THIS Along With Namjoon's Jagiya Is What I Need To Enter My Joon Era Bc What The Fuck? I'm Starting A

THIS along with Namjoon's jagiya is what I need to enter my joon era bc what the fuck? i'm starting a petition for you to not write fluff anymore bc they always leave me feeling so single like i'm not painfully aware of the fact already 💔💔💔

when he reaches out to tuck the stray of hair and the way his hand lingers there?? so uncalled for. to my future boyfriend if you dont do this to me then i don't want it

Hi! May I request a Namjoon there was only one bed F2L? And congratulations on your milestone!

tysm, sweet bean! i hope you enjoy the last installment of my 2k drabblepalooza 💕

the one with namjoon and the graveyard shift

pairing: doctor!kim namjoon x doctor!reader (gn) type: drabble (f) | wc: 1k | rating: pg13 au: medical (emergency dept.), friends to something summary: there are two (2) doctors working the emergency department overnight. there’s only one (1) bed in the on-call room. cw: the setting, obvi; references to used PPE (blood/fluid implied but not described); both are trauma surgeons, so that’s discussed in minimal detail; dark joke re: calling time of death — they’re coping with their circumstances, okay? also, not thoroughly proofread atm 😵‍💫 🔞 this drabble is sfw, regardless, my content is not for minors. minors and ageless blogs who interact with me or my writing will be blocked.

By the time the rush is over, Kim Namjoon is ready to collapse. 

It’s damn near three o’clock in the morning, and every part of him aches. That fact is almost exclusively due to standing for as long as he has been, turning and running on a dime; however, the unintentional, stray elbow he took to the side of the head can’t be discounted.

All he wants to do now is drop his overworked body onto the closest flat surface, even if it means he passes out where he stands.

“Only on your second gown for the night? Aish,” scoffs the only other on-call physician. “Gotta get those rookie numbers up, Joon.”

Namjoon’s eyelids have started to turn into lead, but the rest of him feels immediately lighter when he hears your voice.

He glances up to find you leaning against the doorframe, peeling off yet another pair of gloves. You drop them into the bright red, biomedical waste bin to your left. It’s where he just finished discarding a trauma gown that could pass as a Jackson Pollock piece, unaware that you’d been watching. 

He’s exhausted. He smiles anyway, though, and points to the hair spilling out of the elastic band you’d tied it up with. 

As he does, he steps forward, closer, and laughs, “Speaking of rookies —” He pauses briefly to tuck a stray strand back behind your ear. “Teach your ponytail to keep up. The emergency department is no place for slackers.”

His hand lingers at the side of your face a little longer than is necessary. He tells himself it’s simply because he’s powering down, but that lie doesn’t convince him. The warmth radiating off your cheek is the closest thing to comfort in this wing of the hospital, and it’s making it even harder to keep his legs underneath him.

This kind of contact — the gentle, non-emergent kind — is rare in this line of work. Trauma surgeons like the pair of you are rarely able to be slow or soft, so this tiny gesture seems to affect you, too. You sway a bit, likely involuntarily, and lean into his touch. The weight of your night so far makes your shoulders slump, even as you lift your hand to cover your yawn. 

As if you’ve read his mind, you nod your head in the general direction of the on-call room. 

“Time to call it?”

Not too tired for one of your bits, it seems.

Namjoon bites back a grin, glances down at his watch, then looks back up at you. “Time of death: 2:52,” he announces solemnly with a shake of his head and a sigh. “I’ve expired.”

One corner of your mouth tugs downward, too tired to fake a full frown. You link your arm around his, let your head droop sideways against his shoulder. You hum, “Rest in peace, Dr. Kim.”

He snorts. “Yeah, for fifteen minutes until the next rush hits.” 

You pause on the way out the door to rap your knuckles against it. He doesn’t have to ask why: it’s wooden, you’re superstitious, and Namjoon, as usual, likely just jinxed you. 

You shoot him a pointed look when you reel your arm back, and though you don’t chide him out loud, he grimaces in silent apology for giving the universe ideas. Then, without any further hesitation, you hold each other up as you shuffle off down the hallway.

He’s thankful for these quiet moments with you, even though they often come in the middle of the night. Ones where neither of you needs to summon the energy for words because you can get your point across regardless. It feels good to be known so well, especially when every other part of his ecosystem changes so rapidly from minute to minute.

Namjoon adapts well — a good man in a storm, according to you — but there’s one change he’s not prepared for: the bunked beds in the on-call room are down a mattress.

He stops short as soon as he sees the unoccupied frame of the top bunk, which he normally crashes in; not because he prefers it, but because he suspects you’re afraid of heights.

“Aish,” he mutters.

Without having to think about it for a second, he slips his arm out from the crook of yours and gestures to the door. “I think that broken gurney is still hanging out near the radiology department.”

Your forehead crinkles in confusion until he continues, “I’ll go and crash there.”

You frown, which doesn’t surprise him in the slightest. 

For him, you willingly sacrifice the last Nescafé pod, the only Yakult left in the cafeteria, and most significantly, your good pens — the ones that don’t smudge, no matter how hastily you write. The ones you bring from home and refuse to share with anyone else because they can’t be trusted to return them. 

You give, and for once, Namjoon has the opportunity to make you take.

He turns to leave, only to be stopped by your hand looping around his wrist. You don’t say anything; you simply shake your head and then nod towards the bottom bunk. He lets you lead him to your destination, lets you let him go so you can shimmy across the mattress. Back now flush against the wall behind you, you look up at him for as long as you can stand to keep your eyes open.

