Thread by @TrischwitaTK

a #yoonminau

“what’a a pretty thing like you, doing in a place like this?” the mobster quirked his top lip up, an almost sinister smirk appearing across his face.

“are you going to order something or not? i have other customers.” jimin glared, despite how sexy the customer… https://t.co/iuY9YKopzxtwitter.com/i/web/status/1…

There were over two dozen men scowering the streets for any sign of something nefarious having occured and inevitably, Yoongi got a call and the group of men, including Seokjin, whom Yoongi now refused to let out of his site, made their way to a dead end street.

There was Jimin's car, haphazardly "parked" against the curb, the whole back end smashed in with, what looked like, incredible force. Yoongi's stomach lurched at the sight, barking an order for everyone else to stay in the limo as he got out.

Making his way closer to the wreckage, he noticed the drivers side window had been smashed in and there was blood smeared across he steering wheel and all over the seat and floor.

On any normal day, the image wouldn't have even phased Yoongi, but this wasn't a normal day. This was the last time that Jimin had been a free man, just trying to drive home from work when he had clearly been ambushed. It made his skin crawl. Poor Jimin.

"Boss." The man who had found the scene of the crime approached him carefully, "I've called the detective out as well, figured maybe he might catch something we didn't."

Yoongi didn't register much of what was said and nodded. The detective he was speaking of, Park Bogum, had been in Yoongi's pocket for years and quite often headed up any cases involving the man, "You can go."

He wasn't much in a talking mood, eyes roving over the debris that litered the street, mind racing a mile a minute as he tried to imagine where his brother might have taken Jimin. There was no way he had a place here, he had direct control over most of the building owners in

that neighborhood, and he couldn't imagine his brother would want to lug an unconscious body all that far.

Of course, there was the possibility he wasn't working alone, but very few would defy the true leader of the Min Faction, so an idea of a whole gang would be nonsensical.

Hearing the car door open and close, Yoongi didn't even have to look to know it was Namjoon, his eyes still investigating the asphalt, "Check all the hotels in the area. He won't have gone far. He likes being right in the middle of everything. I'd say a hotel within five miles."

A large hand landed on Yoongi's shoulder, squeezing it slightly, "Hyung, are you okay?"

Stiffening slightly, Yoongi stood up straight, prying his eyes from the blood against the black tarmac, "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

There was a brief silence, followed by a somewhat defeated sigh as Namjoon pulled his hand back, "Because I know you're not. I don't know why you keep lying to me. Or maybe it's because you're just trying to lie to yourself."

"We don't have time for this, Namjoon. I need everyone looking into hotels immediately. Probably skechier ones that wouldn't ask questions about someone simply carrying in a man who was clearly unconscious."

The tightness in his voice was unmistakeable and he knew Joon could hear it too, but he couldn't shake it. He was boiling, frothing at the edge and ready to spill over. Sure, he blammed Jin, but he blamed himself more. He should have been protecting Jimin long ago.

He should have known that his brother would somehow find his one weakness, this random fucking bartender who had the face of an angel and mouth of a sailor. It was also quite likely that Agust, being Yoongi's twin, was equally as taken with Jimin as he himself had been.

‼️t/w implied r@pe‼️

He didn't even want to think what that vile piece of shit might have done to Jimin while he was unconcious, what he might have taken from him beyond just his present self.

Before Namjoon could respond again, Yoongi took a shaky breath, stretching his neck out until it popped, "I'll never forgive myself if something happens to him."

It was almost whispered, like a secret no one was allowed to hear, despite him saying it out loud in the company of his best friend.

"Nothing is going to happen to him, we'll make sure of it."

Namjoon's voice sounded so steady and sure, and for once, Yoongi found himself wishing he could be a little more hopeful like Namjoon.

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The next time Jimin woke up, he couldn't move his arms or legs. For a moment, he had forgotten where he was, his head spinning as if he had just woken up from a hangover induced coma.

It didn't take long for all the memories to come flooding back in, practically knocking the wind out of him.

He was being held captive. He had been cornered and kidnapped while he was unconcious. And then Yoongi - no... Yoongi's identical twin?

𝘠𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪.

Yoongi was dead?

His head throbbed, mirroring the pain he seemed to be feeling in every fibre of his being.

Yoongi's brother had said Yoongi was dead, but was that true? He had also said Yoongi had done this to him, and he would never.

Jimin knew that the mobster would never have hurt a hair on his head, and this - this 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 - had seemed to make it his mission to hurt Jimin.

Yoongi would never do any of this, he knew it. He knew that it wasn't the mobster. It couldn't have been.

