Striker x Reader - Picking Up Trash and Calling It Treasure

1. Not Boyfriend Material

          "You know he's bad news, right?"

You rolled your eyes as you lifted your drink to your lips, taking a swallow. Across from you sat Millie for your weekly Girls Night Out, her expression a combination of disbelief and concern for your mental state.

"Yes, Mills, I know," you nodded, scanning your eyes across the bar. Unless he'd gotten better at hiding (unlikely), this was the first Girls Night where Blitzø hadn't trailed the two of you. For the first few weeks, you or Millie would spot him hiding rather poorly in a corner booth or behind a bigger demon, struggling to eavesdrop on your conversations in case either of you were talking shit about him. After the last time, when he'd hidden in the shadows of the women's restroom, you'd given him a very private, very personal threat of what would happen should he follow the two of you again.

You were pleased to see that he could follow directions.

"He's an assassin for hire, (y/n)!"

A laugh bubbled in your throat. "The fuck does that make us, Millie?

"We kill humans," she argued, as though that was somehow holier than Striker's chosen profession. "He kills demons. He could kill you."

"And I could kill him," you countered, finishing your drink. "Hell, he'd probably like it."

She groaned loudly, falling forward until her head hit the table with a thump. You took your empty glass as well as hers and sauntered up to the bar, sliding the glasses across the surface and flagging down the bartender for another round. After a nod of confirmation, you made your way back to your seat, giggling at the irritation on your best friend's face.

"It's not like I'm gonna do anything," you offered, knowing that she wouldn't believe you. "He's just nice to look at, is all. I know he's not boyfriend material."

"Who's not boyfriend material?" came a low, gravelly voice twinged with a southern accent.

Your brow lifted as you turned your head to see the subject of your conversation standing beside your table, looking far more attractive than he had any legal right to. From the corner of your eye, you could see Millie glaring daggers into your non-existent soul, so you offered the demon-killing cowboy a flirtatious grin.

"Blitzø," you lied easily. "He's a little too chaotic for my taste, but he's kinda cute."

"Too chaotic, huh?" Striker chuckled, and you may or may not have crossed your legs to quell the tingling sensation between them. "I could see that. Your boss man is a little high-strung. I bet a lady like you could use a night under the stars, unwind from all that time in the living world."

"Sounds like a good time," you purred, gnawing at your lower lip as you looked up at him. Millie slumped in her seat, groaning loudly in disapproval, though you both ignored her.

"It's a date, then," Striker grinned. "I'll pick you up tomorrow night."

"You're on," you replied as he walked away. Once he was out of view, you turned to face Millie, who had her arms crossed over her chest.

"Not boyfriend material, remember?" she growled.

"Going on one date doesn't make him my boyfriend," you giggled. A whistle to your right informed you that your drinks were waiting at the bar, so you rose from your seat to retrieve them. Returning to the table, you slid Millie's towards her, laughing as she took hold of the glass and downed half of its contents in one drink.