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A/N: Hello my lovelies! 🌸 I wrote this little one shot a while ago, I think I was watching Legend and it just came to me. I don’t know what or why but it’s here soo enjoy my lovelies 🥰 I wrote it in like 10 minutes and I’ve not a clue where the idea came from just pure indulgence. Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳
Summary: You always want what you can’t have.
Pairing: Reggie Kray x fem!reader
Warnings: Swearing, suggestion of sex.
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As soon as Reggie lays eyes on you he knows he has to have you. As his mother always says, nothing that comes easy in life is worth having and he’d be fucked if that weren’t a phrase invented just for you.
The bright lights of Esmerelda’s Barn shine through your mass of curls and illuminate your beauty as you enter the glamorous club for the first time.
After a sharp word from Reg in the bartender’s ear the rest of your drinks are taken care of.
“Courtesy of the Kray’s” he’d say, placing another martini on your napkin.
Every time you turn to see Reggie’s eyes raking over you and every time you offer him no more than a polite smile and a nod your head of your head in thanks. You leave a few hours later, not a second glance thrown his way as he watches you slip through the doors.
‘Alright then. Maybe she’s modest.’
When he shows up at your house the next day with a bunch of flowers in one hand and a bag of sweets in the other, your older brother answers the door.
“Think it’s best you leave mate.”
“Oh, Y/N not home?”
“Nah, she’s home. She just don’t want to see ya.” the ginger boy replies, chewing loudly on the toothpick lodged between his teeth.
If it weren’t for his keen interest in you, Reggie would have sent that toothpick straight through the roof of his mouth. Something he suspects you know as his gaze lands on your figure in the upstairs window - an amused smirk tugging at your lips.
It’s after that attempt that he realises you’re not quite like anyone he’s met before. He’s never met a woman ballsy enough to turn him down, let alone tease him about it.
The next day he decides it’s time to up his game. As soon as you leave your house he's there waiting to offer you a ride. But you politely decline, an ear-splitting grin spreading across your face when he slows the car to a snails pace and rolls along beside you. This has been the case every day for three weeks now. Not once do you accept his offer, and not once does he let it phase him.
Now though, as Reggie feasts his eyes on your body dancing loosely with a man from the crowd, your hungry orbs locked in on his own, a low growl rumbles through his chest.
He is done playing games.
Your companion spots him before you do, scarpering away without sparing you a second thought and it isn’t until you feel a large hand wrap around your wrist and drag you away that you realise he’s moved at all.
Before you know it, Reggie has you pinned against the wall. A strong arm placed on either side of your head and a knee pressed firmly between your thighs. He grinds himself against you in demonstration of his absolute power.
Your slender arms encase his neck and draw his face inches away from your own, forcing his arms to drop. His hands glide down your waist and onto that oh so delicious arse. Your plump lips curl into a smirk and he can feel the fan of your hot breath across his face.
A/N: Hello my lovelies! 🌸 It's been an awfully long time since I've written or posted anything, but I figured this was a good place to start. This is Part Two and a direct follow on, so make sure to read Part One linked below if you haven't already. It’s an AU world in which Ronnie never went to prison and has instead been married to you for 5 years. I’ve decided to centre this fic around Frances and the impact the Kray’s had on her. I’ve kept some parts of the original plot from the movies, but following a different timeline, as I feel like they’re key to Frances’ story. As always, Happy Reading People! 🥳🥳 I appreciate every like, comment, reblog and follow so thank you so much for the love shown already on this blog 🥰🥰
Summary: Everyone has something to say about the Kray’s, but only you know the full story...
Pairing: Ronnie Kray x fem!reader
Warnings: swearing, violence, blood
PART ONE
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You’ve had about enough of it all you think to yourself as you waddle down the road in the direction of Alby’s car. Tapping on the glass you wake the man from his nap and motion for the window to be rolled down.
“Afternoon Alby” you nod “I need you to take me to the prison.”
“Are you joking?”
“Did you hear a punchline?”
“I’m not sure going to the prison is the best idea in your condition sweetheart.”
“Funny that, I don’t remember asking for your opinion on the matter.”
“It’s just that Ron wouldn’t like it and I don’t fancy getting slung up by him.”
“Alby, how long have we known each other?”
“Got to be going on 10 years now.”
“In all those years of knowing me, with Ron and without, have I ever struck you as the kind of woman who doesn’t do something because her husband wouldn’t like it?”
“Can’t say you have, no love.”
“The prison it is then.”
As much as you hate to admit it, he has got a point. Walking head first into a high security men’s prison probably isn’t advisable at nearly 8 months pregnant. But, hey ho. If you lived your life by what was advisable you’d never have gotten married in the first place.
It doesn’t take long to reach, the nerves creeping up your throat like bile with every click-clack of your heels against the tarmac. Your stomach is in knots and the baby mercilessly kicks away, stopping only for as long as your hands cradle her. Despite every fibre of your being screaming ‘no’ you push on and enter. Rushing through all of the security checks, you take a seat on the uncomfortable bench and wait.
Reggie recognises you instantly, the smile tugging at his lips impossible to hide.
“Hello Treacle.”
“Hello Reg.”
Any hint of a smile is wiped clean from your face the moment you catch sight of his. Purple bruises and just-healed gashes litter his cheeks and forehead. You can’t bear to think what the rest of him must look like.
“Jesus Christ, are you alright?”
He lets you hold his chin and survey the damage for a few seconds before swatting your hand away, painfully aware of all the eyes on you.
“I’m fine. A welcome party, that’s all. I give as good as I get you know that.” He smirks his usual smirk but you’re not so easily fooled. This one doesn't quite reach his eyes and it breaks your heart to see him so dejected.
“How are you really?”
He leans forward on his elbows and sighs, the facade visibly slipping away, if only for a split second.
“I’m alright. A bit battered and bruised, a bit lonely but I’m holding my own. Can’t fucking wait to be out of here though.”
“Oh Reg, you’ll get through. You’ll be out of here before you know it.”
You both know that isn’t the case, but the weak smile you get in return tells you he appreciates the effort nonetheless.
“It’s true what they say you know, you really do have a glow. Never quite understood it myself... not until now anyway. A bit like the glow of a halo I'd say."
“This ain’t no angel inside of me I can tell you that. Been kicking non stop from the moment I stepped out of the car.”
“Must know what kind of place you’re in. Baby’s sense things that ain’t right. How long now?”
“About 6 weeks, give or take.”
“That’s great news that is. Great news! You must be well excited.”
“I am yeah. Can't wait.”
“Oh yeah I can see that. Can hardly contain yourself with all that excitement ay? What’s wrong?”
“There’s nothing wrong, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
“No, no. You made me pour my heart out, now it’s your turn.”
“Leave it out Reg. You’ve got enough on your plate without adding me on top."
“And you didn’t come here just to get a look at my pretty face now did you? So tell me what’s bothering you. Come on, spill it.”
“Things are falling apart at home. Dramatically. Ron has completely lost it. I had Lesley Payne on my doorstep a few days ago warning me he was dangerous. As if I didn’t know that already. He had the nerve to tell me to ‘put him on a tight leash and sharpish’… I could’ve punched him in the throat right there and then. I’ve not told Ronnie, only for the sake of not having to visit him in this place every other weekend. I’m almost certain he’s stopped taking his medication, not that there’s anything I can do about that either. I’m exhausted Reg. Too exhausted to be excited if I’m honest.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry Y/N. You shouldn’t be dealing with this. Payne will be getting a visit from me as soon as I get out and I’m sure Ron’ll be alright, he usually is. Once the baby’s here he’ll settle down you’ll see.”
