This is strictly a female imagine story.
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*This will be a Y/N only story.
*Y/N will be G!P or intersex (girl with penis)
*If this isn't your cup of tea please do not read!
**M...
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Y/N's POV- 1955
I always wanted to be a gangster for as long as I could remember.
I've never been your typical girl. First off I was born with a penis so there's that. Second, while girls grew up playing with dolls and wanted to dress up in pretty dresses like their mothers, I wanted to run around with my brothers and play sports.
Growing up in Brooklyn I saw what gangsters could get away with. Parking on a street you weren't supposed to park on, people came to them for help before they'd ever go to a cop. Even if you didn't like them, you would show them respect.
Going to the bakery on a Saturday morning for fresh bread was something I always looked forward to. It was a treat for my family since we had such a large family.
The neighborhood gangsters didn't have to wait as everyone else did. They'd walk right up to the front of the line, get whatever they needed, and leave without a single word needing to be spoken.
And don't get me started on the way they dressed.
I was one of eight kids so new clothes were never a thing for us. When one of us grew out of our clothes the next kid would get the hand-me-downs from the other kid and so on and so on.
But the gangsters were dressed to the nines no matter what. Crisp new shirts, freshly pressed pants, and shoes you could see yourself in because they were so shiny. Gold necklaces adorned their necks, gold bracelets around their wrists, and pinky rings on each hand. That's when you knew you made it.
I lived right across the street from a barbershop and a corner store that the neighborhood gangster Paulie Cicero owned and I got a front-row seat to how they ran things.
Sometimes ten to fifteen guys sat outside the barbershop on any given night with expensive cigars in their mouths laughing and fooling around like life was great. All the while some families like mine struggled from one day to the next to pay their bills.
When I was thirteen I finally took the bull by the horns and asked Paulie's younger brother Frankie if I could work at the barbershop and the corner store after school.
Relief washed over me when he told me I could because I wasn't like the little assholes around the neighborhood. I was respectful. I always greeted Paulie, Frankie, and the rest of their guys with a "good morning" or a "hello" whenever I saw them around the neighborhood.
My parents were happy to know I had my first job since my dad had his first job when he was eleven.
Pretty soon sweeping up hair at the barbershop and restocking the shelves in the corner store turned into working right alongside Frankie.
