#harry odum x reader

[v1rtualv4mp]

Us fr

[ladymacbeth-writes-sometimes]

Such an innocent little serial killer...

Please send a fic request for any Norman character or leave one in the comments my brain's dying

[twdsunshine]

The Many Faces Of Norman Reedus - Harry Odum, Six Ways To Sunday

Summary:  A series of short one-shots based on different characters portrayed by Norman Reedus.  Harry accompanies Pinkwise to a brothel to celebrate, after proving his loyalty to his employers.

Pairing:  Harry Odum x Reader

Warnings:  Prostitution, language

Word Count:  2,073

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Author’s Note:  Six Ways To Sunday is a weird film.  I found it pretty hard to warm to most of the characters, and only Norm’s little baby face kept me watching.  However, the brothel scene is where I really felt for him.  So, in this little ficlet, you’re a hooker.  I hope that’s okay!  And poor Harry doesn’t quite know what he wants.  Enjoy!

*****

It was always a lucrative night when Pinkwise showed up.  The elated murmurs of the other girls created a buzz of excitement as you queued in front of the single mirror in the bathroom, waiting for your turn to slick crimson over pouting lips and add another coat of mascara to spidery lashes.  Abie never came alone, always joined by several of his men, and he tipped well for the service you provided.  There had been a time when you’d felt shame about that service, parting your legs for the means to pay rent and keep yourself afloat, but that was long past, and you’d become hardened to it to the point of actually enjoying the work when the clients were respectful, gentle.  You knew how to appeal to their caring natures now, their desire to protect, to teach and lavish you with affection, widening your eyes and catching your bottom lip between your teeth, playing the innocent so that they would feel guilty if they became too forceful, too rough with you.  You were a delicate flower, and they could crush you if they lost control.  It was a risky game, but, more often than not, it worked.

Slinking out into the main room, tugging at the bottom of your dress as it danced around the tops of your thighs, you paused for a moment to take in the group of men gathered on the plush couches.  Most of the faces were familiar - regulars, dropping by whenever they had something to celebrate or commiserate - and their eyes were hungry as they roamed over you, but there was one that you didn’t recognise.  Unlike the others, his gaze was fixed on his knees, his fingers clasped tightly together in his lap, and all you could see of him was a mop of blond hair on top of a dated blue suit.  His frame was slight, and, from the hunch of his shoulders, you guessed that he was young, but you were surprised by just how young he seemed when he finally lifted his head to look your way.  His skin was pale and unlined, a bruise blossoming on his cheekbone, a dark mark against the rosy pink of his blush, and you would be surprised if he even needed to shave.  He was so out of place that you found that you couldn’t tear your attention away from him, and you kept your approach slow, so as not to alarm him, as you lowered yourself down to sit at his side.  

“Hey, sweetheart,” you greeted him, only to be met with a shy glance from the most piercing blue eyes you thought you’d ever seen.  They lingered on your own for a moment, before dropping to your lips, then further south to drift over your cleavage before returning to his lap once again.  “Haven’t seen you in here before.  Your first time?”

He nodded, and Pinkwise slapped a hand on his shoulder, startling him so that he lurched forward away from the touch.

“Need one of you ladies to show my new guy here a good time,” the boss announced, and the young man visibly cringed.  “We’re celebrating!”

“Reckon I can do that,” you told him, keeping your voice low, calm and soothing.  “If I’m your type, I mean.”

“I- I don’t really have a type,” he admitted, and you smiled in encouragement, glad that he was using his words.  Watching carefully for his reaction, you reached across and slid your hand over his, lacing your fingers together when he turned his palm up instinctively in response.

“You wanna come with me?”  It was a sultry double entendre, designed to entice, but, it seemed, he was oblivious.  He nodded again, regardless, and let you coax him to his feet, drawing him along with you as you left the hum of conversation behind and headed along the corridor to the bedrooms. 

Everything about him screamed reluctance, and you wondered idly if he was a virgin, but you knew better than to ask, instead, letting the door click shut behind you and motioning for him to take a seat on the bed. 

“I- I don’t really know how this works.”  He spoke with a soft, lilting tone, and you found yourself warming to him and his enchanting naivety.  

“It works however you want it to,” you assured him, but, if anything, that only seemed to make him more uncomfortable.  “Okay, how about we just take off our clothes and get into bed, huh?  Just see what happens?”

Another nod, and you reached for the hem of your dress, easing it up your body and tugging it over your head.  You were bare beneath the fabric, a device to save time since most of your clients were in a hurry to get you naked, but his head snapped away from you as soon as you were revealed to him, and he practically threw himself across the room, pacing nervously along the far wall.  Kicking off your heels, you scurried towards the bed and crawled beneath the covers, hiding yourself away in a bid to ease his panic.  

“Hey, it’s okay.  You don’t have to look.  You don’t have to touch, if you don’t want to.  This is all on your terms.”

“Wh-what would we do if we didn’t… do that?” he asked, the tremor to his words making your heart clench for the poor boy.  You wondered what he was even doing there, but that was another question you’d learnt long ago not to ask.

“We can just talk.”

“You- you wouldn’t mind?”

“I get paid either way, sweetie.”  You shrugged.  “Like I said, you’re running this show.”