“Will he though? Can you really promise me that? At this point I don’t know how he’ll react to the baby, I don’t know how he’ll react to anything. He spends every night at that fucking club or with Teddy doing god knows what. I barely see him as it is. I can’t see any of that getting better with a screaming newborn in the mix.” Letting out a long sigh, your head drops into your palms. “I knew what I was signing up for when I married him, I knew everything. Every little part of him. But now I’m nearly 8 months pregnant and for the first time in our marriage I’m scared. I’m really scared Reg and I don’t know what to do.”
“You’ll get through it love. We’re made of stronger stuff, you and I. Try to relax yeah? You’re having a baby, it’s meant to be all tiny clothes and prissy prams. Not running around worrying after all and sundry.”
“Yeah you’re right, s’pose the prams are pretty prissy. Speaking of all and sundry though, there was another reason I wanted to see you.”
“Oh yeah? Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“It’s Frances. She’s really not doing well. She’s walking around like a living breathing ghost.”
His face drops. “I know.”
“You know?”
“Yes I know. She came to see me last week.”
“Thought you told her not to do that?”
“Yeah well nobody likes to listen to me, do they?”
“You’ve seen it for yourself then. She’s not handling any of this very well.”
“Yeah that's an understatement. She's asked me to go straight.”
“Go straight?!”
“Have you turned into a fucking parrot or something? Yes, go straight. Give up the crime and stick to the clubs, you know that sort of thing.”
“And what did you say?”
“No obviously. I told her it’s not as easy as that. She lives in a fucking fairy tale, thinks everything can be left behind without any consequences. But life doesn't work like that. I have responsibilities, I have commitments. I can’t drop it all just because she wants me home with her every night.”
“It’s not exactly an unreasonable request though is it?”
“I don't know, you tell me Y/N. Could you ever ask Ronnie to go straight?”
“Well... no. No, I couldn’t.”
“Exactly. She can’t seriously expect me to do that. I love her, I love her to death. I can’t imagine a life without her next to me. But I can’t imagine a life without crime either.”
“Oh Reg. I’m sorry. I don’t really know what to suggest. I do know that love like that doesn’t come around twice in a world like ours, so you either do what you have to to keep it, or you find a way to live without it. That choice is yours Reg, nobody can tell you how to make it. Not me and certainly not Frances. Anyways I’d better be off, don’t want him knowing I was here. He’s just about okay with me leaving the house nowadays.”
“He loves you to death too you know. He’s got a funny way of showing it but he means well.”
“A very funny way of showing it.”
You say your goodbyes, squeezing in a quick hug despite being told not to and you walk out of the prison feeling much better than you did walking in. Things will work themselves out. They always do. Soon you’ll be welcoming your beautiful baby into the world and everything will be fine.
You’re so caught up in your daydream that you fail to notice Ronnie standing by the car. Looking up as you near it, you’re shocked to see him there, impatiently tapping his foot as steam pours steadily from his ears. The vein running down the middle of his forehead is clear to you even metres away and you know he's far past furious at this point. Any woman would turn and run a mile at the sight. But you’re not any woman and you’re certainly not afraid of Ronnie Kray.
“Please don’t start. I’m tired.”
“Tired? Fucking tired are you?! Probably something to do with your little prison trip love.”
“I said don’t Ron.”
A growl rumbles through his chest as he slams the door shut behind you and gets into the passenger seat. A stony silence sets in and it’s not until you get home and shut the front door that he speaks again.
“What the fuck were you thinking? Have you lost your fucking mind?! I told you-I told you to stay in the fucking house, and you take that to mean go and see Reggie in fucking prison?! Have you gone mental? Do I need to call a fucking doctor!”
You should have been terrified really. Bigger and badder than you had stood in the same spot and just about shat themselves. But this isn't your first time at the rodeo.
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that! I’m not one of these little wannabe's stuck up your arse that you can shout at and order around because you’re the big fucking Ronnie Kray. You don’t get to tell me what I do or where I go. I am my own person Ronnie!"
“You are my wife! You are carrying my child!”
“Exactly I’m your wife, not your property! I’m not on your payroll and I certainly don’t fucking answer to you. In the 5 years we’ve been married have you ever been able to tell me what I do? Where I go? Who I see or even what I wear? Have you for one minute had any ownership over me at all?! I think fucking not.”
“I don’t care right. Listen to-listen to me! I. Don’t. Fucking. Care!"
“Well you’d better start caring and you’d better start thinking about who the fuck I am to you while you’re at it. Because I am your wife and I am carrying your child and I don’t need you of all people making life harder for me! You’re meant to protect me... t-take care of me... not fu-fucking shout an-and scream…”
And it's at that moment that Ron realises he's properly fucked up. He can do angry and shouting and arguing no problem.
Crying though? That’s a little more tricky.
“Alright now, it’s alright. I’m sorry for shouting at you, I shouldn’t have shouted. Should never have shouted. Come here.” He gathers you into his arms and strokes your hair in an attempt to calm you. “I didn’t mean to make you cry love.”
“I’m just really tired Ron. Really fucking tired.”
“I know Princess. Not long now, she’ll be here soon. I’m sorry I’ve made things harder for you. I really am. I did not mean to. I’m just very fragile right now. Very, very fragile...”
You lift your head to look up into his eyes. They’re clouded in pain, not unlike Reggie’s. Your fingers lightly stroke his cheek and he instantly leans into your touch. This is the first good look at him you’ve gotten in days and it isn’t a pretty sight. Dark round bags hang under his lashes and red splotches pepper his face. Whether it’s from the whiskey or the shouting you’re not sure.
“Oh Ron. You know I’m always here for you. For better, for worse. In sickness and in health.”
You take his hand in yours, twisting the black and gold band tucked around his fourth finger. You slide it up to his fingertip before pushing it back down into place.
“To love and to cherish...”
“Til death do us part.”
You stand there, both sets of eyes closed, clammy foreheads stuck together, basking in the peace each other holds.
“How about we go to bed, hm? You look tired.”
He nods his head against yours in agreement, so you take his hand and lead him up to the bedroom. You unclip his brace buckles and let them drop to the floor before moving on to his shirt, swiftly undoing each button. You’re surprised to find he’s not wearing his usual white vest underneath.
Without thinking your fingers glide over his bare chest. Moving along every line and crevice, rediscovering a forgotten path. Trailing soft kisses along his collarbone, you continue up his jaw until finally stopping at his lips. Unable to resist any longer he closes the distance and you melt into him.
It’s a sweet kiss. A slow kiss. A kiss that never fails to make your heart skip a beat.
Breaking away, he rests his forehead against yours once again.
“Forever and always...”
“I’ll be yours.”
The rest of the night is spent holding him as close to your chest as you can manage. Your legs a tangled mess beneath the covers, your hands busy stroking his hair. Every now and then you pause to leave a kiss on his forehead and every time you do his arms tighten that bit more around you.
It’s been a while since you were so intimate with each other and he’d forgotten just how comforting you are. He’d forgotten just how quickly your love can soothe his pain.
He lays cradled in your arms, focusing on the feel of your body beneath him. He focuses on the delicate caress of your touch, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, the sweetness of your breath fanning his face.
And in this moment, everything is right in his world.
The next morning you’re woken from your peaceful slumber by the smell of... eggs and bacon?
No...
Burning eggs and bacon.
As you reach the kitchen door you can’t quite believe your eyes. Ronnie flails in front of the cooker desperately trying to turn off the ring as he clumsily stirs scrambled eggs in a pan. Beside it thick black smoke rises from what you assume was once the bacon.
Wearing only your cooking apron and a pair of boxers he looks an absolute sight and you can’t help but giggle, alerting him to your presence in the doorway. He snaps around like a deer caught in headlights, spatula in one hand and a pan of annihilated eggs in the other. The pink and white frilly apron is covered in raw eggs and oil as it struggles to stretch around him.
