiss of desperation, of a decade of longing and lust. Of course, he'd grabbed your hair, causing you to open your mouth more, but pulled back, almost panicking.
"Don't leave me again." He said, a hoarseness to his voice. He didn't give you a chance to answer, as he kissed you again. It was clear the alcohol was getting him into the emotional mess he'd probably had to suffer through all these years alone, without you to help like before. "one night." He murmured through kisses. "And i'lll change - I'll flush the toilet, I won't piss on you- I won-" He started but you shut him up once more.
"One, one night." You mumbled through kisses as you held his frame.
It didn't even shock Micheal when he walked into his hallway to find you trying to drag Trevor to somewhere else, convincing him to not do you on Micheals bed.
A house party, that's all it takes for him to finally realise you've been avoiding him. That's all it takes for him to go on a manhunt halfway across Los Santos, demanding answers, and once this crazy bastard sets his sights on somethin' he doesn't let go.
Warnings:
Trevor Phillips is his own, Threatening behaviour, swearing, the usual GTA V things. F READER
MORE BELOW !!
It didn't take much to know that crazy fucker was downstairs. The smell of booze that'd reached the De Santa's upstairs lavatory would've never gotten there on it's own, nor would the increased cursing and swearing from below.
Sighing, you stood up, pulling up your pants as you washed your hands and did the standard hygiene, stepping out of the fancy bathroom to grab the can of booze you'd left at the door. Taking a sip, you leaned on the banister as you contemplated your decisions.
A: Go downstairs and be ignored the whole night, save for Mike - the good option.
B: Go downstairs and just leave - the even better option
Or C: Go downstairs and enjoy the party your friend so graciously hosted, only to be crashed by your ex fuck buddy? Best friend? Partner in crime? who'd probably never leave you alone, ever, once he caught sight of you. - HORRIFIC.
Sighing, you knew that option C was the only good one realistically. See, back in the days before everyone was supposedly 'dead', Trevor and you had sort of a fling-thing. Nothing ever became much of it though. You two were simply best friends who ate each others ass every once in a while. Did you eat each others asses? You can't remember, but probably. Then, during Yankton, Micheal forced you to come into that plea deal. That stupid deal. "I need someone, you need someone, he'll be fine." "He's just a violent lunatic!" All the words Micheal said, all the words he'd pleaded and begged, and yet you still refused, until he simply wore you down. But what he didn't tell you was the part where Dave Norton told you he was dead, and he got told that you and Micheal were dead.
And that's how you all ended up in his kitchen those many months ago, meeting again. But it was different. He was different, and so were you. You didn't know what it was. You couldn't talk to him, couldn't look him in the eye, nothing. And he never noticed, the man that you once called a best friend, never took a minute to realise his best friend was practically terrified to admit he was real.
Which is why you were now hovering in the kitchen corner, on your phone as you listened to the chatter of people around you, praying to whatever God was out there that he'd never spot you. But boy did he. And that shit eating grin he had was enough to kill a bird. Or several.
"Heyy~ my l-il outhouse!" He hiccuped, leaning sluggishly on the island. "Get it? Cus' you got diarrhoea that o-ne time!" He wheezed as he waved a little, where he stood. "One time." You corrected, holding the bridge of your nose. Being in his presence as of late seemed to annoy you quite a lot, and you speculated it played hand in hand with the fear that he was't real, that he'd never love you again, because why should he reciprocate-
"Hey! Hey! Outhouse!" He snapped, giggling whoozly. His fingers were in your face, well, to the left, but to him they were right in your face. "Where you livin'? I gotta drop you up sum-*Hic* Things i got outta Wade!" He suggested, as you placed down the empty drink. "None of your business, Trev." You snapped, coldly. You didn't mean to, and he could see you didn't either, both of your eyes wide currently.
