Description: You haven't been working at Lennox Club for long, but somehow you've ended up with the job of kitchen runner. You're fetching Blue's dirty dishes at the end of the night when you make a mistake. (1.1K~ words)
*Fem-presenting Reader
Warnings: "prickly" Blue Jones, Swearing, pet names (ex. "doll"), innuendo.
**Originally published on AO3; posting here for FeBLUEary.
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"I'm so sorry, Blue! I'll clean it up right away!" You feel your face flush as you crouch over the shattered remains of his empty dinner plate you just dropped on the floor. You glance up at him and notice the frown forming, along with his tightly-closed eyes. You rush to pick up the pieces with your bare hands, stacking smaller bits onto the largest piece as quietly as you can.
The scrape of his chair on the floor makes your heart pound even faster, and you fold in on yourself even further, instinctively making yourself as small as possible. You can feel how close he is to you even before you see the points of his shiny shoes stop next to the mess.
"Get up," he barks.
You stand up immediately, not even stopping to put down the small pieces of glass you had collected in your hand. Despite the adrenaline running through your body, you do your best to stand still, eyes trained down on the floor.
Blue clicks his tongue at you, clearly displeased. He uses one foot to shift a small trashcan over between the two of you.
You flinch as his fingers grip your wrist, but you don't fight his hold. Blue brings your hand over the trashcan and carefully rotates it, letting the pile of broken glass fall into the bin. You keep your eyes on the floor, praying that whatever punishment he gives will be swift. You flinch again at the feel of his well-manicured nails trailing down your palm lightly, carefully removing any smaller shards of glass still stuck to your sweaty palm. Something warm ghosts over your fingertips; you steal a startled glance up. Blue's face is so close to your hand that you can feel his breath on your skin. His dark eyes scan your palm, then he traces his fingers along the same path. A shiver zips down your spine from the feeling; the tremor flows down to your arm where he grips it.
Blue looks up at you without moving his face away. His eyes meet yours, and he kisses your palm gently, smirking at your answering shiver.
"The next time you clean up broken glass, I want you to wear gloves," he murmurs over your fingers.
You wince at his words. Of course you should have worn gloves. You could have cut yourself and bled all over his office.
"Yes, Blue; I'm sorry," you answer quickly.
He smirks a little wider. Blue rubs his thumb in slow, hypnotizing circles over your hand. "I know you are, sweetheart. That's been your catchphrase since you got here. I've tried to give you some time and space to adjust, come out of your shell a little bit, but that's not happening, is it?"
The purr of his low voice almost lulls you enough to relax, but you know better. His accusation freezes you in place. You quickly look down and swallow hard, then tightly nod your agreement.
Blue tuts at you. "What is happening in that pretty head of yours to make you so timid?"
"I'm sor-"
Your apology turns into a squeak of surprise as he yanks your body towards him and wraps a strong arm behind your back. "Stop that. I don't want to hear another apology from you for the rest of the night. Is that clear?"
You nod quickly, body tense against his.
"Good girl. Now, I'm going to sit at my desk, and you're going to sit on my lap while we chat."
Tears start in your eyes, but you swallow past the tightness in your throat. "Yes, Blue."
He gives you a slight squeeze before stepping back and leading you to his chair. Once he's sitting down, he pulls your hand until you're standing sideways, then guides you down to his lap by your hips. His hands move over your body to mold you against him, urging your head down to rest your cheek on his shoulder.
"That's it, sweetheart. Just like that." Blue slides one arm to support the middle of your back, fingers wrapping over your elbow in a loose grip. His other hand cups your hip, keeping you close with just the weight of it resting on you.
"Take a deep breath, and when you let it out, relax against me," his orders rumble through your chest where it's pressed close to his.
You take a shaky breath in and let it out, releasing some of your tension with it.
"Good. Again," Blue commands softly.
Your next inhale is smoother, and you relax against him enough to feel each rise and fall of his chest move you.
Blue lets out a deep sigh. "Good, sweetheart. That's perfect, just like that. I don't want you to move, alright?"
You almost nod but stop yourself. "Ok," you whisper instead.
You feel his low hum more than hear it. "Thank you, doll. I like it much better when you're calm like this. It lets me calm down, too."
You consider his words for a moment, turning over his gratitude in your mind, looking for a catch and not finding one. "You're welcome," you finally murmur.
He shifts underneath you.
"I'm not…too heavy, am I?" you ask tentatively.
Blue scoffs quietly. "No, you're not too heavy, and even if you were, do you think I'm the kind of guy to sit here in pain without saying anything?"
You tense against him and have to consciously relax again. "No, you're not," you agree.
"See, you already know me so well, don't you?" He squeezes your hip a little. "It's not you, just this old chair. This would be more comfortable in a bed, but I don't want to move right now."
You suck in a sharp breath. "Are you going to ask me that later? Ask me into bed with you?" You can't keep the anxiety out of your voice.
"No, honey. Not that I don't want to, but if I ask you now, you might say yes just to appease me. You'd probably shake the whole time, like a scared little bunny," he explains quietly. "I keep people in line all day; I don't want any drama at this time of the night."
