#gta fanfiction

[nevergonnasimpyoumikey]

“So everything should be fine, right? Happy wife, happy family, and all that,” he said dryly. The silence after the question was tense. He continued firmly, getting to the point. “I thought you’d be happy, Michael. You got everything you dreamed of.”

He stared emptily into the distance. “Maybe I was dreaming of the wrong things.”

Suffocating in Ao3

***

Long time no commission and I missed it so much! Thank you @prim42 for sharing the love for these depressed fucks with me :'D <333

#my fics #art of my fics #trikey #michael de santa #dave norton #I wanna write more of Dave at some pointttt #I love his and Michael's friendship #gta v fanart #gta v #gta fanfiction #gta fanart

[marchsfreakshow]

Gods And Monsters [Michael De Santa]

Smut; You're visiting Michael after his wife and kids move out. You're drunk though, and you want to kiss him. He wont let you do it drunk.

I truly am just, simpin for this middle aged man I swear, so, here's another fic for him.

Fem!Reader

Cover made by me

18+!! MINORS DNI. READ MY SFW WORKS

Warnings: alcohol references, Jimmy being Jimmy /j unbearble tension, PnV, teasing, praise, light choking. Crud smut writing.

Your perspective

Music blasted around me as I sat in the corner staring at my lonely phone. The iFruit was small in my hand, as the other hand held a cup of something. It was alcohol, that's all I needed. But, I was waiting for something on this phone. It was important.

Then it rang.

My desperation for a phone call made me answer it and scream "Hold on It's loud." As I ran outside, I heard Jimmy on the other end. "Jimmy. Dude. What?"

"Sorry if you're busy man, I'm just letting you know that I moved out of my dad's place with my mom and Tracey."

"Her choice or his?"

"uhhh, hers. I kinda did something."

In my tipsy stupor, I just giggled and stumbled as I carried on down the street. Not sure which way I was going, unfortunately, as I kept listening to Jimmy tell the tale of Michael going across a line. "Sooo, he's alone?"

"It's 1 am. Don't be weird." He sighed. "Listen, just come by soon okay dude? I have some games I want to show you."

"Fineee. Byeee!" The walk went quickly despite my tipsy state.

Michael's 'mansion' engaged my vision soon enough. A mansion? It looks like a normal richy house. Not like I know what that looks like. But I knocked on the door, multiple times, and loudly. "Michaelll!! I heard your wife moved out. I'm here to talk!"

Grumbles entered my ears and the glassy doors opened. "Y/N. It is...1 fucking am. What the fuck?" I giggled at the sight of him. He was in his boxers, some socks, and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes to see me properly. Cute old man. "Just, just come in.." He muttered as I walked in and closed the door behind me. The interior was still warm, beige...but warm and cosy for certain. I slouched onto the couch, throwing the blanket over me.

"Jimmy called me. Told me he, Amanda and Tracey moved out."

"he fucking told you?!"

I simply nodded.

"idiot." He kept on mumbling and then sat next to me. Still in his boxers. It was, charming to me. Being so comfortable with me he happily walked around half naked. The man looked in my direction when he stopped himself, sighing at me. "Do you need something?"

"Therapy."

"This whole fucking city does."

I giggled and sat up, looking over at him. "Michael?" He fixated on my eyes and looked like he was stopping himself from touching me. His hand lingered by the side of my face. But he pulled himself away and walked into the kitchen.

Disappointed, I followed him and threw my arms onto the tabletop. It was decently dark and cold. I wasn't sure why it was cold when I walked through a doorway, but it was. "Here. Drink it." I stared at the green, sludge-like drink in front of me. He almost stared me down as I made a face. I couldn't tell anything else about the drink that was placed by me, apart from the fact it was green. I knew it was. Amanda loved health and yoga and all that bullshit.

"Y/N. Drink."

"whyyy?" I asked innocently, grinning at him.

"You're at my door at 1 am. And you smell like whiskey. I can tell."

"is that so bad?"

"I can also tell what you want." His fingers gripped onto my chin, almost pulling me up to his eye level. His other hand held my waist since there was nowhere else to hold and not be weird. "But you know I'm not doing anything. Not while you're in this state anyway."

I felt so weak when he held me, even if it was a way to get me to drink something...His eyes held me captive. Again, I couldn't find anywhere else to look. There was just something there. We must have stayed like that for a while, one of my hands wrapped around his waist, and the other resting on the island in the kitchen. Our eye contact was intense, and my hesitation to drink the sludge disappeared when Michael let go of me.

Once I was let go, I looked at the drink, before screwing my eyes shut and gluping down the grainy drink. The texture was awful, and the taste was worse. But I got it down anyway. "Bleh.." I muttered, shaking my head quickly once I had downed the green drink.

"Good girl."

"What?"

"Good. Girl." He enunciated. 

My back against some type of wall, pillar whatever. His hands held me close. My arms around his shoulders for support. My powerless body sank below his. Who was going to break this tension and kiss who? I wanted to kiss him, make him know love. Show him love like none other. My eyes never looked away from his. They were locked, and staring at him. I almost felt like I was going to fall to my knees. "Sober yet angel?"

"I might just be..." We whispered to each other.

Hands suddenly moved, gripping hair, holding faces, unable to find another place to rest as we kissed. If Amanda walked in, I'd be pleased. I was kissing his neck, nibbling and licking at little spots so people could ask who they were from. "Couch, now.." Michael breathlessly mentioned, holding my face. Like a moth to a flame, I obeyed. I laid down before he picked me up, and sat me on his lap. We caught our breaths before my shirt was tugged off, and my trousers came off uncomfortably, but we were both there, kissing gentle spots on each other's bodies.

A flame doesn't usually grind and jerk up at the moth's movements and grips, but I could feel his hard-on and took advantage of the way it was hidden by his boxers. We kept going and Michael wriggled a bit, panting like a dog. His eyes flickered between mine and his bulge, he was deciding where to put his cock first. "Baby... fuck." The man moaned, resting his head on my shoulder. I took the opportunity and slipped his dick out of the boxers. His fingers held the small of my back, breathing heavily. A smooth hand movement started. I moved my hand up and down while the man I was jerking off couldn't even look at me.

Time passed. I had gone from just touching him with my hand, to making sure every inch of his dick had pre-cum and saliva over it. I glanced up at Michael. His head thrown back onto the couch, and still panting like a desperate dog. Seemed he had to edge himself from me touching his cock. The way he looked turned me on more, and he only slightly looked down when he realised I had stopped. "You're so cute, Mikey."

"Shut up..."

A grin made its way onto my face, and I eventually climbed back up onto his lap. "Mm, you're so cute. Whining and panting and moaning. All from me touching and sucking your cock."

"Feelin'...cocky huh?"

"What if I was?"

By this point, we were both breathing heavily. I was grinding on him again, close to fucking him and making him lose his mind. "I'm gonna make you lose your fuckin mind darlin'. "

He held me tight, and almost threw me onto the other side of the couch. My mind was blown at his sudden dominance, I couldn't say anything but stare wide-eyed at the man on top of me. His hand was lightly around my throat, my arms by my side. Anyone would call this cock-teasing because of how badly we both needed this. "Please, Michael. Please." Michael raised an eyebrow and smiled. He found me and had me in his little net for him to play with and stare at.

While I did feel like I was losing my mind, the waiting was unbearable. The cock tease. My doe-eyed stare turned into a dark, attempted seducing look. All Michael needed was a look, and he was fucking me. No holding back.

Fast.

Hard.

