korie

You had been sure you were absolutely off of the grid. You have had one visitor since your ‘early retirement’ and that was an accident, or so you had been told. You did not question the visitor, as they did leave without much of an argument.

But now, here you stand on your front porch, staring at someone you were sure was taken care of. He is bloodied, beaten, and still looks bloodthirsty.

“Conquest…”

Your voice is airy. Your face contorts into fear before you realize you have to stand your ground. Quickly, you calm yourself as much as possible and step from your porch. The old Viltrumite stands up, eyes locking onto you, and he freezes. Your eyes widen.

He gives you a wicked grin. “You…” He stumbles towards you.

You do not have the confidence to speak and ask what he means. Instead, you point your finger at yourself. It hits your chest. Your jaw drops slightly and you finally mouth, ‘Me?’. You are not what you used to be, not by a long shot. You are praying he does not want to test your strength.

Your name falls from his lips, not your alias, your real name. Your blood runs cold. You swallow hard, your brain trying to wrap around how he knows you. You had never had a run in with Conquest. You had heard of him, of course you had heard of him, but never had any interactions with him. Not until now. You think briefly about running inside and slamming your door. You do not want him to know just how afraid you are. But you do not want to seem too threatening either… You are careful to not ball your fists or look angry. You stand still.

Conquest takes another step closer to you and he looks ravenous. You finally find the courage to speak. “Please,” as the word fumbles from your mouth, your hands go up. “I won’t tell anyone you’re out here! No one even knows I’m out here!” You are panicking. Conquest freezes. Wrong fucking move. Your eyes shut tight and you sigh.

“No one…?”

“Well,” you should shut up, but you do not, “one person, but he doesn’t come out here.” You groan at yourself. “Look!” Your hands reach out further, “I’m not a hero, not anymore. Please… spare me. No one has to know you were here, I won’t tell a soul.” You mark an ‘x’ over your heart. “I swear!”

Conquest tilts his head at your gesture. He does not ask what it means. Instead he seems to be making plans. You willingly continue to speak.

“I’ll even let you stay here!” You motion to your little cabin. “I don’t know what you’re doing here-”

“Cecil is unaware of your location?”

You, without thinking, nod. Conquest laughs. You think it is at you. He takes another step and he is almost on you now. He looks down at you, his smile making you want to cower. You, however, used to fight villains for a living, you have learned how to pretend to not be afraid in the very least. So, you stand there, unmoving. Conquest watches you as if you are prey to him. You know that is not far from the truth.

“Hm.” He gives a low hum, his eyes looking you up and down. You hug yourself. “I will not be against killing you if anyone finds me here.”

“I swore!” You grow defensive. “Anyway, I don’t get cell service out here. My TV barely works. No one will find you.”

You are not sure if that is a good or bad thing. You pray that it is in your best interest. You have a feeling it is not.

You watch Conquest closely as he wanders around your cute little cabin. While the cabin is suitable for at most three people, he makes it feel like it is not. His hulking frame takes up the small doorways, and you are sure he will not fit on your couch. As closely as you are looking at him, he is looking at your cabin.

“What are you doing, exactly?” You ask him from your front door, you back flush with the wood.

Conquest turns towards you, “Making sure there are no… cameras, spies.” The way he is looking at you, it terrifies you.

Oh. You shake your head at him. “There’s nothing, promise.” You cross an ‘x’ over your heart again. Conquest’s face contorts but you continue. “I have no reason for anyone to know where I am.”

You have a reason now, you just know it.

“Why are you out here?” Conquest begins to make his way towards you. “Alone? You are strong-”

You shake your head, causing Conquest to stop speaking. “Not anymore,” you whisper. “I- I-” You are not sure of how much you need to share, leaving you unsure of what to say to him. You sigh. And then you realize, you do not know how he knows you. “How do you know about me?”

Conquest is at you once more, sizing you up. Your head tilts back to look at him. He is huge. Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes catch yours.

He lets out a low hum and smirks, “The Ravagers spoke so highly of you.” He smiles, another bloodthirsty grin. You physically recoil and tense as he speaks. He catches this. His head tilts. He knows he has struck a nerve.

“You met them?” You feel color drain from your face, your mouth going dry as you whisper the question.

Conquest nods slowly.

“Did you at least kill them?” Your hands fidget.

Conquest’s grin widens, revealing his crooked, blood covered teeth, causing you to grow nauseous. “Yes.” He looks insane.

You are stuck against the door. You want to lie down and never speak about the Ravagers again, but you have a feeling neither of those are an option. “Conquest-” You begin. He lets out a low hum, urging you to continue, “uh, when did you run into them?”

“About a year ago.”

Ah. You quickly do some math. You nod. “Figures.”

Conquest does not let up or back away from you. He is curious now. “What?” He questions you.

“Well,” you try to back up further but you physically can not, “if you had run into them literally, like, probably a day sooner…” You trail off. “I’d probably still have my powers.”

Conquest seems to be thinking. You hope he is not thinking about killing you and leaving. You lived through one tragedy. There must have been a reason. You would prefer to not die by Conquest’s hand. But if you have too…

You sigh. “Just make it quick, that’s all I ask.”

Conquest seems intrigued by… something. “No.”

Your eyes widen. There is no room for you to even try to defend yourself. “No!?” You think you are going to puke on him.

“I am not going to kill you.” Yet. His words do not comfort you. Conquest takes a step back from you and moves to the side, giving you space to walk towards your couch. You are frozen, only your eyes moving to follow Conquest.

“Okay…” Your voice is strained. “Okay.” You blow air out of your mouth and try to relax. “I have to be having a nightmare.” You are grasping at straws. “I mean,” your eyes hit the floor, “I’ve been having them a lot lately.” Your fingernails rake over your scalp. You look back at Conquest, who seems very real. You do not ask him to pinch you.

Your eyes hit the blood on the floor, that Conquest has tracked in, and you look back at the beast of a man.

“This is real,” he says your name again. This time, he sounds less enthused. This causes you to shrink into yourself.

“Okay, well,” You start, “can you at least, maybe, I don’t know, clean up?” You motion towards his whole body. “I can wash your, uh, uniform?”

Conquest looks down at himself. You swallow hard when he does not immediately respond. You want to flinch away from him when he looks back at you.

“I’ve heard how powerful you used to be.” He stands to the side of you, causing you to turn your body towards him. “And now, here you are, barely able to give me any orders in your own home.” He shakes his head. “Maybe putting you down would be for the best.”

“No!” You are sure you are close to having a heart attack. “I’m just, I’m not used to being around someone like you when I’m completely useless…” You hug yourself tightly and look down. “I’m not above begging, not anymore, please do not kill me.” You look back up at Conquest.

He inhales sharply through his nose. “Where’s your shower?”

