Shadows and Sinners | A Striker x Reader Story

Wheel of Fortune

I sat on the edge of the bed once more, watching the imp as he poured us each a tumbler of whiskey. Accepting the glass, I continued to watch him. He moved a bit stiffly as he took a seat next to me. He looked into the bottom of his glass as if he was looking for the answer to life itself, then said in that low voice, "The name's Striker."

"(Y/N)," I replied, taking a sip of the biting liquid. It was cheap whiskey, but it did the trick.

"What the hell is someone like you doing in a shit show like this?" He asked, downing his glass in one go. 

I smirked, "It's a long story, but the short version is I was kicked out of my home and needed a roof over my head until I can land on my feet."

There was a long moment of silence before he replied, "This whole damn hotel is a magnet for the failures and the downtrod."

Silence consumed the small room once again as we both stared at the wall that separated my room from his. Striker broke it once more with a short laugh, "Funny how sad settings attract sad creatures, isn't it?"

"It's the Wheel of Fortune," I replied, "It turns and turns...and there is nothing we can do about it."

Striker turned to look at me, contemplating my words, "I suppose you're right."

Setting my now empty glass off to the side, I got to my feet and began to head for the door. As I passed Striker, I leaned down and gently kissed his cheek. 

"Sleep well," I said, opening the door, "And try not to get stabbed again."