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But no matter how many times you recited this to yourself, you couldn't help but feel the foundation beneath you crumbling. Nothing had mattered before, so why now? The once boiling bath water had acclimated to the draft of the room, cooling waves kissing your skin as your knees peeked from the surface. You hadn't realized how long you had been sitting in an accumulation of the day's filth and your own pointless tears. The only warmth offered radiated from Hyunjin's twitching fingers clasped around your own, long having drifted off, but mustering the strength to be your support as his temple stay suctioned against the tub's edge while he snoozed.
Hey bestie! I'm doing okay, thank you so much for checking up on me 🥺
I had a recent career change about a month ago (after a super LONG interviewing period) and had really needed to focus my time on training and preparing because it is in a field I wasn't or haven't worked in prior. As many of those responsibilities are currently resolving, I should be back to updating soon!
I keep checking your page to see if you’ve updated chapter 3 of all work no play omgggg I’ve been addicted since you first uploaded chapter 1
I really appreciate your support! I have been rather busy lately and only have a portion of it written up but it should be posted soon. Thank you for checking in though for its update; I do have a Taglist for the fic if you'd like to be added to it, let me know.
Had you known you would have been vested in conflict between shaming yourself with guilt for not having thought Chan would have been exhausted from several weeks of work, or utterly frustrated that he did not communicate his needs with you more thoroughly and honestly, you would have never invited him out to the movies. Though you had taken note that any other sort of activity may have been too strenuous, as this was his first free day in three months, you didn't think — especially for someone who shadow boxed sleep every night — he would have been completely knocked out even before the film started.
But in some ways, you had to be grateful at least he was beside you, even if that meant he was deeply slumbering.
Gently massaging his fingers as he twitched through the movie, you quietly watched the feature on your own, hearing a stirring anxiousness during the ending credits when the theatre was long abandoned by the audience.
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First, I would like to express my gratitude and thank everyone who has recently followed me. I appreciate the positive reception I have received, especially with my account blooming solely from the idea of archiving ideas and prose that I had kept to myself. Sharing my writing with others and seeing the kind comments has really created such a supportive space for me. Thank you.
Though I will continue to mainly be active on this account here on Tumblr, I wanted to encourage anyone who was interested to also be able to utilize my AO3 account. I will not be posting my shorter works there, only one shots and series. Thank you all again and thank you for supporting my writing.
Here is a link to my AO3 account.
This is my first time posting written content on Tumblr in ages, so naturally, there is still a learning curve for me occasionally especially when new features/ideas are utilized. If you have any suggestions or comments in terms of how I format things, or what you'd like to see, even things that could be made easier through a process, please let me know I'm open to suggestions!
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: Illegal Activity (street racing, importing cars and modifications, actively avoiding authorities, ellicit drug use, underage drinking), Violence (car wrecks, physical altercations and battery), Cursing, Terminal Illness
𝗦𝘆𝗽𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: The beauty of weighing a whole more than the sum of its part is that everything always looks perfect from far away, but when the details finally manifest, the margin for error escalates exponentially. If thrill was a sport, Jisung would be the poster child; there isn't anything he wouldn't do to taste the acrid essence of adrenaline and his own blood. But not everyone admired his desire to take every block like a trip, especially not Hyunjin. It takes nothing short of a car wreck, a police raid, and a lot of coincidental magic to mend a bad impression — but it doesn't last.
Please message me if you'd like to be included in the taglist.
𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @secretwhisperer
𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆
origin stories always come off as glorified biographies, but at the end of the day, they're living documentations of humanity
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: Illegal Activity (street racing, importing cars and modifications, actively avoiding authorities, ellicit drug use, underage drinking), Violence (car wrecks, physical altercations and battery), Cursing, Terminal Illness
𝗦𝘆𝗽𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: The beauty of weighing a whole more than the sum of its part is that everything always looks perfect from far away, but when the details finally manifest, the margin for error escalates exponentially. If thrill was a sport, Jisung would be the poster child; there isn't anything he wouldn't do to taste the acrid essence of adrenaline and his own blood. But not everyone admired his desire to take every block like a trip, especially not Hyunjin. It takes nothing short of a car wreck, a police raid, and a lot of coincidental magic to mend a bad impression — but it doesn't last.
𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1,040
𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲: Recently had a burst of inspiration from multiple facets (namely, God's Menu visuals, Initial D rewatches, and some wonderful authors here on Tumblr) to attempt a street racing AU for Hyunjin and Jisung. I'm super excited to get this series going!
Please message me if you’d like to be included in the taglist.
He's fifteen when he first gets a slice of what it really means to have full control.
What that even entails, he's not sure, as he's been a calculated implantation who was molded by the hands of others, carefully crafted to have strings inserted in the crevices of his joints, along the planes of his bones, and deep within the grooves and valleys within the chamber of his skull. There is nothing of him that belongs solely to himself, so when he tasted the power of petrol through direct injection, it made all the difference because it was all for him. It was all he ever wanted, and he was sure that the high he chased was all he ever needed.
"Just start it, it won't bite," Adam jeered, jamming his elbow into his friend's ribs before receiving an image of disgust, eyes satellite revolving behind his wired glasses.
"I don't have my license yet, you know that."
"...Oh yeah, late birthday. Right," sighing, he leaned a hip into his new — or as new as a used car could get — CP1 in defeat.
"Don't be a pussy Peter, you don't need a license just to start the damn car," this time, it was Ismail's mocking tone that filled his ears, "The police aren't gonna ride up just cause you started a car."
And he knew that. But something acrid developed in the back of his throat the moment his eyes caught glimpse of his own reflection in the window tint, there was an unspoken and ominous looming apprehension that settled in the acid of his stomach, and it didn't feel right. It especially didn't feel right when Adam snatched the back of his head with his palm, deftly shoving him into the driver's seat as Ismail threw the passenger door open, their delighted howls of amusement loading the perimeter of the tiny coupe. Having gripped the steering wheel for balance, Peter attempted to settle as a clairvoyant pitched click simmered from his hands. Flinching, he released the circumference as the two boys looked at one another, matching cheshire grins before directing them at their timid friend.
"...Did you lock the steering wheel?" Adam dropped the passenger seat as he climbed into the back, elbows slung on Peter and Ismail's chair shoulders, hands hung into the valley above the console while Ismail wound his seatbelt in.
"Was that the noise?"
"Hell yeah it was."
"...So?" Peter deadpanned, rolling his eyes as Adam reached over and buckled him into the driver seat.
"Really gotta start the car now so you can unlock it."
"What?"
"Yeah, you heard him, start the car," Ismail chided as Adam tossed the keys into Peter's lap, interested gazes boring holes into his forehead.
"You both are fucking with me, unlock the steering wheel on your own," sulking, he unclipped his belt while reaching for the door's handle. Ismail gripped the crook of his elbow before sighing, "Come on, Peter, it's not that deep just start the car."
"If it's not that deep, why do you guys want me to start the car so bad?"
The two had sheepishly muddled expressions, each different but radiating a similar emotion. Adam was the first to shrug, attempting to compose himself, "...You know, cause friends do everything together, and all that shit."
"It's fun, really, and once you get your license you're going to do it anyways so we thought it'd be fun to like...Teach you?"
"To be honest Peter, sometimes you're a fucking know-it-all and for once, we knew something you didn't so we wanted to rub it in a little. But we really do wanna get you to drive with us, you know," despite the insult, Adam looked the most sincere he had been, the purest expression of honesty Peter had ever seen. It almost made him shiver he was so repulsed, but, it also gave light to the trio's friendship that he hadn't necessarily understood before. Left to simmer in his thoughts, he reached into his lap without another word and shoved the key into the ignition before pulling and rotating his wrist forward, the engine purring to life.
"Happy?"
The volume of cacophony only increased as a final smile developed on Peter's mouth, all three satisfied. But what he had not noticed the moment the engine woke as he had been refraining from breathing, it somehow took the swelling and containment from his lungs, stole it away and replaced it with something addictive.
He's fifteen when he feels like he's losing everything.
There isn't anything in particular that Hyunjin wanted out of life, no desires outside of maybe getting a PlayStation 4 for his birthday and to pass math because he was tired of sitting in the hallway on his knees every week, hands hung in the air as punishment for having the lowest scores in his class — thankfully not in the school because he couldn't imagine what that punishment was like. In his heart, he knew he studied. Whatever he actually retained? That was a different story.