You perk up slightly. “I will show you.”

After showing Conquest where the bathroom is and gathering a towel for him, you remember you have not had breakfast. A certain Viltrumite had very rudely interrupted that. You walk towards the kitchen as he showers, and begin to find something to eat. You hum to yourself as you open the fridge.

Nothing really catches your eyes; not after the morning you have had. There is not much in there anyway. You move to your pantry and find two boxes of cereal and three packets of oatmeal.

“Oatmeal it is.” You sigh, grabbing one of the fruit flavored packs. “I should go to the store soon.”

And just for a moment, you forget that there is a wanted alien in your home. You prepare the oatmeal and place it in your microwave. You tap the counter and as the microwave goes off, the floor behind you creaks. You let out a horrible, strangled noise and quickly turn. You find a completely dry, completely naked Conquest behind you. He is holding his bloodied clothes.

Another quieter noise escapes you as you try to avoid looking at him. Your eyes dart upwards and you tense. “What are you doing!?” You cannot look him in his eyes.

Conquest snorts. “You said you would wash these.” He extends his hand towards you. You are cornered against the counter.

“Conquest,” you shut your eyes tight. “You are naked.”

Conquest grows agitated with that statement. “The only clothes I have, you offered to wash. I thought you were smarter than this… Did you lose your brain along with your powers?”

Your eyes snap open and hit his. You immediately bite your tongue, but your face gives everything away. “You had a towel.” You bite back at him.

He lets out a horrible, haunting laugh. “That was a small towel.”

You groan. “Please, step out of the way. There are clothes here that should fit you.” You huff, crossing your arms. Conquest forcibly shoves the clothes into your hands and moves out of your way. You scoot past him, careful to not touch him, or even look at him. You walk down the hall and towards the primary room of the cabin. You open the door and walk into the large, mostly untouched room. You reach the dresser and motion towards it. “Top drawer is underwear, middle is shirts, bottom is pants; all clean. The closet is all tiny old lady clothes.” You point towards it.

Conquest seems skeptical. He approaches the dresser and you quickly step out of his way. “You are certain this will fit?”

You shrug. “Old owner was a big guy, you are a big guy.” You motion vaguely at him.

You begin to walk out of the room and catch Conquest shaking his head. He does not know what he has gotten himself into. And sadly, neither do you. You walk back to the kitchen and lay Conquest’s bloody outfit across a chair, and then pull out your now mostly dry oatmeal from the microwave. You do not feel like wasting it and you are starving. You groan and grab a spoon. You walk towards the living room and sit down on the couch in front of the TV.

You turn it on, and despite the static, you look for something to watch. You take a bite of oatmeal and then pout. You want nothing more than to drive to the store and get groceries. But you feel your guest requires supervision.

Conquest comes walking down the hall, finally dressed. You look up at him. You smile, even if briefly, “See, it fits! I must have some brains left.” You laugh at yourself. The look Conquest is giving you immediately shuts you up. Your back straightens and your eyes shoot back to the distorted cartoon on the TV.

Conquest stands in the hallway, staring at you. You try to ignore him and take another bite of the nasty oatmeal. With wide eyes, you watch the cartoon.

“Conquest…” Your eyes slowly move to his large figure. “Can I help you?”

“You live alone?” He questions you, seemingly concerned you have been lying to him. Once you nod, he continues. “Why do you have these clothes?”

You set the bowl of oatmeal on the coffee table in front of you and you let out a sigh. “I never got rid of them.” You admit. “This wasn’t my home, not originally.” You stand up and grab the half eaten bowl of oatmeal, and walk towards the kitchen. Conquest follows close behind. “My best friend’s grandparents left it to me. When they died.”

Conquest seems skeptical, yet again. “Where is your… friend?” His head tilts.

“Dead.” You throw the rest of the oatmeal away. “I don’t have anyone. Not anymore.” You place the bowl in the sink and turn back to Conquest, who does not understand personal space. “I think,” you let out a soft hum, looking to the side and then back at him, “I think you’re the first person I’ve spoken to in a while.”

Conquest nods.

You continue. “The Ravagers, they, uh, brought a lot of destruction. I was fighting them by myself. I was fine, really. I can- could hold my own.” You correct yourself. “But when-” Your eyes shut tight. You are remembering so much at once. You suck in air, “I don't even know what happened. There was so much death, I was blinded by rage, they got the upper hand and before I knew it, I was skewered to some rubble.” Your eyes open and Conquest is watching you closely. “I haven’t been able to use my powers ever since.”

He does not respond.

You shrug off the sadness and step by him. “I’m going to throw your clothes in the washer and clean my floor now.”

Conquest lets you go without a word.

Conquest has been wandering around your house, making sure to stay out of your way. He has not said a word as you cleaned. Instead, as you scrubbed the floor, he was picking up family photos and old memorabilia scattered around your home. He would let out small grunt here and there, seemingly in thought, but he left you alone.

Now, your floor is clean, Conquest’s outfit is on the clothesline outside and you are hot. You look at your clean floor and sigh. You walk towards your room, with the intention of throwing on cooler clothes and find Conquest standing there. You inwardly groan. He moves around quietly for such a big guy.

“You have a lot of… Unnecessary things.”

You gasp. “What?” You look around your room. There are polaroids of you and your friend and her family scattered around the room. Stuffed animals sit in the corner on a cute chair. Your bed is covered in too many pillows. “All of these things are very much needed.” You cross your arms. “Now, I need to change.”

You motion towards the door. He does not budge.

“You can be nosey when I get done changing,” you point at the door this time. “Go look at the pictures on the fireplace or something.”

“I already have.” Conquest mimics you, crossing his arms, “you have a lot of pictures.”

“They're not mine.” You grumble. “Well, I guess technically they are.” You pinch the bridge of your nose and grumble. “Whatever. Just look at my other stuff, I’m going to change.” Conquest does not respond. You feel his eyes leave you and you hear him turn around. He is looking through more of your stuff. You roll your eyes and grab a tank top and comfortable shorts. You quickly undress and redress yourself. You pick the dirty clothes up and turn around. Conquest is holding a stuffed animal, quite tightly.

“Why is this necessary?” His brows furrow.

Your heart sinks into your stomach. You let out a frustrated noise. “No!” You yell and run towards him. He knows you are not a threat, he does not kill you for rushing him. You try to snatch the stuffed animal from Conquest, but his grip is too tight. You release it before it can be destroyed. “Please! Let it go!” You sound panicked.

Conquest smiles. “This thing means something to you?” He asks, almost laughing. He shoves it at you, and you grab it again. He releases it and begins to walk off. You sigh and hold it close to your chest. You look up at him with anger, your eyes glaring up at him through your lashes. Oh, how you wish you still had your powers. Conquest leaves your room.