What I wanted. But, for a 50-something, I was so surprised in between my moans of how much stamina he had. Michael's promise rang true quickly. I felt brainless. My eyes were at the back of my head, hands gripping hard at the sofa, about to rip the corner of it. My moans, practically scream. "So... much, for cocky hm?" The man on top of me breathed. All I could muster was a nod as he slowed down a bit.

"Is my angel okay?"

"fuck..fuck yes, please.." I was brainless and breathless. Any confidence I had, shot out of me in a second. A chuckle escaped him, and we were back into it. He held every part of me that he was able to. I moaned his name, he occasionally moaned mine. I felt like I was going to come right there and then.

Michael turned me over, grabbed me again and made me stand up for a second before I was on top of him. Eyes stared me down as I rode him. His cock almost hit my cervix every time he thrusted up and I went down.

Slowing down.

Bruises left on my waist.

Panting.

Michael was close, and on my own, I felt like I had cummed more than twice. This man was intoxicating. His hands holding me, his look, the darkness of the sitting room adding to the ambience. "shit, Baby," I knew what he wanted.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. My face was in his neck, and I slammed myself down over and over. I rode him like I had never done it before. This time, I was drunk on his moans and whines. He whined like a sick puppy. He needed every part of me at the same time. He needed me, I needed him. The moth and flame almost mix together because of how badly they want each other.

How long had Michael been keeping this neediness in?

For too long.

We held each tight before I got off his cock, just as he came over himself. His stomach and chest had translucent cum over it.

Thinking quickly, I grabbed the blanket on the floor and gave it to him. The panting man took the hint and cleaned himself up, looking at me as I sat on the other side of the couch, just as naked as he was. "That was...nice I guess."

"you guess?" I remarked, as I picked up the blanket and cleaned myself wherever I needed to.

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"Thanks for the fuck baby, I really liked it and I don't feel so lonely anymore, wanna sleep here tonight? I'll sleep on the couch." I grinned teasingly. He rolled his eyes, but he smirked and handed me my trousers.

"Well, the first part is true at least," Michael mentioned when I got up. He gently wrapped his arms around my hips, placing a kiss on my cheek. "I will let you sleep here though."

"If I get your bed."

"fuck you."

"you just did." 

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

#gta v #GTA #grand theft auto v #grand theft auto #michael de santa #gta michael #michael de santa x reader #smut #michael de santa x you #x reader smut #gta fanfiction #gta 5

[dark-t1des]

Trevor Fanfic Master List 

The Grapeseed Cleaning Service (11/??)

A routine cleaning job goes wrong when you end up at the trailer of a certain lovable trash panda… Trevor x YOU story! 18+

Home Sweet Home (one shot)

Unforeseen circumstances have forced you to relocate your life in Los Santos to Sandy Shores, and after a heavy night of drinking all those trailers start to look the same… Trevor x YOU story! 18+

White Elephant (one shot)

The unholy trio and you play a festive game of White Elephant, but things get weird when you realise Trevor doesn’t know the rules… Trevor x YOU story! Teen & Up

Paved with Good Intentions (16/16)

Ellie Sullivan returns to San Andreas for one last score, but can she keep her eyes on the prize or will she be distracted by a former flame in the desert… Trevor x OC! 18+

Blood and Snow (9/??)

Los Santos Bounty Hunter, Rory Brown, has flown out to North Yankton on the hunt for a small time local thief, but a chance encounter with a mysterious man in the woods threatens to change the course of her life forever… Trevor x OC! 18+

#trevor philips #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips x you #trevor philips x oc #trevor philips fanfiction #gta v #gta 5 #gtav #grand theft auto v #trevor phillips #gta fanfiction #my writing #master list #grand theft auto #gta

[starksinner]

Why Didn't You Stop Me?

Summary: You left and you horribly wish he would’ve forced you to stay.

Pairing: Trevor Philips x AFAB!Reader, Franklin Clinton x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Sexual Content, Possessiveness, Fuckbuddies, Unhealthy Relationship, Average GTA Stuff

November 16th, 2017.

It was easy to regret not catching a ride back to Los Santos with Franklin in his sexy white Bravado Buffalo S. 

Regret is easy, regret you know. Regret can grow and grow it does as you make eye contact with the hillbilly jacking off next to the icebox in front of the Yellow Jack Inn. 

After a couple of days gallivanting around the desert shit-pile that was Sandy Shores, Franklin deemed that your weed-fuelled, fuck-filled adventures had reached a necessary end.

Despite his intriguing offers of more shenanigans and freaky sex once you both got back home, you weren’t all that keen on leaving the town of meth production and Republican rednecks just yet. 

“M’gonna go see him,” you sighed, resting your head back against the stained motel pillow. 

Moments before, as Franklin had fucked you raw into the cheap motel mattress, you were met with the smell of blood and piss and cum as your face was shoved into the shitty cushion.

Despite the abysmal scent, the man was taking you so good and so fuckin’ hard, you couldn’t force yourself to care. 

Now though, as you laid sated in your post-climax glow of sweat and semen, the smell against your cheek served as an unignorable reminder of your still bleeding heart. 

That man, that asshole, that meth-head-Trevor-Philips-piece-of-fucking-shit—goddamnit.

You still hopelessly, stupidly, selfishly loved him. The fucked kind of love.

Always caked in blood, smelling like piss after running off to get high and grinning like an evil bitch as he came all over your chin and tits. The smell of the Derelict Motel—the sheets, the pillow, the musty air—was all just a nauseating reminder of how much you missed him. 

Your therapist was gonna kill you. 

“You know that ain’t a good idea,” Franklin murmured, running his thumb over the plushness of your bottom lip.

Your eyes met his and you couldn’t help but shiver at the way he looked at you, his gaze so soft and so full of adoration. 

He made you feel like you weren't just a burning shitpile of flesh, bones, and substance abuse issues.

Frank is a good friend, a great man, a nice fuck. He was always there to bring you back down to Earth. He was so easy to love and you sure as shit loved him a whole lot. Beautiful fuckin’ man. “He ain’t right in the head about you.”

“We both know he ain’t right the head about nothin’,” you argued, leaning your body over his. Beautiful man.

“And he’s a big boy. He can take it. Whatever I wanna throw at him.” Your legs quickly became tangled, Frank’s hands resting over your hips as you smiled and played with his chest hair. “He can fuck all the people he wants, but I can’t touch or look or fuckin' breathe around anyone but him? He’s a fuckin’ ass.”

“He fell for you, girl. T’s always been crazy an’ possessive, his shit ain’t nothin’ new.” Franklin snuggled your body closer to his, sighing softly as he pressed his face into the warm crevice of your neck. 

He couldn’t control himself, not when he had you like this. You were so hot and so sweet and just so fucking delicious. 

Shit. 

His lips lingered over the sensitive spot at the base of your throat, his tongue reaching out to tease a fading bruise. He did that. He made that. He marked you. 

Fuck.

He groaned as you gave him easier access by raising your chin, letting him worship you like the real fuckin’ princess he always thought you were.

“He was fuckin’ paranoid and possessive in all the worst fuckin’ ways, Frank. I fuckin’ hate him for how he acted when I said I was leavin’ but I still...miss him.” You hummed softly as you felt Franklin’s lips suck right over your pulse point, his teeth just brushing over your delicate skin.

You held down the urge to beg him to bite you.

“Yeah, you miss him, but ain’t nothin’ gonna be solved if you both end up killin’ each other...or fuckin’ each other,” Frank breathed roughly against the shell of your ear as his hand wandered across your stomach and down to your aching clit. 

