word count: 1070 pairing: wonho x reader notes: fluff, childhood friends
Clear sky, warm sunlight, and fresh air. Everything about this day seems bright. Your uneasy heart flutters in warranted excitement. You smooth out the ends of your blue sundress, that you spent hours picking out the night before. The tip of your index finger burns again, after you accidentally grazed it on your curling iron this morning. It was well worth the pain though; your hair turned out perfectly.
You stand stiffly under a verdant tree, glancing around the near-empty park.
Where is he?
You pull out your compact mirror from your bag, and check yourself again for the tenth time. You take a deep breath before slipping it back.
From the corner of your eyes, you see a figure approaching from the right path. He pulls down his mask, and flashes his wide smile when he sees you.
“Y/N!” He starts waving frantically, and his enthusiasm makes you do the same. You’ve been looking forward to seeing him, no doubt. But the fact that he’s actually here right in front of you, is almost unreal.
A/N: Okay so this is my first fanfic as a monbebe so I’m a little terrified nervous to put it out but hopefully someone enjoys it…I got the idea from a scenario blog I linked below. They have some really nice and creative prompts so definitely check out the blog :)
Characters: Single father Wonho, Reader, Female OC
Inhale. You await with equability, a forefinger twiddling with loose tresses whilst observing the other auditioning individual. The ingénue is maladroit, possibly due to nervousness, and fumbles with her lines quite carelessly. “I do treat—entreat—your grace to pardon me. I know not by what power I am bold—I mean; I am made bold!” It is an amateur sight, to say the least. Once the judge’s sugar coat their true meanings behind fake smiles, “We’ll let you know of our decision very soon,” is given to the departing candidate and they sigh in unison as the door closes. The two adjudicators mumbled to themselves, scribbling down their remarks on a sheet of paper before glancing up at their final contender for the day.
“It’s chili and mac-n-cheese TO-GETH-ER!” Rick Grimes
In a nutshell, Richonne inadvertently keeps reminding us of just how awesome and wonderful they are by “upping the stakes,” so to speak. What this means is that we Richonners are constantly pulled in and almost surprised by Rick and Michonne’s love, which proves what we all admire and appreciate about their relationship. Richonne is the best, the ultimate OTP, relationship goal. They give me something I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED every time I see them. No other couple can pull me so deeply into themselves via a hand-hold or long gaze. So, when we do get love-making, honeymoon Richonne it’s so hot, so passionate that WE almost (ALMOST) can’t handle it…where’s my casket. I felt so joyful watching them last night and I feel so rejuvenated today because of them. (Rosita almost ruined my high!)
Summary: The pack have a little run in with a fairy. Derek is not amused.
Stiles on the other hand, is very amused.
This wasn’t how Stiles expected to be spending his Friday night, but he’s going to make the most of it.
Sure, he would have liked to not be a giant fluff ball of fur right now but being turned into a Pomeranian had its perks, specifically having people coo at him while they give him cuddles. Cuddles are the best.
Plus it’s way better than being turned into a munchkin cat like Derek was.
Stiles can’t help but crack up every time he’s reminded that Mr. Big Bad was turned into the cat version of a corgi.
The sourwolf - uh sourcat? - has been hiding under the couch in the loft since they all came back from that disaster of a fairy hunt.
What was he like?
He looked like he came alive from the pages of the fairytales that I read over and over as a child. He was mysterious yet alluring, he was solemn but bubbling with infectious joy. Oh, he was someone I could write, paint and daydream about until the end of time, and I would have never gotten bored of him. Ever.
For the boy I love // excerpt from the book I’ll never write
Author’s Note:This is a Jaebum X Dean X OC fic. The newest fic I’ve decided to write and I hope you all enjoy! Warnings: Following chapters will contain smut.
Previous Chapters: 1
“I hope you don’t mind the mess. I was in the middle of
working on some songs.” Dean’s voice could be heard from his kitchen as you
found yourself settled on his living room sofa. Hesitant eyes slowly scanning
the inside of his apartment, you couldn’t remember that last time you were
there. Wasn’t it New Year’s night? Yes. The party the young artist had hosted a
few months back and he had invited both
you and Jaebum over to celebrate the incoming year.
Summary: Running into a familiar face isn’t always a bad thing.
Member: Jongdae x Reader
Length: 1980 words
I was randomly inspired to write this while I did the dishes- and who popped into my head as the wonderful partner in crime- well, Kim Jongdae (; Also, on a random side note that I always happen to have, my best friend’s nickname is Ozzie so I decided to sneak that in there haha. And after I finished writing, I am not so confident in this anymore but ehhh. Hopefully it is decent.
The sweet aroma of scented candles hit you upon opening the small shop’s door. Seeking warmth in the form of heat and in drinks, you had eagerly rushed to your favorite place on Earth right after work. Ozzie’s was it’s name, and it made you happier more than a place should. It wasn’t anything popular, or high-end, yet it filled you with a warmth even when you were freezing cold. It brought a smile on your lips even if you couldn’t manage to smile all day. It was, essentially, your second home.
