Something Amiss (Hoodie x Reader)

Thirty Six: Fight Me

A/N: If you know martial arts,, no you don't.

You were forming a nasty habit of waking up at dusk. Your body clock was so out of whack, it felt like you'd never woken up at a normal hour before in your life. Not to mention, your body itself was so beaten around and bruised as of late that you were sleeping far longer than you ever had before.

Almost a week passed since you killed Elijah. You didn't ask Brian what he did with the body, where he took it. In fact, you hardly saw Brian at all - he seemed to be out 'working' every night and some days, only home while you were asleep. The most shocking development, though, was that Brian let you sleep in his bed every night that he wasn't there. He started keeping his room unlocked for you, you'd already seen his stalker papers so it didn't really matter to him, you supposed.

You were getting more mobility in your injured shoulder. Thankfully, Elijah hadn't screwed it up again too badly at all, though it had hurt at the time. Brian encouraged you to start using it more, too, wanting to 'fast track your recovery'. You didn't quite know why he wanted that, but you had a sinking feeling it was because he could sense something bad on the horizon. You hoped he was wrong, yet every day you awoke hacking your lungs out. You were getting night terrors, too, waking up covered in sweat.

After having one such spell, you decided today that you wouldn't bother going back to sleep. You felt too icky, desperately wanting a shower. It was around noon, but Brian didn't appear to be home yet. That meant that the bathroom would be free for your use, and you took full advantage.

The thing about not using a joint for weeks, though, is that the muscle becomes weakened. Disaster struck when you went to wash your hair, using the bad arm. You were met with an intense ache, from your neck to the base of your shoulder blade. It almost brought you to tears, and, knowing Brian wasn't home to hear, you let out an aggressive string of curse words.

Only, he had been home - you just hadn't heard the front door open over the obnoxious squeal of the pipes. So, you nearly had a heart attack when he knocked on the door, "(Y/n)?"

You shut the water off, knowing if you didn't respond he'd go all concerned mother on you and break down the door, thinking you'd slipped and died in the fucking shower of all places. Which would be in character for you, but was in fact not the case.

"I'm fine." You called out hastily, waiting for his footsteps to retreat in the direction of his room before you turned the water back on.

After reverting back to only using your good arm on your hair for the time being, you finally exited the bathroom. You took a deep breath before entering the bedroom, knowing Brian was ready to bombard you with questions about why the fuck you had been screeching profanities in the shower.

And you were correct. As soon as you opened the door, he looked up from his computer. Yellow hoodie on, mask discarded on the desk. You wondered for a moment who his current target was - not that he'd ever tell you.

He looked you up and down, probably trying to see if you'd hurt yourself. You blushed just a tad.

"Why were you swearing?"

"For fun." You pursed your lips, taking your dirty laundry to your bag (which had now been moved in here, for convenience). You'd yet to ask about laundry, but you'd need to soon.

"You don't say?" He rolled his eyes, standing up. Oh, lord.

Your heart thudded in your chest, a mix of attraction and instinctual nervousness, as he crossed the distance between you. You could only glance up at him with wide eyes before he grabbed your shoulders firmly, turning you around so that your back was to him.