Are You Calling Me A Sinner? {BTSxReader}

18. A Contract

"That's not how this works, Y/N," he sighs, now knowing why you're the best in the business.

"Shut up and listen. First, I'm going to need a sweatshirt. Don't care who's it is, but as you can see, I'm cold. Second, we're gonna need confidentiality. Other gangs need to know I'm not off the market, not exclusively yours. And lastly, don't tell the boys- err- I mean Bangtan that we're doing business. You seem to be each other's biggest rivals, I've heard them whispering about you before, but I chose to not let them know. They'd probably be sensitive to it. Actually, that wasn't the last thing, this is. I will not hurt them. You cannot ask me to kill them or threaten them. I won't give you any intel on them either. That's it."

"Alright, I agree to your terms. Bring those papers back tomorrow." He sticks his hand out, you copying the gesture, shaking, then dropping it to your side

"Are you forgetting something?"

His lips form a thin line. "Nope."

"Ugh. Open the door."

"Dude, show me some respect. Not only am I your elder, but I'm literally a mob boss. How are you not shitting your pants?" He asks, genuinely confused. Even R.J., his right hand man, shows at least some respect. Everyone he's ever met does.

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret..." you motion for him to bend down to your height, cupping your hand over his ear like you're telling a secret. "I don't give a shit who you are. You don't scare me."

"Y/N, you have a rude awakening coming for you," he mumbles after standing back up, looking down at you.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"That's what I thought. Let's go." You begin the journey back up to the house part, steadily climbing the stairs, trying to keep up with the man who's strides are twice as large as yours. "How big is this place?"

"Umm, I don't know. It's like an office building: more floors and rooms."

     "Why put a little house over it."

     "I'm sure you know the answer. It looks so innocent. Who would guess a gang leader's hideout is under it?"

     Opening the bookshelf-door again, the living room is spotless, even the light switch that once held your bullet was switched with a new cover, no evidence of the shot. "Okay, give it to me."

     "What? Okay..." he starts to shed his suit jacket, throwing it on the couch.

     "The sweatshirt, you fucking idiot!" you shout at him, not expecting him to be that dumb.

     "Oh yeah, follow me." He heads into a room connected to the living room, you on his tail. He walks through the restroom and into a large walk-in closet. On one side, suits upon suits fill the racks, the other side holding jeans, sweatshirts, and t-shirts. "Here ya go."

     You slip it over your head, noticing the smell is almost like Namjoon's. But you still prefer Namjoon. "Thanks. I need to head out. We'll talk some tomorrow. Stay safe for the night, dude."

     "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

     "You know, you're not that bad. You pretend you're so hard just because you're some sort of mob boss, acting all high and mighty. But I see through it. You're kind of a softie. I admire that. "

     "I'm not a softie. You should be more aware of who you're talking to. I may not kill you for not being formal, but don't get used to it. Others aren't as nice as me. Or your little boyfriends."