Tears stream down your face and you can barely catch your breath before casting another look at him and erupting all over again.
Four snorts and several minutes of this later you manage to calm yourself enough to speak.
“Wha-what happened?”
“I was trying to make you breakfast in bed. You know be a little romantic. It doesn’t seem to have gone very well though... not very well at all... I’d suggest you don’t let me do this again love.”
“A-and the apron?”
“Well I had to be properly equipped, didn’t I?”
“Of course you did baby. How about we go to the cafe instead, hmm? I'm not sure anything should be cooked in this kitchen right now.” Snickering, you take the two smoking pans and dunk them in a sink of water.
“Yeah, probably best love.”
Your worries about Ronnie wash away after that, every loving kiss and late night cuddle all the reassurance you need.
Sadly, your worries over Frances do not follow suit.
Firstly, I hope you’ve all had a good festive period.
Secondly... and I’m gonna need a minute here... we have reached 100 followers!
100 of you oh so lovely people have enjoyed my blog enough to hit follow and I would just like to say a massive THANK YOU! 🥰
Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for hanging on in there because regular posting is not my strong point 😂😅
Just a general thank you for being so wonderful!
In true Tumblr style there will be a celebration, although what exactly it will be is still undecided. I am open to suggestions so just drop me a message.
Exactly one year ago today I started this blog without any expectations of striking anyone’s interest. I had one story written out and no intentions of continuing it on.
You have all inspired me to create stories and worlds I couldn’t have imagined and for that I am most thankful.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
A/N: Hellooo my lovelies! 🌸 Long time no speak I know. I’ve had a rough few months and stepped back from writing for a while. Buuut I’m back. I started writing this months ago and it somehow turned into 5k long and no where near the end so I’ve decided to split it into two parts. It’s an AU world in which Ronnie never went to prison and has instead been married to you for 5 years. I’ve been watching both Legend and The Krays (kemp brothers version) and the depiction/story of Frances really struck me, so I’ve decided to centre this fic around her and the impact the Kray’s had on her. I’ve kept some parts of the original plot from the movies, although following a different timeline, as I feel they’re key to Frances’ story but I’ve put a little twist on them. Happy Reading People’s! 🥳🥳 As always I appreciate every like, comment, reblog and follow so thank you so much for the love shown already on this blog 🥰🥰 feedback is always welcome 😌
Summary: Everyone has something to say about the Kray’s, but only you know the full story...
Pairing: Ronnie Kray x fem!reader
Warnings: swearing, violence, blood
PART TWO
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“Serving as keeper of the Kray’s was an impossible feat. An impossible feat that always came as second nature to me. It wasn’t until Frances came along that I realised just how hard it really was.
She was a kind soul. As delicate as a dandelion swaying in the wind. A kind soul, but a troubled one nonetheless.
So often would the darkness take her. Wrapping her up in conflicted thoughts and shattered dreams. Reg didn’t make it any easier, dressing her up like a doll and parading her around for all the world to see. As soon as he slid that ring on her finger, she stopped being Frances Shea and became Reggie Kray’s wife...”
“Is that so?”
“Course it’s so. Sure as the day is long, that girl couldn’t handle being part of the Kray’s. It weren’t her fault mind, you had to be bloody barmy to put up with those two.”
“Are you calling yourself barmy, Mrs Kray?”
“Course I am. We’re all barmy really, till some man in a white coat says different. My dear Ronnie, God rest his soul, never suffered a dull moment that’s for sure. Another part of the Kray life Frances couldn’t handle. If you married Reg, you married Ron right along with him. Drove her mad it did, not that Reggie ever noticed. That’s what did it in the end, I think. Reggie never noticed...”
[Many years before]
“That’s it dear sit down, sit down. Ron get her that little stool- that’s the one. There you go, now you put your feet up and we’ll sort out the tea.”
You do as you’re told and rest your aching feet on the footstool provided, sinking back into the cushiony chair as everyone fusses over you. You’re now into your 20th week of pregnancy and every opportunity to put your feet up and relax is shamelessly exploited. It hasn’t exactly been plain sailing so far, but the time spent at home surrounded by the ones you love make up for it all.
Ron stands behind the chair, on guard for anyone that dare to touch you. Given the complications with the pregnancy Ronnie’s protectiveness had reached it’s peak or rather what you hoped was it’s peak. Despite your wilful protests it was now akin to signing a death warrant for anyone to get within a foot of you.
“Ronnie sit down! You’re putting me on edge!” you hiss.
Reluctantly he perches himself on the edge of the sofa, sticking his bottom lip out like a sulking child.
Rolling your eyes you turn your attention to Violet carrying in the tea and for the first time you notice the petite young woman standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Her hair is pruned to perfection and her clothes are as dainty as a dress up doll. With her big brown eyes and high cheek bones she is undeniably beautiful... but she is definitely new.
“Who’s this then?” You ask no one in particular. You’re quite surprised the two of you hadn’t been introduced yet.
“Oh, I’m Frances-”
“She’s with me.” Reggie cuts in and snakes an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his side. She smiles sheepishly in response and tucks a non existent strand of hair behind her ear. You don’t miss the look of disapproval from Violet.
“Well then... nice to meet you.” You offer her a polite smile and decide to stop asking questions.
After an hour or so you’re feeling much more tired than you would’ve liked. One look at your face tells Ron the same thing and he is soon helping you into your coat and saying his goodbyes. It’s a short ride back to the flat but you can barely keep your eyes open, settling for resting your head on the cool windowpane as Ronnie’s hand finds your thigh.
The next thing you know he’s waking you up and helping you out. Once inside you waste no time and head straight to bed, clambering in as Ronnie makes you both tea. By the time he brings it up you’re snoring softly into the pillows. So, with a shrug of his shoulders, he strips down to his boxers and climbs in next to you. His arm settles around your ever-growing bump as your sleeping form curls into his side. Stroking it absentmindedly, a smile spreads across his lips. Images of your daughter-to-be dance through his mind, whirling and dipping perfectly in sync.
Would she have your hair? Wild curls the colour of burnt oranges and fallen leaves of autumn. Or would she have his? Smooth and silky... but boring old chocolate brown. Would hazel eyes come through? Or would she defy all odds with irises the colour of the deep blue sea? The excitement is intoxicating and the possibilities endless as they go bouncing about his head.
You were carrying a girl, he was sure of it. Everyone else says as much and he’d be lying if he said that isn’t exactly what he’s hoping for.
The comfort of your embrace wraps itself around him like a warm fluffy blanket and he is quickly lulled off to sleep.
You spend most of the next few weeks like that. You in bed, Ron joining you in between meetings and nights at the club. Soon enough though there are more good days than bad and you often find yourself strong enough to relax at Violet’s while the boys go about their business.
Today Ronnie had vowed to stay firmly by your side, supposedly irked by the ‘funny look in your eye and pale skin’ as he so elegantly put it. You sit nestled between him and Violet at the kitchen table while Frances busies herself with making the tea.
“This is so kind of you” Violet gushes. “A real treat, isn’t it?”
“Mm lovely yeah.”
You notice the complexion of the hot liquid as soon as she starts pouring it and wince for what’s surely coming next.
“Oh. No, no, Frances no, that won’t do. That won’t do at all. You go and sit with Mr Kray and I’ll sort it out.” Violet’s tone is dripping in disappointment and her face says it all...
Frances would never be good enough for her little Reggie.
She rushes off into the front room and hides herself away on the chair, oblivious to Mr Kray’s presence. Your heart went out to her; it’s not easy making your way into the Kray family.
