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Hey guys, I am a bit new to the fandom and this is my first fanfiction about any BTS members. Please be kind.
TW-Mafia, Yandere, Non-consensual touching, breaking in, Kidnapping, stalking, threats.
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The weather was exceptionally warm as the sun slowly went down. It was sunny, and you had to squint your eyes as you watched the children at the swings in the playground. It was already 4:30 and most parents were late.
This was not a perk at the rich day care/school you worked at. Even though most parents had hours for personal grooming, poker at the country clubs or golf games, they were late to pick up their kids.
Always late with the same lines.
“It was a rather interesting game at the club!”
“The traffic was atrocious!” (Lies, It was far from rush hour)
It was the same, every day.
As you was lost in your thoughts, you felt a hand on her shoulder. you looked up to her fellow teacher, Nicole.
“Have you seen that gentleman here before?” She asked pointing to a man on the other side of the playground’s fence. The man stood a few meters away, dressed in all black with a blond mullet. His long black coat accentuated his height making him seem like giant, you could tell he was well-built even at a distance.
You walked up to the man slowly, who looked at you as you neared, he took off his sunglasses as you neared. He was attractive, very attractive, dragon eyes, plump lips, smooth skin and jaw that could cut diamonds. He definitely won the genetic lottery, you thought.
“Hi, I am a teacher here. I was wondering if you were looking for someone, I haven’t seen you here before?”
The man smiled at her genially and said,” No, no I was just waiting for a colleague, his son studies here. I think his name was Mingyu? He was supposed to pick him up and drop him at home before we headed for a drink. It seems he is late.”
Gods, his voice could make men and woman weak in the knees.
“Oh, yeah Mr. Lee comes a bit late, I think he is stuck at work or that’s what he says. Anyways, I must get back to the kids. Sorry for bothering you.”
“No problem” His eyes had a strange glint in them.
You turned and headed toward Nicole quickly.
“He is waiting for Mr. Lee, Mingyu’s father, they were supposed to meet here.” you reassured Nicole.
“He is quite handsome, isn’t he? He was staring at you the whole time you were walking towards me.” She mused.
Nicole was about say something when Mr. Lee hurriedly neared the fence to pick up Mingyu. He didn’t notice the man as he picked his son up.
As soon as he did notice him, he went a bit pale. As if he had seen a ghost, he spoke something to the man. you couldn’t make out what he spoke. But the other man responded cheerfully and took Mr. Lee by the shoulders and walked him towards the direction of his home.
“Well that a bit strange.” Nicole murmured.
“Maybe he was a bit embarrassed to be late? Who cares?” you said.
Nothing was said after that.
“Don't turn around,” you whispered to Nicole and Hari, eyes firmly set on the tall frame of a familiar man that walked into the small coffee shop you and your friends had met up at. When they moved to turn, you hissed at them and they stopped mid-movement. Hari raised a brow at you in question.
“You remember the guy from last Wednesday? He's here, standing in the line. Second to last, tall, wearing a leather jacket and black boots. Don't make it obvious,” you said in a hushed tone.
You and Nicole had told Hari everything about the handsome mystery man and had listened to her moaning about how she would've loved to see him too because he sounded like a real snack from the way you were describing him. Well, now he was here and you weren't about to deprive her of the sight that he was.
“Damn, those shoulders are looking really-” Hari started as she swivelled in her chair to sit sideways on it and glance at the man. But she trailed off when she saw his face as he turned it in their general direction. She visibly blanched, immediately turning on the chair and facing you again.
“Do you know who that is?” she asked, her tone lowered as she leaned forward. You frowned, briefly glancing at the handsome specimen before shrugging and turning your gaze back to her.
“That is Kim Namjoon. I heard some nasty things about him from a friend. Haechan, you know him. He got involved with the wrong people and ended up being in Kim's debt. Let me tell you, that man is not someone you want to be indebted to,” she whispered frantically.
You would've shrugged this off as rumours, exaggerations or simply misconceptions and lies, but the scared look on your usually so collected friend's face made you stop. And the memory of this man, Namjoon, talking to the father outside the kindergarten. You knew something had been off. The way the man shifted slightly to stand in front of his child, his and the little one's discomfort. And Namjoon's imposing stance.
