Muffin (Jimin X Reader)

01 ~ The Beginning

This ff has long chapters :))))

**Sensitive topics are shown and talked about in this story. For example abuse, specifically family abuse**

Enjoy!

Warning: Violent Actions Are Seen

Edited.

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You were fidgeting with your fingers, waiting to see would you enter your house now, or wait a few minutes. Either way your father wouldn't be happy and if you were late, your punishment would've probably been worse if you were to go in later rather then now.

You sighed and unlocked the door and pushed against the wooden surface. Some people are usually hit with a sense of a warm environment when they return to their house, but unfortunately for you, you don't get that feeling, you get the feeling of worry and dismay.

You don't even dare to call this place home, because it's not a home, and it never will be considered a home to you.

This was a torture paradise that you would never escape from.

As you were closing the door behind you, the feeling of uneasiness washed over you.

The sound of unmatched foot steps was heard throughout the house as your father hazily made his drunken figure towards you.

"Well?" He drunkenly said, as he leaned against the banister of your staircase that could fall apart at any moment.

"Yes?"

"Did you get paid?" He slurred his words as he spoke.

You kept a straight face and stared in his eyes, not breaking the contact between them.

"No, not today" you lied straight through your teeth.

You were hoping to save money to make a proper dinner instead of eating the cups of ramen that you have lived off for the past two years.

To say you were sick at the sight of them was an understatement.

If your father got hold of the money, all he would do was gamble it or spend it on alcohol.

Neither were cheap, and you were the only one who had a job.

Even at that it was a part-time job. You got a little over minimum wage.

It wasn't enough to survive on.

"Oh really?" He smirked, to which you nodded. He edged nearer to you.

You would run past him, but last time you did that he grabbed you by the roots of your hair and tugged as hard as he could.

So you weren't going to risk it again.

So you stayed still, clutching your purse very tightly in your hand.

But no matter how hard you gripped your purse, he tore it from your grasp with ease.

He opened the purse and saw the weeks pay, hiding away locked inside the purse.

He threw the purse at you after snatching the money and stuffing it in his pocket. He walked over and gripped your wrist with all the strength he could muster from his drunken state. You could feel your bones squeeze together, giving you a crushing feel underneath your skin. Tears stung in your eye but you bit back your whimpers with the utmost difficulty. He took his free hand and grabbed the collar of your work shirt and pulling you up onto your feet as you began to slouch down under the pressure of your fathers actions.