You flinched when a hand landed on your shoulder, your father's arms crossed and his two other tendrils swaying behind him. The scent of alcohol hung heavy in the air and you cringed away from him, nose crinkling at the pungent smell. Your father glared at the two other males, the swaying hand's fingers sharpening into a pointed state. He tapped his foot and peered at you, face stiffening at your new injuries. His mind jumped to millions of conclusions, settling on one that made sense to him
"Did they hurt you?" (F/N) knelt down and picked you up, checking your face and eyeing the new, dark bruises on your arms. You leaned away from his breath and clothes, which absolutely reeked to no end. He rolled up your sleeves and sighed, turning back to the men before him. His dark eyes met the crimson irises of the boy, gaze narrowing and judging of the state he was in. Black hair lolled to the side and covered half of his face, eyes wide as he looked between the man behind him and your father.
"We didn't touch them, promise!" The boy put his hands up defensively again, backing away further from the two of you. Your father took your bag from you and handed it to one of the tendrils, shaking out his hands after handing you off to them as well. You sat on two of the hands, (F/N)'s glare deepening at the sketchy people. He folded his arms again and looked to the man behind the red-eyed boy, eyebrow raising and posture easing.
"How old are you, boy?" Your dad questioned the smaller male, dark eyes squinting as he swayed slightly. You kicked your legs underneath you and poked at your bruises, wincing before touching them again. The boy did a double-take and swiftly turned to the man behind him, quietly asking or arguing about either the question or something else. You laughed at them and put your hands on your father's shoulders to give you some extra height, smiling brightly in an attempt to relax them.
"My name's (Y/N) (L/N), and I'm five! What about you?" You giggled, (E/C) eyes shining with the childish innocence only a five-year-old could have. The black-haired boy turned back around and deadpanned, grinning tiredly before introducing himself as Tenko Shimura. He said was ten and left shortly after with the man behind him due to an appointment with something. You shrugged to your father, who shook his head and carried you to the car.
He stuck you in the front seat and buckled you in, your bag going on the floor in front of you. The key was already in the ignition, so he turned it and the engine revved to life. It was a peaceful hum that made you think everything was going to be all right, but the lingering smell of alcohol and empty bottles in the cup holders told you otherwise. Your mom would never drink, but when your dad did, he drank a lot. From what you remember, he had come home late one night with lipstick stains on his mouth and neck, and (M/N) almost kicked him out of the apartment for it.
(F/N) drove from the parking lot after lighting a cigarette, the radio turned up and the driver side window was halfway down to allow the smoke to exit. Street lamps rushed past the car, looking like orange blurs from how fast the car was moving. The other cars on the road weren't as brisk in their movements, actually going the speed limit for the busy street. You looked to your father as he flicked the butt of the cigarette out the window, reaching to the box for another one to light. He looked away from the road to try and take hold of the container, opening it with his thumb and taking one out.
A car honked as you sped past a red light, your body shifting into a comfortable position as your father lit his new cigar. He put away the box and fumbled around for one of the drinks, grasping one of the half-empty cans and taking a long sip. You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it when he put the drink back down. Your nose scrunched up again as the stench of alcohol filtered anew into the air, leaving as soon as it came with the constant smoke and air whipping past. It was a horrid concoction of smells, your senses on the verge of an overload.
YOU ARE READING
UnStoppable (MHA Various x Reader)
Fanfikce(Y/N) was, in short, a hypocritical bitch.