“I... are you sure? It does sound a little farfetched,” you tried weakly, but the look your friend gave you silenced any doubtful voices piping up in the back of your head.
“I'm serious. I don't know how Haechan got out of this unharmed, but he was really messed up afterwards. These gang people or whatever they are, mobsters, bikers, all the same, don't play games. You would do good to stay away from him if you ever come across him again.”
You nodded mutely, still watching Namjoon over Hari's shoulder. You froze when his gaze suddenly found yours.
“He's watching,” you bit out, trying not to move your lips and give yourself away, “What am I supposed to do?”
“Smile briefly and then look back at me, acting like we're deep in conversation,” she said quickly and then started to babble on about her week at work and the little fight she and her girlfriend had gotten into on Tuesday.
Meanwhile you sent a small smile Namjoon's way, acknowledging your recognition, and then turned your attention back to your still talking friend. You focused solely on her, nodding and laughing along as she told you about meaningless things.
You could still feel his eyes on you as you watched her talk.
The following week was... anxiety inducing. You didn't know why, but Namjoon seemed to be following you around.
At first you tried to tell yourself you were simply paranoid and his appearances were mere coincidences. It wasn't uncommon to meet the same people at a supermarket or a coffee shop.
But the little book shop you'd discovered a few years ago, the one that was a hole on the wall, the one where you had never seen him ever, raised some concerns.
Then the tall menace started turning up along your way to work and back home, or lingered around the kindergarten, you were starting to grow restless and afraid. You had told Hari and Nicole about your observations and fears. After a talk with them, you had picked up the daily routine of texting one of them whenever you arrived at work and then got back home after.
Your suggestion to go to the police had been vehemently refused. It wouldn't be any good, Hari had told you. All it would do was get you more of his unwanted attention. So, you lived with your growing paranoia.
The aforementioned paranoia and anxiety skyrocketed at the end of the Monday after the first week of his eerie following you around.
You had just slung your backpack over your shoulder and were stepping out of the kindergarten building, your face turned up to the sky to soak up the afternoon sun, when a low hum from your right made you jump. Your eyes snapped open and your head whipped around. Your heart stuttered in your chest when you saw who had made the sound.
It was him. Namjoon stood casually leaned against the brick wall of the building you had just exited, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He smirked at your startled reaction.
“Hey there, princess. Didn't mean to startle you,” he said, not looking one bit sorry. You laughed nervously.
“Uh, it's alright. I wasn't paying attention,” you said quietly and glanced away from him. His staring was making you uncomfortable, the way he dragged his gaze over your body, taking in every inch before returning to your face. Nervousness made your heart beat a little faster.
“You're off to home then?” Namjoon asked, still watching you intently. You fidgeted on the spot, feet shifting and fingers digging into the straps of your backpack.
“uh-huh, just locked up,” you said and then cleared your throat nervously, “Well, I better get going.”
But when you started walking, Namjoon pushed away from the wall, matching your steps as you hastily scurried down the sidewalk.
“So eager to leave, sweetheart?” Namjoon joked, then added, “Oh, the name's Namjoon by the way. But I suppose you know that already judging by your behaviour. That's fine. I know yours, too.”
He proved that immediately by calling out your name again. Your heart stuttered.
You gulped, heart fluttering anxiously as you tried to come up with a response.
“Uhm, yeah. I've... heard of you,” you eventually got out, nervously glancing his way. He was still watching you with those dragon like eyes of his, a smirk curling the side of his mouth when he caught you peeking.
“No need to look so scared, sweetheart. I'm not going about hurting pretty things like you. Not really my style. You're perfectly safe with me.”
So, he knew that you had heard of his business. Or he at least suspected that you had. The lack of expression and your silence spoke volumes.
When you didn't reply to his utterance, he let out a low chuckle. It was a rich sound, full of amusement and something you would've enjoyed if it wasn't for the man making the sound.
“How about this, I take you out to dinner tomorrow and we can get to know each other better. You'll see that there's nothing to be afraid of. I can pick you up after work,” he suggested.
