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DEAR READER

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@neosensereverse
they are so dear to me. i hope they keep their bond forever. 💚
mark and his baby ✿♥‿♥✿
Mark don't gOooo
I check my phone and see this man. Boy u fine as hell... what u tryna get into? 😛🔥
My c.ai bot at midnight:
260314 RENJUN Update
im just gonna leave this here
Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea (2008) dir. Hayao Miyazaki
𝐘𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐄𝐚𝐭, 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐭
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤
𝐬𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫.
part 2?
A/N: I had so much fun doing this omg
was just lurking on pinterest when this cutie pie jake popped up on my screen. he wants me so bad bro!
Note: Please! do not repost or claim this work as your own. Reblogging is the best way to support creators!
Louis (lngshot) x Reader f
| Fake Chat!
Content: Pure fluff and humor. love and vibes! ✨
🇨🇱 Why Spanish? I noticed most "imagines" are in English, so I wanted to create something special for the Spanish-speaking community. Everyone deserves to enjoy these stories!
dead from the heat. just wanna go on a date, hold hands, and eat ice cream with ww. 🌡️😩
👁️👁️
cUte
many on here need to be learning this lesson
NCT JNJM : Which one is your best side?
miau
Louis x reader
Are you asleep?
Genre: fluff
Requested
Summary: your hanging out with Lngshot and end up falling asleep on Louis!
MASTERLIST
Requests are open!!
You should have known something was off the moment Ohyul texted the group chat at 9:12 a.m.
Ohyul: everyone awake
Ryul: that feels threatening
Woojin: legally it’s too early
Louis: good morning
Louis always texts like he’s trying to be polite to the universe.
You reply with a single “im awake” and that’s apparently enough confirmation for Ohyul to announce that today is a hangout day. No schedules. No practice. Just vibes. Which is funny coming from the leader who normally color codes everything.
By the time you get to their place, Ryul opens the door already talking.
“You’re late,” he says, immediately followed by, “not actually but I wanted to say it.”
You barely get your shoes off before Woojin walks past you holding a bowl of cereal and says, “If he starts arguing before noon, I’m blaming you.”
“Oh wow,” you say. “Good morning to me too.”
Louis appears from the kitchen with a smile that looks genuinely happy to see you. Not stage happy. Not fan service happy. Just soft.
“You want coffee?” he asks.
“Yes,” you say immediately. “And maybe emotional support.”
“Ohyul,” Ryul yells, “they’re here and they’re already judging us.”
“Ohyul emerges from his room holding his phone and sighs like he’s accepted his fate. “I planned nothing and somehow that feels worse than planning everything.”
The morning turns into one of those unstructured messes that somehow works. Ryul insists on music, Woojin insists it’s too loud, Ohyul insists on opening the windows, and Louis quietly hands you snacks like he’s feeding a stray cat he’s decided to adopt.
At one point Ryul tries to convince everyone to play a game.
“No,” Woojin says instantly.
“It builds character,” Ryul argues.
“You lost the last game and blamed the floor,” Woojin replies.
“The floor was uneven.”
Louis leans toward you and whispers, “He does this every time.”
You laugh, a real one, and Louis looks like he just won something.
You all end up outside for a bit. Sitting around. Talking about nothing important. Ryul tells a story that definitely did not happen the way he’s describing it. Ohyul calls him out. Woojin fact checks. Louis just watches, occasionally adding a comment that makes everyone pause and then laugh harder.
It’s easy with him. It always is.
By afternoon, everyone’s energy dips.
“This feels like a movie day,” you say.
“Oh,” Ryul perks up. “I call picking first.”
“No,” Ohyul says. “Last time you picked something that gave me a headache.”
“That’s called art.”
The living room becomes chaos. Blankets. Pillows. Snacks everywhere. Woojin sets up the movie and then immediately starts roasting the opening scene.
Louis sits next to you, close enough that your knees brush. He doesn’t move away.
The first movie is loud and dumb and perfect for half watching. Ryul quotes lines before they happen. Ohyul throws popcorn at him. Woojin pretends not to laugh.
Louis keeps leaning over to whisper commentary.
“That character makes bad decisions,” he murmurs.
“You say that about everyone.”
“It’s usually true.”
The second movie is calmer. You notice your body starting to sink into the couch. Your phone sits forgotten next to you. The room is warm in that sleepy way. Voices overlap softly.
At some point, Louis shifts so your shoulder has something solid to lean on. You don’t even think about it. You just let yourself rest there.
Ryul notices.
He notices everything.
“Oh,” he stage whispers. “Oh this is happening.”
“Don’t be weird,” Ohyul says quietly.
“I’m being observational.”
Woojin throws a pillow at Ryul without looking away from the screen.
Your eyes start to close during the third movie. The plot stops making sense. The sound blends into background noise. Louis smells like laundry detergent and something faintly sweet.
You fall asleep without meaning to.
When you do, Louis freezes for exactly one second. Then he relaxes, barely moving, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he breathes wrong.
Ohyul lowers the volume.
“She’s out,” Ryul whispers, grinning.
“Be normal,” Woojin mutters.
“I am being normal. This is normal joy.”
Louis carefully reaches for the blanket Woojin offers him and pulls it over you. His hand lingers for half a second longer than necessary before resting back at his side.
He doesn’t move for the rest of the movie.
When you wake up, it’s darker. The room is quiet. The movie credits roll silently. Your head is still on Louis’s shoulder.
You blink.
Louis looks down at you immediately.