You set the stuffed animal back down and mumble a quick apology, patting its head. The anger settles in your chest. You walk from your room and towards the back door. Conquest is across the living room looking out of the window. He turns towards you as you walk through the kitchen and grab the doorknob. You snatch the door open and step onto the back porch and breathe in fresh air. Before you can shut the door, Conquest is on you again.

You groan, this time loudly. You look up at him with what you want to be anger, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you feel fear. He seemingly ignores this. There is nothing you can really do that he cannot fight back against.

“What?” Your voice is meek. The anger still resides but you feel too much fear to really sound upset with him.

Conquest studies you. “You showed bravery a moment ago, when I could have killed you. Why?”

You want to snarl your lip at him, “You were messing up my friend’s stuffed animals. I promised I wouldn’t let them get hurt, I crossed my heart.”

Conquest‘s face contorts to something you can only assume is disgust. “The stuffed animals… You won’t let them get hurt? They are not real.”

You drag your hands down your face. “You are not getting the point. I don’t think you ever will. Please do not touch them again.” You really need a stiff drink.

Conquest looks down at you as if he could kill you at any second. Which, even while it is true, does not bring you any comfort. You are starting to wonder if he kills you, if that is the best outcome. You can only hope not.

You turn away from him and grab onto the porch railing, staring off into the sunset. You inhale and try to gather your thoughts. As you stand there, you feel Conquest staring. He takes a step forward and you shut your eyes. Just make it quick. You exhale slowly, preparing for the impact of his fist, or maybe he kills you open handed.

You feel something cool touch your back, right where the scar from the Ravagers sits. It feels as if electricity shoots out from around the scarring, travelling up and down your entire body. You lurch forward, almost launching yourself off of the porch. You let out a loud, guttural noise and turn towards Conquest. You stare at him in confusion. “May I help you!?” It is the first thing that comes from your mouth.

“That scar…” Conquest’s hand flexes, he is holding himself back from doing something. You are sure it is something horrible.

Your face drops. “The Ravagers.” It is all you give him.

Conquest does not push further. You walk inside. You really need a stiff drink.

It has been two days since Conquest arrived. You are growing accustomed to his oddness. You still do not feel comfortable leaving him alone, but the store is calling your name. You know you will have to bite the bullet eventually. Sooner rather than later.

Conquest, you have noticed, does not sit often. He does not relax. You sit on your couch, and instead of watching your normal staticky TV, you watch Conquest. Your eyes follow him as he paces.

“Hey, Conquest,” You turn your body towards him. He snaps his head towards you and you flinch backwards. “Uh, you have permission to sit.”

He makes a face at you, his arms flexing behind his back, “I do not need permission to sit. I am no dog.”

You nod at him, “This is true.” You stand up. “But, you pacing like this?” You motion at him, “You are going to make permanent marks on my perfect hardwood floor…” Conquest snarls his lip up at you. You freeze. Okay, nevermind. You give him a soft, anxious smile and your hands immediately go up. “Just, uh, keep on pacing, buddy.”

It is Conquest’s turn to freeze. “Buddy?” He lets out a low hum. “Huh, am I a friend to you?” You cannot tell if he enjoys this thought or not.

You think momentarily, pressing your lips into a thin line. Do you explain that it is just a saying, or tell him he is a friend? You tread carefully. “Well, you have yet to murder me in my home, have listened to me pretty well, and seem…” Not as crazy as I was sure you were. You swallow hard.

Your stomach growls, catching you off guard. You do not finish your sentence. Instead you grab your stomach and make a face.

“Was that your stomach?” Conquest asks. You nod at him and he seems to become disgusted. “Eat.” He says it like it is common sense. As if you should have known to take care of it ages ago.

You deadpan, “Conquest,” you put your arms out at your sides, “I have no food!” Babysitting you has made grocery shopping impossible. You want to roll your eyes. You do not. “I need to go shopping.”

“Then go.”

Your arms drop to your sides. “Conquest, can I trust you?” You narrow your eyes. “Can I leave you alone in my home?”

Conquest gives another disgusted look. “Of course!” He almost yells at you.

You flinch back. “If I leave, promise me you will stay inside? And not destroy this place?” Conquest slowly nods. “Cross your heart!” You mark an ‘x’ over your heart, hoping he will follow suit. He does not.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Forget it…” You shake your head, “I’m going to go grocery shopping, I may be gone for two and a half hours tops!” You walk past him and grab your keys. “When I get back, I will eat, hell maybe you can eat.” You point at him. He stands there. Doing and saying nothing. You shrug off the odd feeling and shut your door.

The drive into town is almost thirty minutes. Every second feels like a lifetime when you have a world ending threat at home. You white knuckle the steering wheel the whole way into town.

Once you get to the grocery store, you hurry. You only grab the necessities. You have mapped out the whole grocery store over the year of being alone. The less chance of human interaction the better. You use your knowledge of the store layout to your advantage. You use self-checkout and head out in record time.

“Well… I did say two and half hours…” You look at the liquor store across the street. It does not take long to decide that you need some sort of alcohol. You throw all of your groceries in your car and run in. You grab something that looks good and check out. You head back to your car and begin to make your journey back home.

An awful pit begins to form in your stomach as you grow nearer to home. You feel sick as you pull onto the dirt road leading towards your home. As you pull up to your home you spot him. Conquest. He is on your front porch, standing, waiting. You feel a little less sick as you see your home still standing.

He crosses his arms as you get out of the car. You open the trunk and begin to grab some bags. Conquest steps from the porch and begins to make his way towards you. He looks around and then past you, as if he is waiting for someone else to approach.

“What are you doing?” You turn towards him, bags still in hand.

Conquest does not trust you, it has been made very obvious. You may still be alive, but little actions have proven him to be untrusting of you. “Did you tell anyone about-”

You shake your head causing him to pause. “Of course not! One, I promised, and two, I’m not stupid, Conquest. I don’t ever speak to anyone in town anyway. My days of handling people are over.” Conquest snorts at your phrasing. “Anyway,” you continue, catching him off guard, “I have quite enjoyed your company…”

You watch Conquest tense. You walk past him and carry the bags of groceries into your home, and place them onto the kitchen table. You walk back outside, planning on continuing this process, but someone has beat you to it. Your car door shuts and Conquest begins to walk towards the house, every bit of groceries left are in his arms.

You feel your stomach flip. It is something that does not feel real. You briefly forget what he is capable of, as he nears you, wearing jeans and a plaid long sleeved shirt. You have to remind yourself of the situation. He walks by you without a word and places the groceries on your table.

You quietly thank him and close your front door. He huffs and walks out and onto the back porch. You try to ignore the fact you do not know what is going through his head. You begin to put the groceries up. You leave him be as you decide what you want to cook. You leave a pack of steaks out for you to cook and put everything else up.