“You won’t tell?”  You dragged your fingers over your mouth, miming out zipping it closed, and he seemed to relax then, the tension leaving his broad shoulders in a loud exhale.  “Alright then.”

He moved closer, perching on the edge of the mattress, and you pulled the covers up to your chin, wrapping your fingers in the soft cotton.  “Are you��”  You tailed off when he turned his sharp gaze on you before pushing on.  “Are you not interested in women?”

“I- I don’t know.”

“Well, are you interested in men?”

“I don’t know that either,” he confessed.  “I- I think I might not be interested in anyone.  It’s not… normal, is it?”

“What’s normal?” you retorted with a giggle, and his cheeks flushed again, the colour burning up to the tips of his ears.  “Maybe you won’t know until you’ve tried, right?  Or maybe you’re a late bloomer.  Or maybe you just won’t ever be interested.  It’s nobody’s business but yours, if you ask me.”

“I am asking you.”  He twisted so that he was facing away from you, kicking off his shoes and shuffling up the bed to press his spine against the padded headboard.  “I figure you’re probably gonna know better than anybody, I mean, doing what you do.”

You swallowed hard, sneaking a hand across the space between you to take his once again, his palm clammy with sweat against your own.  “You know, this is a safe space if you want to try anything, just as an experiment or something.  Just to see…”

He stared at you for a long moment, the cogs whirring behind those beautiful blue irises, and then he nudged his nose up in what you could only assume was consent.  

“Use your words, sweetheart.  I don’t wanna do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“O-okay.”  His voice was shaking again, and you gave his fingers a tight squeeze.  “Yeah, we can… We can try.”

He was still as a statue as you closed the distance between you, frozen in place, and you gave him a final chance to push you away, lingering in his space for several long seconds before finally leaning forward and brushing your lips over his.  He jolted as if he’d been stung, and you paused, sharing breath, letting him process what was happening before, with a small sigh, he melted against you and began to kiss you back.  And it was sweet, almost too sweet, so that you found yourself inching closer and drinking him in, whimpering softly when he broke away, breathing hard.

“Well?”

“That was… nice,” he hummed, and then he was kissing you again, nervous at first before he got lost in it.  And, though you would never admit it, you were lost too, forgetting where you were, what this was, that he wasn’t yours and never would be, because he kissed you like you were fragile and precious, and it was intoxicating.  Your hands fell to the lapels of his suit jacket, and you eased it off his shoulders, tossing it to one side when it slid down the length of his arms.  His shirt went next, your fingers fumbling with the buttons and your breath catching in your throat when you took a moment to rake your eyes over the expanse of milky skin now revealed to you, toned and taut and firm to the touch.  You traced over the outline of his ribs, dipping into his naval in a tease before smoothing your palms up to his chest, where you could feel his heart racing.

“Is this okay?”

“Mmhmm.��  

The button of his trousers came loose easily, the fit too big for his slim hips, and he didn’t resist when you edged them down, arching up so he could kick them off before rolling on top of you, his hands coming to rest on the curve of your waist.  And only then did you realise that something wasn’t right.  There was nothing there for you to grind against, nothing going on to suggest that he was enjoying this as much as you were, and a sad sigh escaped you before you could hold it in.  “This isn’t working for you, is it?”

He sprang away from you as if he’d been burned, retreating to the far side of the room where the lamplight didn’t quite reach, clad only in his fresh white Y-fronts, the picture of innocence, corrupted.  “Shit, I’m sorry.  I told you!  I’m not normal!”

“It’s okay.”  You longed to go to him, to wrap him up in your arms and bring his head to your chest so you could stroke his hair and soothe him, but you knew your nudity would only make him feel worse about the situation, and your dress was out of reach.  “I told you, it’s just you and me in here.  No-one else has gotta know about any of this.  I’m real good at keeping secrets.”

“You swear you won’t say anything?”

“Cross my heart.”  

He was still racked with tension, but he nodded slowly, as if he wanted desperately to believe you but still wasn’t sure he actually could.  “I- I think I should go now.”

“Whatever you want.”  You watched as he dressed himself, tugging on the unflattering suit and covering up the wiry muscles and narrow hips that you wished you’d had longer to explore.  His hair was mussed up, his lips swollen from the force of your kisses, and you were pleased that it at least looked like you’d done your job, for no other reason than to spare his embarrassment.  “Hey,” you spoke up as he hurried for the door, and he stilled, apparently unable to bring himself to look back.  “What’s your name?”

For a moment, you thought he might ignore you, and he had every right to.  It wasn’t unusual for clients not to want to give up their personal information.  But in the end, he answered in a rasping whisper, that you only just caught before he disappeared out of the door.  “Harry.”

Alone, you dragged yourself from the bed, taking a second to smooth down your hair and ease your dress back over your curves, slipping your feet into the heels that pinched your toes and made the balls of your feet ache, the image of readiness for the next client that chose to while away the night in your company.  

Returning to the main room to find it empty of anyone but your madam, you cleared your throat, demanding her attention.  “Hey, if that shy kid comes again - Harry - give him to me, okay?”

“Y/N, not getting attached I hope?”

You scoffed and turned away.  “Course not.”  If she saw your face, you knew she’d see right through you.  It was far easier to lie with your back turned, although you weren’t quite sure you could convince yourself.

*****

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