Madness (John Murphy x Reader Mob Au)

Chapter 1

The room you'd studied a thousand times over, the sparkling chandelier above you, flickered as the lights reflected off of the glass. The room covered with wealth and power. Even the floors, walls and ceiling were covered with rich wood, marble, and gold. You know the curvature of the tables and chairs by heart, as well as the men who sat at them.

Some old, some young. Age didn't matter all that much to your Poppa. As long as they kept their eyes and paws away from you, everything was, "golden" as your Poppa put it. You sat beside him at a well decorated and made up table, surrounded by a handful of his goons. All of which, were older, middle-aged at least and well on their way to kickin' the bucket. You sat silent, as you listened in on the conversation at hand. Something about a shipment. It wasn't that important.

On any given day, you'd be there. By your father's side at his meetings and so on. The only time you didn't accompany your Poppa was when he refused you. Giving the excuse that it was too dangerous, no matter how good you were with a gun, no matter how much you begged and pleaded. You wanted so desperately to be a part of it all. The family business. Despite how much your father urged you to find something else with your life, you refused. There was nothing else out there for you. Besides, who else was going to keep things running after you Poppa passed away? One of your no good cousins? You doubt it. You were the only one worthy.

You watch as another goon walks in and stands before the table. A younger man, roughly your age. He's been dubbed Fish, for his placement at the docs downtown, and perhaps his birth name being Finn helps slightly. He stands tall, adjusts his uniform nervously, and speaks.

"Boss?" The conversation at the table stops, and all the heads of the powerful, slightly annoyed men slowly turn their attention.

"What is it, Fish?" Your father's voice is soft but very present. His Boston accent pronounced and thick.

"You remember that hitman we told you about? The one that uh, took out Alfie's men last week?" Alfie, a rival boss. Your Poppa had paid a random hitman to take care of a few things for him since the majority of his hitman had been killed themselves by Alfie and his men. This mystery man was paid and did his job. Very well, according to the newspapers.

"What about him?" Poppa blew out a puff of rich cigar smoke. He occasionally took puffs and blew it out. All the men had them, but none as expensive or intense as your Poppa's. He was top dog around there after all. You occasionally enjoyed the lavish cigarettes he imported from Paris for you. But you always preferred a cigar. Just as your father gave you wine, you preferred your scotch like the other men. He may have let you accompany him, but you were going to do that as a proper lady.

"Well he, he wants a job. A more permanent job. With us." Poppa looked fish up and down, took a drink from the short glass of scotch and motioned Fish forward. He shuffled forward and leaned over the table as instructed.

"Tell me Fish, how much do you trust this guy?"

"With my life, sir." Fish spoke in a deep, serious tone. "I've worked with him hundreds of times before all this. He won't let you down." Poppa leaned back in his chair, gave a shrug and motioned once again. Fish nodded and stepped out of the room, shortly after three new men entered behind him. Two familiar faces, The Twins. They weren't really twins, but they might as well have been. They never left each other's side, no matter what. Rumor has it, they were a good team. In more than one way. Twin J, and M stood across from one another, entering with an unknown figure in the center. A well dressed, young adult, his face covered by a hat. Which he politely took off, revealing his handsome face.

Your jaw tightened, and something clicked off in your mind. You sat there, more frozen than usual as his eye caught yours. His deep green eyes seemed to be the only color in the room from that point on. He gave a small smile and bowed his head to your father.

"What's your name, kid." Poppa spat.

"John Murphy sir." His smile never faltered.

"Murphy...you've worked for me before haven't you?" Murphy nodded, confident. "Huh. Fish tells me you want a job."

"I do." Poppa nodded to another goon who exited the room, quickly, and came back a few moments later. Only after an incredible intense moment of silence as he looked Murphy up with his beady eyes. Inspecting him for dents or imperfections. None were found. You found it hard to look at anything but Murphy. The world went black and white, like a movie. As though you were living in a silver screen, except for his beautiful eyes. You found it hard not fiddle with your dress, or shuffle in your seat as the unfamiliar sense of nervousness set in. Once the goon came back with a pen and paper, the initiation commenced. It wasn't so easy to get into this mob of your father's. This would be the first step. A signature first, a job, a meeting, a blood bond, and then a ball.

All of which went swimmingly. All of which, you were present for. Each time Murphy walked out, your heart dropped and the world went back to color. Each time Murphy came in, his green eyes met yours and he nodded to you with that sly smile that made you squirm. What was this feeling he made you feel? What game was this fool playing?