This book has imagines about Norman Reedus and his characters.
I take requests. I will wright any kind of story you would like.
I also do smut. So be prepared there will be smut in this book.
I hope you enjoy!!
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It was already late at night when Mac stumbled into the tiny flat he was living in with his little brother James. He went upstairs and searched for him. "Jamie? Where the fuck are you?"
"In my room!" Mac entered Jamie's room, ignoring the "Keep out"-sign on the door. His brother was sitting at the desk and was writing something down. "What are you doin'?" "Homework. I have to finish this for tomorrow. Why?" "Are you hungry? I can make some pasta?" "Yeah. Sure. How was work?" Mac sighed. Jamie thought he was a good guy, working as a mechanic but the truth was, he was not a good man. Good men don't make drugs and sell them. Let alone the other stuff he did when James wasn't around. "Work was alright. Had to fix a car tonight. Some rich guy paid some extra money. That's why I am late." Jamie nodded and his black hair was falling into his eyes. "I will come down in 10, alright?" "Yeah. Take your time. School always comes first. You don't want to end up like me." Mac closed the door behind him and ran downstairs. He had managed to buy this loft last month and there were still boxes all around the place. But he was working so much to pay all the bills that he hardly had the time to make this look like a home. He didn't mind that but he wanted Jamie to have a good home, a place to feel save. Mac started to cook the pasta and set up the table. It's been three years now that he was taking care of Jamie and himself. His Mum left when Jamie was three and his Dad was such a fucked up person that he either was in Jail or when he was out he didn't care for them at all. One day Mac had had enough of that. He ended it. He left. With a nearly 13 year old boy. Mac wasn't able to love. He never knew what that was but he cared for his brother. He loved that little kid. Jamie was an accident. He shouldn't be born. Mac was eighteen when they left. Six years older than his little brother and sometimes he forgot that he wasn't really an adult. He was still so young but he would not give his brother away or let him live with some douchebag family. "What are you thinking about?", Jamie asked and sat down on the table. "Did you wash your hands?" "Yes, Sir." "I was thinking about a trip to that kart racing thing you like. Maybe we can go there. You could take friends." "I don't have friends." Mac looked at Jamie. "But you should." "They think I am weird. Because I don't have a family. I always tell them I have the bestest brother in the world. And that he is my best friend and the only family I need." Mac smiled and looked down into the pot of sauce he was preparing. He really wished that Jamie wouldn't think of him like this. They were eating and Mac couldn't help it but watch the scar above Jamie's right eye. The scar he had from when their dad hit him. That day was the day he broke. It was the day he realized that he wasn't the only one who was suffering. That day Mac killed someone for the first time. After he had killed his father he had felt relieved, free and finally was able to be himself, even so he knew that somewhere deep down, he was already too fucked up. Too damaged. Too evil.