He immediately preened at your wetness and teased the bundle of nerves with soft, circular motions. You gasped as you felt his cock harden and twitch against your thigh, begging for your pretty fucking attention.

He grinned and quickly shoved a finger into your cunt, making you moan and writhe oh so beautifully against him. “Jus’ come back home with me, baby…”

You could barely solidify your thoughts, whimpering like you were.

His motions were so smooth and perfect and rhythmic. Frank was good at a lot of things, but you considered his talent of fucking you mindless as one of his top three.

You immediately felt your wetness start to leak down your thighs. “If he still isn’t over it...I’ll fuck off, hitch a ride, meet you back at your place…yeah?”

“Yeah, baby,” he gripped your throat just how you like and shoved another finger into you, leaving you mewling and squirming in his grasp. You reached for him, hard and thick in your palm, and squeezed. 

The best girl.

If you were parting ways, Franklin was gonna have you one last time. He understood Trevor’s possessiveness. You were great company, a great fuck, a great woman.

Addicting, hell blazing, heavenly—you were everything. So fuck yeah, he was gonna have you as many times as he possibly could. “Lemme take care of you, babygirl, then you’ll be all good to go.”

The Yellow Jack Inn has never been known for its posh customers or regular demonstrations of human decency, but a man jacking it in front of such a fine all-American establishment is still a sight you couldn’t have properly braced yourself for.

As the ash of your blunt falls to the dirt, your eyes stay transfixed on the man by the icebox as he lets out a disturbing howl and drops to the ground.

His pants are stained, his dick disgusting and soft. He lets out a series of groans as he turns to lie flat on his stomach, his cock scraping against the sand.  

Jesus H. Christ. What a charmer. 

You manage to twist away from the scene in repugnance and perhaps a more sinister part of you in mild delight, settling yourself in the alley next to the bar.

You restlessly attempt to calm yourself against the brick, picking at its shoddy green paint job before you begin rolling another blunt. 

You’re stalling. Like a little bitch. It's embarrassing how much a man can turn you into such a conniving fickle coward. Perhaps not just any man. Your paranoid fuckin’ shitshow of a somewhat ex-lover. 

Embarrassing. Unbecoming. Completely mindfucked. 

You know Trevor’s inside. He’s an enigma, a loud, idiot one at that. Over the noise of clanked bottles and shitty laughter, you can hear him.

Stupid, how much of him you can hear. And see. And smell. And understand. In everything and anywhere and with anyone. He never leaves you even when he’s left you. He never leaves you even when you've left him. He’s a parasite that you’ve coddled, and cared for, and loved and fucked. 

The timber of his voice warms you in a special, fucked up kind of way. It’s familiar and it’s settling and it kills you to know that he’s spent fourteen months ridding you of it. Of him. His clinical insanity has rubbed off on you beautifully. You left and you horribly wish he would’ve forced you to stay. 

God.

Would he kill you? Kiss you? Fuck you? You’re still stalling.

Maybe all three?

Being the oil to a homicidal cannibal’s match, you could never really know what the fuck you were gonna get. You anticipate an explosion, but you’re clueless to its degree. 

You pocket your blunt, walk over the man with his dick in the sand, and open the door to the biggest health hazard in California. 

Chapter 2

a/n: found this oldie from 2021 that i was in the mood to refresh & post! i haven't written in literal years, be nice to me! also, happy ten years to this stupid fucking game. i love u. i feel old (i'm not) and i'm tired (constantly) and i hope you enjoyed (lie to me if you didn't) :3

✧ masterlist ✧ ao3 ✧ send me an ask / let's chat! ✧

#trevor philips x reader #franklin clinton x reader #trevor philips #trevor philips x oc #franklin clinton #gta v #grand theft auto v #gta fanfiction #gta fanfic #the protagonist #gta online

[niko-ur-local-moron]

Here's the link to my newest Topez fanfic :] SPOILER I MADE TONY THE BIG SPOON TO EMBARASS LUIS MORE FIGHT ME

#dropping a fic on my 20th birthday so cool and iconic of me me thinks #gta tbogt #topez #gta #tony prince #gta the ballad of gay tony #the ballad of gay tony #gta iv #luis lopez #gta 4 #gta fanfiction #tbogt

[rreskk]

Can you make a Father figure!Trevor x De Santa!Reader, where the reader somehow ended up with Trevor after Prologue and has lived with him ever since?

A/N: Thank you for this request. I'd never thought of this before and was fun trying to write Trevor being a father figure :)

Summary: After Michael's 'death', you had found yourself in the hands of Mr Philips.

“Hey! Hey! I brought that yesterday!” Trevor rushed to your side as you poured the last amount of chocolate pops. You may have eaten the last of it, but Trevor ate most of it.

“You had 4 bowls last night.” You remarked while fishing out the milk but he remained stern.

“Money don’t grow on trees, when will you learn, Townley?”

You sighed at his tone, but more or less, you sighed at the use of your last name. Your dad, Michael, had gone. One day, Trevor found himself sobbing into your arms, failing to explain how he lost Michael. You were 6 years old and memories of your dad were already slowly hazing away… But certain vivid flashbacks sends you spiralling into grief.

Trevor has been helpful, well, tried to be. If he wasn’t already crying himself to sleep, he’d be more emotionally available, but you are glad he has taken you for his own. If Trevor weren’t around or forgot about you, then you’d be homeless and fucked.

“Listen,” He began, noticing your lack of activity in the past week. “Let’s go out shopping together, ay? You ain’t seen the sun in days.”

The idea itself sounded practical and nice. You nodded your head.

“Good, good. Grab your shoes, I’ll be in the truck.”

Trevor left your side to assert well divided privacy and you walked into his bedroom, searching through your part of the wardrobe to retreat some shoes.

Although you were aware of Trevor’s source of money, being crime and drugs, you could sense the lack of control he had on it. You both were still slumped in this trailer. The sofa had officially become your bed. Trevor made sure it was comfortable for you, purchasing blankets and fluffy pillows after he claimed the bedroom for ‘male purposes’. If he had used his money for good then this trailer could have been a mansion with giant swimming pools and games rooms.

You could hear him honk outside, his raspy voice impatiently shouting your name.

“Jesus! Hurry up!”

The moment you climbed into the back of the truck, he flew the vehicle out of the driveway and began racing down the roads. You stumbled at the high speed, grunting whenever he took a sharp turn.

“Hold tight, kid. We’re approaching a bump.” Trevor alarmed from the front, hitting the gas.

Time wasn’t an option and with the lack of stability, you hovered an felt gravity throw you aside, hitting the edge where Trevor began cackling.

“I told you!” He pinpointed, gazing through his windshield.

You sent him a tight glare. “Maybe you should follow the laws for once.”

He shook his head and held out his tongue, a playful gesture to deny your ‘nerdy’ comments.

“Make sure you don’t hold the cashier at gunpoint again!” You decided to escalate the conversation.

“He got bitchy first.” Trevor muttered.

You huffed. “He got bitchy because you were bitchy.”

“Hey!” He yelled. “You are acting more like your father every damn day… Calm it, little Townley.”

His voice sounded bitter but you fought against it and leaned forward so you had the view of the journey ahead, having the view of Trevor driving as well.

“I thought you were going to change my name to Philips.”

He shrugged. “It’s disrespectful to your father. It sounded good at the time.”

You nodded your head and climbed into the front of the truck, snapping your seatbelt on and began changing the radio stations.

Trevor squinted his eyes when his punk music suddenly turned off, being replaced by some 70s rock. It reminded him of Michael and he bluntly came to a stop. You gasped at the eruptive pause.