There were expertly knotted sheets holding his wrists captive against the headboard and his feet were boned together and obviously tied to the bottom frame of the bed. How the hell was he going to get out of this?

Especially if... really was dead. He couldn't even think the man's name and the thought of him being no more together, even the idea of it was too much to bear.

Shifting slightly, he tried to peek his eyes open, scanning the room to see if the stranger was with him, before he could even do that though, a voice, "Oh, good morning. Glad to see your awake."

And there was Not Yoongi, towering over him with that same creepy smile on his face, as if Jimin was just a silly toy to play with.

"Let me. Fucking. Go." Jimin gritted out as he tugged at his arms and legs, watching the man's clear amusement at his predicament. What a sick bastard.

"I don't think you're in much of a position to make demands right now, sweetheart."

The term of endearment made Jimin's stomach twist, just barely holding himself back from wretching.

"What the fuck do you want with me?! Why am I here?!"

Not Yoongi seemed to ponder for a moment, seemingly crafting his response carefully, "Because my brother wanted you."

"What?!" Jimin belowed, eyes narrowing at the man above him, "I don't have anything to do with him! We met 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦! Are you stupid!?

The comment seemed to wipe the smile right off of the lunatics face, obviously having struck some kind of a nerve.

Jimin would have been smug if he wasn't struck across the face a moment later, all the previous pain mingling with the new ache as his eyes crossed and he groaned out, dropping his head back onto the mattress.

"𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥. I know exactly what I am doing. Keep your mouth shut or I will shut it for you."

Jimin knew he should stop, if Yoongi was really dead, what sense was there in keeping him alive? He had clearly wanted Jimin to get to Yoongi. But why keep him alive if

the mob boss had already been taken care of?

𝘌𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺.

He coudn't have been, or Jimin wouldn't be here. He was bait. Though apparently Jimin truly hadn't had any contact with Yoongi all these months. It had been Not Yoongi all along.

Yoongi clearly didn't care about him, why would he? He was some random guy he met nearly six months ago and had one actual conversation with. This guy clearly had his facts all wrong.

"I don't know what you think, but I haven't spoken to Yoongi in months! He didn't care about me like you seem to think. We had nothing."

The realization almost stung, the fact that Yoongi hadn't been keeping an eye on him all these months and it was obvous that his brother was just completely batshit.

"So if you think I am some kind of prize you won, I'm not. I didn't have a fucking thing to do with your brother so let me. Fucking. Go!" Jerking against the mattress, he began fighting with the binds again to no avail while Not Yoongi just stared at him.

"No wonder he likes you... fiesty. He always loved a challenge." The black-haired man reached out, caressing Jimin's cheek softly, running the back of his finger across the porcelain skin.

Jimin violently tugged his head away, spitting at the hand hovering where his cheek had just been, "you're fucking disgusting."

Once more, Not Yoongi’s eyes glazed over with pure disdain, striking Jimin again, this time with the back of his hand, “I was going to be nice and feed you. But I don’t think you deserve it yet, you little bitch.”

“I wouldn’t touch a fucking thing you tried to give me.”

“THEN I GUESS YOU’LL FUCKING STARVE!” Not Yoongi howled getting to his feet and storming out of the room, slamming the hotel door behind him.

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Jimin thought about screaming, he thought about yelling until his voice went hoarse but he didn’t know if Not Yoongi had posted guards up outside and he didn’t want anyone else to walk into whatever was going on here.

So what were his options? He had no idea where his phone was, probably left behind in his car.

Ugh. His car.

He briefly panicked about what had happened to his car before he realized none of that mattered in the slightest if he didn’t get out of this.

Lifting his head, he looked around, eyes scanning over the material wrapped around his wrist. Now that he could really investigate it, he noticed that the edges of the knotted material was frayed, indicating their age.

Maybe he could rip them, well, not his wrist bindings, his arms weren’t that strong, but maybe the ones on his legs. From years of dancing and physical therapy, his lower extremities were deceptively strong.

Shimmying down the bed, he pulled his arms taunt, shifting as low as he could to get more leverage to move his legs. Digging his hips into the mattress, yanked his legs up, tugging as hard as he could.

This was going to take awhile.

It seemed like he had been at it for forever, his legs ached, his wrists rubbed raw from the constant pressure being put on them from the repeated jerking.

He couldn’t give up, his movements becoming more frantic as the minutes ticked by, knowing the longer it took, the more

likely it was that his captor would return.

“Come. ON.” Groaning loudly, he began to repeatedly tug on his legs, jerking around and jostling roughly. The bed banged loudly against the wall, yanking his legs up harder and harder until the frame creaked loudly and he heard a… twitter.com/i/web/status/1…

His legs suddenly flew up, the entire bed lilting to the side as the wooden piece he had been tied to came flying up from under the frame. Yelping loudly, he shifted his body to the side to avoid the splintered chunk from hitting him.