"So…I'm not in trouble?" you venture the question.
"Oh, you're in trouble," he draws out in a sing-song voice, "but you're already being punished. So be a good girl and take it. We'll clean up the mess later." Blue punctuates his words with a heavy sigh and shifts down further on his chair.
You breathe a sigh of relief. "Yes, sir."
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Tag List: @have-you-seen-my-sanity @ierofrnkk @mylittledelulucorner @ruegoreos @beloved-by-the-moon @moonknightly @iolaussharpe-24 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction
Choose a Blorbo, do you think they'd rather do the laundry, the washing up, or hoovering? ★Askathon★
I love this question! I saved this on purpose to answer for FeBLUEary. 💙
Club!Blue (with or without a romantic partner) does not do ANYTHING for himself, but God & The Devil help you if you mess it up! Most of his clothes are dry clean only, which gets picked up and dropped off at his office, because he doesn't like anyone unsupervised in his personal space.
Blue eats most meals at the club, so there aren't any dishes to cleanup. If he does cook for himself, he does all the dishes from cooking before he sits down to eat. He hires one dedicated cleaning person from outside of the club to come in every week; they handle floors, bathrooms, and any other general cleaning. They have an exact amount of time on the same day every week to do this, and he hangs around the whole time, doing something comforting like organizing his outfits for the week. He pays this person really well, because it took him a long time to get someone he could trust and who took his instructions seriously (main one being "don't touch anything").
Orderly!Blue does not have the resources for dry cleaning or cleaning services. He does everything himself, and he has a chore chart. If you move in with him, he might let you take over general cleaning and dishes. He's really particular about his clothes, especially his uniforms.
How do you think, what funny or silly hobby Blue has or could have? Maybe something he's extremely embarrassed about and hides from everyone?
ooooooh I love this! On the one hand, the stage could be his silly hobby, but he's pretty open about that.
I could see him collecting things, for sure, maybe something he's been working on since he was a kid, like stamps?
I could also see him being secretly a good cook! It might start as something he has to do out of necessity, then he teaches himself to get better (because he deserves nice things), until he's really, really good at it. The catch is that he has to do everything the "right" way, so no microwave or shortcuts at all, which means it takes a ton of dishes and time to cook what he wants. He might do it once a week, like a fancy Sunday evening thing for himself. 💙
The confusion! The eyeliner! The dawning realization of...something. It reminds me of "this better not awaken something" and then it does.
Although my favorite part acting-wise is right after Rocket is hurt, when Blue turns back from threatening the cook to look at Sweet Pea. There's this cross between a head-shake and an involuntary face tic that Oscar does when he sees her, like the mask of control is slipping and he's sooooo mad, and we're alllll screwed. So if anyone ever finds a gif of that, definitely let me know 🩵💙🖤
I didn't get to finish this in time for FeBLUEary as intended, so I'm releasing this snip of kidnapping Blue Jones until I get the rest of it finished!
Concept: Suburbia would be Hell for Blue Jones.
Warnings: swearing, drugging, kidnapping
"What did you do, drug him?" you grumble as you half-drag, half-lift the unconscious man to your couch.
From her position lifting on the other side, Vera smirks. "Only a little bit."
You drop him with a grunt and stand up, rubbing at your face. "I swear, if you weren't my cousin…"
"And paying your rent for six months," she reminds you with a grin.
You sigh, letting your arms fall to your sides. "Yeah, that, too." You flop back into the armchair. "What am I supposed to do with him, again?"
Vera gives you a suggestive grin. "Whatever you want to do, my dear."
The cold look you shoot her could freeze a flower in summer, but she just laughs.
"The club owners are worried about the direction Lennox House is going under his leadership. I need him out of my way for a week while I clean house," she explains.
"And the owners aren't going to care that you kidnapped their manager and sent him to suburbia?" you ask suspiciously.
Vera glances away. "Technically they said 'take care of him' in that way that means something else, but I chose to take it literally." She meets your gaze with a serious look. "You won't be in any danger, but he might, if he tries to come back. I'll leave a letter for him, explaining everything. Just don't give him money for a ticket back."
"Not a problem; I don't have that kind of cash lying around."
Vera watches you carefully. "You have my number if anything happens?"
"What would happen?" You ask suspiciously. "Do I need to be worried about him trying something?"
Vera shakes her head. "I don't think so."
You sigh. "What's his name?"
"Blue Jones."
You shoot Vera a surprised look. "You're kidding. He runs a club, and his first name is 'Blue,' like 'the blues?'"
Vera chuckles, eyes sparkling with amusement. "He's a good dancer and singer, too. Fate can be strange, can't it?"
Choose a Blorbo, what do you think their favourite colour is?
★Askathon★
I think Blue likes classic power colors like black, but his favorite is red. When he was a kid, he liked bright red, but that shifted to a darker color now. He has positive associations with it (the stage, wine, lipstick), and he thinks it looks sophisticated. It's not a coincidence that Madame Gorski - the closest thing he has to an equal in his life - has red hair.