“This is my truck, ay?” He chewed out. “You can’t change the damn station, you get it?”

You crossed your eyebrows. “But I like rock music.”

Trevor ignored the traffic building up behind him.

“I like punk. It’s either punk or silence.”

“Fine. Put on your… Punk then.” You exclaimed.

He started to drive again and his station was back on. You could only play with your fingers or people watch from your window. You were limited whenever Trevor was in a sketchy mood. He never physically harmed you but he had threatened you before, and it left a mark on you, mentally. Trevor never forgave himself afterwards.

He pulled into a semi filled carpark and parked the truck. The grocery store was quiet as for a normal day. You observed the scenery when Trevor gave you a little nudge, trying to lighten up the mood. His body limby leaving the seat and smirk staining his face.

You smiled at his jokey demeanour.

He was your father figure after all! You can’t miss a beat without his musty ass.

#trevor philips/reader #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips #trevor gta #michael townley #michael de santa #gta v #grand theft auto #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto 5 #gta fanfiction #trevor philips fanfiction

[beetleblunt]

All dolled up

Summary: TRIKEY HURT!!!!

TW: drunk driving?

Words: 1,082

ao3 link

Trevor shifted in his seat, glancing down at his phone to check the time.

8:27

He grimaced, looking around the dimly lit bar for any sign of his so called “date”. Not that Michael really knew it was a date. Trevor had called him last night, asking to meet for drinks at a place much fancier than the two would usually spend their time together.

“Drinks? You’re kidding.” Michael sighed.

“Not in the slightest, sweetheart,” Trevor said, a little too chipper, “c’mon, it’s not like you’ve got anything better to do.” he added more aggressively.

“Actually I do,” Michael griped back, “and I’m tired of gettin’ dragged to whatever dinky little shack you’ll call a bar for the night!”

“Like what?” Trevor laughed, “Chain smoke by the pool? Listen to your wife get porked by the pool boy because she doesn’t even like you enough to let you watch? Besides, it’s a nice place, ya ungrateful fuck.”

“A nice place?” This seemed to pique Michaels interest enough for him to forget the prior insult, “I’d like to see your idea of a nice place.”

Trevor growled, “Oh you will!” he shouted quickly “I’ll send you the address, be there at eight.” with that, he hung up before Michael could protest, or before he could piss him off even more.

Trevors leg started to bounce and he twitched as he waited, thinking about their last phone call. Sure Michael hadn’t said yes, but he didn’t say no either, and he did say he wanted to see his idea of a nice place, did he show up and decide it wasn’t nice enough? it wasn’t the fucking Ritz, but it was a nice club on Vinewood, a change from the small, smoke and violence filled bars the two were used to. As hard as he tried to stay calm, it was useless. The minutes passing by felt like hours, and Trevor was not a patient man.

A server timidly approached the table, hoping to not make eye contact with him. Luckily for her, he was spaced out, his feet propped on the table, fidgeting with the hem of the red dress that barely made it to his mid thigh.

“Sir? Could I.. uh could I get you anything to drink?”she managed, her eyes trained on the blood stained work boots resting atop the table, clearly terrified.

Trevor’s head snapped up at the sound of another voice, and he glared up at her for a second, “Sure. Sure, yeah yeah yeah, whatever” he spat quickly, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture “ugh, just fucking whiskey, neat. And keep ‘em comin”

As the server scurried off without another word, Trevor stood up, took another strained look around the bar, and then made his way to the bathroom. When he got in, the two men, and the couple making out in there quickly cleared out, and as soon as they did, Trevor pulled his phone from the small purse he’d resigned himself to carrying tonight, given his lack of pockets, and tried to call Michael.

After several rings, Michaels voice came through “You’ve reached Michael De Santa, leave a message.” it said, confidently

Trevor’s grip on his phone tightened, “Heeeey, you fat fucking snaaaake, it’s me!” he began, dragging out his words in a sickeningly sweet tone, one that was specifically designed to incite fear and make his offenders skin crawl. The sweetness in his voice didn’t last, and he said the rest through gritted teeth, “The best friend you’ve left waiting at the bar, either call me back or get here, prick.” he hung up, and tried to call again. After several more tries, and strongly worded voicemails, he gave up, looking at himself in the mirror and sighing loudly. The plan was meant to be simple, ask Mikey out for drinks, take him somewhere nice, show up all dolled up, maybe a handy or two under the table, and ignite something deeper than the rocky friendship they’d been navigating since reuniting. Something like what they had back in North Yankton.

A neat glass of whiskey was waiting in the center of Trevor’s table when he got back. Not even bothering to look around again, he sat down and took a drink, savoring the slight burning in his throat. Soon, his drink was empty, and just as requested, he was brought another.

A few drinks turned into several, and after a while Trevor was looking far more disheveled than usual, slumped down in his chair, with hot silent tears streaming down his face, which was slightly smeared with the lipstick he’d stolen from the drugstore on his way into town. The thin straps of his dress fell off his shoulders a bit ago, and his dress had rode down, allowing more of his hairy chest to peek out. Normally he’d have been kicked out well before this point, but he’d actually been relatively well behaved even without Michaels presence, the most he’d done in the past few hours was hit on a few other patrons who quickly passed him by, and mumble strings of profanities directed at his traitorous friend.

A loud crash suddenly rang through the still busy club. Trevor’s empty glass was now shattered on the floor, and he was making his was towards the exit with a few worried staff on his tail shouting something about bills and damages. A firm hand landed on his shoulder when he passed the door.

“Hey, fruitca-”

Before the bouncer could even finish his insult, Trevor spun on his heel and connected their foreheads with a loud crack, sending the other man crumpling to the ground.

When Trevor finally found his truck, he at least managed to fumble his keys out of his bag and get them into the ignition before everything around him faded to black.

When semi-proper consciousness and sight finally returned to him, all Trevor could see was the shattered remains of his Bodhi’s windshield, and the large, dented, metal gate just ahead of him. Letting his eyes drift shut and his head fall to the steering wheel, he didn’t bother looking up when he heard quick footsteps paired with his best friends broken voice, nor when three more equally worried and irritating voices broke through his haze. He felt too heavy to move, and suddenly wasn’t sure what he’d say even if he could, so instead he let the heavy fog in his mind take his body over yet again.

#this is my first fic #so sorry if it sucks #but i had this idea rottin in my head and i needed to put it SOMEWHERE #gtav #michael de santa #trevorphilip #grand theft auto v #trevor philips #michael gta #trevor gta #michael townley #trevor fanfiction #gta fanfiction #gta v fanfiction #gtav trevor #trikey #trikey gta #trevor x michael #bugs write

[nevergonnasimpyoumikey]

Hey, @yank-a-ton! I'm your secret gift giver at @gtavfest and my humble offering is smut inspired by one of my favorite pieces of art from you that always makes me weak!

Bone to Pick With Happiness

(Explicit, violent and kinky smut, mind the tags!)

He laughed, a low chuckle at first, but a louder bark mixed with a grunt of pain and arousal when Trevor’s nails dug into the skin of his neck. “I just thought you didn’t wanna do this anymore, Trev.”

Of course he had known Trevor would want to. He knew the man better than anyone ever would, and the cocky smirk on his face quickly brought Trevor to the same page, as well.

#gtavfest #gta fanfiction #gta v #trikey #gta fanart #my fics #art of my fics #Yeah I am using that tag even though the art came first :D #trikey fanfiction #trikey fanart

[marchsfreakshow]

Cigarette Tension [Michael De Santa]

You and Michael De Santa; you're friends with Tracey De Santa, and she brings you home one day when Amanda and Jimmy are out.

