na jaemin, graduating with PhD in methods to show affection and love unconditionally and unlimitedly.
countdown to jaemin’s birthday (d-1)
not afraid to show his affection
FAST PACE— 빠른 걸음
racer!choi seungcheol x gn!reader, 0.7k words, fluff, reader is terrified of motorcycles + fast driving, cheol has/had piercings, street races, mention of lip cut
“oh no you’re crazy if you think i’m getting on that thing” you half screamed at seungcheol when he revved up his motorcycle.
the man in question giving you a mock offended look, hand placed over his chest to console his unbroken heart. “‘thing?’ baby this is our first child what do you mean?”
you raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend. he always got like this. he loved the thrills and adrenaline in life.
you however were the complete opposite. in theory, yes riding a motorcycle and driving at an insane speed in a car was cool- but in reality it was terrifying. you could be with the most safest driver in the world with no chance of crashing but you’d still be scared and sobbing the entire time.
and truth be told you didn’t get the big deal about it all. you supported your boyfriend and loved how happy he’d get when describing the rush to you but his descriptions are the closest you’ll ever allow yourself to get to motorcycles and fast cars.
“come on baby it’ll be fun!” seungcheol smiled at you, that same charming smile he gave you when you turned up at one of his races because your friend dragged you along.
“i don’t think so cheol..” you told him warily, waving your hands ‘no’ in front of his own that was inching a helmet closer to you.
seungcheol huffed out a laugh, making you look at him a little confused before he pulled you closer to him, engulfing you in a hug.
“it’s just reminding me of when we first met” he smiled, dimples marking deep on his cheek.
you smiled yourself when you thought back on the memory. back then, seungcheol hadn’t gone pro yet and only drove around for street races that your friends urged you to come with them to. it was cool to see, even if the noises made your head hurt.
“shua! you focus on the tall dude with the blonde hair, i’ll tail the one with the buzz cut, got it?” you heard someone say in front of you. when you looked up, you saw it was one of the racers on the team your friends were rooting for.
he wore a graphic tee and a leather jacket. ‘typical’ you rolled your eyes and then scanned the rest of his face to see numerous piercings on his face. looking around, you could see his friends were all pretty similar. more or less all of them wore some sort of leather attire with at least one piercing on either their eyebrow, lip or nose.
when he turned around to grab something from a friend of his he noticed your stare on him, shooting you a smirk before he got in his car.
he obviously won, coming back to cheers from the rest of his friends as well as yours. although you didn’t know much about him, you ended up naturally cheering for him too. he just looked so happy about it and honestly so cute when he hugged his friend that was racing with him.
after the crowd died down, seungcheol approached you again, asking you on a date with a flower that he said he picked and offering you a ride on his motorcycle.
now seungcheol still gets you flowers every time he finishes a race. and he still looks as cute as he did before, trying to hide the flowers behind his back to surprise you but you always know what’s coming when he walks up to you with that same grin.
his hair’s blonde now, he dyed it a few months ago and you can’t help but play with it every time- it compliments his racer jacket so well.
you brushed your thumb on his lip and then the skin on top of his cheek, below his eyes. he doesn’t wear his piercings often anymore. when you asked he said he stopped because it looks more professional without them, but he once let slip to you when he was drunk that he didn’t like wearing them after you’d accidentally cut your lip on it when you kissed him.
“so” seungcheol dragged out, motioning to his spare helmet once more and shooting you a look that said “what do you say?”
you gulped harshly, looking over the motorcycle while biting at your bottom lip. when you saw that pleading look on his face you knew you were done for.
sighing, you took the helmet from him and strapped it on then hopped on to the bike while holding seungcheol’s waist as tightly as you could. “just make sure you go super slow, okay?” you looked at him nervous.
seungcheol smiled again, moving closer to place a kiss on your cheek, “okay”
“Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?”
-Mary Oliver
report any lost jaemins to your local jeno 🔎
obsessed with the way that gothic horror is about horror but never directly. it’s not horrific because there’s a haunted house and that’s scary, it’s horrific because the monster isn’t a monster, it’s your grief, your loss, your pride, your desire, your fear. the monster skulking in the shadows, the darkness at the edge of the woods, the haunted house that is too broken to be a home—those are manifestations of events that grabbed onto the fabric of time in a fit of abject horror and clamped down so tightly that they couldn’t keep moving forward toward resolution and eventual dissipation like they were supposed to. it’s all about the scared child and the mourning mother and the hunger in your gut and the little emptiness in your chest at the end of the day. those things are all little horrors but you can’t approach them directly to understand them, so gothic horror gives us these little metaphors and says “here play with these for a while and see what you find.” and all of those metaphors need someone to go back to childhood to release them. you have to care, and be curious and clever, and look for a way to heal the hurt. you have to be so achingly human to survive in gothic horror
“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that’s all.”
-Oscar Wilde
only thing that stands between me and going to bed is the entire internet that fits in the palm of my hand
highly important culturally significant collection of snoozis
What other profession thrives on failure? I can’t fail as a teacher. I can’t fail as a doctor. But if I fail as an artist, I become a better artist.
–Junot Diaz
I was kissed by the moon a few times,
A lost guy in search of a little affection,
To be in such dire need of tenderness,
She lighted up my soul with a single kiss,
But wouldn’t leave the sky for me.
- DG