“She can’t even make a decent cup of tea!”
“Yeah, poor Reggie, ay? It was a good effort.” Ronnie snipes, quite obviously loud enough for Frances to hear.
“Ron!” Your palm connects with his bicep and his lips part in protest but the murderous glare overtaking your features stops him dead in his tracks. “Don’t be so rude!”
“Go easy on him Y/N, he’s only stating the obvious...”
“She looks like a budgie in that dress, don’t she?” Ronnie chooses to ignore the daggers you’re shooting at him, clearly egged on by his mother’s reassurance.
“The rag-and-bone man wouldn’t pick her up if she was laying in the gutter!” Violet chuckles.
“No... oh well, Poor Reggie. I shall, um, I shall flush that.”
The mockery proves too much and Frances leaves without saying another word, the slam of the front door casting a stunned silence over the room. Staring at the now empty seat, you can’t say you blame her. Ron’s tongue was razor sharp to the untrained ear and could slice open the toughest of souls in no time at all. Violet’s could be far worse, the apple having fallen none too far from that particular tree.
Rumour has it she ran all the way home that day, rushing down the roads and stopping for no one on her way. You can’t say how true that rumour is, but more often than not the feet take on what the heart finds too much to bear.
The weeks roll by and before you know it you’ve passed 7 months. With only a couple of months left until the baby arrives, it should be a joyous time for you all. But disaster had struck, as it so often did in the chaotic gangland of the East End. Reggie’d been collared for an old warrant, the judge denied his appeal and he was to spend the last 6 months of it behind bars. He was ordered to surrender the next morning.
What should’ve been happy days quickly became solemn and with Reggie gone it was clear Frances was never going to be accepted into the family.
Spending so much time lounging in the cushiony chair you’ve laid claim to and walking the streets aimlessly for a scrap of relief as the baby makes a boxing ring out of your womb means you pick up on the things that go unmentioned by everyone else.
Frances is not happy. In fact, she’s miserable and in no way enthusiastic for the life she’d unknowingly signed up for. Reggie’s constant absence is taking its toll on the fragile woman and you aren’t sure how much more her shoulders can carry. In the months that have passed since your introduction she’s like a whole new person, in the worst way possible.
One evening you’re nestled beneath a number of blankets, engrossed in the copy of Moby Dick you’ve read a thousand times before when Ronnie comes home. He pours himself a whiskey and settles into the seat beside you bringing your legs to rest on his lap.
“Guess who I bumped into today?” He asks, completely disregarding the item already occupying your attention.
“Who?”
“Good old Frances.”
“Oh! How is she...?”
“I don’t actually know. I shouldn’t think too well though. You see I told her- and before you say anything it’s fucking true -I told her that she’s turned into a ghost, right before our eyes. Now don’t give me that look love because with the right kind of lighting I’d be able to see through her clearer than a butchers window.”
“You did not say that to her?!”
“I absolutely fucking did. Somebody had to tell her and it wasn’t very well going to be you or Reggie now was it.”
“You can’t go around saying things like that to people, they don’t tend to like it very much.”
“Princess, I don’t give a fuck what other people like. Not a single fuck in the world.”
“Don’t you think she’s sad enough already Ron? She doesn’t need you rubbing salt into the wound.”
“What I think about that right, is that Frances is so sad she doesn’t actually know what sad feels like anymore.”
While you’re not a fan of Ronnie’s way of going about things, you find it hard to disagree with him on that one.
That night laying awake in bed it isn’t the baby keeping you from sleep. Images of Frances flash through your mind and as you nibble away at your bottom lip they show no signs of stopping. With an exasperated sigh you roll yourself out of bed, the shift in weight proving more than enough to wake your sleeping husband.
“Are you okay? Is it the baby?” He asks, voice laced with concern.
“I’m fine, the baby’s fine. I just can’t sleep. Help me with this please.”
Moving behind you he takes hold of the dressing gown you’re battling with and untangles it. Within seconds he’s holding it out for you.
Mumbling a quick ‘bastard’ you slide your arms into it and secure the belt around you. Ronnie chuckles, amused by your childlike frustration and draws you into his arms. His large hands settle over yours on your bump and he begins swaying the two of you from side to side.
“What’s up love? What is bothering you?”
“Frances.”
The swaying stops and he spins you around to face him, confusion etched onto his features.
“Frances? Has she done something? Or said something? I won’t be having that. It’s not on. Not on at all. You are a pregnant woman- my pregnant woman -I won’t be having her do anything untoward-”
“Ron stop. Stop- stop it’s okay.” Spluttering through your giggles you attempt to shut him up long enough to explain. “She hasn’t done anything to me. I’m just worried about her.”
“Worried about her? We’re all worried about her. It’s not any of our business.”
“Reggie loves her and that makes it our business. You said yourself she’s turning into a ghost. How can I sit back and watch? Just watch her fade away into the background without doing anything at all?”
“That’s easy love, you don’t watch her.”
“Ron!” You groan. “Be serious.”
“Look Y/N, you’re weeks away from giving birth, Reggie’s inside and I’m losing my fucking mind. You’ve got enough on your plate without worrying about her worries n’all. Focus on you and the baby and let Reggie worry about the sanity of his woman, yeah?”
“Reggie isn’t here to worry about her and I can’t very well ignore it and do nothing Ron. It’s not right!”
“What do you suppose we do about it then love? Invite her to move in? Tell you what she can share the cot with the baby how about that.”
“Oh stop it. I don’t know what, I haven’t gotten that far yet. I do know that I’m going to do something, before it’s too late to do anything at all...”
Your plans to save the day are very quickly derailed when it becomes apparent Frances isn’t the only one lost without Reggie around. Ron is completely distraught without his twin by his side and his grip on reality loosens that bit more with every day that passes. You’re sure he’s stopped taking his medication. Heavily pregnant, you don’t have the energy to run around after him so you manage his moods as best you can when you’re with him and pray to the high heaven’s for anyone unlucky enough to cross his path when you aren’t.
Those prayers weren’t to be answered.
A few days later you’re dozing in bed when three sharp knocks shake you from your sleep. As you slowly make your way to the door the three sharp knocks sound again.
“Alright alright keep your hair on I’m coming!”
Cranky and half asleep, you fail to hide how much of an unpleasant surprise it is to find Lesley Payne on the doorstep.
“Ronnie’s not here.” You quip, hoping to end the conversation before it had even started.
“I know Ronnie’s not here. I’ve come to speak to you.” His voice is a mixture of anger and panic, his suit entirely disheveled. Tufts of hair stick up on his head suggesting he’d spent quite a lot of time pulling at it.
“What could you possibly have to say to me?”
His eyes dart around the surrounding houses and scattered neighbours along the street. “Let me in and I’ll tell you.”
Growing increasingly agitated by his elusive behaviour you grit your teeth and fold your arms over your chest.
“I don’t think so. What do you want? Ronnie would have your head on a stick if he knew you were here. I’m half tempted to tell him.”
“I’m here to tell you your husband has lost the fucking plot love. He wants me to take money out of the casino to fund some fucking pipe dream in Africa. I had him in my office today shouting the odds and throwing his weight around. Not only that he’s scaring away every customer half worth serving at the barn. I came here to warn you. He is dangerous. Put him on a tight leash and sharpish before he does damage that can’t be undone.”
Not giving you the chance to reply Payne mutters a quick goodbye and scurries off down the street. His body is hunched over his briefcase, which is held tight against his chest.
‘He’s obviously scared of something.’
You have no doubt that something is indeed Ronnie...
I don't know if this is meaningful or stress-relieving for anyone, but it feels like the kind of thing that fandom writing communities don't talk about much. And I just want to put it out there:
It's okay if I love your writing and you don't love mine.
