The Sweet Brother. {Rosinante x Reader}

Dilemma.

"What can I get for you, Rayleigh?" You smile at the silver-haired male sat on the other side of the bar, earning a playful grin in return as he hums lowly to himself before finally deciding. 

"I'd give my left arm for a night alone with you but for now, I'll settle for just a beer." Of course, you know the man is half-joking by now, he definitely finds you attractive and will flirt a little but in reality, he's married and technically, a rival. 

Him and his wife run a bar in town called 'Shakky's bar' 

Whilst you work here for Shanks, a bar named 'Red Force'

Sure, you're a little biased but you'd definitely argue this place is better, mainly because it's in the calmer part of town so there's rarely ever any fights here but also because you know Shanks loves to get people drunk so he doesn't water down the beer to make more profit - unlike Shakky. 

"Comin' up!" You politely chime, grabbing a tankard and filling it with the man's preferred drink before handing it over to him, waiting for him to pay before you serve the next customer. 

A lot of these people are regulars so you know their favourites by now but you still ask what they're having for courtesy sake, or maybe it's just a habit.

Approaching the next customer waiting to be served, a smile plasters itself across your face as you lock eyes with...sunglasses? Who wears sunglasses indoors at night? 

Though the answer becomes all too clear as your eyes adjust on the man; glasses, red lipstick with a teal pattern underneath his right eye, a pink dress-shirt with little dark pink hearts on it, black feathered coat and a red beanie. 

Oh good. I'm going to be shot in the head while at work. 

Swallowing the scream that's very much threatening to escape your lips, you offer the blonde a mildly nervous smile as you straighten yourself up.

If I die, I'm dying with dignity. I will not beg some scumbag to spare my life.

"Whatcha buying?" You confidently ask, watching as the man removes his glasses, taking a seat on one of the barstools while rubbing his left eye. 

He seems as though he doesn't recognize you. 

His gaze lingers on the menu pinned to the wall for a moment as he hums to himself, you can barely hear him over the background music - in fact you don't recall ever hearing him speak while you were yelling at him, with a bit of luck maybe he gets yelled at often and therefore doesn't remember you because he runs into so many bigmouths. 

"Whiskey..." He finally mumbles, his voice sounds surprisingly calm but deep at the same time, it's the kind of voice that demands your attention without having to be too harsh. "And whatever drink you'd like, call it a peace offering after my...rude behaviour today."

Oh, yeah, he definitely remembers me...

Keeping your pride firmly in tact, you take a glass and fill it with whiskey, handing it over to the gentleman before pouring yourself a cola since you're not exactly allowed to drink alcohol whilst working behind a bar. 

He hands you the money with a subtle smile then begins to drink his liquor, seemingly not interested in shooting you...yet. 

I've seen gangster movies, I am not trusting this man!

"Could you do something else for me?" He simply questions, his eyes falling closed as he savours the taste of his whiskey, his whole aura radiating confidence and causing a shiver to travel down your spine.