This was the beginning and end of it all, and he didn't think he was especially good or bad, whatever that implied. But the day he came home, the door to his parents' restaurant out front locked with a shoddy scrawled sign taped to the glass that read there was an emergency and they were closed for the next couple days, the house following their absence, he started to wonder that perhaps there was more to life than a PlayStation 4 and passing math. Despite being raised Catholic, baptized, and studying through Sunday school, he never really saw himself as religious. Most of the sermons felt more like mindless chants memorized through repetition than deliveries of profound messages but when his mother lie almost breathless, lips tainted blue as she clutched his hand as tightly as she could, whispering how much she loved him, Hyunjin suddenly wanted to believe in God.
"Don't tell anyone, especially not your mother," in his palm were the keys to the Tiburon in the garage, Hyunjin's father wrapping his hand around his son's, offering comfort through the touch but stern firmness that married with his words, "No one."
Jisung was always handsy but he was especially needy when you'd let him spend the night, the following morning never failed to be a cocktail between having to pry him off so you could leave for work and swatting away the pleading begs for you to play hooky instead. It's not like you hated the attention, but duty called, right? You already knew that you were going to have to deal with him whining when you hesitantly agreed to let him sleep over, but you weren't expecting him to get creative.
The alarm hasn't gone off yet, but you're already awake — albeit groggy — thanks to a hand down your pants and one climbing up beneath your shirt. You weren't awfully surprised, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't impressed with the new tactic Jisung was going for. Fucking weirdo. Feeling him grind up against you, he doesn't even bother to suppress his moans of delight.
When the life long man of your dreams — though he didn't know that — asked you to visit his hometown with him, you were expecting the cheesy seasons greetings movie that aired around the holidays where the two leads finally fell in love with the nostalgic scenery scape of home. What you had not expected was that his family owned a farm and the whole weekend you would be sowing soil under the scope of the sun.
You finally realized where the rumors of Jaebeom not taking anyone home for the weekend came from, and now it felt less like a victory when he invited you and more like a punishment. Gyeonggi wasn't even what real country living was like, and yet his family seemed to match all the requirements of it. Unsteady and sore hands scooped the yogurt you were served by his mother into your mouth, as you released a sigh.
"I'm surprised my son finally brought someone," as the silence broke, you gazed up as she offered a smile, "he always comes back home alone on the weekends."
Yeah it's cause no one wants to be knee deep in cow shit, no offense to your hard work.
"It's my pleasure, really," you say back instead, smiling as you eat another scoop. With hesitance, she looked around before leaning in close and whispering, "...You know, I told him not to bring someone he was interested in, who wants to work on a field? But he insisted that he'd know if they were really interested back if they came."
You can't find the words to respond, hearing her being called from outside as she responded that she would be out in a moment, "Take care of him, okay? He's not really good at expressing himself."
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𝗦𝘆𝗽𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: Society's promise of success is never quite how we imagine it to be, and often times a job is a job. Maybe that's why they call it a dream job. Regardless, you're thankful for the support of your boss who's helped support your work, put it into practice, and then some.
𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 769
𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲: Seungmin in the building! Honestly he's so playful I was crushing on him throughout Howl in Harmony.
Graduation never guaranteed the lies institutionalized education attempted to hypnotize its students with, but you were unfortunately one of its victims. Awarded several prestigious prizes and accolades for your screenplays throughout your post secondary education, you were doted with high expectations to be one of the most sought after new writers in television.
So why were you trapped creating questionnaires for a vapid dating quiz show? Once a dream, now turned nightmare, is what kept you parked at your desk, long after office hours. Working on new questions to pitch to the main production team who vocalized their dislike for your "creative" suggestions that didn't seem to fit with their trash television agenda, you combed your fingers through your hair in frustration as your boss — Mr. Kim — pulled a chair up at the opposite end of your desk, "Stuck?"
"Yeah, sorta," exhaling an exasperated in between of a sigh and a laugh, you peered up at him as you felt a hard thump against your ribcage. The glow of the lamp must have been angled to his benefit because he looked a little too, ethereal, with his tie loosened and first two buttons apart.