Your breath seized in your chest and your step faltered, almost making you stumble. Namjoon's hands shot out, grabbing onto your waist to steady you. His touch lingered as he told you to be more careful, palms sliding along your side and briefly settling on your hips and giving them a squeeze before he let the wandering appendages fall away.
“I- uh, I can't. Sorry,” you rushed out, your skin crawling from his touch. Then, without further ado, you rushed away, almost running as you rounded the next corner. You threw a look over your shoulder as you scurried over the sidewalk, but Namjoon was nowhere to be seen.
To your misery and anger, your rejection didn't seem to deter Namjoon. He kept showing up at your work, joining you on your way to or from work. You were certain he knew by now where you lived. He would talk when he walked beside you, his long steps always catching up with yours no matter how fast you were walking, trying to escape him.
Namjoon didn't seem to mind that you didn't answer except to decline another offer at dinner or a drink. Every time you told him no, he merely chuckled in that amused way, as if you were just being silly, as if you were playing had to get and would eventually come around.
Not if you could help it.
As if his oppressing presence wasn't enough Namjoon started to get handsy. Nothing serious, but the lingering touches on your waist or the way his hand would brush against yours when he was once more harassing you on your way to work were making you uncomfortable.
A promise of more than just slight touches and caresses. The thought made your skin crawl.
It made you nauseous with fear and anxiety.
It got worse when he started waiting outside your apartment building when you left for work in the morning. He even stood right in front of the door to your apartment, scaring the shit out of you when you swung it opened and stepped outside, only to leap back inside and slam the wooden barrier in his face. You'd waited for several minutes, but he wasn't leaving and you had to get to work.
“Come on out, princess. You'll be late to work,” he had taunted through the door, mocking you until you opened it again and stormed past him without sparing him a glance.
He upped his game by sending you flowers and other presents, jewellery, gift cards. A set of lacy underwear and bra was by far the most unpleasant one.
All of it was eating away at you, especially because you had no one to talk to about this madness. You had stopped telling your friend, assuring her you were fine and Namjoon had moved on because you didn't want her to worry about you constantly. You regretted your decision more and more with every day that passed, each one taking a bit of your sanity with it.
You were slowly going mad, paranoia a constant companion and your anxiety too happy to remind you of the looming presence of the dubious man every time you managed to push the thought of him out of your mind for more than a couple of minutes.
The fourth week into the madness you had started sleeping with knife by your bed side.
You slept with one arm dangling over the side of the bed so you'd be able to quickly grasp the knife should it be necessary. You practiced it for hours.
Your sleep was light since this whole thing had started, disturbances not uncommon.
That led to you being sleep deprived, agitated and short-tempered most of the time. But you had to reign it in at work. The children weren't at fault and they didn't deserve any harshness from you. So, you kept it bottled up, the toxic mix of frustration, anger, fear and lack of sleep festering away inside your chest.
The deadly cocktail boiled over after a long and particularly trying day at work. The children had been disobedient and out for trouble, stirring up fights and causing all kinds of mischief. The only reprieve you got, was when you stepped outside after work was over and there was no sight of Namjoon. He didn't appear on your way home either.
But even that tiny bit of peace was destroyed when you unlocked the door to your apartment and stepped inside to find a bouquet of flowers sitting in one of your vases on the counter of your open-plan living room.
You certainly hadn't put them there.
He had been in your home. He had gone through your stuff to find the vase and then placed the flowers in it, putting them right there in your kitchen. He had been in your home.
The one place you thought could be safe.
The terror inside you spiked and you sprinted into the bedroom, grabbing the knife from your bedside table and then searching your apartment inch by inch to make sure the horrible man wasn't anywhere in your not-so-safe-anymore place.
When you returned to the kitchen, you slumped into a chair that stood by the counter with the flowers on it. You put the knife down beside you and glowered at the pretty bundle of colourful flowers. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, angrily staring at the bouquet. The longer you looked at it, the angrier you became.
How dare he to come into your life and turn it upside down?
How dare he harass and follow you, touch you without your permission?
And most of all, how dare he break into your place?
