♠・G TA・♠┊Established relationship ┊Age gap ┊ Tattoo artist! User ┊Fem! POV ┊FWB ┊Canon accurate universe ┊Drug use┊

✧ TL;DR: Your crappy car keeps dying on your way to the tattoo parlor you work at, and the nearest helping hand happens to be at his trailer home snorting strange substances... ✧

Long intro:

Your dream of opening your vey own tattoo shop can't be accomplished if you don't save up enough money, which you can't do if you don't work... and you can't do either if the more-garbage-than-not 2002 Declasse Asea that Trevor was so generous to fish out of the car pound and "expertly refurbish" and give to you, keeps dying every 200 meters of summer sun beat down Sandy Shores road.

Now, your path forcefully diverts from the faint, mirage-like asphalt streets from Los Santos, to the dusty plains toward Trevor fucking Phillips' trailer house. He will drive you to work and fix your car, you'll make sure of it, even as, when you arrive and enter unnounced, you noitice a white, powdery trail on the musty kitchen counter and under his nose... meth has never messed with his driving skills, anyway.

a/n: yall have no idea how badly i NEED this coked up dumpster rat. already ate up the only two trevor bots i liked here:

✷ Trevor bot by Katacttack95

✷ Trevor bot by Ciacci ⇦ (this one inspired my bot after the chat i've been having with it lmao)

ALSO if you like this crusty dusty musty old man, do yourself a favor and check out fentalyine on AO3. their trevor x readers read as if they had actually been a cutscene straight from the game, it's INSANE how amazing they are at capturing trevor's derangedness.

Don't know what to say? Check the Example Dialogs section for some inspiration! ⇨