Chapter Text
Summary: You’ve always been around the Shelby’s, though you were younger than most of them. You were 21, making you quiet a few years younger than John, and a few years older than Finn. You even had a thing with John for a while, before he married Esme, but now another member of the Shelby family has your eye.
A/n- this is a little all over the place for literally no reason, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!
Warnings: Cursing, confident reader, sexual content (Rape jokes! not by any of the boys ovbs) , violence. The word Gypsy being used as a slur. Gypsy! reader. Basically everything you’d find in an episode!
Your dress:
Y/n sat in the Garrison, a whiskey in her left hand as she surveyed the room. John and Arthur sat at a table to her left, laughing, quite obviously already drunk. Micheal, Finn, and Isiah, she knew, were in the private room, off to her right. Y/n sipped her drink as she stood, and made her way to the right.
Y/n pulled open the door, and watched in amusement as the three boys jumped away from the able, and tried to subtly brush the table off.
“Oi, Y/n, gave us freight!” Isaiah exclaimed, relaxing in his seat once more, “Thought you were one of the boys.”
Y/n closed the door behind her, and leaned against it casually,
“I wouldn’t worry about them, if I were you. John and Arthur are already smashed, and the lord only knows where Tommy has gotten too.” Y/n told them, and she could see all of them relax further.
Y/n could feel a gaze burning into the side of her face, as Isaiah and Finn started bantering again. Y/n turned her head, and found Michael’s eyes. They were unique, she noticed.
Not quite the same color as any of his cousins, but the blue still captivated her. Just as John’s had, a few years prior. They didn’t hold the same intensity as Tommy’s, nor the mischief of John’s; and they lacked the anger lurking behind Arthur’s. But somehow, Michael’s eyes were a mixture of all three.
Michael’s lips curved up into a smirk, and he leaned his head back against the booth, but continued to watch Y/n through hooded eyes. His eyes left yours and wondered up and down her body.
When his gaze returned to her face, a matching smirk was painted on her lips.
Michael brought his cigarette back up to his lips, and he definitely noticed that Y/n’s eyes followed the action. He lowered his hand, and breathed out.
Y/n’s teeth grazed her bottom lip. His eyes followed. They darkened with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.
“Y/n.” Finn said, and she peeled her eyes away from Michael, and too Finn, “You want some?” She knew what he was referring too. Y/n shook her head, and Finn shrugged, before pouring some Tokyo onto the table.
“You don’t do it?” Michael spoke up, she met his eyes once again, and smirked.
“Sometimes.” She responded, noticing his eyebrows raise with curiosity, “Just not tonight.”
“Why?” Y/n was aware that her and Michael had caught Finn and Isaiah’s attention.
“I’ve things to do tonight. Tommy’s orders.” Y/n placed a cigarette between her red lips, leaning down when Isaiah offered his lighter. She breathed in, and then out.
“Well, thanks for the entertainment, boys.” Y/n handed her cigarette to Finn, and reached down to the skirt of her dress, before pulling harshly. It gave away easily, and out of instinct all the boys looked away. Y/n snorted,
“Calm down.” They all turned back to her, finding that now she was clad in only the top part of her dress, that was now hanging freely, and a pair of fairly tight fitting pants. Y/n handed the skirt to Finn,
“Take that back to the house when you go home.” Finn nodded, and placed the fabric on the seat next to him. Y/n turned to leave the private room, when Michael spoke,
“Good luck.” Y/n looked over her shoulder, and threw him a wink.
Y/n ran along the rooftops, trailing a group of people, who for whatever reason, had caught Tommy’s attention. Her footsteps were silent as she jumped off of the rooftop, and landed behind the men, as they walked into a warehouse. She followed.
“Well, well, well boys.” The leader drawled, “Look what we have here.” Y/n spun around to face him, her eyes flashing in alarm. She had been found out.
“What ever could we have done to attract Thomas Shelby’s attention?” The leader questioned sarcastically, “That he would send his precious shadow after us?”
“Can we have some fun with her, boss?” One of the men asked, and Y/n swallowed.
“No, let her go.” The leader responded, shocking Y/n, “Let her tell Tommy she failed.”
Y/n gritted her teeth, but turned to leave.
“And tell him that I’m sick and fucking tired of you Gypsy’s interfering with my business!” The leader yelled after her. Y/n froze, rage flowed through every fiber of her being.
“Aw, does Shadow not like the G word?” One of them men called, “Gypsy scum!” They all laughed. Y/n locked her jaw and reached for her dagger, hiding in the elastic of her pants. She turned to them, and gave them only enough time to register the rage in her eyes, before launching at them.
She tore through the room like the men were nothing but stalks of wheat, and within 10 minutes, all of them except of the leader were dead.
“Fucking bitch!” He screamed at her from his place on his knees, “Fucking gypsy bitch!”
That’s when Y/n lost her control. She brought down her dagger on his face, and then did it again, and again, and again, and again, and again. She didn’t hear him screaming, begging for his life. She just brought her arm down again, and again, and again, until the man fell backwards, and he was unrecognizable.
Y/n stood over the body for minutes, or it may have been hours, she didn’t really know, breathing heavily; when the door opened. She barely acknowledged the Blinders who pilled in the room, and then stopped to stare at her bloodied body. It’s when she saw Tommy that it dawned on her what she’d done.