"Fuck's up with you!?" He scoffed, leaning back defensively. "Don't remember you havin' this much of a temper. Even if you did I'd prob-*hic*-ly fucked it out'ya?" He slurred, and you could practically feel his short tension fuse going haywire. Sighing, you knew it would be better for everyone to leave. Grabbing your coat, you called out; "I'm going home before you wreck some shit. There's a few good reasons I barely talk to you anymore. Maybe think about it!" You coughed lowly as you walked past, you weren't dealing with tonight, nevermind dealing with a drunk him, and he just froze. He wasn't used to you being hostile, hell even when you were in a shootout you were laughing, the fuck is up with you now? He didn't even register the fact you said you weren't talking to him, as he scowled.
Stumbling over a few chairs, he eventually found Micheal out by the pool, with Franklin. "Hey kid, hop!" He snapped, motioning for Franklin to Fuck Off, with capital letters. "Hey man, chill? I was jus' leavin'!" Franklin scoffed, with an angry glare as he thanked Micheal once again for the night.
"What, T?" Micheal sighed, as he also held his nose, a trait Trevor was beginning to associate with you being pissed at him, and he did not like it one eensy, weency bit. "What the fuck have you said to her?" He said, bluntness enough to cut steel, ironically. "The fuck you talking about!?" Micheal glared back, Trevors hostileness was nothing new for him, but he knew he had to get him back inside to an enviornment where he knew there would be witness'es if he were to be murdered.
"You know damn well. She just completely avoided me, left in like t-wo seconds m-ikey! Two! You could've finished in that time!" He announced, holding up two fingers as he followed Micheal along his home, whom was cleaning up stray cans and bottles. There were a few people left, so he decided to clean up now, rather than later.
"She'd never ignore me on purpose- ever! She loves me! I know *hic* it! And the only reason I can guess of, is you spouting little lying shit about m-e!"
"T, are you fuckin' serious right now?" Micheal stopped, turning. "Yes i am, cus' if she thinks she can run off and me and i don't get to know why she's got another thing coming. Is it her period? Like literally what Mikey!? Cus it aint menopause!?" He drawled, bouncing around the place in annoyance, all while pointing a finger at him angrily.
Micheal simply sighed as he glared at Trevor. "She's been ignoring you ever since you fucking showed up here unnanounced, you stupid bastard! You're seriously only noticing now?" Micheal scoffed, standing up straight. He'd also had a lot to drink, and him interrupting Franklin was a breaking point.
"If you'd stop fuckin' around, stop drinking and smoking all that shit, you'd notice that she's practically running from you everytime you show up!" He snapped at him. "T, you're a fuckin' wreck lately. Like, even more insane than normal! You think she'd wanna stick around a fucker like you? You'd wanna get your shit together, because you scaring her off is ruining every upcoming job!" He growled, sizing up the man. And those words stung, enough to the point Trevor sobered up enough to feel enough emotion to take down his best friend.
"The fuck, did you just say?" He murmured lowly, breathing low and calculated as he stepped toward Micheal, not a good sign.
Being at home, on your couch late at night with multiple tubs of ice cream was nothing new to you. Never was, for there was a 24/7 near your apartment, and it had a bomb ass ice cream drawer. Cross legged, watching the newest fame or shame season, you almost missed the knock at the door. Sighing, you stood up. There was an old lady whom had moved into the complex a few weeks ago, and she'd lost her cat almost nightly.
"No, Mrs. Gondrick, i havent seen your- Trevor?" You raised a brow, seeing him leaning against the door, covered in bruises, blood, blisters and so on so forth. "What the fuck happened to you?" You managed out, though should you be surprised? "Move over, sweetheart, I'll be the one holding this interview." He growled, shoving you into the hallway, kicking the door closed as he leaned down to your height.
"Now, tell me. Why the fuck are you avoiding me?" His tone was venomous, careful. "I'm not ignoring you Trev-" You tried to explain, but he cut you off, holding an arm up. "Ab, ab, ab, ab! No! Don't lie to me! I fucking hate lying!" He yelled, though for him, it was almost speaking tone.
"See this!?" He pointed at his black eye. "Got it offa Mikey, fucker refused to tell me where you were hiding from me, but that's another story, so again, why are you avoiding me!?" He angrily paced, arms raving madly.
You didn't know what to say, well, you did. You just, couldn't. Until you realised fuck it. He was too drunk to remember any of this by tommorow anyway.