Namjoon doesn’t move, and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t. He wants to. You look so comfortable — so soft — despite how small you’ve made yourself to accommodate him. Inviting, even.

Then, it hits him: If he curls up next to you now, will he be willing to get up again? 

No, he thinks, absolutely not.

Even with your eyes closed, you sense him stalling. You frown again and this time, it’s interrupted by a yawn. Without opening your eyes, you mumble, “Paging Dr. Kim.”

He knows better than to ignore a call like that.

Carefully, he sits on the mattress with his back to you. Then, he lets the weight of his exhaustion pull him down towards the pillow, to you. He sighs as he sinks, already relieved. Already softer.

As if on instinct, your arm drapes over his midsection and eliminates any millimeters that may have survived this long in a space so small. The last thing he feels before he drifts off to sleep is your forehead nuzzling into the space between his shoulder blades.

this was so boyfriend of jungkook

maknae line at their brother's concert ♡🥹 (cr. @taee)

Hi 👋🏽 I’ll be going on an indefinite break that may (or may not) be for good.

Writing fanfiction was an escape for me these past 2 years. It was a way to express my love for the tannies in how I wrote them as comfort characters, and it was a way for me to make sense of my own experiences and emotions. These fics have always been very personal, with a bit of me in every OC, my pains reflected in their stories, and words I wish someone told me growing up expressed in the dialogues. And I’ll always be so thankful that many of you related with them, found meaning in them, and found comfort in them. That will always be my favorite part 💜💜 stories are so powerful! They’ve allowed me to connect with so many people and make memories in this (mostly) lovely part of the site.

But the process of writing has also been draining, not as cathartic as it used to be, and not as fulfilling. So much as I find myself going back and forth with the numerous stories in my drafts, I can’t bring myself to continue with them. Not anytime soon, at least. Maybe one day the itch to write will be so intense, or JKK1/KTH1 drops and I’ll lose my shit (Untitled and Belong were born out of Indigo and D-day after all), or after rereading my stories, I’ll miss writing so much. The thing is, I’ve never loved BTS as much as I do right now; perhaps I’m content with screaming about that love to myself in the meantime.

I’ll be lurking around here, maybe pop in every once in a while (so plagiarists, keep off my work, pls). My stories will remain here as your comfort 😌 and I’ll do my best to put out the PLM drabbles I promised! Other than that, all the stories are complete for you to enjoy (sorry to those waiting on TLA 😔 I hate that I’m unable to continue). I also have Twitter (jmimi_mi). I’m also just a lurker but say hi if you want! 😊 we can talk bts and fics and whatnot over there (I’ll try, I promise).

Please give love to the authors who are still lovingly putting out work for the community! 🥰

Namjoon... is such a pretty name. It sounds... common but it's not?? The two characters are usually paired with other characters? I wonder what the hanja stands for 🧐

I'D LIKE TO CONTRIBUTE TO THE HORNY TIMES PLEASE:

for each member, what is a/the non sexual act their partner may do that just gets them going? gets their gears turning? gets their gasses burning (???)?

bonne, this spoke directly to my soul. i feel my rotted brain melting.

please journey with me under the cut…

namjoon becomes so incomprehensibly horny whenever you make some quick, offhand socioeconomic/political commentary. for example, you’re watching the news together and hear something deserving of criticism. you talk back to the tv, as if that does much of anything. well, it kinda does because namjoon is pulling you into his lap. talk to anti-capitalism to him 😩💦

seokjin is down so bad that hearing god-awful dad jokes out of your mouth is world-ending. you groan whenever he gets corny, so the fact that this habit of his is clearly rubbing off on you? because you spend so much time together that you’re swapping idiosyncrasies?? something that cringeworthy shouldn’t make him so hot n bothered, but it sure does. “i’m horny”? more like “hi, horny. i’m dad”.

yoongi has a thing for that raspy voice of yours when you’re just waking up. you’re mostly talking nonsense at this hour and suddenly, he doesn’t care if you’ve brushed your teeth yet, or if your hair is sticking up in 800 directions. nope, not a fuck given.

hoseok starts thinking wild thoughts whenever he sees you be even slightly assertive, since he’s so go-with-the-flow. for example, you’re out for dinner. you order abc and are given xyz. in your shoes, hoseok would just accept it; he’d eat it even if he doesn’t like it (he will pull faces and whine, don’t get him wrong). but the second you flag down the waiter to point out the error, he’s white-knuckling the table. the power you have 🤌🏻🤌🏻

jimin feels his dick twitch whenever he’s proud of you, which is… most of the time. this comes up in a lot of different ways: if you achieve something at work; if you speak kindly about yourself (acknowledging that you do look delicious in that outfit); or you enforce a boundary with someone, etc…. UGH. that’s his mother 👏🏻 fuckin’ 👏🏻 baby 👏🏻 and you deserve to be rewarded.

taehyung, king of oral fixations, goes slack-jawed and stupid whenever you apply lip balm. it’s not intended to be a show, really, you don’t even realize he’s watching you — but now he’s gotta taste it, taste you, wind up with that shit smeared all over. if your lips weren’t chapped before, they will be soon 😵‍💫

jungkook loses his gd mind whenever you take something of his out of the laundry and wear it yourself. you don’t do it to be cheeky; his gigantic (even for him) shirts — the same one in every color because duh — are just comfortable. they always end up in a heap on the floor, anyways, but the laundry fairy will deal with that when he’s done with you 🧚🏻‍♀️