You peek out at the back porch and find Conquest staring up at the sky, standing a few feet from your back porch. You give him space. In the last couple of days that seems to be all you have been giving him. He approaches you when he wants and you try to live as if he is not some odd man in your home.

You begin cooking. The steaks are huge, you realize as you cut the pack open and get a good look at them. You think they will suffice. After all this time alone, you have learned how to cook pretty well. You might as well like what you are eating.

Eventually, you hear the back door shut and footsteps nearing you. You glance over and Conquest stands beside you, looking at the steaks you are cooking. “They're almost done.” Another odd feeling settles as you try to ignore how close he has become. “Are you hungry?”

Conquest huffs, causing you to swallow hard. You push down the feelings festering in your chest and plate the steaks. You gently hand him a plate and grab yours, walking over to your table.

He follows suit, sitting across from you. You both sit in silence. The only noise that fills the room is the chewing of the steak, which is becoming all too much to bear.

“So,” you swallow slowly, “uh, is it… okay?”

“The steak?” Conquest looks at you, and nods, “It is to my liking.”

You nod. You do not want to sit in silence with this man. “What do you normally talk about? When you eat supper…” you trail off. You find yourself staring, and staring. Taking every aspect of him in. His scarring, his prosthetic arm. Everything.

He notices.

“What do you talk about?” He bites back.

This causes you to pout, and look around you. “I'm alone… I don't really talk-” As he nods, you seem to understand. “Oh, sorry if I'm bothering you while you eat.”

Conquest groans. “Did I say you were bothering me?” You shake your head at his question. “You can continue to ask your questions.”

You can only hope it is because he likes your company too. And not just because he tolerates you for now. You light up and nod. You find it inappropriate to ask anything about Invincible or that situation, so you make sure to let that lie.

You pick at the steak a little bit, “Conquest?” You look up at him, through your lashes, that awful feeling returning once more. He looks at you, seemingly unamused. You are not sure how you want to ask your question. You suck in air, almost choking, causing Conquest to tense. “How long do you plan on staying?” Your voice is soft, not pushy in any sense. Not one bit.

But Conquest shifting uncomfortably in his seat seems to make you feel differently.

“Not because I want you gone! I don't! Promise!” You instinctively mark an ‘x’ over your heart. You sigh, “I just, I would like to be prepared for however long you plan to be here.”

Conquest shrugs. “I'm not sure.” His voice is stern, cold.

Suddenly you are not hungry anymore.

You sit in silence, forcing down the last couple bites of the steak, before getting up and cleaning. It is quiet for the next hour. You clean everything, and think, even if only momentarily, about the alcohol in your freezer. You wait.

The past two nights had been weird. You had gone to bed, shutting and locking your door. You know for a fact that lock is not stopping him if he decides to kill you. Conquest, if he slept at all, was allowed in the other room, as long as kept his hands off your belongings. Did he sleep there? You do not know. But it was presented to him.

However, tonight, while that bed was still an option for him, you kept your door open. The horrible feeling that had started to take over before you got back home from shopping returned before bed. You think that if he wants you dead, you do not want him destroying the whole house to get to you, so the door is open. You are sure the feeling is your body telling you to get away from him, that his plans are anything but in your best interest.

You lie in bed, dozing off and on. You, half awake, squint and see Conquest in your doorway, staring. You notice he is wearing his Viltrumite uniform; you can see it even in the shadows distorting your vision. The sight is terrifying. You are too sleepy to move; you shut your eyes and hope he makes it quick. When you do not hear footsteps nearing you, you fall into a deep sleep without another thought.

You wake up at three. You turn over and notice the time on your dim alarm clock. You groan. You rub your eyes and remember Conquest in your doorway. Your stomach drops. You stand up and run towards the other room immediately. The clothes you had given to Conquest are laid on the floor. Your hands ball into fists. You rush around your small home, calling out for Conquest.

You run towards your back porch and turn on the light. In the middle of your yard there is a spot where the grass was once a lively green is now dirt. You want to puke.

Conquest is gone.

You do not know what to do. You are not superpowered anymore. You cannot go after him and bring him back. You do the only thing you can think of.

Drink.

The sun is rising when Conquest comes back. He lands in your yard with a loud thud, cratering the earth where he lands. He walks up the steps of your back porch and opens your door. He assumes you are still asleep.

Oh, how wrong he is.

As he opens your door, he hears a soft sob and then a hiccup. You are very much awake. The scent of alcohol hits him as he closes the door. And you are very much drunk.

Conquest makes his way into the living room. You are sprawled out on the couch, an empty glass is on the coffee table in front of you. Conquest clears his throat and you jolt upright.

Your eyes are red now. And when they spot Conquest, tears fill them again. Conquest observes you closely, you are sad, yes, but you seem angry. Resentful. He is confused.

“Did you come to finish me off?” You sit up and look up at him.

“No.”

“Then what?” You spit the words out like venom. “You leave without a word then just show back up? For what?” You try to stand and stumble slightly.

Conquest wants to reach out for you. You catch yourself before he can. He stares and stares at you. The way you had stared at him just the day before. Your cheeks are covered in tears and you are staring up at him with a confidence you have not had since he arrived. It is stirring even more of an odd feeling inside of him.

“What are you here for, Conquest!?” You almost bark at him.

Conquest sighs. “For you.”

Conquest watches as you freeze. He studies your reaction closely. Your eyes widen and you immediately pull into yourself. Your arms hug your body tightly.

“Me?” You whisper the word, pointing at yourself. It reminds him of the first time he saw you. He nods.

“Being here with you…” Conquest lets out a low growl. “It’s made me feel odd…” You freeze at his words, your mouth falling open. “I don't wish to leave again.”

Your face contorts from anger and sadness. Conquest watches you shift your weight as you lean against the couch. “And if I say no?” He did not expect that. “I mean, I don't want you to leave again. Conquest,” you rub your temples, “what if it's safer if you aren't here?” you look up at him, pouting.

Conquest knows you are safer with him. “I won't let anyone hurt you.” He states it so confidently.  “You are much safer with me.”

You sigh. You walk back towards the front of the couch and sit down, almost falling into the cushions. Conquest waits for your response. He is not budging. You are stuck with him, whether you realize it or not.

“Fine, whatever.” You throw your hands in the air. “Can you come sit with me?” You look back at him, eyes glazed and unfocused. Conquest does not argue. He wants to be close to you. He sits without a word. You scoot towards him and lean on his shoulder, “I hope this is okay.” Your voice is soft. “I don't feel very stable.”