"Because you're still dead to me, well you're not- but you are- for fucks sake Trevor, you can't just show up out of the blue and expect me to be like oh howdy, my dead ex? My dead friend? I don't even know what we were or are, but right now i want you out!" You spoke back, unafraid. "You wanna know what we were?" He laughed. "Everything, you- you were my fuckin' everything! I couldn't rant to Brad about Micheal could I? I couldn't call him in for help when i shit myself one too many times!?" He yelled, kicking the shoes on the floor, it was clear he was still drunk as he missed two out of three times, falling against the wall.
"Well, it didn't feel like it." You lowly shot back, glaring at him. It was then he turned to face you off of the wall, slowly. "You really doubt me, huh? You really fuckin' think i'm that bad?" He sneered. You couldn't even register how fast he'd moved, kicking the couch as he ripped off his shirt, facing you. "Now, this, this is for Mikey." He growled, shoving his arm toward you, the big cross, marked with Micheals name, Rest in Piece, and the likes. It was beautiful, especially in comparison to his other tats.
"Oh you like that don't you?" He scoffed, before spinning around. Micheal, yes got his arm, but you, you adorned his back. All the way to the bottom of his waist from the top of his neck, a beautiful flower, your name, paired with your favourite weapon of choice on heists, birthday...it had everything it needed to have. Everything he'd associated with you, ever, it was there. Even the little outhouse hidden in the center of the flower, and you knew he never kept notes about anything anywhere, which meant everything here is committed to memory.
"I..Trevor." Was all you could say, your eyes glued to it as he snapped his shirt back on. "Yeah, yeah! See! So don't never say I didn't give a shit when i gave fourty seven!" He slurred, pointing at you. You couldn't say anything, years of anger, years of feeling like a traitor, all brewing inside of you. Taking a step forward, a brave step, you practically ran at him while he kept ranting and rambling, only shutting up when you'd kissed him.
Staring at you, while you kissed, eyes wide open, it took him a few moments before he slowly grabbed the back of your head, angrily kissing you back, he even dared push you on the wall as his lips got more and more aggressive.
"Starting to regret crying to Mikey over you now." He slurred as he hoisted you against the wall, legs wrapping around him. Letting out a gasp as he lifted you, all you could manage was a 'what?'. "Mikey..fucking beat the shit out of eachother-" He spoke, through bites and licks of your neck. "And then ended up crying over you..you whiny bitch." He growled, biting hard to get a reaction, God he loved your sounds.
"Trev?" You weakly asked, scared almost, as he stopped, looking up at you after a moment. "What-?" He gasped, as his jaw relaxed. "I don't want this to be like before." You slacked, looking away. "I mean like...I don't want it to be a one time thing.." you whispered as you felt his arm muscles twitch, those arms that'd be wrapped in a headlock around you before you knew it while he pounded-
"It won't." Was all he said, blunt. "Yo-what?" You said, not expecting a blunt answer, hell, it was Trevor here, everything would've been vulgar. "It won't." He repeated as I began to attempt to undo your shirt with a hand. "No you don't get it- ah fuck sake- I love you-!" I finally rambled out, tired of waiting for him as he froze.
"I know."
"What?"
"I know."
You stared at him. Was he for fucking real? "What do you mean you know?" You raised a brow. "I said I fucking know. You wouldn't have fucked me otherwise. I love you too stupid, its how i noticed that." He grumbled out, as he nibbled on the top of your breast.
He was trying to avoid saying it, it wasn't something he said lightly. Maybe he'd joke about it, but if he was serious, he'd never say it to someone he didn't trust. "Really?" Was all you could get out. "Yes. Now shut up and let me fuck you, I've fuck'n missed you." He stated, kissing you fiercely once again.
You guessed the conversation could wait till he was sobered up from regular drink, and coming down from a pussy high.
IM SORRY IF THIS IS REALLY BAD IT WAS A DRAFT, NOT PROOFREAD AND WRITTEN ON BOTH MOBILE AND LAPTOP, I JUST WANTED TO PUBLISH IT AND GET IT OUT OF THE WAY BEFORE I FORGOT!!
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