We all have different tastes and different writing styles. Mine might not work for you. That doesn't mean my writing is bad or your taste is suspect. It means we're different people with our own preferences and boundaries. You can be welcome here, regardless of how you feel about what I write. And if I gush about your writing, it's because I want to. Don't feel awkward about not returning the sentiment. I don't take that personally. And I never will.
A/N: Hello my lovelies! 🌸🌸 I hope you are all well. I’m not too sure where this came from, but I’m very happy it’s here. My first time writing a proper one shot for Ronnie, it was inspired by the drabble I posted a while ago 😊 obviously an AU world where Ronnie isn’t solely interested in men and in terms of that if any phrases I’ve used in relation to Ronnie cause any offence please let me know and I will be more than happy to find an alternative that works, but I don’t know anything if you guys don’t let me know, so please always feel comfortable enough to just drop me a message 😊😊 the last thing I want to do is upset anyone. So with that said, I give you this one shot, maybe a part two if you want it?? Idk status pending on that one 🧐 Happy Reading People’s! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, comment, reblog and follow so thank you so much for the love shown already on this blog 🥰🥰 feedback is always welcome 😌
Summary: In Ronnie’s harsh world there’s no time for love and feelings and all that nonsense. No, Ronald Kray was a heartless man, interested only in chasing the infinite highs of life. That is, until he meets you...
Pairing: Ronnie Kray x fem!reader
Warnings: swearing (it is a kray one shot after all)
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Ronnie Kray’s world was a unique one, to say the least. Draped in sex, drugs and all things gangster, it was hardly what one would call normal.
But the world worked for Ron, and Ron worked for his world.
The moment he saw you, that world tilted on it’s axis. The movement was so slight it could’ve gone unnoticed. The insatiable desire to claim you as his own, however, was not so easily ignored.
It was a drizzly Friday night and the club was at it’s peak. Packed from wall to wall with happy go lucky couples, the live entertainment was going down a storm.
Ron was enjoying a whiskey, puffing away on his signature cigar when he noticed a sodden young woman enter the club. Drenched ringlets clung to your face and your chubby cheeks were as red as your velvet coat, but he couldn’t drag his gaze away. He’d certainly never seen you in the club before, and as he wracked his brain, he couldn’t say he’d ever seen you in the surrounding area either.
You push through the crowded bar to lean over and whisper something in the bartender’s ear, who then calls Reggie over and introduces you. A growl rumbles through Ron’s chest as Reggie embraces you in a hug and leaves a kiss on the back of your hand.
It was no secret that Ronnie was of a different persuasion to his brother, so he couldn’t fathom where these feelings were coming from. He couldn’t fathom why it made his skin crawl and teeth itch to watch Reggie flirt with you. He’d never been this attracted to anyone, much less a woman. But as his eyes drink you in, you’re the only person left in the world he has any interest in.
The hand creeping up his thigh brings him crashing back into reality and he roughly pushes it away. “I am not interested.”
“Not anymore.” Standing up, he makes his way over to the spot you were occupying at the bar.
“Hello there.”
“Alright Ron” Reggie nods towards his brother, a smirk plastered across his face at the apparent infatuation written all over Ronnie’s. “This is the new singer, she’s on in a bit.”
You whip around, spraying his face with fine droplets of water in the process. “Hi, nice to meet you.”
“Er right, nice to meet you. Are you from around here?” Ron sips his whiskey, his posture awkward and stiff as he shoves his free hand in his pocket. It’d been a long time since he’d had to impress anyone. And never anyone as beautiful as you.
“No but close, Hackney actually.”
“Mm very close indeed.”
An awkward silence sweeps through the air and you smile politely at him, unsure of what to say next.
“Well, break a leg.”
He raises his glass to you before stalking back to the table, grumbling to himself along the way.
‘You’re a fucking idiot Ronald a fucking idiot! Should’ve asked the pretty lady out when you had a chance, probably thinks you’re a fucking weirdo now...’
Half an hour later you were up on stage. You’d traded your damp coat for a red gown that hugged your body in ways he could only envy, and the room falls silent as you begin to sing.
“Tell me that it’s true, tell me you agree... I was meant for you, you were meant for me...
Dearly beloved, how clearly I see... somewhere in heaven you were fashioned for me...”
By the time you’d finished, Ron was in complete awe. If he thought your beauty was breathtaking, the voice that came from you knocked the remaining air right out of his lungs.
This time he made his way over to you smiling and relaxed, back to his usual cocky self. Hearing you sing had given him the confidence he so desperately needed and nothing, absolutely nothing could stand in his way of getting you.
“Like my very own angel! Here have a drink.” He hands you a fresh glass of champagne as his eyes rake over your body.
You were a good few inches shorter than him despite your heels, and as you smile up at him through your lashes, Ron’s heart stops beating. Just for a second.
“Thank you.”
After a few more glasses and many more compliments, you agree to let him take you out to dinner.
The rest, they say, is history.
6 months later you and Ron are leaving the church hand in hand as your closest friends and family shower you in rose petals. You weren’t quite sure how you had found your soulmate buried within the psychotic gangster, but you didn’t need to know. All you needed to know was that he loved you more than life itself, and the feeling was very much mutual.
6 months after that you and Ron are driving round to Vi’s for your weekly visit. You had finally managed to grab Ronnie by the ear and drag him with you and the man had complained nonstop since.
“What am I meant to talk about anyway?” He grumbles, glancing out of the window as he drives at a snails pace down the cobbled roads.
“She’s your mother you should know what to talk about.”
“See that don’t answer my question now does it?” He turns to you, and the innocent look of despair almost makes you giggle.
“Normal things, you talk about normal things Ron.” You plant a quick kiss on his lips and he begins to list all of the normal things he can think of.
“The weather...”
“That’s always a good’un.”
“Er, the future weather. They’ve got all those predictions now don’t they?”
“How about you start with how you’ve been?”
“Because you said normal things love, and I am not normal.”
As he pulls to a stop outside of Vi’s, he’d come up with 6 topics of conversation appropriate for the visit. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his mother, he always wanted to see his mum. It was just that over the last 6 months Ron had become so accustomed to your way of translating the ‘normal’ things he found so hard to understand, that he didn’t actually know how to speak with other respectable adults. He dealt solely with you, Reggie and gangster’s, and only one of those relationships required him to be sane about things. So spending an afternoon on his best behaviour, participating in common conversation with a woman he most certainly could not disrespect, was fucking terrifying.
Your reassuring squeeze of his hand calms his nerves, and he tries to relax. It was his mother and his wife after all, what could go wrong?
“Y/N, Ronnie, what a nice surprise! Come in, come in!” The small woman pulls you both into a hug before ushering you inside. They both take a seat at the breakfast table as you set about making the tea.
“Lovely cup of tea, darling.”
A smug smile tugs at your lips as you drink the compliment in. A good cup of tea was the ultimate seal of approval when it came to Violet Kray.
“Thank you, mum.”
After a few minutes of tea sipping and mundane chit chat, Ronnie had reached his limit. Excusing himself from the table he disappears upstairs to join Reggie.
Once he was out of earshot, Violet turns to you. “So, when were you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That I’m going to be a grandmother!” She sings, clasping her hands around yours.
“I’m sorry I don’t follow.”
“I know the look of a pregnant woman when I see one love, you’ve got the glow. I’d say around 8 weeks.”
Time grinds to a halt as you count back the dates in your head, realising you were indeed a month late. Your boobs constantly ached and within the past few days there were few foods lucky enough to remain in your stomach, but you didn’t think too much of it at the time. Just a bug, you thought.