“Hey,” he says softly. “Sorry. You fell asleep.”
“Did I drool?” you ask, panic immediate.
“No,” Ryul says from across the room. “But I was prepared to take pictures.”
“You’re terrible,” you say.
“You love me.”
Woojin stands up. “We’re ordering food. No arguments.”
Ohyul nods. “I’m not cooking.”
Louis stays where he is. He doesn’t rush you up. He doesn’t make it awkward. He just smiles.
“You comfortable?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you admit.
“Good.”
Later, when everyone’s eating and talking over each other, you catch Louis looking at you again. Not in a dramatic way. Just soft. Like today mattered.
And you think yeah. This is the kind of day you remember.
this is so sweet and the flow is just so smooth. writing like this is literally my roman empire. fr.
⭐️ NOTA IMPORTANTE / DISCLAIMER
Antes de comenzar la lectura, me gustaría establecer algunos puntos para que todos tengamos una experiencia agradable:
Por respeto a la integridad e imagen de Ohyul, esta historia no contiene ni contendrá escenas sexuales explícitas. La trama se centra en el desarrollo emocional de los personajes, su crecimiento personal y la tensión propia de su situación. Si bien puede haber sugerencias de romance o cercanía, todo se mantendrá dentro de los límites del respeto hacia la persona real.
La historia presenta una diferencia de edad de 5 años entre dos adultos legales (20 y 25 años). No existe ninguna temática de pedofilia aquí; el conflicto principal es el dilema moral de Jane como instructora y la situación difícil de Ohyul.
Entiendo que las dinámicas de autoridad o las diferencias de edad no son para todos. Si este contenido no es de tu agrado, te invito amablemente a no continuar la lectura. La ficción es un espacio para explorar narrativas complejas; si decides quedarte, espero que disfrutes este viaje de redención y arte.
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆ ──────────────────
Summary: Ohyul no está en el internado para ser "salvado". Entre el recuerdo del alcohol de su madre y los puños de su hermano, solo busca silencio. Jane, con sus talleres y su mirada persistente, empieza a ver colores donde él solo ve gris. ¿Es ayuda lo que ella ofrece, o es un peligroso interés que ninguno de los dos debería permitirse?
Pairing: Ohyul x Jane (Lectora)
Genre: Slow Burn, Age Gap (20/25), Hurt/Comfort, Forbidden Romance.
Rating: Mature (por temas)
Length: Multi-chapter / Chapter 1.
Warnings: Entorno familiar abusivo, menciones de alcoholismo y violencia, problemas de conducta.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
— “Jane sabía que cruzar esa línea era el fin de su carrera, pero Ohyul era la única obra de arte que valía la pena rescatar en ese lugar.”
Atracción Taboo ☆
El comedor del internado "Progreso Juvenil" olía a desinfectante barato y a tensión acumulada. No era un refugio; era una jaula de oro para aquellos que la sociedad no sabía dónde esconder.
Ohyul no buscaba problemas esa tarde, pero los problemas lo seguían como una sombra heredada. Cuando uno de los internos mayores mencionó a su hermano —el cobrador de deudas que disfrutaba rompiendo costillas— y se burló de la "sangre de basura" que corría por sus venas, Ohyul no lo pensó. El estallido de su puño contra la mandíbula del otro chico fue el único lenguaje que su padre y su madre le habían enseñado con fluidez.
Diez minutos después, Ohyul estaba sentado en un taburete alto en el taller de artes y oficios, lejos de las celdas de castigo. El director había permitido que Jane, la instructora de talleres extracurriculares, se encargará de él antes de procesar su reporte.
Jane, de 25 años, se movía en silencio entre estantes llenos de lienzos y arcilla. Su presencia era un contraste violento con la brusquedad de Ohyul: ella vestía un cárdigan impecable y su cabello caía con una suavidad que parecía ignorar la fealdad del mundo exterior.
—Podría haberte dejado en la dirección, Ohyul —dijo ella, acercándose con un botiquín de primeros auxilios. Su voz era tranquila, pero firme—. Sabes que una pelea más significa la expulsión y el regreso directo a tu casa.
Ohyul levantó la mirada. Tenía el labio partido y los nudillos rojos, pero sus ojos, profundos y cargados de un rencor antiguo, se clavaron en los de ella con una intensidad que la hizo retroceder un milímetro.
—¿Y qué más da? —escupió él, aunque el tono perdió fuerza al sentir el contacto de la mano de Jane en su barbilla.
Ella no usó guantes. Sus dedos eran cálidos y olían a pintura al óleo y lavanda. Jane comenzó a limpiar la sangre del rostro de Ohyul con una delicadeza que él no sabía cómo procesar. A sus 20 años, Ohyul estaba acostumbrado a que las manos de los adultos fueran para golpear o para apartar; nunca para sanar.
Jane se detuvo, con el algodón suspendido en el aire. Estaba demasiado cerca. Era un hombre, pensó ella con un escalofrío repentino. Un hombre joven, roto y peligroso, pero un hombre, al fin y al cabo.
—A mí me importa —susurró Jane, rompiendo su propia regla de mantener la distancia profesional—. Porque en tus dibujos veo a alguien que quiere salir de aquí. No dejes que ellos ganen.
Ohyul sostuvo la respiración. En ese taller silencioso, rodeados de arte y sombras, la brecha de cinco años y el muro de sus posiciones sociales parecieron, por un segundo, desaparecer bajo el peso de una atracción que ambos supieron, en ese instante, que les costaría todo.