dirty thoughts and sweet feelings - larry johnson x female reader

chapter 11 - dread

CW // Mentions of abuse and murder

Word count: 2516

Your P.O.V:

Pounding. Loud pounding, on what sounded like a door. How desperately I wanted to keep my eyes shut. Had Larry ordered anything? Not that I can recall, he doesn't often order things online. The pounding continued on, and on, and on. I had no choice but to open my eyes, as much as they ached. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Ashley's face. I fell asleep on her lap last night after smoking, I guessed. I couldn't remember much of last night at all. All I remember is coming in, smoking and laughing with Ashley over various things. My head felt like it was split into two pieces by a blow to the head with a blunt axe.

I groaned loudly and got up, the pounding on the front door getting disrespectfully louder, or it seemed.

"Alright! I'm fucking coming!" I screeched in anger, and the pounding stopped abruptly.

I sluggishly approached the door. My vision was 10 times blurry than usual. Couldn't tell if it was from my severe hangover, or that I woke up pretty much 15 seconds ago.

Firstly, I looked through the peephole, if I hadn't known any better I would've opened the door to the police the way the person was pounding on the door. That was what I was worried about at first. I've learnt that I can be a bit hectic when I'm black out drunk. God knows what I did last night.

But it was a man about my age, maybe younger. A college logo jacket. Shaggy, brown hair. I know that face. Dylan. Dylan from last night.

I ragged open the door with aggression. "What the fuck are you doing here? How did you find me?" I barked at him, making him pull a shocked expression.

"Jesus, last night was rough I assumed?" He laughed. "I'm not here to pester you anymore. I got the message loud and clear." He put his hands up in surrender before comfortably sliding his hands into his pockets. He was talking to me like we were friends. Who the fuck does he think he is?

"Answer the fucking question, Dylan. How did you find me?" I got closer to his face, because though I was shorter than him, I can be intimidating when I want to.

"Oh yeah, that's why I'm here actually." He pulled out a flip phone out of his back pocket. My flip phone. I snatched it from him once he pulled it out.

"How did you get this?" I queried again, observing it. It had a scratch or two on the back that were new.

"I found it at the party. It was on the bathroom floor and I noticed it was yours because you had it out when I came up to you. I couldn't find you, so I went around asking, and here I am. I like how you decorated it, by the way." He smiled at me. I only pulled a more pissed off expression.

I went to close the door, but his foot stopped me, as it was in the door frame.

"Woah, woah, woah. You gonna say thank you for saving you spending an extra $40 or what?" He leaned against the doorframe, hovering over me with a grin.

"No. Why should I? Thought I wasn't shit to you anymore because I didn't want to get near your tiny dick." I slammed the door on his foot, hoping he could pull away, but he seriously didn't budge.

"Now how do you know, it's tiny, hmm?" He leaned down closer, his grin extending playfully.

"Because I know guys who act like you have cocks only big enough to satisfy a fucking bug, speaking from experience."

He laughed. "Fair enough. But I personally think different."

"Of course you do." I huffed and tried closing the door again, but he only held onto the door, and easily pushed it back open.