With all the newlywed bliss you’d not noticed the missing period, something you were now cursing yourself for. A wave of nausea washes over you as the image of Ron’s face twisted in anger flashes across your mind. Dashing to the loo, your lunch comes back up as quickly as it had gone down.
Sagging against the wall, you will your racing heart to steady itself. How you’d been so careless you’d never know. Ron would be furious. A baby hardly fit into his gangster world plans.
Knock. Knock.
“Y/N are you okay?”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Y/N...?” Ron’s worried voice replaces Violet’s but you still couldn’t bring yourself to answer.
“Y/N, open the door...” His tone changes and if you knew your husband, you had about 30 seconds to open it before he opened it for you.
Dragging yourself to your feet you do as he says, and one look at your face tells him something isn’t right.
“Y/N what’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“We’re having a baby.”
Before you know it his strong arms are around your waist spinning you in the air, a smug grin plastered on his face.
“You’re pregnant?”
“I am.” You watch the smile spread to his eyes, both twinkling with excitement, as you nod your head.
“Oi Reg, guess what?”
“What?” Reggie’s head pops over the banister.
“We’re having a baby! She’s pregnant!”
“That’s great news Ron! Great news. About time n’all.” He makes his way downstairs with the rest of the gang in tow, and Violet barely gives him the time to hug you both before thrusting a glass of champagne in his hand to celebrate.
Soon time comes for you to leave and tears threaten to spill over as Violet congratulates you again, Ronnie fighting to prise you from her grip before bundling you into the car. The stress of panicking and excitement over the news was far too much for your unstable hormones to bear and you spend the whole journey home blubbering into Ron’s suit jacket as he tries his best not to laugh.
You were adorable, and he couldn’t wait until there was a mini you running about the place.
Unfortunately pregnancy was not kind to you, most of it spent in and out of the hospital. This only served to elevate Ronnie’s worry to levels he’d not thought possible and by the time your baby girl had arrived, his protection was a force to be reckoned with.
The tiny bundle of joy was everything he’d dreamt she’d be, born with a full head of ginger curls and eyes the colour of storms at sea. Ronnie swore if you stared into them long enough, you’d see the cloudy skies swirling around her inky irises.
She was nothing short of perfect, and Ronnie couldn’t imagine loving anything more than he loved her. Apart from you, of course.
You stand in her hand painted nursery, cradling your daughter to your chest as she gently suckles away.
“From this valley they say you are going... we will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile...”
Ronnie follows the voice he’d fallen so hopelessly in love with - the voice that had calmed his sufferings countless nights before - and stands quietly in the doorway so he can enjoy the private performance.
“For you take with you all of the sunshine... that has brightened our pathway for a while...
Then come sit by my side if you love me... do not hasten to bid me adieu...
Just remember the red, river valley and the cowboy who has loved you so true...”
He moves behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and drawing the pair of you into his chest. Luna gurgles in satisfaction and her big blue eyes find her father’s as her little eyelids start to droop. Ronnie rocks you both from side to side, stopping only to plant a kiss on your temple and within seconds she’s sound asleep in your arms. You place her in her cot before turning around to face him.
“Hey” you whisper, careful not to wake the sleeping newborn.
“Hey.”
“We should probably get out of here.”
“Yes we probably should” he chuckles, leading you out of the nursery.
You collapse onto your bed, arms high above your head as a long sigh escapes you.
“Your daughter is so exhausting!”
“My daughter yeah?”
“Yes, when she’s loud and grizzly and hungrier than a cattle farmer, she’s your daughter. When she’s cute and smiley and adorable, she’s my daughter, okay?”
“Alright then whatever you say yeah.” Ronnie holds his hands up in surrender, not daring to argue with his exhausted wife.
You feel the bed dip beside you as his large hand rests on your thigh. “How about we get some sleep love, how about that?”
You grin sleepily, tired eyes peering up at him. “Sounds perfect.”
You quickly undress and climb into bed, your heavy limbs sinking into the soft mattress as you snuggle into Ron’s side. Within seconds your breathing slows, and the rise and fall of your chest evens out as you fall into a deep slumber.
‘Like mother, like daughter’ he thinks to himself as he focuses on the steady beating of your heart against his own, your warm breath fanning his bare chest. He soon falls into his own dreamland utopia.
Yes, meeting you had spun his world entirely on it’s head. Emotionless sex was replaced with raging passion and marriage vows, drugs were replaced with cups of tea and breastmilk. Gangster’s were replaced with... well, there’s only so much you can change about a Kray.
But, Ron had to admit, this world worked for him too.
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A young girls heart, so easily gained, so easily shattered. So easily loved, so easily tattered,
And torn, and ripped asunder.
At eight, she was as free-spotted as the wind, he hair flying loosely behind her as she ran, ran, ran through the endless fields, laughing, not caring what the dusk would bring. The creature of her soul flew and danced and sang along with her.
At twelve, her world was changed, a cotton dress, worn and loved, exchanged for a silk, tight-fitting one, the fields gave way to etiquette and parlors. Through the window she saw the rain and the mud and longed for a world that was no longer her own. The creature sat in her soul, and slowly slipped from the light.
At sixteen, she danced and smiled and charmed, but with her graceful steps and tinkling laughter came the dark beast, gnawing at her heart, but she ignored it.
At twenty, a man she had never seen before came to the house, she curtsied and smiled, and made the small talk attributed to young ladies of marriageable age. The beast was meaner now, ripping chunks out where it had only nipped before. And still she tried to pay it no mind.
At thirty, she was respected, her family loved and gentle, if not close. She looked out the window, and saw the beast, eating away at the last bit of her soul. She realized what had to be done, lest she lose herself.
They said she had gone mad, suddenly dropping away from the friends and face she had made for herself. But she had years and years to make up for, and she knew what she had to do.
At fifty, she spoke to a young man, family, a grandson; his mother, her daughter. She had never met the young man, having left so long before, but she told him her story. And the creature once again smiled with her.
Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader)
*gif not mine//credit to owner
A/N: Well this is it my lovelies 😭🌸 the final part is here and let me tell you my heart broke several times writing this so hold on to your socks because this is a tall drink of pure angst 😭 it’s long but it’s everything I wanted it to be and I’m so proud ☺️ If this is your introduction to Next Best Thing I would highly highly recommend reading parts 1-3 before you read this one as it all ties together to lead up to this. If you want to enhance the experience listen to Begin Again by Nick Mulvey on repeat during the second part - I’ll link the song and indicate in the chapter when to start listening but feel free to listen to it the whole way through, it’s just a suggestion and you definitely don’t have to but it gave me lots of feels for this chapter and I think it just wraps it up nicely 😊 Anyhoo, I have taken enough of your time so please enjoy and Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow so thank you all, feedback is always welcome 😌
** Hi lovelies, quick edit. So someone hacked my Spotify account last night, random I know??? But I’ve now regained access to it but I’m going to remove the Spotify link to the song on this post, because I have no idea how they managed to get into it and I’d just like to be safe. Anyways, the name of the song is still in the author’s note so hopefully it shouldn’t affect anything. My apologies if it does. **
Summary: It’s true what they say, you never know what you’ve got until it’s gone...
Pairing: (OOC) Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader
Warnings: Swearing, some serious heartache
P.S. Bodies of text in italics are flashbacks and Y/N/N = your nickname
PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE
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“Johnny! Stop moving!”
He sat squirming on the floor in front of you while your tiny fingers did their best to keep hold of the half-formed braids in his hair.
“I can’t Y/N it huwts.”
“It’s suppossssed to hurt.”
“I don’t know why ye want em Y/N it’s howible.” He shakes his head and the unsecured plaits unravell in an instant.
“I wasn’t finished!”