“Fuck fuck fuck.”

Sitting up, he looked around, trying to assess what to do next. Well, he could at least get his feet free. It didn’t matter how tired he already felt, he had to keep going.

With a fluid motion, he brought his legs up once more, strengthening his back muscles and lifting them up over his head, careful to avoid the dangling piece of wood.

Bringing the binds near his hand, he quickly ripped at the sheet, tugging it off from around his ankles.

Now, with his legs free, he moved to sit up, taking a moment to breath. His head was pounding and he could hardly get enough air in his lungs. He knew he couldnt take any more time. He had to move.

Eyeing his hands, he slowly looked up, realizing the bed posts weren’t capped and he felt a sob of relief crashing over him. He couldn’t take the time to celebrate though, scrambling up on the mattress. Once he had his back pressed to the oak, he began sliding up, getting to his

feet and slipping the knotted fabric over the top of the posts.

He was free. His legs wobbled beneath him and he felt like he was about to cry. He was so tired. He didn’t know if he could do this.

And what if he got away? What was going to stop Not Yoongi from finding him again and next time, he might not be so lucky.

Every breath he took stung, like he was inhaling glass shards. His wrists were raw and verging on bloody. He didn’t even know if he could run at this point

“What are you even doing?” He spoke aloud, before rolling his eyes at himself, “Get the fuck up Park Jimin.”

Despite his exhaustion, he quickly untangled the binds from his wrists and scurried off the bed.

He was barefoot, his clothes were bloody and he was sure his face probably wasn’t far behind but none of that mattered, he just had to go.

First, he was going to check the door, he really didn’t want to have to figure out how to get out of the window of a multi story building.

As quietly as possible, he turned the knob cracking the entryway open just a hair. He couldn’t see anyone there so increased the gap, his head poking out.

The hallway was empty.

Now he just had to run.

Despite how much his legs were screaming at him to stop, he couldn’t, not when he had come this far. Not even thinking twice, he took the stairs. He didn’t need to be seen and he doubted many people chose to take the stairs in such a tall building.

Practically bounding down the stairs, his chest heaved as he could taste freedom. He had no idea where he was going to go once he was out of here, he honestly didn’t even know what party of the city he was in. Or hell, if he was even still in Seoul.

Busting out of the stairwell, he made a beeline for the front doors, no one so much as looking his direction. It was clear this wasn’t the kind of place where people often asked questions.

Finally, he was outside, the sun was setting and he had no idea how many days had even passed since he had been taken. The oncoming evening air made him cry out with relief, and despite his head feeling fuzzy, he quickly recognized where he was. He wasn’t far from home.

Quickly, the bartender stumbled away from the entrance of the inn, even though every muscle in his body was threatening to give out.

This was it, he was almost home free.

Tripping slightly on the uneven cement beneath his feet, Jimin’s eyes diverted to the nearby wall he was catching himself on.

“Boss, we found him!”

The words were like ice in his veins. Snapping his head up, he saw two men in suits, now quickly closing in on him.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬?! Why couldn’t he catch a break.

Turning around, he began running, but he just didn’t have the strength, he didn’t even have it in him to yell. They were quickly on him, and finally the exhaustion took over and he crumpled to the ground. Defeated.

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“Jimin-ssi?”

This time, Jimin didn’t even remember blacking out and as he came too, he felt a hand on his cheek. He was going to throw up. Here he was again, at the mercy of this disgusting human.

Lifting his hands, he shoved as hard as he could, thrashing on the couch he was now laying on, “Don’t fucking touch me! Stay the fuck away from me!”

“Jiminie! Jimin! Stop!” The familiar voice made him halt, opening his eyes, and frantically sitting up to look around.

Slowly, his eyes focused, landing on Jungkook who was hovering over him, his large eyes worried and panicked. Sitting on the edge of the couch beside him, was Yoongi, who was now keeping his distance.

“Sorry for touching you.” The mobster looked apologetic, almost scared.

“Yoongi?” Jimin’s eyes zeroed in on the scar, relief flooding his face. Before he could stop himself, the younger was flinging his arms around the elders neck, sobbing into the skin, “I thought you were dead. He said you were dead.”

There was a brief moment of hesitation, Yoongi couldn’t recall the last time someone had hugged him so intimately. It had been years. Even physical exchanges with his mother were rather reserved.

He didn’t have to contemplate it long though, wrapping his arms around the younger

and cradling him against his side. Gently caressing fingers through the shaggy hairs at the back of Jimin’s neck, he rocked him softly, trying to sooth the obvious overwhelming emotions he was experiencing.

