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!!
CREDIT TO: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tender_is_the_ghost/pseuds/tender_is_the_ghost
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"No!" yells Klarissa, staring at her reflection in the changing room mirror, "No way, nuh-uh, not happening, nope!"
"Klarissa!" her mom's tone is strident through the locked door, "get your butt out here, right now, or so help me God..."
Klarissa sticks her tongue out at the closed door, then sighs and unlocks it, stepping from the relative safety of the changing room into the harsh glare of the wedding boutique's fluorescent lights.Her appearance is met with a collective chorus of 'oohs and aahs' from her family gathered around outside. She looks in disbelief, first at her mom and then her aunt and two cousins, one of whom is fighting back tears while the other one seems to be having some kind of seizure.
"You're kidding, right? This is some kind of cruel joke?"
"Hush, Klar, you look beautiful," says her mom, moving in to tweak at the voluminous fabric covering Klarissa's torso.
"Stunning," adds her cousin, wiping away her tears, "it's just as I imagined it."
She starts bouncing on the balls of her feet, clapping her hands together as Klarissa turns miserably to look at herself in the full length mirror beside her. All she can see is layer upon layer of pink – pink frills, pink lace and, the crowning glory, a giant pink bow tied at the back of her waist. The dress has no rhyme or reason to it, as if Barbie threw up a rainbow of ideas in a design studio and somebody shoved all the pieces into one pattern. She grits her teeth as her mom and aunt fawn over her, locking eyes with her giggling younger cousin in the mirror and shooting him a death look. He has no idea how lucky he is to be a boy, she thinks bitterly.
"Don't you think it's a little... well, a little..." She searches desperately for the right word – heinous? A crime against fashion? Spun from Satan's spindle? – "pink?" she finishes, lamely.
"Pfft, no it's perfect, Klar," says her cousin, coming to stand beside her and wrapping an arm around her waist. "The little ones are going to look so cute in theirs too."
"Exactly! I'm your maid of honor, don't you think I should have something a little more... grown up than the others? A little more fitting for my role?"
"Everyone has to match, Klarissa, or what's the point?" she can hear the tremble in her cousin's voice and see the tears starting to form in her eyes. She sighs inwardly and plasters a fake smile on her face, knowing that the last thing she wants is to ruin her cousin's wedding. She squeezes her cousin's hand and is rewarded with a bone-crushing hug that leaves her breathless.
"Okay, okay," she says, untangling herself from her cousin's happy grip, "Don't wrinkle my dress."
She turns and heads back to the changing room, trying not to trip on the hem of her gown as she shuts the door behind her, leaning against it and looking at her pitiful reflection in the mirror once more.