Salty tears stream down your face and with your wails showing no sign of stopping, John darts around the room looking for something - anything - to make you smile again.
Moments later your hands are peeled away from your eyes to reveal John grinning back at you, the front tooth that had fallen out yet to be replaced and his hair scraped into two uneven braids messily tied off with blue ribbons.
“Ta da!”
The braids flop about his head as he throws up jazz hands and you erupt into a fit of giggles, fresh tears wetting your cheeks for a much different reason. Oblivious to what was so funny, John’s face screws up into an adorable frown and a crimson blush creeps up his neck as your small arms embrace him.
“I love you Johnny.”
“Luff you too Y/N/N.”
You fix the vintage brooch in your hair, the movement causing a stray curl to fall out of place. Pol’s hairspray was obviously not the strongest formula sold today and you make a mental note to remind her of such later.
Each lung deflates with a sigh as you take a seat at the dressing table.
Something old...
“Johnny listen to me!”
The 9 year old boy sat across from you with his legs crossed, each eye squeezed shut and chubby fingers jammed into both ears.
“If you want to learn how to kiss you have to practice, mum says practice makes perfect!” you groan.
He just about never listened to you and it would drive you mad if you weren’t always guaranteed the chance to tell him ‘I told you so’ - much to his own annoyance. You never did miss the chance to rub it in his face and he was bitterly aware of the last time you’d been made right, chorusing those infuriating four words with glee as he was carted off to the infirmary with a broken arm.
With that memory in mind John scoots towards you, his lips outstretched into a hilarious pout.
Stiffling a giggle you shut your eyes and close the distance, your mouth forming a similar shape to his.
The smell of your new Punchy Peach pomade sends his head into the clouds and butterflies find their way through to his stomach. He’d never felt like this before... maybe he was getting sick? He’d get Pol to check him over when he got back.
You, on the other hand, were greeted by the distinct odour of haystacks and manure before you quickly pull away.
“Disgusting!” You chant in unison before collapsing into a fit of laughter.
The scarlett lipstick glides over your plump lips, avoiding your pearly white teeth as it settles into place. Next you apply your mascara, the thick cake throwing each lash into a jet black abyss.
You never were one for makeup per sé, but after weeks of Ada’s incessant nagging you figured what the hell.
Something new...
Balancing next to John on your favourite wall, strawberries and cream dance over your tongue as you savour the ice cream you donned.
It was a glum wintry day and passers-by threw you bewildered looks as they took in the pair of you, harsh winds blowing your hair every which way but up as you lap away in blessed delight. Neither of you were phased though, your shared love of ice cream always came out on top whichever way the wind blew - be it sleet, snow, hail or rain.
“J, can I ask you something?”
“Mphm?”
“Do you think we’ll always be best friends?”
His tongue flicks out to catch the miraculously melting drip of ice cream before it meets his hand. “Course, what makes ye worry?”
“Well, what if you meet someone...”
“Meet someone?”
The jagged stones dig into your calves with every nervous bounce of your leg, sure to draw blood by the time you’d gotten your answer.
“Yeah... you know... like a girlfriend or something. And she didn’t like me. D’you think we’d still be friends?”
“Course.”
“But... best friends?”
His blue eyes meet yours, gleaming with a confusion so innocent it damn near melted your heart.
“No woman’s gonna come between me and my girl” he smirks, playfully nudging you in the shoulder before extending the frozen treat into your face.
“Wanna lick?
Popping open the locket Polly had left, you take a moment to admire the picture clasped within. It showed her standing above your mother, arms loosely embracing her as they both laugh at a joke never to be told. A present to Pol on her 21st birthday.
Goosebumps fan your skin as you fasten the cold gold chain around your neck.
Something borrowed...
Lounging on your bed, you’re emersed in your new edition of ‘Little Women’ while your hot toddy reaches a drinkable temperature. You’d been running a fever for 2 days straight now, your nose felt as though it had been stuffed full of cotton wool and your wheezing cough could be heard a mile off.
“Y/N? Y/N, where are you? Y/N!”
The shouts were muffled by the blanket you’re wrapped in and before you know it John is barging into your room.
“Johnny what on earth-”
“I got- got you- something!”
You rake his body for the apparent present, coming up blank as he collapses onto the bed beside you.
“Something invisible...?”
“No smart arse. Nice to see being sick don’t change ye.”
“Well what is it then?”
He hands you a square velvet box, about the size of a coaster.
The drumming of your heart is replaced with a hundred hovering hummingbirds and tears threaten to breach their dam as your eyes land on the thin gold tennis bracelet laying within, dusted in diamonds and interlaced with real sapphires - your favourite gem.
“Johnny I... it’s...”
“Saw it n’ thought of you...” He mumbles, gingerly scratching his neck. “Was meant to wait till your birthday, got a bit excited I s’pose, couldn’t wait.”
His calloused fingers graze your wrist as he fumbles with the tiny clasp; the rise and fall of his chest rapidly increasing with every rugged breath.
“There you go.”
You’re much too dazed by the present to be bothered by your curls falling into your face, so Johnny tucks the lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers hovering for a touch longer than necessary.
“It’s beautiful...”
Throwing your arms around him, you pull his body flush against yours and his arms snake around your waist, muscles tightening around you as you instinctively stroke the nape of his neck.
“Happy 16th birthday Y/N/N.”
You adjust the blue and white gartier to sit halfway up your thigh, before concealing the raunchy band behind your silk robe.
The feather-light lace hugs your skin as you stand to assess your handiwork in the mirror.
Something blue...
Knock. Knock.
Opening the door, you’re surprised to find John propping himself up against the frame.
The dark circles haunting his eyes told you he hadn’t slept properly for at least 3 weeks and each nail had been chewed down, which he tried to hide by quickly shoving them in his pockets. Tried, and failed. If you stared for too long, you’d still see the ghost of his hands running through his short brown hair, pulling and tugging at each strand as he willed the pain away.
The signs were subtle, and if it weren’t for the fact that you knew him better than you knew yourself, you’d never have noticed.
“Ye alright love?”
“Johnny what’s wrong?” You sigh, the state of your former best friend genuinely worrying you.
“Trust you to be the one who notices, ey?”
“Well, I’m not being funny but you look like you haven’t slept in weeks. The only interactions we have consist of death stares and cold shoulders. I know you’re not happy about me and Tommy and I know that you hate me now even though I don’t quite know why because when you got married I was more than supportive and now I’m getting married it’s like you can’t stand-”
“God Y/N I don’t hate you. I could never hate you, I’m in love with you for fuck’s sake.”
“I’m sorry?”
Surely you’d misheard him. Surely.
“I’m in love with you Y/N. I know it’s a shock... it was a shock to me n’all. But since you’ve been with Tommy I realised how I feel, well that’s not true really I s’pose I always knew, somewhere deep down, I always knew you were the one for me-”
You fix an incredulous stare on the man pacing the length of your dressing room.
“You’ve always known? Somewhere deep down?! So- so that night when you were fucking that whore in the alley, you knew I was the one? When you’d ask me to pick which girl you should take home on the rare nights out I was unfortunate enough to accompany you, you knew I was the one, huh? When you married Esme and then proceeded to forget my existence entirely, you knew I was the one did you John? Really?!”
“That’s not what I meant Y/N-”
“Oh is it not John, I do apologise. So what did you mean then? Because I’ve known from the age of 16 that you didn’t love me, that you’d never be mine. And now here you are, 3 years after your wedding and 3 hours away from mine!”
Your voice was gaining volume with every sentence, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you unleash years of heartache, not sparing a second thought to whoever may happen to hear.
“It took me five years to get over you John! Five long, painful years. So no, no you don’t get to come in here and fill my head with god knows what! You made your choice and now I’m making mine. You get to live with it just like I had to!”