Not only was it your favorite place to visit, it happened to also bear your favorite memories.It was where you had met your best friend, Kim Jongdae.
Midnight - Yes , in the morning i am a little bit lazy and unmotivated to do anything ( being nice included ) but I am more then just energetic and joyful at night , i guess I am a night-owl
Full moon - well , I honestly want to be a person who is quick to make decisions, unlike current me - who takes like 678 minutes to just answer what flavour of ice-cream she wants . And I honestly what to be a person who actually doesn’t regret much and isn’t as “jumpy” as I currently am . I hope to be a careless person without any regrets .
Thank you for asking and I hope you have a wonderful day !
Request: sapphireecho -Could I have A Steve and Bucky’s little sister one shot? Bucky’s little sister is crushing on Steve PreSerum but doesn’t say anything making Steve who is in love with her feel like she doesn’t like him ;So when Steve is picked for the Serum;He uses it to impress her?
It was the night before Bucky headed off to war, and you wanted so badly to enjoy spending time with your brother before he leaves but you couldn’t. Your heart was aching and a part of felt as if it was missing, even though he hadn’t even left yet. You knew you would miss your brother dearly, after all the two of you were quite close.
The only thing that was bringing slight happiness to your heart that night was Steve Rogers, Bucky’s best friend since childhood. Steve was one of your dearest friends, as you had grown close to him during your childhood as Bucky did. Of course no friendship could ever compare to Steve’s and Bucky’s bromance they had going but still the three of you often hanged out a lot.
People thought that Steve was a weakling, he was pathetic to some and often got beat up for his height and lack of strength. However you thought he was the cutest man to ever walk the streets. You didn’t care that he was barely above your height or that his arms couldn’t pick you up even if he tried. You were falling for Steve Rogers, and you had been for a long time.
Imagine a restless Tamika Flynn, forbidden from entering the library again by her worried parents, who are not swayed by the librarian’s head that is proof of her survival skills. Robbed of her books and without even a pencil and paper to channel her creative thoughts, she’s taken to tidying the basement and attic just to have something to do with her hands. And on one of these excursions, she finds something curious – a rag doll that looks just like her, down to each lock of hair.
Apart from marveling at the coincidence, she thinks little of this incident and brings the doll upstairs so it won’t stay buried in the past. That night, however, she awakens suddenly to the sight of a blue-black vortex in the middle of her bedroom. And on the other side she can see a room that looks almost, but not exactly, like her own. There are slight variations in color and light level, but the biggest difference is, this one is full of books.
After a joyful night spent reuniting herself with the written word, she returns to her own room and discovers that the edges of the vortex, when touched, curl in on each other and seal, as if pulled by a drawstring. Waking in the morning, she’s almost convinced herself that the whole encounter was a dream, until she discovers under her pillow the book she brought back with her.
The next night the vortex appears again, but this time, instead of reading she ventures out of this other house that’s almost, but not exactly like her own, and into the town surrounding. The strangest thing about this town is that there appear to be no people, or at least, none that Tamika can see. Occasionally she’ll notice a movement out of the corner of her eye that will disappear when viewed straight on, and once or twice she thinks she sees the silhouettes of people moving behind window shades. But mostly she sees yellow. Yellow signs everywhere, on every building, each featuring a triangle and a large S.
Eventually she reaches the radio station, which she remembers fondly from her younger years when she used to go there with the man she called “Uncle Cecil”, to watch him do his job while he babysat. And since Uncle Cecil, she knows, is more devoted to his job than perhaps anyone else in town, perhaps if she enters the radio station she might at last find a familiar face.
Instead, as she enters the recording studio against the warning of the large ON AIR sign, all she can see is blood. Blood and viscera and swathes of skin and hair covering everything she can see. There is a man in the chair by the microphone, and he turns to face her.
This is not Uncle Cecil. He is around the same size, and with the same hair, but the resemblance stops there. This one has big black buttons stitched over his eyes, and a cinched-back mouth curled into something that is not a smile. As she stands, frozen in horror, this not-Cecil stands, unfolding several extra pairs of spindly legs, and begins to move toward her.
She doesn’t know how she outruns him. All she knows is that the strength she has is the only thing keeping her from meeting the same fate as whoever used to belong to those chunks of hair on the studio floor. And he’s never far behind her, no matter how fast she runs.
Her lungs are nearly bursting as she reaches what should be her house, but she manages to clamber up the stairs and into her not-room. As the not-Cecil’s many footsteps begin to approach up the stairway, she dives through the vortex - white on this side, almost pink - and gropes for the edges, pulling them closed just as the fearsome head appears around the doorframe.
It’s over. Tamika burns the book she brought back from the other world, the last connection to that place. She never finds the doll that looks like her again. But weeks later, when the yellow signs start appearing in Night Vale, she realizes she may not have completely closed the doorway after all…