Moodboard made by @lilthbunny

Sort of a self insert fic cause I'm down bad for this man. (And as gender neutral as I could make it lol)

Could be suggestive. -18 be warned; Addiction to smoking is referenced.

Your perspective.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tracey pulled up in the driveway, and I stared wide-eyed at her house. It was a mansion, let alone one with a pool and a tennis court of all things! She got out of the car and my jaw was slack. "Y/N c'mon! Fame Or Shame is gonna start sooonnn!" She wiggled a bit as I brought myself out of my trance and stepped out of the car.

I had become friends with Tracey De Santa recently after accidentally bumping into her when I was shopping. We apologized after a while, but at first, she was telling me off, annoying me with 'what's your excuse?!' And 'im from money you know?! Daddy can kill you instantly!' I rolled my eyes a bit before picking up her stuff.

"lemme pay you back."

"This was $100..?" She asked, staring at the broken perfume bottle on the ground.

"Okay? I have $200 to spend still." She just smiled and I took her back into the perfume shop.

A few weeks later, and more asks later, I was finally stood by her front door. "I think Jimmy and Mom are out. Daddy's being lazy still in the living room." She grinned. I chuckled in response and walked in with her. "Daddy! My friend Y/N is here."

I followed the chirpy girl into the living room. It was magnificent, and much more than my small apartment. But the man sitting on the sofa took my attention. He was in his 50s at least. Chubby... but attractive. He looked over with a drink of whiskey in one hand.

We made eye contact immediately, and it was like I was captured by him, even though I was just looking into his eyes. I couldn't let my thoughts run wild here, I just couldn't. No one said anything, but Tracey could tell I was staring. "Y/N. Eugh. I'll be in my room sorting this shopping out. Be right back."

I sort of mumbled an okay and leaned against a wall awkwardly. Michael went back to the TV. "you can come and sit down."

"oh I'm okay, thank you though."

As soon as I said that, the man stood up. He turned off the TV, and quietly went outside, holding out a cigarette box behind him. I stared hungrily at the box while it disappeared. The debate and war in my head were eventually won, and I nonchalantly joined him outside. "You smell like you smoke inside."

"You smell like an addict."

"And look at that, you lured me out here." I felt so confident now. My own guess was the cigarette between my fingers, and the lighter I was about to light for the both of us.

We made eye contact again as the cigarettes were lit and we took our breaths.

Tracey clearly was busy sorting out my own shopping compared to hers. I bought barely any expensive things, but it seemed she got everything that was expensive. "How did you meet my angel then?" The word 'angel' came out like sarcasm, but I felt the love within it.

"I broke her perfume by accident when we bumped into each other. I decided I was nice that day, and bought her a new one." Michael raised an eyebrow, side-eyeing me for a second. I fidgeted around a bit as we took our time to smoke.

A few minutes went by before he stomped his cigarette out, I wanted to take my time. I already fucked up my cigarette sobriety, why not enjoy it? Michael's eyes found mine again. A war was happening in my brain again. He was attractive, for a 50-something-year-old. But god he was married! With two kids my age, a bit younger. Clearly.

I was finishing my cigarette up, and I stomped it out soon after. He stood in front of me barely blocking the bright sun. "Michael."

"I can tell..."

"Tell what?"

He placed a kiss on my cheek, then my neck. I was confused and turned away. "You got it figured out.", Michael winked at me, then headed back inside.

I was standing there, against a wall, in my friend's backyard, questioning why her dad just kissed me after a cigarette. He smelled vintage. Old cologne, worn-out suits, and the cigarettes.

When I figured he was back to watching TV or something, I walked in awkwardly. The man was distracted with making a bowl of chips in the kitchen. After taking a deep breath, I headed up the stairs and found Tracey's room right in front of the stairs. She was sleeping. I wasn't sure for how long, but she was asleep. The other door, I assumed was Jimmy's by the sign on it. "Welp, fuck Fame or Shame I guess," I muttered, grabbing my own bags, that held my shopping.

"Why don't you stay for the evening? You're nice. And you seem like a good friend to my girl." Michael said suddenly. The tension I felt last time had come back.

"oh no, I really couldn't. I have all this, and I wanna get it all home quickly." I stuttered out, feeling embarrassed for no reason. I barely knew these people! Why was this middle-aged man so attractive and why did I have to make friends with his daughter!? It seemed like the war in my brain never stopped. My nerves calmed when I was on my own. Or I was drinking. So many things calmed me, but staying the night wasn't one of them.

"No seriously. C'mon. I'm ordering Chinese food tonight. D'you like Chinese food?" Michael just smiled and patted the seat next to him. The TV was playing some sort of old film. A noir film.

As I sat down next to him, awkwardly, I nodded. "I get takeaway a lot."

"oh?"

"I'm not incredibly well off, but I got 400 from my aunt recently. So, I paid my rent for a few months, and y'know. Met Tracey-." My mouth blabbered. I waffled a lot before Michael cut me off.

"You're staying then?"

"Mhm."

"Good! I'm sure Amanda will take to you." His eyes stuck to the movie. It was intimate. I leaned my chin on my knees while attempting to watch the movie too.

Time passed. Movies and shows went by. We ate, and drank, and he had one last cigarette. I wasn't sure where Amanda and Jimmy were, and Tracey was a deep sleeper. "Where is everyone?"

"Jimmy'll come back soon. And Amanda probably found somewhere else to sleep."

"That... sounds bad." My tone was slightly guilty. Not like I had done anything anyway, but it was 4 p.m. at this point, and no one had come back to Michael's place.

"My relationship is fucked. Might as well keep it up."

"What happened? If you don't mind talking about it.."

"I fucked another stripper. She decided her tennis coach was the best person to go to after. Because of course, she did. In my own house, on my own bed. Of all fucking places."

Michael kept going about their relationship, but I could tell he was leaving some details out. Like he couldn't tell me every part of the story. When he stopped and looked over at me, I held his hand softly. He used his hands a lot clearly. Rugged, short, dirty nails. My thumb softly rubbed over his thumb. Empathy wasn't my strong suit, but I could try. The man's eyes softened for once and placed the same hand on my thigh.

I was feeling something. But I was so, distracted by looking at him, I couldn't tell what he wanted. Whatever it was, I didn't know if I should give it to him. The concentration on my face became obvious, and he backed down a bit, moving his hand away. "You didn't..have to.." I whispered, inching closer to him and his alcoholic breath. He kept his silence and went back to the position we were in a few seconds ago. It was like a clock was ticking. A time bomb about to explode.

This was lust. Not love. I didn't want to be known as the one who fucked my best friend's dad. Not particularly. But, he held me captive when I stared at him. Why was he fucking me with his eyes? That look I didn't see often, I knew it. All he did was hold onto my waist as I faced him, sitting on my knees. I didn't know what I wanted. I didn't know who was around. All I knew was that I just wanted him. For some fucked reason. Daddy issues I guess.

His hair was a bit messed up after being inside all day. The red shirt, the baggy trousers. His hands. His eyes, and his 5 o'clock shadow that was still there at 7pm. Everything about this feeling was fucked. Everything. But god he was so handsome. At any moment, his wife could come through the door, or his son, or Tracey could wake up, and kick me out of the house for being weird with her dad. My eyes screamed nervousness apparently.

"We'll be okay."

He kissed me gently, and he held me gently. This felt insane. What was I doing?! Kissing a married man!? While I kissed him back, my thoughts were like a race track. Where did I drop off my shopping? Nothing sounded like it broke, but maybe something did. "Are you alright?" Michael rested his hand on the side of my face, looking concerned.

