Nicholas: I love Norman Reedus...here's me trying to say why. This fic doesn't need a disclaimer, it's a letter. The rating is PG because of language.

Dear Norman Reedus,

You don't know me, but I know you quite well. If that isn't the creepiest thing I've ever written (and that IS saying something). I probably shouldn't say that I know you as though I'm acquainted with you or something, but I'm a fan at least. Fan enough to follow your films and such and have half of my pictures folder stuffed with pictures of you. I'm a hypocrite, too. I say that girls are weird for having crushes on men they don't even know or associate with, but hey, it isn't my fault I don't know how to find or talk to you. Hell, I'd jump at the opportunity.

I'm not certain why I like you so much. You have a pretty face, and you're a fair actor—not to mention the best model I've ever seen—but what's that, really? I hate smoking and I wouldn't be surprised if you smoked seven packs a day. You have the most atrocious grammar I've ever seen and while I'm aspiring to be an English teacher, it's hard to ignore. Sorry if I sound like a picky bitch, I am just writing what I feel…not to mention using CAPITALS where they are needed as I do so. What can I say?

It may be your movies. The majority of your roles are—how shall I say this?—borderline macabre with a hint of sweetness. Just creepy enough to scare the shit out of me and then plain enough to make me watch. Then your more humorous roles, like Scud from Blade II, just make me damn happy. This could be the root of my attraction to you, but then again, it could also be that mysterious presence you have on camera, no matter what character you are. I can't watch the Boondock Saints without shivering when you look straight at the camera in that jail scene. I don't think I need to say that the Boondock Saints happens to be my favorite movie of all time. Not just because of you, but you are plus, I must admit.

I could go on complimenting your wonderful talent and aura on screen and yada-yada-yada—because I could go on—but you've probably heard it all. And then some, I'm sure. Besides, I don't want to go and give you too much of an ego-driven hard-on from this silly letter. That isn't my purpose. My sole, solitary, single point (bet you can't think of so many "s" words in one flowing sentence) is this: I like you….a lot, for reasons I don't understand. Frankly, I don't care just so long as you keep being the wonderful, grammatically incorrect, sexy-assed—and I do mean "ass"—model/actor you are now.

Love,

The Simple Solitary Single Someone:

Nick

?yppah ikceb ekam uoy dluow, yadhtrib ym s'ti uoy dlot I fi SP