“You don’t get it Y/N you don’t understand-”
“No John you don’t understand! You don’t understand the years I wasted watching you chase after girls wishing it could be me. You don’t understand the nights I spent crying myself to sleep knowing that you’d never be there to wake up to, to hold me tight and tell me everything would be okay. You don’t understand- you don’t understand how it broke me - physically broke me John - to accept that you’d never love me how I love you.”
“I couldn’t! I couldn’t Y/N... D’ye really think I wanted my first time to be with anyone other than you?! D’ye really think I didn’t want to be in your bed every fucking night of the year?! I couldn’t Y/N I couldn’t love you and marry you and bring you into this fucking hellhole of a life I live. You’re too good for that Y/N... you’re too pure...”
He clutches your face, every tear that falls from his tainted orbs taking a little piece of his heart along with it.
“If I only knew- god if I only fucking knew Y/N... I would’ve kissed you the day I gave you that fucking bracelet.”
He crashes his lips to yours, the bold caress of his tongue rough and awkward as he tries with all his might to relay the feelings that had been eating him up inside.
His mouth feels unnatural against your own and his hands out of place as they roam your waist, cataloging every curve and dimple - engraving your body into his mind because he knows he’ll never get the chance to feel you again.
It was not the kiss you’d spent your entire life dreaming of. Instead it was a kiss of pure desperation, with every ounce of his agonising anguish surging through your veins and resonating deep within your heart.
You pull away, John’s forehead sweating against your own as your dainty hands cup his cheeks.
“I love you Johnny. You’re my soulmate, my best friend. My shoulder to cry on and my happiness on dark days. You held me when I needed someone to take the weight of the world from my shoulders and you’ve walked right by my side every step of the way on this unforgiving road. You’re the best man I know, the best man I’ll ever know. But it’s too late Johnny it’s too late... I’m going to marry Tommy because he’s the man I’m in love with. And you’re going to stay with Esme because that’s the vow you made her with God as your witness.”
“No no, no Y/N please, please don’t-” his pleas and cries lodge in his windpipe, managing only a pathetic shake of his head as he clings to the last shred of your never-to-be fantasy.
“It’s okay Johnny you’ll still have me, I’m still here. We’ll always be best friends.”
With that final thought, Johnny releases you; the slam of the door being the last thing you hear.
You’d held strong for too long - the grief much too harrowing to bear - and you collapse into a pile on the floor, allowing the sobs to wrack through you.
You lay there sobbing, completely unaware of Tommy’s presence until you feel his arms lifting you onto his lap and cradling you to his chest. His fragrance of peppermint and freshly cut grass calms the intolerable suffering in your soul.
He holds your body tight as you weep. He strokes your hair. He leaves kisses on your forehead. He whispers soothing words in your ear.
He doesn’t ask what’s wrong.
— [start playing song here] —
“Will everyone please stand for the bride.”
John could not have been more unprepared for the sight that beheld him, for in his wildest dreams he could not have designed a more beautiful version of you than the one slowly making her way up the aisle, her smile heavenly and her face angelic as she meets her husband-to-be.
The sunbeams glimmer off your wrist and John’s eyes land on the sparkling sliver of gold clasped around it.
A sad smile tugs at his lips as he thinks back to the reason he’d bought you that bracelet in the first place.
“J, can I ask you something?”
It was time for your weekly ice cream ritual and he sat next to you on your favourite wall. Well it was your favourite wall. If he had to be honest he couldn’t give two flying fucks about the thing, there was nothing different about it to any other.
But you liked the way the stones stood out - amazed by the natural pattern in which they were arranged - while John cared only for the way the sun shone around your face, illuminating your beauty in ways he hadn’t known real.
“Mphm?”
“Do you think we’ll always be best friends?”
He couldn’t think of anything in the world that would stop him being close to you. “Course, what makes ye worry?”
“Well, what if you meet someone...”
“Meet someone?”
“Yeah... you know... like a girlfriend or something. And she didn’t like me. D’you think we’d still be friends?”
“Course.” What were you on about?
“But... best friends?”
John was baffled as he turned to look at you, the slithers of sun that broke through the grey sky transforming you into an angel with her own eternal glow.
How could you think another woman could come close to what he had with you? As if any woman could possibly compare.
“No woman’s gonna come between me and my girl” he smirks, nudging your shoulder in an attempt to mask the frenzy you inspired within.
“Wanna lick?”
It was admiring that smug grin gracing your lips as you cheekily lick away that John realised no other woman would even get the chance to compete.
His heart had found it’s home.
“And now I believe you have prepared your own vows...” The minister nods to Tommy.
“If somebody had told me 10 months ago that I’d be standing here getting married I would’ve had ‘em carted off to the asylum. But as a wise man once said, good things hardly come twice, so when you find something worth keeping, hold on tight and never let go. Y/N, you’re my calm throughout the storms, the flames that warm my bones on harsh winter nights. You’re my everything, and forever with you, will be forever too soon.”
John’s heart shatters into millions of tiny ice cold shards, yet he can’t help but agree. His heart shatters right before his eyes, in the same way yours had those fateful years ago.
But he thank’s God for small miracles because the ceremony is finished now and he’s reaching for that bottle of whiskey sitting pretty on the bar ready to nurse the demons away.
But sure enough, he finds his way back to you.
“May I have this dance?”
“You may.”
He pulls your body tight against his own, a shaky hand gripping your waist as your fingers intertwine with his. The hand that lay on his shoulder strokes his neck, and the familiar sensation thaws his stony heart.
“You look beautiful” he hums, loud enough for only you to hear.
“Thank you.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Mm?”
“M’ glad your happy.”
Searching his eyes for any sign of doubt, you’re only met with the sheen of whiskey and a hint of sorrow in the pools of blue staring back at you.
“Really?”
“Really. M’alright being your best friend.”
He smiles at you, a gesture as weak as it is sweet because it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Can I steal her away?”
You never do get the chance to reply. With a pat on Tommy’s back, John stalks away and your body resumes it’s position.
“Hello Mrs Shelby.”
Tommy kisses you softly and your bodies begin to sway to the soft music. Your head gravitates to the spot it now called home; the crook of his neck carved just for your fit.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, John was just congratulating us.”
“It’s okay, I heard you two earlier.”
“Tommy I-”
“I’m not mad Y/N/N, I just want you to know that you can always talk to me. Till death do us part, remember that Princess.”
Your head settles back into place and you continue dancing, a comfortable silence sweeping through as you wonder just how you managed to find a man so perfect for you.
John watches your body mold against Tommy’s as you fall into a world made just for the two of you, and the pangs of envy hold no mercy or shame as they hack away at his soul.
There were no clear rules for the unchartered waters your friendship had now entered. John didn’t have the first clue on how to go about things. He didn’t have the first clue on how to stop loving you.
One thing he knew for sure though? You’ll always have your Johnny.
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Ray of Sunshine on a Cloudy Day (Ronnie Kray Drabble)
*gif not mine//credit to owner
A/N: Hello lovelies! 🌸 just a random and completely self indulgent Ronnie Kray drabble I wrote from an old challenge. The prompt was ‘baby’ and it has to be 100 words exactly. Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳
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Pregnancy had been unkind to you, with most of it spent in and out of hospital. This only served to elevate Ronnie’s worry to levels he’d not thought possible. By the time your baby had arrived, Ronnie’s protection was a force to be reckoned with. The tiny bundle was everything he’d dreamt she’d be...
A mop of wild ginger curls; two doe eyes stormier than any sea.
10 tiny fingers, 10 tiny toes; a perfectly formed button-nose.
She gurgles, she cries; her smiles brighten his darkest skies.
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