Conquest nods, “It's fine.” He sounds confident in that answer. But his feelings are different. He wants to grab you, pull you closer, get in your skin. He cannot be close enough. He values you too much to overstep any boundaries. He lets you do what you are comfortable with. Which he finds out is a lot, as you are not sober.

You lay down, curling up and getting comfortable, your head on his lap. Conquest is a strong man, in more ways than physical. But you being so close is testing every bit of strength he has. He tenses immediately. You do not seem to notice.

“You know,” you turn over and look up at him, not seeming to notice his flustered face, "I don't remember the last time I was drunk.” You let out an airy laugh. “My powers kept me from even being tipsy.” You look at the empty glass on the coffee table, “I may have gone too far.”

“You'll feel it soon enough.” Conquest’s hand rests on your stomach. The fabric of your shirt being the only thing keeping him from touching you. You laugh at his response. He does not understand what is so funny. You will be sick eventually from the alcohol consumption, you are aware of this, and you are laughing. Your eyes shut tight and you sigh.

“Conquest?” You keep your eyes shut as you get comfortable on him. “I’ve been alone out here for a while… when the Ravagers attacked… they took a lot from me. More than just my powers.” Your hands rest on your chest. You inhale sharply. “I promised her I'd keep her alive. I’d save her. I had crossed my heart! And I couldn't keep that promise.”

Your eyes open and you look at Conquest with a heavy sadness. His head tilts and the fabric of your shirt scrunches in his hand, ever so slightly. He does not know how to help you feel better. “What does that mean? To cross your heart?”

You think. Conquest watches you gather your thoughts. “My best friend, we would cross our hearts when we were making promises, ones we knew would not break. I guess, in hindsight, I shouldn't have promised that.” You shut your eyes again. “It's a habit now.” You admit. “It's part of me. I don't know.” You yawn and roll over onto your side.

Conquest does not respond. He feels your breathing slow as you fall asleep. He sits there, unmoving, as he becomes your personal pillow. He keeps his hands resting on your side, feeling you breathe. He knows at this moment, he will kill anyone who tries to step between you and him. You are in his grasp now, and he has no intention of releasing you.

You wake to a horrible feeling stirring in your stomach. You groan, curling closer into yourself. The morning is blurry. You are laying on something you only know as strong. Your eyes squint open and you see the black screen of the TV. It is all you can register. Until you feel the unrelenting grip on your shirt. Your eyes snap open, causing you to realize just how bad your head hurts. You groan, eyes shutting back instantly.

“Are you okay?” Conquest’s voice catches you off guard.

You are frozen. You have time to think, to know, that you are not getting out of his grasp. You lie there. Your head is on his lap and you are about to puke, from alcohol and nerves. Your head is spinning trying to remember how you ended up in this situation. It is fuzzy, but you remember drinking, and vaguely remember him coming back.

At least I’m not dead.

“Conquest,” it comes out barely a whisper. Your jaw clenches, and the sick feeling returns. “Please let me go.” You speak through clenched teeth.

Conquest does not release you. His hand lies on your ribs, unmoving. His fingers, however, do let go of the fabric of your shirt. “Why?” His voice pounds against your skull, causing you to flinch.

“Please-” You gag. Conquest’s hand is off of you and you are darting to the bathroom in seconds. You slam against the tile floor and grab the toilet. You dry heave a couple of times and your head only aches more with every one. You rest against the cold toilet and look over at the door. Conquest stands there. Your heart leaps into your throat, almost making you gag again. He watches you closely. He is obviously thinking. You can only stare at him, eyes squinting as you look up at him.

You catch your breath, your brain still trying to catch up with everything going on. Conquest does not move from your doorway. You shut your eyes and let out a low groan. You are reeling, your mind is racing, and your heart is pounding against your ribcage the more you think about Conquest. You chalk it down to not having human contact for a while.

You push yourself away from the toilet and stand. You steady yourself on the sink and rub your head. Conquest steps closer to you, ready to help you stand if need be. You look at him and sigh. The reality is starting to settle in. Conquest seems to not want to leave ever again. You have someone wanted in your home. If someone, especially Cecil, figures out, surely you would both die.

“What are you thinking about?” Conquest is intrigued by your spaced out stare. You answer with a hum, and he elaborates. “You’re certainly deep in thought, unless your brain is actively dying from the alcohol consumption.”

“It can be both,” you want to swat at him. You pause, “Uh, just thinking about you being here. Conquest, this is dangerous-”

He grows defensive. “No one is going to get close to you-”

“I know.” Your words reassure him. “I know what I'm risking by you being here, and for whatever reason…” Your lips purse, and then you continue, “I think it's worth it.”

Conquest relaxes. Every single muscle. You watch him. His fists unfurl and flex once more before finally just falling by his sides.

“I like you being here.” You whisper, as if the universe will hear you and rip him away again. “I know it hasn't been long, but you are…” you know the words ‘pleasant to be around’ do not quite fit, you try to find something else, “proving to be much easier to tolerate than every other person I've come into contact with.” Which is saying a lot, all things considered.

Conquest gives you a smile that makes your stomach turn, a feeling you cannot identify settles in your stomach. His crooked teeth flash, making you feel even more strange. “I like being here. You are… tolerable as well.”

You smile at him, butterflies spread in your stomach and suddenly you are identifying the feeling as want. You want to be close to Conquest, you want his hands on you, you want him. In every sense of the word.

Once again, you are certain it is from no human interaction for a long time. You have had you and your hand for a while. Now there is a very strong, very capable man in front of you and you are practically drooling over the thought of him.

I'll deal with this when I'm not hungover. You make a mental note and move on. You scooch past Conquest and head to the kitchen. You grab some pain killers and hope it helps your head. Conquest follows you. Right into the kitchen and he watches you take the medicine.

“Do you need something?” Your brow cocks at him.

Conquest stands there, arms behind his back, back straight, eyes on you. He shakes his head. “I don't believe so.”

You find that hard to believe. You make a face, your brows furrowing and your eyes squinting. “Okay,” you turn away from the counter and towards him, “can I ask why you're following me then?”

“I'm watching you.”

You nod, slowly, trying to understand. “Yes. You are. Why?”

“You have proven that you cannot be trusted alone, especially with alcohol. How have you lived out here all this time by yourself without getting hurt or even killed?”

Your face drops. “No one really knows I'm out here. Anyway, I may not have amazing strength, but I still retain my memories of how to fight.” You roll your eyes at him. For the first time since his arrival, you roll your eyes. He notices.

“Really?” Conquest steps closer. You bump back into the counter and freeze. He is on you now, looking down at you with a crazed smile. “I was under the impression you couldn't do that anymore.”

You wave a hand, trying to dismiss everything. “I mean, yeah I think I can still fight. Maybe…” It comes out as a question. You think you know where this is going.

