Dear Brother (TFP/RID & Reader)

Prologue

With pouring rain comes the melancholy. The pitter-patter against the windows is loud enough to their ears, along with the rumbling lightning that brightens the night for split seconds. Somewhere in this neighborhood far away from the city, a pair of siblings live their lives in so much pain. Adults never seem to care, and the weather is always against them most of the time. Still, they make do; at such a young age, it is rather unfortunate.

(Y/n) is barely ten years of age. She is rather small and short for other kids her age—too skinny, too. She hugs her knees close to her chest, burying her face into her arms to drown out the loud noises outside the room and the house. Amidst the terrible weather, the constant shouts coming from their living room don't ease her fear. Her hands fly to cover her ears instantly the moment the wall behind her back shakes after another lightning strikes the ground.

"Hey, it's okay. Just a small storm." The voice coming from beside her is the only source of comfort right now. "It'll be over soon, okay?"

This time, (Y/n) scoots closer to the other and hugs him close. Smokescreen has been staring out the window while his mind wanders. However, the moment he hears the muffled whimper coming from his sister, he returns to reality. The 13-year-old sits next to her then puts an arm around her shoulders. (Y/n) nods lightly, letting go of him to wipe the tears off her cheeks.

"I'm scared, Smokey." She says with the slightest tremble in her voice. "I hope the rain stops—"

Both of them jolted in their spot when the arguments outside the room got louder and more violent. They heard something colliding and a hard slap, but the voice that comes next terrifies them most.

"Where is my fucking money?!" The rough, slurred voice of their uncle rings loud even when it is slightly muffled.

"It's all gone!" Now their aunt's voice cries out in response. "You used it all up for gambling—"

"Liar! Tell me where you kept it right now."

"We're out of money, I swear!"

It's always been like this. Since their parents passed away, Smokescreen and (Y/n) have been living under their uncle and aunt's roof. It's either them or social services, and being the children they are, they don't know any better. At least uncle and aunt are families too. Sadly, it is even more miserable here; sure, they go to school and eat once or twice a day depending on how much they can afford, but it isn't their previous life. (Y/n) looks up to Smokescreen with the visible fear in her eyes. He smiles at her in return as an attempt of reassuring her; this happens quite often and terrifies her much.

"Oh, you sneaky bitch," It isn't long until footsteps are coming closer toward their room, "you gave them to those brats, didn't you?"

Then, the door swung open harshly, revealing the tall figure swaying as if the wind caught his balance. He is tall and fat; the swollen belly is filled with alcohol, and those hands are nothing but harsh to them and their aunt. He is not—and never—kind to any of them, especially when he comes home drunk after losing a gamble.

"Where is the money your aunt gave you, kid?" His question is aimed at Smokescreen who gets up to stand in front of (Y/n). "Where is it?!"

"We don't have it!" Smokescreen answers loud and clear, his blue eyes firm at the uncle.

There is no time for him to react when the older man starts beating him up for talking back. It stings all over, but not something he is not unfamiliar with. Don't talk back to me, he always says as he raises his hand to teach the boy a lesson. When it happens, (Y/n) tries to make him stop with those small hands and feigned bravery. Of course, she doesn't stand a chance against him.