"On what?"
"Some truth or dare questions..." sighing, you nervously shifted in your seat as you watched his eyes scan over your messy scrawl, fingers twitching with an urge to cover up your work — a habit you had gained during university when your professors would snatch your papers and read them aloud to the class. Trauma responses really had a strange hold on humanity, didn't they?
Propping an elbow onto your desk, cheek cradled into his palm, a crooked smile appeared on his lips, "Okay, ask me one."
"...Uh, some of these aren't," clearing your throat, you sheepishly spoke lower, "Aren't really appropriate?"
"Well you wrote them so you know which ones you can use, I'm sure it's fine, right?" Leaning in closer, his expression didn't falter as you felt yourself sinking back in your chair. The energy Mr. Kim exuded always managed to overwhelm you, and you never could quite figure out why. A pleasantly average, polite, and quiet manager — despite being just around your age — he was the type to work hard and support his team from the backend, rarely ever surfacing as the boisterous supervisors that were littered through the departments. Honestly, it was probably the main reason why you even stayed at the company. It didn't hurt that you found that when he smiled or laughed — the very rare and fleeting moments that it occurred — it was rather cute.
"I, uh, okay," nodding, you skimmed through a few that were mild to keep in mind while mumbling out the initiation, "Truth or dare?"
"Dare."
You froze — not having imagined he would have picked the latter — hesitating as your head rowed back and forth, taking turns looking up at him and then back down at the paper on your desk, "I— Uh?"
"...You have so much written there," Mr. Kim closed his eyes as he hovered a finger over the document, landing randomly on a suggestion. When you finally had a chance to see what was beneath it, you felt a fervent tempered blush blossom over your skin. Before you could quit your game, reject the entire simulation and dispose of it as a good run of a joke, his fingers were already at the back of your neck. Free hand on your desk for leverage, he leaned over with easy fluidity while your lips met. Gripping at the margin of your desk, you couldn't find a single breath in your lungs to capture or even the desire to pull away.
It seemed he figured that much and pulled away himself, you caught a glimpse of the smile you found yourself drowning in the first time he complimented your work, "So what's my prize?"
"...Your what?"
"I completed the challenge, what's the prize?"
"...I didn't know there was—"
"You haven't watched an airing of the show?" Feigning shock as you reeled through your thoughts, still muddled from the kiss you shared, your dazed confusion crept over your face.
"I haven't either," shrugging, he laughed when your flustered sputtering was starting to fall from your lips, "But I think I should still get a prize."
Deeply exhaling, attempting to settle the incessant drumming in your ears, your nods signaled that you conceded, "Sure, Mr. Kim, what kind of prize do you want?"
"Seungmin," he corrected as you felt your skin grow blistering hot again, nodding slow, "And why not an eye for an eye? I want one back."
this work contains mature content; if you are a minor, do not interact, i will not hesitate to block you
Honey coated muffled mumbles turned into dreary labored slumbering breaths, the ephemeral moments of the late night weekly phone call that you two reserved through allotted time — at least when you had it — captured the flashes of your past seven days, shared between laughter and conversation. Now, while you slept, Yugyeom listened to your calm respirations that emulated a lullaby for him to drift off to.
But he doesn't have a chance to completely succumb to his exhaustion before he suddenly heard a strike of a soft moan on your end. It's barely audible, but he was always easy to arouse. Though he's well aware this feels unsolicited and rather clandestine, he can't help himself as his fingers hesitantly slipped past the guards of his boxers and he's coaxing his length to full arousal. Shivering when he heard another innocent and sleepy noise drift from the receiver, he attempts to keep his own reactionary sounds from escaping — for every two he kept in, he incidentally earned a loss and leaked out five.
When he's finally about to finish, a strangled whisper of your name left his lips as his heels dug into his mattress, right about the time your sleepy voice responded on the line, "...You could have at least FaceTimed me and we could have done it together."
"You're going to get me in trouble, go home!" Gripping on the handle of the window, you hissed out a whisper between the gap as the moonlight drew a shadow that stretched his lopsided smile and infinite lashes across his face.
"You act like you've never snuck out," slyly placing his hand at the sill, he dipped below the gap, forcing you to prop the window open, "Besides you're an adult, it's not like you're actually sneaking out."