“Oh?” Conquest looms over you. “Where did that fire go?” He tilts his head at you. Your heart begins to thump into your chest again. Conquest does not let up. “Could you have protected yourself against me?” He seems genuinely curious.

“No.” You shake your head. “I have basic knowledge of how to protect myself, not how to defend my home or myself from Conquest!”

He lets out a low hum, “You're right. You don't have your powers anymore. How could you begin to know how to hold your own against me?”

Your face contorts with anger and you gasp. “You're lucky I have a headache instead of powers right now.” You would cross your arms if you had room to do so. “When this headache goes away-”

Conquest seems to only grow excited the more you speak. “What?”

“I'll show you what I know!” The words come out before you can think about the consequences. You do not have the courage to take them back.

“Is that a promise?” His voice is low. A shiver shoots up your spine.

Without a word, you cross your heart, with a shaky hand. Conquest takes a step back and lets you walk away from him. You slowly walk away.

“Better go rest then.”

You pause and suck in air. You mumble an ‘okay,’ and go to your bedroom. You lie down in the dark and look at the ceiling. You are tired from high emotions and not getting good sleep the night before. The feeling of nausea has subsided mostly. Now you only feel fear of what Conquest has in store for you.

You turn over on your side and see Conquest looking at you in your doorway again. You want to shoo him off. Your eyes meet his and your stomach summersaults. He makes his way into your room and settles on the end of your bed. You know he has nothing better to do, but that does not mean he gets to watch you rest.

You shut your eyes and try to remedy the headache the best you can. Before long you drift off to sleep.

You wake to the sun setting. You stretch and your feet hit something hard. Conquest. You jump, remembering he was sitting on your bed. Your headache is mostly gone, a dull pain remains. Your stomach feels better, other than fear that has settled in it.

“Your head- Is it better?”

You do not want to lie to him. You sigh. “Yes.” Conquest smirks at this response and stands up. You throw your legs over the side of your bed and look at him. He came back for you, no way he kills you now. You hope.

You walk with Conquest to your living room and find the furniture has been moved. The rug is still in the middle of the floor, but everything has been pushed around, giving you more room to move.

Your eyes shoot towards Conquest. “Did you do this?” You swallow hard.

He only nods. He walks towards the middle of the living room and motions for you to do the same. You do not protest. You walk towards him and stand a few feet away from him. Your heart race picks up as you look up at him. Every single thing you have ever known seems to be unknown to you now.

“Come at me.” Conquest does not move.

Confusion falls on your face. Your brows furrow. “I don’t want to break my fucking hand on you.” You fidget slightly, holding your hands close to you.

Conquest deadpans. “You said you could fight. How am I supposed to know if you can protect yourself or not? If I leave-”

“You’re leaving!?” It is the first thing to come out of your mouth. Conquest’s eyes widen momentarily and he shakes his head. “Then why do I need to know…? I have you.”

“Just come at me.”

You figure him not doing anything for the past few days has taken its toll on him. He needs some sort of excitement, even if that comes at the expense of you apparently. You nod and rush him. You have zero time to process anything that comes next. You are immediately grabbed and your back is slammed into the rug. You struggle briefly, and realize Conquest has you caged in. His arms are at your sides, his hips press down on you giving you little wiggle room. He is purposely placing as much weight as possible on you, to keep you from moving.

You should be feeling panic. You know this. One of the strongest people you have ever met is holding you down, being a complete asshole to prove his own point. And yet, you are feeling the opposite of what any other normal person would feel.

Your eyes widen as you watch Conquest. He is smug above you. “Are you going to do something?” He wants you to fight against him.

Oh, you are going to do something alright.

Your hands are completely free. You do not think about the consequences of your own actions. You are not thinking. You cup his cheeks and quickly place a kiss on his lips. You fall back onto the floor and look at Conquest in sheer panic as realization of what you have done finally hits. You watch his reaction. You are unsure if he is confused or disgusted.

“What was that?” Conquest asks, his voice low and level.

You tense. “I- Uh-” This time you feel immense panic. You briefly think about struggling to get away. Even if you were successful in getting away from him, that would not last long. You mumble ‘it was a kiss’ and hope he lets you go.

“What?” he does not move off of you.

“It was- I kissed you…” You lay under him, stiff, unmoving, and terrified.

Conquest’s head tilts. Heat prickles across your cheeks. Embarrassment quickly takes the place of the panic and you want to hide. You feel like putting your head in his chest so that he cannot see you is inappropriate, considering the situation.

“Why?”

You momentarily pout at him, before trying to pull yourself together. “I-” You pause. Conquest sounds and looks confused. He is completely caught off guard, you cannot tell if he wants you dead or not. “I don’t know- I felt like doing it.” There is no reason to lie to him. You are in no position to do anything, so you tell the truth.

An awkward silence falls over the two of you.

“I’m sorry,” You break the silence by blurting out the apology. “I- That was not appropriate. My timing was horrible. I promise, I don't normally randomly kiss my opponents!”

Conquest lets out a low hum. He is still practically laying on top of you. You feel him against you. Oh shit. Every single muscle in your body tenses. You can only think of a string of swears as you await his next move.

Conquest lowers himself to your face and smirks at you. “Are you sure about that?” His hips grind down on you, causing you to moan and squirm. “You didn’t cross your heart.” He whispers it. Your heart feels like it is going to explode. Your eyes widen and your draw drops slightly. He is playing with you now.

“Conquest,” you bite back another moan, “can you quit fucking around?”

He puts more weight on you, and you feel his erection push harder against you. “Or what?” He groans the question out. You do not respond with a verbal answer. Instead, as courage comes seeping back in, you push your own hips up, grinding against him. Conquest’s hand tenses, his fingers curling inward. You hear the wood underneath the rug he is gripping begin to pull and rip under his grasp. Your eyes dart towards his hand then you look back at him.

You remember you are not superpowered at all anymore. You are a nothing more than a normal person now, with the scariest Viltrumite you could probably have asked for on top of you, seemingly thinking about fucking you. Or potentially killing you. You hope it is the former.

You feel weak under him. He is destroying your floors and there is nothing you can do about it. Conquest huffs over you. He is annoyed. You gulp loudly and watch him closely.

“Are you afraid?”

You think. “Not entirely.” I’m also horny. “I’m just- I’ve never been this far with someone like you. I can’t help but feel… nervous.”

Conquest places his forehead to yours, his hips grinding into you. You whimper as he lets out a moan through gritted teeth. “I won’t kill you. Can’t make any promises you won’t get hurt though.” His fingers, on his hand and the prosthetic, grab at the rug, destroying the hardwood floor even more. You make a face at him.

