FUCK I ACCIDENTALLY PUBLISHED CHAPTER TEN BEFORE CHAPTER NINE LMAOOO
hopefully no one saw that (°▽°) welp, anyways back to the story
You woke up in Striker's room, the scent of sandalwood and rose water was present, and in the background was a radio podcast of some sort.
You looked around, trying to find Striker who should have been in the room. You quickly got out and made the bed (you rarely make your own bed but when it comes to other people's property you preferred to respect it). You saw a pair of crutches and hopped to them, maneuvering yourself so that you could get your arms under them, you grit your teeth the entire time as your feet stung as you moved.
Putting the crutches under your arms, you walked to your room and put a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt on.
As you were about to return to Striker's room but something caught your attention by your window, a flash of gold. You peaked through and saw Striker by the barn, sitting on a bench. How you would get to him, you had no idea.
The stairs were pretty steep, and you weren't in the best shape to be scaling up and down flights of stairs.
Nevertheless, you used your crutches to make it down the stairs. You had to use your crutches to catch your footing a few times, and you slipped a lot as well, causing you to fall on your ass.
All in all, you probably got a bruise or two added onto your already purple spotted body.
You finally managed to get near the barn, grinning at the man who sat next to your beloved Cat. He had a very sound look on his face, sighing as a strong gust of wind made the already warm day a bit more bearable.
"Bubbi!" You cried out, which caused the cat to open its pretty yellow eyes and jump from the bench by the barn.
He walked over it you and began to rub his all black body against you.
"I see you're up, how'd ya sleep little lady?" He said, smiling a bit at your tired face. You yawned and wiped the sleep from your eyes.
"I'm okay, I barely made it down the stairs though." You commented, sitting down next to him as your cat laid on your lap, purring as you pet him.
"Mmm," he acknowledged you as he held a cigarette in between his lips, taking out a lighter and lighting it.
His hands were shaking as he did so, which made you instantly concerned.
"Shit, Striker! Are you okay?" you said uneasily, staring as he tried to keep his trembling hand steady.
"Yeah, I just ain't smoke inna while. I'll be fine just give me a minute..." he said, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke out of his lungs.
"Y'know, my dad used to smoke." You laughed, using a stick to draw pictures into the dirt.
"Hm, did he?" He said, staring out at the field.
"Yeah, but then he met my mom and all of the sudden he didn't need to. One day he smoked, the next day he didn't even want to look at a cigarette. A bit unrelated but, I thought that story was interesting." You shrugged, drawing a ":)" face in the dirt.
"Yeah, if only things were that easy." He said offhandedly, thinking about the mixed emotions he felt towards you. About how he liked— almost loved to be around you. And because of that he wanted to distance himself.
You grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly as he went to take his hand away, and from there he just let you hold his hand.
He tried to act casually but your touch was like electricity. It lit him up with energy and made him feel like he was burning inside.
"Striker..." you called out his name softly, almost like a lover would.
"Yeah..." he responded back, looking into your bright eyes and curled long eyelashes.
"Are we friends?" You asked sweetly, tilting your head as you waited for a response.
His heart drummed against his chest, almost chanting and encouraging him to just say "YES OF COURSE WE'RE FRIENDS."
But...
His brain wanted nothing more than to kill Stolas, with no distractions. AT. ALL.
But you were strong. You weren't just a distraction.
No, you were like an investment. An investment into himself. Whenever he was around you he felt happiness and companionship like no other. And as much as wanted to stay focused on his mission, you were irresistible. The feeling you gave him was intoxicating, irreplaceable.
He let his brain process the situation described, and after a few more seconds of silence, he finally came up with a response.
"Sure...why not..." he replied halfheartedly to make it sound as if he didn't care. In reality, he wanted nothing more than to be by your side. Every touch made these feelings stronger, and soon he would yearn to be by you at all times.
Of course, you were oblivious to this silent storm brewing in Striker. He hid the fact that he was devoted to you rather well through his nonchalant or irritated attitude. As far as you knew, Striker tolerated you.
But as he felt your head on his shoulder, he knew that was far from the case.
All he knew was that you were special, beyond special, and that he HAD to keep you around. And though you were strong, that fight you had— you barely escaped with your life.
So he would protect you from now on, to make sure his sweet Little Lady never got hurt ever again...
And if he wanted to do that...
He looked up at your bedroom window, taking another drag from his cigarette.
He had to get to know you better.
Later that evening while you were gone playing with the kids, telling them graphic stories of things you've done since that's the only way to get them to sit down for two minutes, Striker decided to do his little exploration.
He walked into your room, his boots were off so that he didn't leave a trace anywhere. He walked up to your closet and immediately went through all your clothes, admiring all of them, some more than others.