"I'm leaving without telling anyone at the middle of the night to go with a boy no one in my house has ever met," rolling your eyes sarcastically you felt his nose nudge against your own, and you have to force your lips into a line to keep you from smiling.
"Well you can tell them tomorrow, since they're asleep and my name is Hwang Hyunjin, not a boy, remember?"
"I'm just...I'm not scared or anything like that. I just, for once, I don't know."
It's the first time in a long time you heard his voice quiver that intensely, someone who — as gentle and soft as his heart was — had grown a comb of thick skin through the years. It was hard not to when the industry was just as rapid as it was unforgiving. The shattering fear in your best friend's voice ceased any of your teasing you were initially going to poke fun at him about.
"...You trust Jaebeom, right?"
"Yeah, I do," the last bit that followed came out in a jumbled murmur, as if he were speaking for his own convolution, "...Hyung hasn't been wrong."
"Then do it, don't be scared."
"I'm not scared."
The attitude was back already and you can't help but giggle, "Don't be worried, Bam."
Your lips grace a smile, but the uneasy expression plagued Bambam's face relentlessly — his eyes distanced galaxies away — as his throat finally cracked, leaking down tears he must have been hoarding for months, "I just want to make sure we stay together, all of us."
Encasing him in your arms, you nuzzle your cheek to the top of his head, he doesn't hesitate to embrace you back.
There was nothing quite like waking up to Changbin tucking your ankles against his sides with his elbows while fumbling with your underwear, attempting to find the tag to make sure the orientation was right before shoving your feet through the entry holes. Lazily yawning, you mumbled to him in a quiet voice, "Usually you're taking them off—"
Before you could finish, he hissed before covering your mouth, head tilting towards the side with his darkened eyes brewing with panic. Gazing over, you saw two slumbering figures — Chan and Felix — lumped on the adjacent bed and floor, respectively.
"I thought they said they were going to be at the studio all night?" Whispering, you sat up quietly while scouring through the sheets to find your shirt without crumpling the blanket in a boisterous fashion. Changbin was frantically digging too right before you halted and grabbed his arm, feeling a flush cave over your skin, "...Wait wouldn't they have seen me already?"
"No, they don't turn on the lights to come in," shaking his head, he handed you your socks as you balanced backwards to slip them on.
"I didn't think they'd be back already," Changbin mumbled, holding your shoulder for support as you rolled your eyes, tugging your jeans back on, "I told you, you should have just come to my place."
"...It's three in the morning, can both of you just shut up, please," Felix groaned.
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Hey I just wanted to say that All Work, No Play is amazing!! I love how you write, I don’t know how to describe it but I just love it! Also 8k & 10k words count ugh you’re spoiling meeee lol honestly seeing how you wips are looking like, I don’t know how you still manage to write those long chapters, you have my full respect for that! Anyways so excited for the upcoming chapters!
I'm so overwhelmingly grateful for your feedback and support! Thank you so much for taking your time to read my work and even more, sparing time to stop by and comment on it. Honestly my WIP's just fall based on what I'm inspired to do, or feel like doing, so the order and time frame isn't very organized (LOL) but I like getting my ideas down somewhere to hold me accountable. I'm really relieved (?) to hear that 8-10K isn't too much, or too little, because I do get a little worried about the length sometimes! Thank you again for supporting my work, I am full of gratitude and I hope you continue to enjoy reading my All Work, No Play series.
Inherently, everyone grew out of their confines, molting carefully to restructure themselves to suit a new shell to grow in and once again, grow out of. It's why every few days, our cells regenerated — though we may appear the same, we were entirely new. It's why the stars — even so many light years away that we may not be able to witness such glory — are reborn. It's why you promised yourself that even though everything about Donghyuk felt so good, so right, you knew deep down that he was growing out of you and didn't want to be that confine for him any longer. That's what love was, right? Reminding yourself that your needs weren't the only ones. You can't bring yourself to tell him to his face — this is your only selfish crime, worried that you could not commit with conviction to leave him because you knew he would never let you go — so you let the strings snap slow, sawing away at every connection the two of you cultivated until there was nothing left. It's the final morning, you decide, and you carried only your memories as you shut the door behind you.