You were mad. The lack of sleep, anger, frustration and fear of the last weeks finally becoming too much as you sat there and stewed in your own dark thoughts.
A loud knock startled you out of your vengeful thoughts, your gaze snapping up and zeroing in on the front door. Another knock came and you growled.
“I swear to god, if that is his bitch ass on the other side of that door...” you cursed under your breath, grabbing the knife and tucking into the waistband on your jeans at your back. You felt like a criminal yourself as you stomped over to the door, ready to do whatever was necessary to finally get the obsessive man to lay off you.
You ripped the door open and your nostrils flared at the sight of Namjoon. It was indeed him, his usual smirk peeking out and taunting you as you stood in the door frame, shaking with rage. But before you could utter a single word, the man stepped forward, shouldering his way past you and into your flat. He pushed you out of the way and closed the door behind himself.
“How do you like the little surprise I left you?” he asked as he casually strolled through the room as if he owned the place. It made you snap out of your stupor.
“I don't give a shit about you or your presents. Leave my fucking home,” you growled and pointed at the door, your hand trembling.
Namjoon just laughed, tilting his head as he eyed you with slightly raised eyebrows.
“My kitten has claws after all. Where does that courage come from all of a sudden?” he taunted. “Not that I don't appreciate it. I enjoy a little fire in my woman. What I don't appreciate however, is that attitude you have going on, baby girl.”
“Don't call me that, asshole. I'm not your woman. I'm not your sweetheart or baby girl. I'm not your anything. All you are to me is a nuisance and I would appreciate it if you got the fuck out of my home and my life,” you hissed, voice wavering with rage.
“Careful, doll. Don't test my patience,” Namjoon said, the smirk gone and a steely expression in its place. You gulped and took a step back. But you didn't give up. You wouldn't, not so easily.
“I know you're probably not often told no, but I will do so, have done so. I am doing it right now. No, I don't want to go out with you, I don't want anything to do with you. Now please leave my home,” you pressed out between gritted teeth, forcing yourself to be firm but as calm as possible.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Namjoon started, slowly walking closer with his hands in his pockets, “You sound like you believe you have any say in this. One thing you are right about though. I'm not told no. I haven’t been told no since I took these streets, this city, this country. No one tells me no. You certainly don't tell me no.”
He came even closer, closing the distance between the two of you.
“And I will have you one way or another. You're mine and I decided as such, whether you like it or not. Accepting it makes it easier for both of us. Be good for me and I'll be good to you.”
He was closer now, almost at an arm's length. He pulled his hands from his pockets.
That was the last push you needed. That man wasn't going to give up, he had told you as much. You reached behind your back and pulled the knife out of your jeans. You brought it up in front of you, and brandished it threateningly at the blonde .
Namjoon's eyebrows rose up so high it looked like they were trying to escape into his hairline. It seemed you had managed to take him by surprise. After overcoming his initial surprise, Namjoon chuckled. This time it sounded almost impressed.
“When I woke up this morning, I certainly didn't expect my day would end like this,” he admitted, staring down the knife at your angry, but afraid face.
“You certainly have more guts than I gave you credit for. But who can blame me, really. You always seemed like such a timid thing. So sweet and friendly.”
You huffed. As if he knew anything about you. He only knew what he could gather from his obsessive stalking. He didn't know the first thing about the real you, the you, you were when you were alone or with your friends.
Namjoon's next condescending words pulled you from your upset musings.
“Do you even know how to use that, princess?” he asked, his tone obviously implying he didn't believe you did.
“My mother taught me,” you answered curtly.
“Did she now?” Namjoon said in a low voice, a threatening edge lacing his words. You didn't miss the dangerous glint in his eyes. You tried not to be intimidated by it.
“Find something fleshy and push.”
Your mother hadn't taught you how to stab. You didn't know the first thing about it. Your knowledge extended exactly to what you had just said. 'find something fleshy and push'.
“Is that so...” he said, his voice still threateningly low as he stepped closer, startling you when he approached until the knife was pressed right up against his throat.
Your hands trembled, fingers sweaty on the handle as you stared up at Namjoon, trying hard to hide your terror. It became stronger with the second, replacing the mindless rage that had guided your actions when you pulled the knife in your grasp.