He couldn't resist holding up a Bat t-shirt, the one you wore when you first had a long talk. He had the urge to smell the clothes, but he decided not to. It would be weird if he did, even though going through your stuff was weird enough as is.
As he went through your clothes he noticed something, 1) you wear a lot of short shorts and 2) you liked bats a lot
He walked out the closet. Putting everything back in order and walking over to your side table drawers.
He opened the first one, and in it was a calculator, pen, pencil, notebooks, other school supplies. It also had a laptop, which he opened and looked at.
"Online learning academy, 9-12th" it read, and on it it said you were 75% done with the school year.
You did mention you were pulled out of school at 10, so you must have been doing this online schooling thing and trying to catch up on all the school you missed. It was admirable.
He looked in the next drawer and saw a very small photo album. He flipped through it, admiring your cheeky younger self before pausing at a birthday picture. It was of you at your birthday party, your parents who eerily looked the same, and your sister who looked just like you. Same hair, height, same face, same everything. A complete replica. Almost.
And you may be thinking, "Almost? They're literally twins..." however, the key difference in them was the feeling he got.
The feeling he got when he looked at you in this picture was pure and warm, like a candle glow in the darkness.
But when he looked at your sister, who had her arms crossed and eyes downcast, he felt sickly.
Shivers ran down his spine as he looked at the image of the little girl. She was like you but for some reason he just got creeped out by her.
He quickly closed the book and sighed.
As he reached the last drawer he noticed there was a bunch of mangas in it and quickly read the names, keeping a few in mind. Afterwards he decided to go over to the other side of the bed.
The first drawer was jewelry, most of it silver or black. He admired it, imagining how good it would looked around your neck.
Next drawer was bras, most of them black and lacy, and weirdly enough they were organized strangely well. By the cut, whether it had an underwire or not, whether it was backless.
Yeah, you knew your shit.
He blushed lightly, imagining what you'd look like with them on...
He quickly stopped, remembering how he was being weird again.
The final drawer was underwear, which he should have known seeing as the previous drawer was bras.
Some had characters or words on them. One of them even said "Daddy" which made him feel...some type of way.
Others had black lace, and a few were thongs. After admiring enough underwear he made a conclusion.
1) You like bats
2) You're in school (9-12th)
3) You oddly keep your bras and underwear VERY organized
4) You read manga from the human world
5) Your birthdate is (insert birthday)
And possibly 6) You have a daddy kink
Just as he got up to go back to his room, he notice a white and silver box glimmer under the bed.
Though he knew his time left was approaching, yet he had to take a peak and see what was in the box.
The box was stainless steel, cold to the touch, and had white designs that reflected light.
He took the top off the box, and was not shocked but, surprised by the contents.
Toys. Sex toys.
Now, Striker wasn't a prude— quite the opposite actually.
He believed as long as you left him the fuck alone he could care less what you did to get off. But the dark purple vibrator, handcuffs, black and silver dildo...it 'tickled his fancy' to say the least.
As he heard your voice call out to Lin and Joe, saying you were heading into your room, he quickly put the top back on the box and put it where he originally found it.
You were near the top of the stairs, meaning there was really no escape, he would have to pass you and you would see he came from your room.
He panicked, running to the closet and closing the door silently behind him. You walked into the room, your crutches clicking under your weight, and you sighed as you laid on the bed.
You scrolled on your phone, before turning on some music from your playlist which was metal music, an old friend of yours suggested it to you and you play it when you can't think of anything and just need background noise. (A/n: The song I thought of was Coming Undone by Korn)
You hummed along to the chorus, bouncing your foot along to the drums.
Striker was listening as you hummed, and this humming eventually turned into whistling which you were surprisingly good at?
Why you listened to this shit music, he didn't know, but you seemed to be pretty happy.
From there he sat listening as you watched a movie, "Princess And The Frog"— a human movie. It was something was about a waitress and a frog who was a prince— he honestly lost the plot because he could only listen to it.
However, he could hear you sniffling softly at the sad parts— you were such a crybaby sometimes.
Finally, after a another hour of Disney movies you closed the Laptop, and drifted off to sleep. At least that's what he thought you were doing since everything was quiet.
He finally shifted his eyes from around the closet to the ceiling, seeing a crawl space.
"Are you fuckin' serious right now..." he cursed silently at himself, remembering that he also had a crawl space in his room.
He could have escaped this whole time.
He quickly climbed into the tight square in the ceiling, putting the cover back as he went to crawl to his respective room.
After crawling for a moment he heard a noise that mimicked pouring rain coming from a vent, peering down in it he saw...