#im just a very ugly picture of parental neglect back then

[selamat-linting]

i know cost of living crisis and unemployment hits everyone and i have to build solidarity but man. I really have limited sympathies to cishet people that used to make fun of me and my queer friends in school. they are so much privileged and supported in society yet fumble things up so badly in life they have to ask help. from the same ppl they used to bully. Like, you dont have to support your parents like i do, you dont have to pay for hrt and surgeries like my friend, you'll never even worry of getting into a fight with your parents so bad due to your identity or political beliefs that youre getting evicted. ofc i'd try to help but like. geez. my friend ofc get the brunt of this. Tbf she's very active on instagram while i tried my best to make myself invisible online.

[honey-boyyoongi]

Pairing ➪ Reader x Yoongi| Part 47//??

Word count ➪ 847

Warnings ➪ it’s not beta-ed; any mistakes are mine; mentions of possible past child neglect; mentions of possible child abuse; mentions of anxiety; mentions of possible mental health issues; mentions of possible manipulation; if it doesn’t make sense im sorry:); if your named is crossed out its because I couldn’t tag you;

Summary ➪ Min Yoongi, is a simple man. He likes his coffee black and iced, he enjoys his job, and he loves his baby girl. But what happens when the new neighbor, quite literally, drops into his life?

A/n: heyyyyy besties~~~ :)))))))))) yall have been waiting for this!! As always feedback is appreciated and if you want to be added to the tag list please let me know 💕

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Minji was riddled with anxiety. She decided to leave a day early, wanting some time to herself to think. In the past weeks she’s learned every little thing about the child. Mrs. Min sent pictures of the child from a year old forward. She wanted to ask for pictures of her as an infant, but felt like she was overstepping.

A lot in the city was different; the little restaurant her and Yoongi frequented was now being run by the owners daughter, her favorite bookstore was now a cosmetics shop, the shady apartment building she used to live in with Mina was now repainted and renovated. Just as things changed some stayed the same; the uncle that sold ice cream at the park is still going strong; her favorite market still sells the brown sugar pancakes she loves, and her parents house still looks exactly the same way it did when she left it 8 years ago. The door is still that ugly shade of brown she’s detested since childhood, and the peach tree her brother had begged for as children is still left neglected. It’s all horribly nostalgic.

The fights, the anxiety, the grief; it was all coming back. She would never dare say it out loud, but she heavily resented her parents, almost bordering on hate. The lack of attention stopped bothering her in her teenage years, she had Jisung, and Minji was content with that. She had adapted to keeping herself hidden, always going with the status quo her parents had enforced. The less attention she received, the less she had to interact with her parents. Jisung always took the brunt of it all; he had expectations that burdened him from birth. Minji still remembers the last time she saw her brother, he was less tense, almost at peace. She likes to remember him that way; happy, sitting under his peach tree.

Minji tries to distract herself, she goes into town to get necessities. Mrs. Min had invited her to stay at her home, ‘You’re going to need all the help you can get once you get Haneul’, she had said. Minji, while appreciative, refused. She had booked a hotel, needing a neutral space to keep herself grounded. Bora had kept insisting, but she never budged.

Minji was walking the isles when she sees, what she at first assumes, a mother and daughter playfully bickering. Minji wondered, what if? What if she had stayed? Would her and the child be that loving? Would she love that child like this mother loved her daughter? Drowned in her thoughts she can faintly hear them.

“Are you sure you want that soup for dinner,” the mother asked.

“Yes,” the toddler exclaimed.

“I thought you didn’t like that one honey.”

“Bu-bu- you and-and papa like it. I have chicken, so is okay,” the child mumbled. Minji faintly smiled under her mask, amused at the toddler’s logic. It was a sweet moment she hoped to have one day.

She passes by them, listening to the toddler who’s eagerly trying to show her mother which vegetables are the absolute best for their meal. Minji is still fighting with herself when she sees him. Yoongi still looks as handsome as ever; his hair had grown out even longer, he had subtle smile lines decorating the sides of his mouth, very subtle silver hair at the very front of his part. His eyes seemed exhausted, his fingers showed mild signs of his awful picking habit, but underneath all of that she still saw the same 24 year old Yoongi that had showed up to her and Mina’s place. He wasn’t wearing the ripped jeans she associated with him, now he was dressed in a full suit and tie, everything looking expensive down to the cuff links, his attention stolen by the toddler exclaiming out, “Papa! Look!” Yoongi turns towards the child, completely smitten.

The child motions him forward, showing off the vegetables she had chosen, “Look, Bee said I pick. Papa do you like?”

Yoongi nods approvingly, “You did such a good job Hani.”

Minji quickly left. She walked, and walked, and walked. Until she couldn’t anymore. She doesn’t remember getting back to her hotel, or getting into bed. She tries to avoid remembering her dreams. They ring mockingly in her ears, ‘The child is happy, without you. The love of your life is happy, without you. This person is better than you. Your child loves her. The love of your life loves her. She stole your child. She stole the love of your life.’

On her way to the elder Mins’ home, she wondered if she could get what she lost back. Maybe she and Yoongi could try again, for the sake of their child of course. Maybe she could move back to this city, stay with the Mins until they found a home to raise their daughter. The ideas progressively started to sound like Mrs. -, no, like mom guiding her along. Mother Min would help her get her happiness back, and she was ready to claim what was rightfully hers.

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