“If you’re going to destroy my hardwood floor-” you start. You do not get to finish. You are now laying on your bed, Conquest still on top of you. You feel sick at how fast he got you back there. “Okay.” It is the only thing you manage to get out, your voice shaky.

“Is this better?” His face dips into your neck as he asks. “More suitable for you?”

He sounds like he is taunting you. You do not want to give the wrong answer. “Yes…” You still lay there, unmoving. Conquest lifts himself up, his forearms holding him now, his body as close to yours as possible. He wants something.

“You are doing nothing.” He is agitated again. “You initiated this, and now you want to just lay here?”

A lightbulb goes off. He wants you to touch him. You slowly wrap your arms around his neck and your hands go towards his gray hair, gently playing with it. You shift your hips, bumping his erection as you do so, and spread your legs. You bring your knees up and Conquest slides between your legs. The only thing keeping you two from each other is your clothes now.

“Is this better?” You smile at him, your voice gentle and sweet. “I don’t know what it’s like for you. Earth is different, the men are different.” You start to nervously ramble, “I assume things are different for you; for Viltrum.”

Conquest really wants to cut to the chase. “Can you ask questions later?” He does not even want to ask but for you, he does.

“Are you going to be here later?” Your question only causes more agitation. The look he is giving you is deadly. Your fingers nervously fidget, playing with his hair. “Just, remember, I’m basically just some human now,” you let out a nervous laugh.

Conquest seems to be making mental notes as you speak. He is taking in everything you are saying. “You are not some human,” Conquest places his lips to your throat. Your breath catches. He feels it. “You are my human.”

You gasp. Your brain is not registering anything but the feeling of his clothed cock between your legs and his teeth on your windpipe. You let out a soft whine and gently tug at his hair. “Please,” you begin to beg, “please, just fuck me. Conquest, I need you.”

You feel him smile against your throat and he pulls himself off of you. He stands and immediately begins to take his suit off. You watch him. Your eyes being on him does not make him falter. You feel air catch in your throat as he stands naked before you. Heat covers you. Your eyes meet his and he gives you a smug smile.

“You’re nervous. You’ve already seen me naked.” He states it. You have seen him naked. But he was not hard, nor were you even trying to look at his cock.

“Not like this,” you mumble the words out. You inhale sharply and shut your eyes, exhaling slowly. You want to undress yourself, but you are stuck. “Conquest… What if you-” You pause and open your eyes, looking up at him. “What if you don’t like me?”

“You would be dead if I didn’t.” He steps towards the bed. “Are you going to undress?”

You nod. You sit up, your legs dangling over your bed. You take your shirt and bra off and Conquest seems to catch sight of the scar left by the Ravager’s. Your cheeks burn. You stand up and shimmy your shorts off, your underwear not far behind. You cross your arms, suddenly self conscious, and your eyes hit the floor. Conquest takes a step towards you and you look up at him.

He reaches out for you, his touch anything but gentle. But you can tell he is holding back. He pulls you towards him, his calloused hand holding your arm. Your arms uncross in the process of him pulling you closer and you feel more vulnerable than ever. You gasp and look up at him. Your legs clench together, your thighs becoming slick from how wet you already are. Suddenly, you realize how much you ache.

You let your feelings take over. You push yourself up and closer to him. Conquest lets go of your arm and rests his hand on your hip. You cup his cheeks and kiss him again, this time Conquest kisses back. His tongue shoves its way into your mouth and he grips your hips tightly, surely bruising them. Easily, he picks you up and lays you on the bed. He is over you once more, no clothes in his way this time. His hand grips at the fat of your hip and you moan. Slowly, his hand moves from your hip and right towards your pussy.  A thick finger pushes past your folds, and you whimper. Your back arches causing your chest to push into his.

A string of swears leaves your mouth as Conquest fingers you. His thumb brushes your clit as your arms snake around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Conquest presses his lips to your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. You whine underneath him. As you grow wetter around his finger, Conquest pushes another one in. You let out a cry of pleasure, and roll your hips.

“So vocal,” He nips your shoulder, “all for me…”

“Only you,” you pant out, feeling a heat pool in your stomach, “all for you!” You clench around his fingers and tense up. You can feel the wave of ecstasy nearing. “Conquest! Fuck, I’m close!” Your fingers lace in his gray hair once more, your hips rolling into his fingers. His pace quickens, his thumb gently rubbing your clit, causing your eyes to screw shut.

Conquest lets you ride out your orgasm. His fingers pull from you as you sprawl out beneath him. He adjusts himself, grabbing one of your hips. The coolness of the prosthetic in comparison to the warmth of his body causes goosebumps to raise on your skin. You lazily throw your legs over his waist and wait for his next move. You hold your breath, thinking about how he is even going to fit.

Conquest’s grip on you is bruising. You do not register the pain from all the other things your body is feeling. He angles himself at your entrance and his cock pushes into you. You groan, eyes rolling back instantly.

“Shit,” you hiss, “shit-” As Conquest thrusts, you want nothing more than to chase him, and you cannot. “Please,” You whimper, “let me- Fuck,” you moan. Conquest understands. He feels your hips fighting under him. He switches his position slightly, his prosthetic holding him up over you, and his other hand gently rubs up your side.

You immediately begin to move with him. His thrusts are lazy. You need something more. You want nothing more than to roll him over and get on top, controlling the pace. You pull his hair slightly and Conquest groans into your neck.

“Go faster, please,” you beg.

Conquest’s mouth is against your shoulder now, “Can you handle it?” He teases, suddenly thrusting even slower.

Your jaw clenches, “Conquest,” you drag his name out through gritted teeth.

“You are just a human…” He reminds you. He bites your shoulder, causing you to yelp.

Your nails gently rake down his back, and Conquest moans. “Please,” your voice is soft. You can deal with the consequences of your needs later.

Conquest pulls away from your shoulder and looks at you, “Remember,” he stops completely, “you asked for this.”

Your brows furrow, but you get no chance to ask any questions. Conquest’s thrusts begin again, and he is relentless. The sounds filling the room are obscene; skin hitting skin, your moans, his grunts. His pace, even though faster now, is anything but sloppy. It feels like he is on a mission. He grabs you again, bringing your hips up closer to him. Your legs wrap tightly around him now, he can not possibly get any closer to you.

“Oh, Conquest!” Your eyes screw shut, and you clench around him. Tears of pleasure roll down your cheeks.

His cheek presses to yours and nudges you slightly. He does not falter with his pace, this is what you asked for after all. However, feeling you clench around him is a lot. “You’re perfect,” Conquest licks up your cheek, causing you to shiver, “taking me so well,” he praises you.