"You're distracted."

"I suppose so."

"Nothing matters right now. Calm yourself."

We were entangled in each other again. I sat on his lap, straddling him. He held the small of my back. I gripped his shoulders. Our breaths mixed when we pulled away from each other. The TV was still playing noir movies. It didn't distract him, thank god.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

oh. shit.

I went wide-eyed and got off Michael immediately, my embarrassment now noticeable. Tracey stared shocked at her dad as I hurried behind her, grabbed my stuff and headed for the door.

"Y/N!"

"Tracey, angel.. listen."

"DAD! I can't fucking believe you! You're worse than Mom sometimes, Jesus!"

She stomped out into the backyard, so I took this opportunity to move away and go home. Thankfully, Michael didn't follow. Not until I got out the gate anyway. He stopped the car next to me and stared apologetically at me. "Just let me drive you home,"

Awkwardness filled the car, my bags in the back, and I was sitting in the passenger seat, looking out of the window. I refused to look anywhere but the window. I just couldn't look over to him. The man driving me home. The man who I was making out with a few minutes ago. Clouds went past quickly, and the bags were the only noise coming from inside the car.

The drive almost killed me inside it was so long. But we got there, eventually. Taking a deep breath, I just opened the door quickly, grabbed my stuff and closed the car door behind me.

He lingered.

"Don't linger, Michael..." I mumbled. The car window was open, and I knew he wanted to say something. My front door opened, my foot entered the hallway, and I didn't decide to look back. He stood there, by my front door. "I'm home now. Thanks.."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's my fault." I kept walking away, into the living room, but because he was in the doorway, I couldn't close it.

"Alright. But you know you can come back."

"I think Tracey's opinion of me has drastically changed. I doubt it." My mutters continued. I acted uninterested and bored. But I wasn't mad at him, not really.

"Just...come back soon okay?" The door shut. Finally. My chest felt less heavy now, so I almost slid my way into the kitchen.

A creak.

Not my footsteps. They couldn't be.

"Michael please.."

"I don't think anyone will realise."

We just stood there, staring at each other. "How about a smoke?"

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

The only tag today: @beetleblunt

#gta 5 #GTA V #michael de santa #michael de santa x reader #gta fanfiction #im such a simp #Michael de Santa x you #fluff #x reader fluff #suggestive #gta #grand theft auto v #might make a part 2 #big Michael simp help

[gunsoffire]

Buried Inside

I actually wrote a fanfic for this game, wow!

Rating: Mature

Category: M/M

Fandoms:

Grand Theft Auto V

Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games)

Relationships:

Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips

Michael De Santa & Trevor Philips

Characters:

Michael De Santa

Trevor Philips

Additional Tags:

Fight Scene

POV Michael

One Shot

Fix-It of Sorts

Homoerotic Implications

Bury The Hatchet (Grand Theft Auto)

I Wanted Them to Kiss but Unfortunately They Didn't

My First Work in This Fandom

Words:1,630

Buried Inside by KissOfLightning (AKA GunsOfFire)

Summary:

What if the Chinese took a little longer to reach Trevor & Michael in North Yankton? Alternatively, what was going on in Michael's head?

Work Text:

As Michael rushed through the streets of Ludendorff, his heart felt as if it were trying to leap out of his chest. A part of him knew this moment would come, and he dreaded it. Or perhaps, he anticipated it. Was he here because he really thought he could stop Trevor? Or did he want to see him find out? Maybe a part of him was yearning for this moment.

Michael lowered a window for fresh air to ease the anxiety; it was as cold as he remembered it. The moon illuminated brightly over the fields and streets covered in snow. As he continued to drive, memories of the deal flashed in his mind. His soul ached with regret.

Did he regret what he did? How could he not? But he did what he needed to do to protect himself and his family. There was no other choice. That’s what he kept telling himself. The guilt only managed to set in when Trevor walked back into his life. The man was deranged, an asshole, and would murder without a second thought. Michael was a murderer too, but at least he felt guilty about it.

What’s done is done. It doesn’t matter how guilty I feel about it; it doesn’t change anything.

Michael parked outside the cemetery, and darted towards his own grave. ‘His grave.’ In reality, it was really Brad’s grave. Trevor was already there, digging it out.

Michael held onto hope; the only potential way out of this was to play it cool. “You’re wasting your time.” He spoke to him.

“Oh yeah?” Trevor retorted with fury in his tone. “Is that why you flew all the way down here? Huh? To tell me I’m wasting my time?”

Maybe I can discourage him by pretending I don’t care about it.

“Go ahead. Dig it up. I don’t give a shit.” Michael lied.

“Yeah, that’s what you look like. A guy who doesn’t give a shit.”

Michael waved his hand in dismissal and pretended to start walking away. “Ah, this is ridiculous.”

“How long are you going to keep lying for Mikey, huh? When’s it going to stop?” Trevor pressed.

Michael’s blood ran cold. He turned back to Trevor, listening to him.

“What happens in the dark, comes out in the light.” A wide smile of determination formed on Trevor’s face, as if he knew he was going to find exactly what he was looking for. And he was.

Michael’s heart clenched in dread.

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT!

“Give it a rest Trevor.” He managed to say calmly. “There’s nothing there!”

Trevor’s shovel clunked against the coffin. “This is it.” He stopped for a breath. “Moment of truth.” Trevor gave Michael one last look in the eyes, as if he were giving him one last chance to finally talk.

Michael shifted his head and shrugged. He shifted to investigate the hole as Trevor did, feeling extreme nausea.

And there it was. “UGGH! As if I didn’t know.” Trevor cried out as he gestured to the corpse. “Brad.”

“Look, we gotta do what we gotta do to survive.” Michael justified. “This thing, it didn’t work out the way it was supposed to.”

“Oh, and how was that?” Trevor’s voice escalated. “With Brad in the can and me in the ground? Or-or-or both of us in the coffin?”

“Brad got shot. You saw it! He didn’t make it. I got shot, I did. That, that’s it!” Michael protested.

Trevor sat himself up out of the ditch he dug. “I think the only thing that didn’t go as planned was me showing up on your doorstep ten years later.” He shifted from squat to full standing. “Mikey.” Pointing at him, “I mourned you.”

Read the rest on AO3:

Buried Inside - KissOfLightning - Grand Theft Auto V [Archive of Our Own]

#post 56 #gta v #Bury the Hatchet #trevor philips #michael de santa #michael townley #GTA Fanfic #GTA fanfiction #gta gifs #trikey #trevor x michael #Michael POV #gof's post #gta textpost

[theautisticcentre]

DE PHILLIPS

Father figure!Trevor Philips x De Santa!Reader

Y/F/N = Your fake name.

----------------------------------------------

Ever since you could remember, you had been living out in Sandy Shores with Trevor Phillips. You didn't much know of your actual parents, but you knew they fought. A lot. Your mother was involved in the stripper business, and your father was a notorious robber. Whatever they were like, one day, while you were out alone in the snow, Trevor found and ran away with you.

And you never saw your family again.

Today, you walked into the trailer you and Trevor shared covered in blood, finding Wade there. After a few seconds silence, you explained, "Oh, uh, don't worry, none of this is mine." Wade replied, "OK...You seen Trevor?" You shook your head, and went to shower. After a quick 10 minutes, you left the trailer with Wade, only to find Trevor walking up to the porch, causing Wade to hide.

