Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

75. Like Fire to the Freezing

---

"But someday he is meeting someone different: some delicate, fragile creature who's giving him a wish to shelter and protect."

— Boris, Lady and the Tramp

---

A large thunderstorm passed over Imp City later that night, blanketing everything in a layer of darkness and heavy rain. Striker lay under the covers and closed his eyes, trying his best to go to sleep despite the yellow light of the bedside lamp illuminating the room. (Y/N), as she had done several times that week, had requested to have some form of light while they slept. Striker had initially attempted to protest the decision, but after seeing the pleading look on (Y/N)'s face, he gave in and complied to her wishes, albeit reluctantly.

Striker rolled onto his side, facing away from the garish lamplight, and lay glaring in annoyance at the wall until he finally fell asleep. In his slumber, his dreams came to him as fragmented recollections of the events of that night: the jovial smile and excited laughter (Y/N) made when she tasted the meal he'd prepared, the yearning that burned in her eyes as they made love, her intoxicating sighs and moans, the almost euphoric warmth of her body engulfing him, the loving gaze she gave him in their afterglow. . .

A booming thunderclap rumbled through the sky and shook the building — so loud it even startled Striker awake. His eyes snapped open and scanned his surroundings, but he quickly relaxed once he realized where he was.

Must've knocked out the power, he thought, observing that (Y/N)'s bedside lamp was now off, and settled back into the mattress.

He stiffened, however, when he heard a sharp gasp behind him, followed seconds later by frantic panting. He turned over in the bed, reaching out a hand toward his lover.

"Hey — "

(Y/N) let out a frightened yelp and recoiled from his touch, wincing at the sudden movement. Striker could barely make out her figure in the pitch blackness, her frame shrinking into itself, her eyes darting in every direction. She shifted to the edge of the bed, stretching her arm to turn on the lamp. Unsurprisingly, the lamp didn't function, and she tried several more times in vain to turn on the device. She blindly felt the top of her nightstand for a moment in search of her phone, but was unsuccessful. The persisting darkness only fueled her panic, and she began to shake.

"Easy, (Y/N)," Striker said softly. Slowly, his hand trailed up her arm, resting on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Breathe, darlin'. It's alright."

(Y/N) aimlessly outstretched her hands until she touched Striker's chest with the pads of her fingers, and her voice was just a mousey whisper when she spoke:

"Striker?"

"It's me, darlin'," he answered, taking one of her hands in his. "I'm here."

It was only slightly, but (Y/N)'s body seemed to relax at the sound of his voice. She let out a shaky sigh of relief just before another flash of lightning briefly lit up the room. Another crash of thunder rocked the apartment, causing (Y/N) to flinch. Her breathing grew heavy until she was hyperventilating, and her hands clamped onto Striker's arms like a vise.

"(Y/N)." Striker brought a hand to the side of (Y/N)'s head, his fingers combing through her hair. "It's alright — you're safe, darlin'. I'm right here."

"I can't see," she muttered through her heaving breaths. "I need — I need the lights on."

"The power's out, darlin'," he said.