Now you weren't sure about this anymore at all. And Namjoon knew it. You could tell by the victorious look in his eyes, the way the corner of his lips tilted up ever so slightly. Before you could further ponder and weigh your options, several things happened at the same time.
Namjoon moved, grabbing your wrist and twisting it until you let out a cry of pain and let go of the weapon. It was ripped from your grasp, the safety put on and then tossed to the other end of the room where it clattered noisily to the ground. Your legs were kicked out from under you and you fell to your knees. Namjoon's weight came crushing down on you, both your wrists gathered in one of his big hands and held above your head as he took you off your knees and pressed you flat to the ground, facing him.
Your lower half was restrained by his heavy body, legs tangled in his and unmovable. Your breath was coming in harsh pants as you tried to come to grips with what had just occurred in the span of the last five seconds. When you did, you began to struggle, shaken out of your shocked stupor.
“Let go,” you wheezed, his weight pressing down on you not only immobilising you, but also making it hard to breathe properly.
“No can do, baby,” Namjoon said, his breath puffing over your face as he held himself above you. He shifted, keeping your legs immobilised as he sat up, taking your upper body with his and pulling you up by your wrist as he got up fully. You stumbled to your feet, losing your balance from the sudden change in position and his impatient jerking.
Unable to catch yourself with your hands, you face-planted into his firm chest with a little 'oof', making him chuckle as he pulled you back and shifted your wrists from one hand into the other. His free hand reached up and brushed your dishevelled hair away from your flushed face.
You cringed away from his touch, shrinking in on yourself and pulling your shoulders up. He ignored your obvious distaste, grasping your chin between his long fingers and keeping your nervous gaze directed at his.
“I would really hate to punish you, princess. Behave,” he said coolly as he eyed you intently, taking in your dilated pupils and the fluttering of your pulse beneath the thin skin on your throat. His eyes followed the bob of your throat when you gulped.
All your earlier bravado was gone, the rage fuelled resistance and bravery all but obliterated by the man standing in front of you.
“I couldn't stop thinking about you after you approached me that day at the fence,” he said, still staring down at you. His touch on your face wandered, fingers drawing along your jawline and then tracing the shape of your cheekbones. You didn't dare move, your breath shallow as he kept touching you.
“Your pretty smile and beautiful eyes... I knew I had to have you,” he continued, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. “So, I watched, I waited. I had to learn more about you before I could take you. Gotta make sure I know all I can so I can take care of my woman properly.”
A shiver wrecked your frame at his sick and twisted words.
“As for the things I couldn't find out...” his touch wandered lower, caressing your throat and then moving even further to drag his fingertips across the tops of your breasts, “Well, I'll just have to see for myself. I'm a fast learner. Adept. I'm sure you'll come to appreciate it very soon, princess. I may not be a good man princess but I will be good to you. In all ways possible.”
You shook your head weakly, a whimpered, “No, please” leaving your lips. Namjoon shushed you, hand coming to rest on your throat. He didn't squeeze, but you knew he would if you made a wrong move.
“Now, don't act up baby. I know you're a good girl, so I will forgive your earlier outbreak. Continue being bad and you'll come to regret it very soon,” he said, slightly tightening his grip on both your wrists and throat.
Tears rose in your eyes. They were tears of despair as the reality of the situation finally sunk in. You weren't going to get away from him. He wasn't going to stop even if you did manage to escape his clutches in some miraculous way. He had claimed you as his, chosen you and decided to take you without asking your opinion or stopping to take your feelings into consideration.
Kim Namjoon took what he wanted and he wasn't told no. He was never told no.
You didn't struggle when Namjoon dragged you over to your front door, pulling you out of your apartment and guiding you down the stairs, catching you several times when you missed a step or two in your haze.
He was muttering quiet reassurances the whole way, brushing his hands across your body, squeezing and grabbing without your consent. When you stepped out onto the sidewalk, your gaze rose from the ground and landed on a black car standing on the side of the street a couple of feet away.
Namjoon followed your line of sight, reading the silent question on your features.
“I'm going to take you home, princess. Our home.”
