((2P!Canada x Reader)) Again?!

2P!Canada x Reader
Again?!


"What's up, fag?" The obnoxious voice asked. The voice belonging to a bully who just so happened to be bullying you right now. You figured 'Hey, college, can't be bad, right?' Wrong.
I mean sure you had Matt and Al, but that didn't make the bullies go away.
"Not much, whore. How are you?" You wouldn't get mad though.
"Oh, ha ha, look at the little faggot, getting all clever on me. You're a complete waste of space, you fucking fag."
You. Would. Not. Get. Angry.
"Says the trashy slut." You responded, cocking your head to the side slightly, eyes completely blank.
"You're so ugly! And your clothes are hideous!"
So what? You didn't dress like a whore? That's a crime?
"Well, darling, you have failed to consider that fact that I don't dress to please you, and I really don't give a fuck what you think." And you were walking away.  
Smooth, (l/n). Smooth.


You entered your apartment. You shared the place with Matt, Flavio, and, to your displeasure, Kuro.
Because Lutz, Luciano, and Al didn't want the Japanese man in their room, you got stuck with him, and the others got Yao.
You didn't even want to think of all the times you'd had to slap the man for groping you in your sleep, but beggars can't be choosers, especially with your group of friends. You had your own room, thank god, but it was the only room without air conditioning, and the summer nights could get pretty hot.
You had three options, sneak into Flavio's room, and possibly end up being turned into his model for the night, sneak into Kuro's room and definitely end up being raped, or sneak into Matt's room, and hope that he doesn't kill you.
Honestly, Matt's room sounded like the best choice. You were capable of handling yourself, and you always kept your trusty pistols with you, strapped to your sides underneath the giant godtiersweatshirt you liked to wear.  
---> Engage ninja mode.
You snuck easily into the room, the lock being no issue to your superior lock picking skills. The hard part would be getting into the bed.
The sweet coolness of the room almost froze you to death. Fucking Canadian, with high tolerance of cold. You sighed silently, slipping underneath Matt's giant comforter, snuggling against his back. He groaned.
"Deal with it, Mattie." You whispered, and he turned, wrapping his arms around you.
"Haha, now you're stuck." He replied, and rolled your eyes, before falling asleep.

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When you woke up, the Canadian was nowhere to be found, and you were freezing. You got up, absconding from his arctic room quickly, fully intent on chewing him out for not even waking you up, when you realized the time. You began to panic, before remembering that it was a Saturday.  You sighed, and changed into casual clothes, leaving your pistols in your room, settling for bringing a small pocket knife instead. Usually people don't bother you on the weekends. You exited the building via fire escape, the sun beating down on your back. You were somewhat excited, today you were going to go to the carnival that was in town, alone. Sometimes a girl just needed a day off from everything, and everyone. The day passed quickly, you flirted with strangers, rode the Tilt-a-Wirl, and played shooting games until you had your fill of fun and games at about midnight.
As you walked back from the carnival you almost felt like someone was watching you. Of course you brushed off the feeling. No one except the tiny group of whores from the campus ever dared to try and mess with you. You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you turned to see a guy wearing a hoodie and baggy jeans.
"What do you want?" You asked, wishing you had your pistols.
"You (f/n) (l/n)?" He asked, and you eyed him suspiciously, eyes finding the handle of the gun sticking out of his pocket. He seemed to notice your gaze on the gun, and he smirked.
"Come on, (l/n)." He said, gesturing to the alley way directly behind him. You didn't want to follow, but no one would care if you got shot, except for Al and Matt, but they weren't there to see it, so they wouldn't know. You'd probably bleed out to death on the sidewalk.  You followed, immediately regretting your decision as you saw several other men, all with guns.  Wait, you recognized these guys.
"Woah, hey, aren't you guys-"
"Shut it, faggot." The one who had brought you into the alley said, you were pretty sure his name was Bob.
"Bob, righ-"
"I said shut the fuck up." He repeated, hitting you over the head with his gun, causing you to fall over. He laughed as one of his comrades kicked you in the stomach.
Fuck why didn't you bring your pistols?
One of them stepped on your face, breaking your nose.
You groaned, the pain blinding you. He laughed, and then Bob proceeded to spew out a bunch of shit about his girlfriend and how you called her a whore, and how you were a bitch. You didn't fucking care. After Bob had his cute little speech, the group decided it would be fun to beat the shit out of you. Blood was pouring out of your nose and several cuts they had given you, and you legitimately thought your were going to die when they left you there.
You waited for their footsteps to fade, and then you pulled yourself up.
Who could you go to? Artie lived nearby, but he was probably sleeping, and the hospital was too far away. You knew that Flavio was hosting a party at the apartment, and you didn't want to intrude, but you had to. You stumbled forward, your apartment was only a few  blocks away.  When you made it to the place,  you almost laughed in relief, stumbling into the building and smacking the elevator button with your bloody hand. You slumped against the side of the elevator, waiting for it to reach your floor.  When it finally made it, you straightened up, walking as best you could into your room, trying not to make a scene. You opened one of the bedroom doors, hoping it wasn't Kuro's, and took a step in, the cold of the room hitting you, and you fell over, unconscious.

A worried Canadian stood over you.

"Damn it, _______. Again?!"