Tommy walked towards her slowly, his hands outreached slightly. She saw the concern dancing in his eyes, and her grip on her dagger loosened. She heard the clatter of the knife, and her knees gave out. Tommy reached her in time to grab her by the waist, and hold her up.
“Y/n?’ He asked, brushing her hair out of her face. She didn’t say anything. Tommy’s brow creased, and he bent down slightly. He placed an arm behind her head and one behind her knees, and then he swooped her up into her arms.
“Clean this up!” He said to his men as he walked past, “This didn’t happen.”
Y/n didn’t know when she fell asleep, but the thing she remember was waking up on Polly’s couch.
She groaned, and sat up warily. She glanced down, and saw she was in nothing but one of Tommy’s white button ups. She glanced at her hands, and saw they were clean. She would have to remember to thank Polly later.
She stood from the couch, listening carefully to see if anyone else was home.
“Mornin’.” A voice called from behind her, she jumped and whipped around. Michael sat in the arm chair to the left of the couch she had woken up on, a cigarette dangling from his left hand.
“Heard you had a hell of a night.” He said, Y/n winced. “All Tommy said was that you lost your temper. And that we wouldn’t have to worry about them anymore.”
“They deserved it.” Was all Y/n said, her voice rough from sleep. Michael nodded his head to the coffee table, where tea sat. She offered him a small smile, and picked it up, bringing it to her lips.
“Tommy ask you to watch over me?” Y/n asked, after she had drained half the cup and placed it back on the table.
“I offered, actually.” Michael responded, taking a deep breath of nicotine. “But he did ask me to hang around all day. Make sure you’re alright.”
Y/n sighed, but said nothing else.
“Maybe you want to put some clothes on.” Michael stated, a smirk on his face, as his eyes roamed up and down your body. Y/n shot him a look, before turning and heading upstairs.
“Not that i’m complaining!” He called after her. Y/n shook her head as she went through the box of clothes Ada had left behind, but a small smile was present on her face.
Half an hour later, Michael and Y/n were walking to the Garrison. Michael placed his peaky cap atop his head, and Y/n pulled her hair up with a hair band, with razor blades attached. A gift, from Tommy years ago.
Y/n winced as the blades sliced into her finger. She pulled her finger away from the band and frowned at it. No sooner as she began to reach for her purse, did she feel Michael’s hand on her wrist. She looked at him questioningly. He ignored her, and brought the finger to his lips. Y/n didn’t move or speak as she watched the tip of her finger disappear into his mouth for a split second, and then he dropped her wrist.
“You should be more careful.” He stated, before turning and walking for the Garrison once more. He looked back when Y/n had remained frozen, that infuriating smirk on his lips, “You comin’?”
Y/n rolled her eyes, and began walking.
“So,” Michael started, as they sat down at a table towards the back of the pub, “What do you want to do today?”
Y/n shot him a smirk.
It was hours later, and dark now. Michael and Y/n sat in Charlie’s yard, by the canal, on a blanket Y/n had swiped from the stables. Y/n laughed, and didn’t notice as Michael’s eyes lingered on her lips,
“You didn’t!” She exclaimed, chuckles still falling from her mouth. Michael smiled,
“Of course I did! What else was I supposed to do?!”
“Anything but jump out the window!”
“Her dad had a shotgun!”
“And you broke your ankle!” Y/n got out between giggles, and Michael laughed along with her,
“Better than being shot!” Y/n sobered up slightly, though a smile remained on her lips.
“Well, i guess i owe you one.” Michael forced himself to look up from her lips, confusion evident on his face, “Because if you had gotten shot, I wouldn’t have gotten to know you.” Y/n finally noticed Michael’s heavy gaze, and bit down on her bottom lip. Michael’s eyes darkened, and he raised a hand to her lips, where he pulled it from between her teeth.
“Don’t.” His voice was low, and husky. A shiver shot up Y/n’s spine when he didn’t remove his hand, “Because if i start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”
Y/n’s breathing stuttered. Her eyes locked onto Michael’s, she leaned forward slightly,
“Start.” It was all Michael needed before he pulled Y/n onto his lap, and crashed his lips to hers. His hands holding her face as he kissed her feverently, Y/n’s own hands resting on his thighs. Michael swiped his tongue across Y/n lips, she parted her lips slightly, giving him access. A moan came from the back of Y/n’s throat as Michael explored every inch of her mouth. The sound seemed to spur Michael on as he gently pushed Y/n backwards, keeping his lips locked on hers as he laid her on the blanket.
He only pulled away when the burn for oxygen became too much, and even then he continued trailing his lips across Y/n’s throat. She panted, both from lack of oxygen and the feeling of his lips going up and down, and he continued, repeating the action over and over again, as if looking for something.
He found it when he heard her breathing hitch, and he attacked the spot, biting, licking and sucking on her sweet spot. He succeeded in pulling another moan from her lips before he pulled back,
“Your sure?” He asked, his voice enough to make Y/n shutter. She nodded slightly, and he placed his mouth over hers once again, his hands working on unbuttoning his suit jacket. Y/n trailed her hands up to his shoulders, and pushed the jacket off. Her hands finding a final resting place at the back of the neck.
Slowly but surely the pile of clothes grew until there was nothing left to take off. Michael placed his lips directly below her ear,
“What’s my name?” He whispered into her skin, her eyes rolled back.
“Michael.” She responded breathlessly, her nails already digging into the back of neck.
“Good.” He smirked, “Because you’re going to scream it.”