◦ genre: mafia au, action, romance
◦ pairings: reader x chan
◦ word count: 10.8k
◦ description: bang chan comes into your life, and you start to go against everything you once believed in.
◦ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, violence
◦ a/n: this will be a three-part fic so stay tuned for the last part which I will write within a month-ish (after woojin's), so please be patient with me bc I am a college slave
i.
When the door to your bedroom closes and another hectic, anxiety-filled day passes, you fall face down onto the silk sheets of your extremely spoiled four poster bed, and a sigh leaves your lips.
The mafia runs exactly like the corporate world, a war zone, a blood bath, leaves you thinking if there are any genuine people left in this corrupt world. You're aware of the tent of superficiality that the mafia falls under, the notion that they are only nice when you are influential or if they need you. It's disgusting and fickle because once their influence changes, so does their behavior.
An alliance is what matters–presumably. The mafia business is inherently an international web; with SKZ on top of the food chain, the other sects resort to extreme levels of fake-ness to gain power, and really, you want amnesia to unsee all the depravity that they possess.
And that's only one of the things you're worried about.
y/n (11:56 PM): i'm so stressed
min (11:57 PM): lol why
You grab the pillow from your right and bury your face in it, channeling all of your inner frustrations and troubles into the poor cushion that supports your head when you need it most. Its love for you is unconditional, but you hold it tightly, harshly, like it has wronged you in its past life. There's no use taking your problems out on an inanimate object when Chan's the real problem here, you realize.
Propping yourself up on your two elbows, you text Seungmin.
y/n (11:58 PM): i've only passed initiation two weeks ago... don't you think i need more prepping time
y/n (11:58 PM): it's like cooking, you can't bake a half marinated chicken and serve it in a restaurant
min (11:59 PM): lmfao chan serves whatever he wants whenever he wants in his restaurant
min (11:59 PM): plus you're pretty good at gunning someone down
y/n (12:00 AM): minho was going easy on me and he had a vest on, it doesn't count.
min (12:00 AM): it's midnight, go sleep
min (12:00 AM): i can't reveal much but this mission needs you, you'll see
min (12:00 AM): good night, see ya
y/n (12:01 AM): ugh who tf sleeps at midnight
y/n (12:01 AM): you were so much better in college, weak ass
y/n (12:01 AM): whatever, bye
A minute past midnight and the consequences—or inconveniences—of joining the mafia register in your mind. It's like you forcibly removed yourself from the outside world where taxis and buses roam the nicely paved roads and into the underground black market where expensive cars holding even more expensive cargo run amok in the depths of the night. The change is abrupt and very daunting because even ordinary tasks like buying groceries or running errands have you on the edge of your seat, afraid that someone would recognize you as a part of a mafia gang. Surely, you're still a goon with no essential value to rival gangs, but you're also a person, terrified for your life.