"Heya, dad," you said, before looking to Wade, as Trevor said to him, "Get back here...You're not even hidden. Have you got it?" Wade then defeatedly said, "I've been trying, Trevor." Trevor then gestured to him to climb up, only to punch him as he did, causing you to laugh. "Ah, so, uh, I thought you were locating Michael Townley," you asked.

"There's two Michael Townley's living in Los Santos. One is 83 and the other one is in Kindergarten. I asked her to put him on the phone just to be safe...She threatened to call the cops. I ain't no molester, Y/N!" Trevor angrily respon to Wade with, "Shut up before I molest you, alright! Now, is there anything else?" Wade slowly got to his feet and responded, "I-I looked through the photo directory. I did find a Michael De Santa. About the right age, married with two kids."

"What's his wife's name?", asked Trevor.

"...Amanda."

You and Trevor knew it was Michael.

"It's him. I'll wait in the truck," you said, getting into Trevor's truck. After another few minutes of talking between Trevor, Wade and Ron, all of you except for Ron set off for the trailer park of the Lost MC, set to tie up a loose end. "So, how we doing this?", you asked, causing Trevor to reply, "We're gonna be giving them quite the explosive suprise, my dear son/daughter/child." You were quick to catch the hint.

"Um...that might be nice, but, y'know, I'm starting to get a little wet over here," said Wade, as rain started to pour as Trevor drove. "Hey, so am I, and I ain't complaining," you responded, causing Trevor to laugh. After a few more minutes of driving, you pulled up just outside the Lost MC base. Trevor said, "Wait here, kiddies. Daddy's going to work."

Later...

You and Wade were talking when multiple trailers were blown up, catching you both off guard. As you looked to the scene, you spotted Trevor walking back, a smile on his face. As he got into the truck, you noted, "Well, the Lost are gonna be living up to their name." Trevor nodded, and said, "That they are, kid. Now, let's waste no more time. Let's go find my old buddy." And with that, you three set off on the drive to Los Santos.

"This Michael Townley must've pissed you off real bad, if you wanna find him so much," said Wade. "He didn't piss me off. The guys that killed him, the government bureau. They pissed me off," replied Trevor, before he noticed a bit of blood on your knuckles. "The fuck happened?", he asked, causing you to reply, "Oh, uh, some homophobe was preaching. I preached into his face." Trevor smiled.

As the drive continued, you could sense Wade getting bored. Your sense of compassion took over, and you asked, "Hey, Wade, I got a story if you wanna hear it." Wade immediately, joyfully said, "I like stories!" You smiled and said, "Of course you do. This one's about a troll named...Y/F/N."

"Y/F/N was born to two other, shittier trolls named Amy and Michelle. Amy worked at a strip joint before and Michelle robbed people from under his bridge. Now, Y/F/N wasn't happy. Amy and Michelle argued a lot, and Y/F/N's siblings, James and Trishie, weren't any better. One day, when little Y/F/N was five years old, and left alone in the cold, Y/P ran into a boy named...Trisha. He ran way with Y/F/N, away from the snow, away from the police, away from everything."

"And they lived happily ever after?", asked Wade, to which you answered, "In a way. But the details are for another day." As you replied, you spotted it. The big sprawl of fake and greed.

Los Santos.

You drove to a nearby hill. As you pulled up, you and Trevor got out and walked to the edge, and Trevor said, "So, Michael...this is where dead men come back to life, hmm?" You followed up with, "...Nearly 10 years. Oh, but you didn't even bother looking, did ya, father?...You fucking fuck!" Trevor finished with, "I grieved for you! You weren't even fucking dead...you were my best friend. Well, guess who's coming to shit on your doorstep, you fuck!" With that, you both walked back to the truck, and drove off.

"My cousin lives in a condo in Vespucci Beach," said Wade. You nodded, and you were headed there. "So, Y/N, what you gonna have to say to your old pops when you see him again?", asked Trevor. You thought for a second, before saying, "Well, he certainly won't like my words, that's for fucking sure."

And after another drive, you arrived at the condo. Wade got out and quickly made his way to the front door, you and Trevor not too far behind. "Floyd, it's me, Wade!" "Who?" "Me, Wade, your cousin!" "Who?"

Trevor then kicked the door open, knocking over Floyd in the process.

"Your cousin! Fuck! He's come to visit you, you rude fuck." You three made your way inside. You looked around, and told Floyd, "Nice place. Now you got any Sprunk, E-Cola, shit like that?" Floyd gestured to the fridge, in which you found a can of Sprunk, and swigged it down.

You were gonna need the energy for what you and Trevor had planned.

THE END.

#gta #gta 5 #gta v trevor #gta v fanfiction #gta fanfiction #gta 5 fanfiction #trevor philips #trevor gta

[cutepervert]

Ron was becoming so much of a well rounded character in my story that I made a playlist of music he puts on the radio show when he’s busy doing Trevortivities (Trevor Activities)

#gta v fanfiction #gtav #gtav fanfiction #trevor philips #gta 5 #gta fanfiction #gta v #gta 5 fanfiction #gta v trevor #ron jakowski #ron jakowski gta #gta ron #Spotify

[czechkris91]

Fanfiction net is not allowing me to post the next chapter, but it is up on ao3!

#gta iv fanfiction #niko bellic #gta iv #ao3 #gtaiv #niko and kate #ao3 fanfic #gta fanfiction #fanfiction #ff.net

[strawberrybobamilk]

Cut Here (Part 1)

So it's been a while I've been wanting to write a Trevor Philips origin story fanfic, but I never had the motivation to do so, until now that I came up with some ideas and experimented (so sorry if it's a bit crappy and all over the place), so here is my take on our most beloved psychopath's backstory. Probably gonna make it a multipart fic and eventually upload it on AO3 (once I get ahold of my pc again). Any feedbacks and suggestions are welcome.

TWs: S/A and abuse.

1967

Betty Philips was coming back home after another night shift. Another night, same thing. Stripping and dancing for the entertainment of those drunk perverted low lives. When she was younger and moved from England to Canada along with her family in 1943, her parents promised her things were gonna be better, everything was going to be fine and dandy... and now, twentyfour years later, this is what she ended up doing for a living... and a shitty paycheck as well.

She was now walking back home, down the dimly lit streets, a cigarette in her mouth and soft wind caressing her red hair; her thoughts were interrupted when she suddendly felt herself being dragged in a dark alleyway by some unrecognizable man, pressing one of his hands on her mouth. She instinctively tried to scream, her voice coming out muffled by that pesky hand; the cold steel of a blade now threatening her neck.

"Try making another sound and you're dead, alright?" the mysterious voice behind her spoke. She nodded with tears in her eyes. "Good". Fear took her again when she heard the sound of a zipper behind her, but due to her survival instincts she did her best to keep calm and let him have his way.

Some days after that dreadful night, Betty discovered she was pregnant. With that monster's kid. She tried to kill it in all the ways she could: drinking more, smoking more... but nothing. That baby survived to everything.

"Oh Betty I'm so happy for you! Who is the lucky man?" her friend Brittany would comment, making Betty cringe at her hand touching her swollen belly.

"Oh huh... I'm a single mother I guess... i-it was a mistake..." Betty replied.

"Oh..." Brittany walked away with a disgusted expression. This baby truly was a mistake.

On 14 november 1967, the waters broke and Betty got recovered in urgency to the nearest hospital. The pain she felt while giving birth to the child, the hatred she felt in hearing it crying, the disappointment she felt when hearing the nurse commenting on how healthy it was, meaning the abuse of alcohol and smoking truly did nothing.

"Congratulations ma'am, it's a boy!" the nurse said happily, holding the wailing baby and gently giving him into Betty's indifferent arms. Betty looked at him with a mix of rage and disgust, saying nothing.

