Tom Hardy Imagines

Mr Kray

"Mr. Kray," you mused from behind the bar counter as Reggie Kray walked into the bar. You were all dolled up with your nails freshly painted an almost tacky peach. It matched the tights you had decided to wear with your skirt, but nobody could see them anyhow.

"Ms. (Y/N)," he greeted. "All right?" Reginald asked as he took a seat at his usual corner on the bar. You reached behind you and got a glass down, eyeing him out of the corner of your vision.

"Quite well, today. It's been slow. Only two guys got angry until they couldn't tell their thumb from their arse." Your laugh always caught Reggie's attention; it was infectious. "What'll you be 'avin today, Mr. Kray? Scotch neat or on the rocks?" With the weather outside, you were sure that he would be having the amber drink on ice, but he surprised you by replying with a "Neat will be just right, darl'." Your head slowly nodded as you set the glass down, grabbing his favorite scotch and pouring it into the glass and setting it down in front of him.

"No Ron with you today, hm?" Reggie shook his head, tilting his head back and getting a good amount of the alcohol down.

"No. He's off doing his work. I swear, if we hadn't come from the same mother, I'd give him a proper fight myself." He harrumphed and looked up at you, leaned over with your hands on the counter, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. When he set his glass back down, you filled it up without him even needing to ask. You knew his patterns all too well.

"It's a little early for you to be drinkin' like you normally do, innit?" The glare he shot at you with his blue eyes had you silenced, your hazel eyes narrowed as you suppressed your thoughts. If he was drinking and in a bad mood, it was best you didn't test him. Even though he claimed that he liked the way you didn't respond like every other woman to him, there were days where he just needed silence. "Right, well, I'm going to switch on the juke and do some writing while I wait for you to finish your drink." A soft "Mh," was all that Reggie responded with.

You walked to the other side of the bar and started the tracks up, feeling in the mood for a little bit of The Rolling Stones. Reggie didn't seem to mind, grabbing one of the newspapers as you sat down, getting out a journal and continuing on with your story. Your hand moved slightly as you scribbled down a part of the story about being on a plane crashing with your main characters on it. You allowed yourself to feel the panic the characters felt. It helped you write better, write real reactions. After a few minutes had passed, you looked up. The next song was starting, and yet your sole patron didn't ask for more. Of course, he wasn't even a patron... He was your boss, for all intents and purposes. The purple hue of the sunset spilled into the bar, and you looked down at the glass. Empty.

"You coulda spoken up instead of just staring at me " you grumbled as you got up and poured more into his glass. He nodded and you sat back down. You still felt his gaze on your face. You let a few more seconds pass before you looked up again, the look of intense on Reggie's face. Under his scrutinizing stare you began to flush, your neck growing hot. It was no lie that Reginald was sought after by a lot of women for good reason; he was one of the best looking men in the East End, even if he was rumored to be dangerous. He shifted and sat back in his chair, reaching into his coat to get a cigarette and lighter out. He lit the stick before you could really even catch it.

You took your journal back out as the song switched to something by Marvin Gaye, but you could never remember the title. As soon as the journal was on the counter, Reggie took out the tobacco from between his lips and cleared his throat. "(Y/N), why don't you rattle and' hum over 'ere for a second?" You stood from the stool obediently and walked over to Reggie, placing your hands on your hips.

"Yes, Mr. Kray?" You spoke, wondering what he wanted. "You look like you've been trying to figure out somethin'." It was more of a statement than it was a question or request. You turned your head a bit.