“Shhh, I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m here.”

And there he was. Right there. Right beside Jimin and there was nowhere else he would have rather been.

“MIMI! WHAT THE HELL GUYS?! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME HE WOKE UP?!” Hoseok, who had just walked through the door with Namjoon and a glass of water, rushed beside the couch, all but knocking Yoongi out of the way.

“I’ve been so worried about you!” His friend cried, now wrapping the younger in a crushing hug, which Jimin would normally have returned except for how incredibly sore his body was.

Jimin yelped in pain and the noise that followed from the mob boss quickly sobered the blubbering man up, tugging away from his best friend and scurrying to his feet a few steps away.

“Be fucking caref-” Yoongi began but Jimin shook his head quickly.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. Just… sore.”

“I’m sorry Mimi, I forgot. I’m just.. so happy to see you. Awake. You had me so scared. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.” Wrapping his arms around himself, Hoseok frowned, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Seokie. I’m so happy to see you too. All of you.” He didn’t have the energy to truly express just how happy he was. He had honestly thought he might never get to again.

“H-how long have I been gone?” He was scared to know how much time he had lost, and he was even more scared of what might have happened in that time. He was in so much pain, he had no clue what was from his initial accident, his escape or possibly threw hands of Not Yoongi.

“You went missing the night before last. We’ve been looking for you ever since.” Yoongi replied immediately, at some point having moved a hand to rest atop Jimin’s stroking it gingerly, “How did you get out?”

Just thinking about his escape made Jimin exhausted and he began to cry once more, shaking his head, “I’m not even sure. I just knew I couldn’t give up.”

It was true, he honestly couldn’t remember exactly what had happened, the adrenaline of the moment was clouding his mind.

“Did he do anything to you?” Jungkook blurted out, face fuming as he questioned his friend.

“That’s enough.” Instead of letting Jimin respond, Yoongi interjected, throwing a withering glance at the youngest, “Jimin needs some fitful rest, not to answer a ton of questions.”

“You started it.” The tattooed man muttered under his breath, reluctantly pulling away and moving across the room to sit silently beside Taehyung.

“We can take him home.” Hoseok offered, still standing nearby with his arms wrapped around himself.

“Absolutely fucking not. He’s not going anywhere. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Do you think this is the end of this? This is only the beginning. You will not leave this apartment until I have found my brother and put an end to it. Once and for all.”

The silence that followed was palpable, but nobody argued, it would have been foolish to do so.

“There are plenty of places to sleep here, you all better get comfortable.”

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"I am so proud of you, getting yourself out of there. You have to be the strongest person I've ever met Park Jimin."

At that moment, Jimin didn't feel strong, not one bit. His body felt broken, regardless of having had quite a lot of sleep the previous evening.

"Thank you, Yoongi-ssi, but I really doubt that is true." the words from the elder were kind, but Yoongi knew a lot of big, bad people so he doubted Jimin would even rank in top 10 strongest Yoongi had met.

Walking to the bed with a wet cloth, Yoongi resumed his place on the chair beside the bed Jimin was laying in, reaching out to gingerly remove the guaze that was shrouding the wound on his shoulder, "I wound't lie. I don't lie."

The mobster smiled, wiping softly at the gash as the younger yelped and hissed slightly, "What is that?!"

"Alcohol. It needs to be cleaned. And stitched up." While the words were matter of fact, there was a calm fury lapping beneath them like the ocean before high tide.

Jimin warmed at the way Yoongi was so carefully tending to him, all the worrying feelings he had felt before seeming to maximize now being in the other man's presence.

With a pout, Jimin dared to look at his own skin, grimacing at the sight, "See? Not strong at all."

A deep rolling chuckle escaped the gangsters lips as he darted his eyes to look at Jimin [you kno the look] from beneath the falling stands of hair, "Most would be wailing right now in your position. None of my men would have even been able to escape like you did.

You really are something else." The wonder in his voice was unmistakable and Jimin felt the heat of it through his entire body.

Laughing some, he shrugged, wincing again as he moved his shoulder, watching Yoongi get back up to walk to where he had grabbed the cloth from, "I

wasn't going to let that son of a bitch kill me without a fight."

Looking over his shoulder briefly, he shot the younger a pointed look, "That's my mother you're talking about."

Immediately, Jimin sat up quickly, clapping his hand over his mouth with wide eyes, "Oh my god.. I wasn't even-"

Once again Yoongi let out a tumbling laugh, returning with a small kit in his hand and sitting once more, "I'm just playing with you."

Briefly, Jimin still looked worried about his choice of wording before the elder added, "She really can be a bitch."