“Fuck,” you drag out the word, eyes looking up at the ceiling, “please, Conquest, you’re so good-” Conquest’s thrusting stutters. You caught him off guard. He picks up the pace again, hitting a spot that makes your toes curl. “Yeah, right there, baby-”

You are sure Conquest has short circuited. As soon as you call him baby he loses it. He presses his lips to yours and his pace becomes sloppy. He kisses down your jawline and your neck. Conquest continues kissing you, clearly getting closer to coming as well.

“I’m- I’m- Shit-” You stutter out. You can barely think straight.

You clench around him again, coming undone this time. Your eyes roll back, your mouth falling slightly agape. Conquest’s thrusts speed up slightly. He groans in your ear.

Without thinking, you speak. “You can come inside.” Your legs lock around him.

As soon as the words leave your mouth Conquest comes, hard and fast. His pace begins to slow and he drops on top of you, still careful as to not crush you. You both lay there, catching your breath. Conquest is still inside of you, his hand gently rubbing up and down your side. You sigh and your hand rubs up his back, your nails gently scraping his skin. Your legs fall from his waist and you gently push his shoulder.

“You’re heavy,” you wiggle under him. “You can just lay beside me.”

“Hm,” Conquest huffs, “you don’t want me lying on top of you?” Conquest is soft by now, but he still lies there.

“No. Conquest you’re crushing me,” you whine.

“I’m being careful not to do that.”

You shove his shoulder a little harder. “Move over,” you narrow your eyes at him. Your words do nothing to make him move, “I won’t go anywhere, you’re stuck with me.”

Conquest lifts up, looking at you, “Promise?” He says it teasingly.

You cross your heart and smile at him. He finally rolls off of you and you breathe deeply, finally catching your breath. “Man, what do they even feed you guys?” You roll onto your side and look at him. You easily tangle your legs with his. “You know,” you reach out for him, gently touching his face, “I’m glad you found me. I’m also glad you didn’t kill me.” You let out a soft laugh.

Conquest stiffens, letting out a quiet groan, “Don’t say anymore unless you want to go another round.”

“Fuck,” You shiver at the thought of him fucking you again, “let me rest some, I don’t have great stamina anymore.” You whine.

The first time Trevor Philips meets you, you’re the only person who doesn’t flinch when he kicks the kitchen door open at 3 a.m., blood and other fluids on his shirt, screaming at the staff for “watering down the piss-flavoured coffee.” He points a finger around the room, determined to find the “cocksucker” who dare ruin his morning.

Everyone else in the kitchen scatters or freezes, avoiding his gaze. You, unfazed from long nights and in Sandy Shores, look up from your station where you’re folding napkins and frown at him. “That looks like it hurts.”

He stops, ready to ask what the fuck you mean by that, until he realises you’re talking about his knuckles— red raw from where he’s abused them on somebody else, or a brick wall, or the nearest surface he could find in his most recent rage. He hadn’t noticed they stung until you pointed it out.

Your eyes, big, kind, and unafraid, confuse him: you look like you belong in a library or a bakery, not this grease-stained hellhole at the ass-end of Blaine County.

And so, he stares: long enough that the waiter who made the offending coffee starts edging toward the back door, hoping to escape without being noticed. “You’re not off the hook, cocksucker,” Trevor growls the second his eyes spot the motion, a predator who misses nothing. The waiter is halfway down the road by the time your eyes lift to see the kitchen now empty.

Trevor turns back to you, voice lower than usual. “You’re an odd little thing, aren’t you?”

You smile down at your hands as you resume your deft work. “I don’t think so.”

He sits down across from you, facing the wrong way round; the cracked pleather squeaks under his weight. He’s still bleeding from his knuckles, which now grip the back of the chair’s flimsy metallic frame. You don’t comment again, but you do push a napkin toward him. He takes it, eyes never leaving your face, and wipes the blood off. He throws the rag over his shoulder when he’s done.

That’s how it starts, anyway.

Soon, he learns that you are everything he isn’t. Gentle where he’s brutal; quiet where he’s loud; kind where he’s cruel. You say “please” and “thank you” to waitresses and you tip extra. You smile at people who don’t deserve it.

Everyone likes you. Truckers call you “sweetheart” without being sleazy; local junkies nod when you walk home late; even the LSPD (on their rare trips up to Sandy Shores, the armpit of Los Santos) soften when you say good morning. You’re the kind of person who makes small-towners remember why they stayed there.

Trevor doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t understand how someone can be so soft and still survive; he doesn’t understand why you don’t scream back when he yells, why you don’t run when he comes home covered in blood, why you still kiss him goodnight even after he’s spent the evening terrorising bikers.

Still, he’s addicted to it.

He starts showing up at the diner every night that you work, sat in your section. He orders a coffee he doesn’t drink and watches you move between tables— gracefully, never raising your voice even when some drunk asshole gets loud and Trevor wants to pummel them to death. When the inevitable happens and a fight breaks out between the drunks, T’s on his feet in a heartbeat, but you always get there first, diffusing it with a few soft words. Trevor sits back down, stunned.

“How the fuck do you do that?” he asks later, when you’re in his truck on the way home, something he insisted on doing for you when he found out you walked home every night or caught the bus — “a sex-trafficker’s dream,” he called it.

“Do what,” you ask.

“Make people… do what you want without pulling their teeth out.”

You laugh, somewhat confused. “I just talk to them like they’re human, I guess?” He stares at you for so long the truck almost drifts off the road.

“Christ, Trevor, eyes on the road!”

The first time he says “I love you,” it’s not romantic. It’s after a bad night. He came home wired, screaming, throwing things when he found out he’d been betrayed by an old colleague. You didn’t yell back: you sat on the sofa and waited for him to work through it.

When he finally ran out of steam— panting and shaking— he dropped to his knees in front of you on like he’d been shot, and dropped his head into your lap.

You reached out to touch his face; he flinched like he expected a slap. Of course, you pulled him into your arms. He buried his face in your thighs, arms wrapping around your waist, and broke. “I love you,” he choked out, voice hoarse, almost angry. “I love you so fucking much and I don’t know how to do this right. I’m gonna ruin you. I’m gonna drag you down with me. But I can’t—I can’t stop!”

“I’m already ruined for you. I’m not going anywhere,” you whispere. “I love you, Trevor. You’re a good man, even if you’re a wounded man.”

He cried hard, then— ugly, raw sobs that shook his whole body. You stayed wrapped up like that until dawn.

After that, he tries. He still yells, steals, gets into fights. But he really tries to be more like you. He stops the hard drugs; starts washing his hands before he touches you; starts asking— awkwardly, at first —if you want to go for drives or with him to see Franklin or Michael, instead of him disappearing for days on his own and leaving you worried. If he heads out before you, he leaves little notes on the fridge in his jagged handwriting:
“Coffee’s brewed. Don’t work too hard. Love you.”
“Stole you a candy bar. It’s my favourite kind but it’s yours.”