The nurse awkwardly said "Huh, Mrs Philips... have you planned a name for him?"

Betty couldn't care less. She gave him the first name she could think of: "Trevor".

"Uhm, alright. Trevor Philips is it then!" the nurse smiled.

In the meanwhile Betty was thinking: she'd never seen again the unknown man in the shadows who assaulted her, and police would have never believed a dirty stripper's claims. But she had his baby now. By pure mistake. She was gonna get revenge like this: she couldn't make that man suffer, but she could do that to his seed, and make that seed understand how much of a literal mistake he has been.

Days and weeks passed. Trevor spent his days alone in his baby crib. Betty never cradled him nor gave him affection, she just fed him and changed his diapers, just to make him stop his annoying crying. Meanwhile, Betty started dating a man, Simon; a truly fantastic man, with a drinking habit but tons of money: he'd buy her jewelry and clothes, and she loved that and was happy with him. After a few time, she got pregnant again, and this time with Simon.

1975

Betty was in the living room sitting at the table smoking a cigarette, smiling at her son Ryan while he was reading an Impotent Rage comic, and Simon was just mindlessly watching TV on the couch and taking sips of Pisswasser.

"Mommy mommy look!" the voice Betty hated the most yelled; it was Trevor running happily towards her.

"What is it Trevor?" she said, not even looking in Trevor's direction. Not that Trevor minded, he was used to that anyway. But this time she was finally gonna be proud of him.

Trevor took out a handcrafted paper plane: "Look! My plane!"

Betty turned around unamused: "A plane?"

Ryan took his attention away from his comic and laughed: "You call that a plane?!"

Trevor ignored him and stayed focused on his creation with pride: "Yes a plane! When I grow up I'm gonna be a pilot and fly on these!"

Betty took her eyes away from the plane and returned smoking: "As if you're ever gonna be something big in your life...". Trevor's smile fell.

"No mom you're wrong!" Ryan yelled. Trevor's eyes went big: Ryan taking his defense for once? Ryan snatched the paper plane from his hand "Trevor's right! He's gonna fly on these indeed, just like this!" Ryan's hand tightened around the plane, crushing it in the process and reducing it to a ball, and threw it on the floor "Booom!!". Of course not, classic old Ryan.

"RYA-" Trevor stopped in his tracks when he saw dad turning his head to him with a glare like an owl preparing to attack his prey. He knew what that glare meant, it was the first sign that a beating was coming. Simon was kinda like a big silent monster; he never spoke to Trevor, he only beated him up when he was "misbehaving". He only heard him speak when he occasionally yelled at mom in one of his drunken fits.

"R-Ryan please..." Trevor spoke in a quieter voice now, doing everything he could to hide his anger.

Ryan made a fake grimace and started yelling "Mooom! Trevor is being mean!", as he was hugging Betty's legs.

Trevor was feeling terror taking over himself now "No! I wasn't... I didn't mean..."

"First you disappoint me, now you make your brother cry, is that how you thank your family for everything we do for you, you ungrateful brat?" Betty looked at him with dark eyes "...Simon... it's time we teach him a lesson...".

Trevor was now laying on his bed; his whole body was aching and trembling, tears and snot running down his face as he was hugging his pillow. It was the only thing he could hold onto, sometimes he wished the pillow could hug back. His tears stained face was turned to the window as he observed that beautiful starry night sky. He didn't care what Ryan said, or what his mother said. She is right about everything but not about this. Someday, he was going to make his dreams come true. He was going to become a pilot, the best one the world has ever seen. He was going to be free, flying in that wonderful sky.

#grand theft auto #gta v #trevor philips #gta fanfiction

[gtafest]

GTA Valentine's Day Secret Art Exchange

Is that title way too long? Absolutely. Do I care? Absolutely not.

There was some interest in Valentine's Day event, so here it is! The difference to Secret Santa is that this time the focus is on romance and love instead of Christmas. And, the bigger change: nsfw gifts between adults will be allowed due to popular demand. This is why the form asks your age and is a bit different in other ways too.

Here's the drill:

We do art trade as an exchange between artists and writers who create fics/fan arts/graphics/etc for one another as a gift. Secret means that you can’t tell anyone what you are working on until it’s time to post your work. You make a gift and get a gift.

This event is for all GTA games despite the name of the blog. You can ask for gifts about any GTA games or even your original characters, but make sure the prompt is very clear on what you want. Leaving many different kinds of prompts is preferable! The mod will do their best to match up everyone so that there is representation for as many games as possible.

The theme is love and romance, but you can also leave other kinds of prompts if you want. Platonic love definitely counts! This is a good time for all your fluffy, romantic, soft, cute, or sexy prompts. Themes so heavy that they could make people uncomfortable are not allowed. Always ask if you’re unsure! You will be contacted if there’s a problem with the matchmaking or your prompts, so be sure to leave the correct information on your social medias.

You can join by filling in this form. It will only be available until January 10, so be quick! By the end of next week, you will receive the information about the person you’re going to gift your work. Then you will have until Valentine's Day to work on your gift.

The moderator will ask you for progress a couple of times before the deadline to make sure that everyone gets their gift. If there are any problems and you can’t participate any longer, contact the mod ASAP and be honest. We've had a few issues with this before, and I hope it won't repeat again. If you're unsure if you can partake in this exchange, think twice before signing up.

That’s about it! Feel free to reblog this post (my tagging system is lacking tbh) and hopefully, we get a lot of participants!

Mod: @nevergonnasimpyoumikey

#gta v fest #gta fanart #gta fanfiction #gta 5 #gta v #gta advance #gta 2 #gta #gta vice city #gta iv #grand theft auto #gta online #gta san andreas #grand theft auto 5 #gta iii #trikey #michael de santa #trevor philips #franklin clinton #niko bellic #gta oc #gta liberty city stories #gta lcs #gta london #gta vcs #gta tlad #gta tbogt #gta trilogy #asuria #gta chinatown wars

[tigertofu]

the 3rd fic in my Kacie/Trevor series has started 🩷

tags, summary, and link under the cut !

Burning in Heaven (1939 words) by tigertofu

Relationships: Trevor Philips/Original Female Character(s)

Characters: Trevor Philips, Original Female Character(s), Michael De Santa, Wade Hebert, Lamar Davis, Franklin Clinton, Amanda De Santa, Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Age Difference, Older Man/Younger Woman, Codependency, Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Bisexuality, Miscommunication, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Power Imbalance, Domestic Fluff, Smut, Romance, Drama, Porn With Plot, Vaginal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Voyeurism, Creampie, Semi-Public Sex, Rough Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Mental Health Issues, Attempt at Humor, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

After starting a new life together in their totally legally obtained home in Rockford Hills, Kacie and Trevor are hard at work forcing themselves into the hustle and bustle of Los Santos proper. But getting Trevor’s new business as a lifestyle coach off the ground has turned out to be no small feat, and the couple have turned to more “traditional” ways of squeezing profit from the city’s scores of drug–addicted citizens in the meantime. This isn’t the only example of things staying the same the more they change. Their tumultuous relationship has finally levelled out into their own twisted (but mostly happy) version of domestic bliss. But as an old flame is reignited and a new one is set, Kacie and Trevor’s perfect life together is threatened by more than just the difficulties of dealing with Los Santos’ hulking criminal underbelly.

Summary:

#trevor philips #gtav #gta v #myfic #gta v fanfiction #gta fanfiction #michael de santa #gta #trevor philips/oc #trevor philipsxoc