THE GARDEN OF VOICES

Rose | 21 | mdni

[taetebebe]

Your voice still echoes, through endless days A glowing sunset, your eyes in my mind 夕焼けの空追いかけて行き先も分からないま ま 友の声は今響いてる

⟡ @taetebebe-reads — call log: fic recs + reblogs ⟡ @taetebebe-library — switchboard: tbr (no intereactions) ✦ Requests: CLOSED ✦

© taetebebe 2026 : all fics/graphics posted by me (unless otherwise stated) belong to me only. reposting, plagiarising, or translating without my explicit permission, on any platform, is prohibited. reblogs and sharing links are welcome.

[taetebebe]

I LIKE ME BETTER WHEN IM WITH YOU

Pairing: bsf!Jungwon x f!reader

You picked him up. That was your first mistake.

Genre: slice-of-life • romantic comedy • fluff • drunk confession AU • best friends -> lovers

TW: Drinking

WC: 3k ✦ Requests: CLOSED ✦

— from the operator. wrote this the night that video came out...there's also a reference to one of his recent lives lol. Im such a simp for this guy i need help. how is he even cuter when tipsy ughhh

: ⌗ masterline: all fics ⌗ : ⌗ directory: taglist ⌗ : ⌗ directory: rules ⌗

The first message you open is from Jay:

[Jay]: please come collect your dude

The second is from Riki:

[Riki]: he tried to pay for his drink with his library card

And the third, from Jake, simply says:

[Jakey]: he keeps talking about you bro im crying

You stare at your phone for a full five seconds.

Then it buzzes again.

This time, it’s Jungwon himself.

[Won >.<]: com ouside pls

Another text arrives immediately after.

[Won >.<]: i am sitting on the pavement hehe

You snort so hard you nearly choke.

By the time you make it there, the first thing you see is Jungwon sitting cross-legged on the curb outside the bar with his coat half slipping off one shoulder, blinking at a tiny white dog passing by like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever witnessed.

The dog barks at him.

Jungwon gasps.

“It spoke to me.”

You stop walking, already laughing.

“Oh my god.”

His head whips around so fast he nearly loses balance.

The second he sees you, his entire face lights up.

Actually lights up.

Like someone plugged the moon directly into his chest.

“There you are,” he says, relieved, as if he’s been stranded in the wilderness for years instead of outside a barbecue restaurant for maybe twelve minutes.

Behind him, Jay looks exhausted.

“Please take him,” Jay says immediately. “He tried to fight a coat rack because he thought it was staring at him.”

“It was staring at me,” Jungwon mutters.

“It was a coat.”

“It knew what it did.”

Jake is bent over laughing already while Riki records Jungwon on his phone like he’s documenting wildlife.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you tell them.

“Oh absolutely,” Jake says. “Do you know he spent twenty minutes explaining why you’d survive a zombie apocalypse?”

You blink. “What?”

Jungwon points at you proudly from the pavement.

“You have survival instincts.”

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“Yes I do.”

“No you don’t.”

“You look like you’d bite someone.”

You stare at him.

Jake actually wheezes.

“That was supposed to be a compliment,” Jungwon says earnestly.

You laugh so hard your stomach hurts.

And Jungwon just watches you. Dazed.

Like your laughter is genuinely the best thing he’s heard all night.

Then suddenly he lifts both arms toward you.

You blink. “What are you doing?”

“Come here.”

“What?”

“I missed you.”

“You saw me yesterday.”

“A tragedy.”

Jay physically recoils.

“I’m leaving,” he announces immediately. “Good luck.”

The rest of them scatter suspiciously fast after that, abandoning Jungwon with the energy of people escaping a hostage situation.

And then it’s just you and him beneath the warm glow of the streetlights.

“Jungwon.”

No response.

“Jungwon.”

“Hm?”

“Why are you looking at the lamp like that?”

He blinks slowly.

Then points at it.

“It’s glowing.”

“…”

“It’s trying really hard.”

You stare at him.

He stares at the lamp.

Then suddenly his eyes widen.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“It has a friend.”

You follow his finger.

There’s another street lamp twenty metres away.

“Oh my god.”

“Do you think they’re dating?”

You sigh.

He grins.

The grin immediately makes you regret agreeing to come collect him.

Because tipsy Jungwon is not loud.

He’s not messy.

He’s not even particularly difficult.

He’s just…

Annoying.

Cute.

Dangerously cute.

The kind of cute that makes you want to throw him into a river because he won’t stop talking.

“I think that one likes this one more.”

“Jungwon.”

“The feelings aren’t balanced.”

“Jungwon.”

“What if they break up?”

You grab his sleeve.

“We’re leaving, Won.”

He immediately abandons the street lamps.

“Oh. Okay.”

Then he latches onto your arm immediately like a koala. You nearly stumble.

“JUNGWON.”

“What?”

“Walk properly.”

“I am.”

“You are hanging off me.”

“I’m conserving energy.”

“You literally have two functioning legs.”

He considers this.

“That’s true.”

You feel relief.

Then he nods seriously.

“But why use mine when you have yours?”

“Oh my god.”

He starts giggling. Tiny hiccuping giggles.

Within minutes tho he’s trying to balance on a painted line in the middle of the footpath. And failing.

Spectacularly.

“Watch this.”

“No.”

“I’m gonna do it.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

He steps onto the line.

Takes two successful steps.

Then immediately loses balance.

His arms start windmilling.

“WHOA.”

You grab his jacket before he falls into a bush.

He gasps dramatically.

“You saved me.”

“Yeah.”

“You’d survive a zombie apocalypse.”

“Thank you?”

“No seriously.”

He cups your face.

Your face.

With both hands.

And squishes your cheeks together.

“You’d be the final girl.”

“Jungwon.”

“You’d have a baseball bat.”

“Jungwon.”

“You’d kill all the zombies.”

People walk past.

You can feel your soul leaving your body.

“Please let go.”

He squints at you.

Then smiles.

“No.”

“Oh my god.”

“Your face is cute.”

Your eye twitches.

His smile somehow gets bigger.

“Look.”

“Stop looking.”

“No.”

He pokes your cheek.

“Squishy.”

“Jungwon.”

“Squishy.”

You swat his hand away.

He looks genuinely delighted.

Like you’ve just rewarded him.

“Oh. Violence. Keep going.”

“I hate you.”

His grin widens.

“No you don’t.”

Unfortunately.

He’s correct.

His hair is fluffy from the wind, falling over his forehead messily, and he keeps blinking too slowly like he’s fighting gravity itself.

It’s kind of devastatingly cute. 

You’re trying not to stare when he abruptly stops walking again.

“What now?”

Jungwon points at a convenience store across the street with the intensity of a man discovering religion.

“Ramyeon.”

“You just ate. I was informed!”

Five minutes later, he’s inside the convenience store carrying the world’s tiniest shopping basket over his arm like a handbag while debating snacks with deadly seriousness.

Then, without warning, he places the basket on his head.

You stare.

Jungwon stares back from underneath it.

“…Helmet.”

“Safety first, I guess”,  you say while laughing.

Meanwhile Jungwon wanders through the aisles with complete sincerity while wearing a plastic basket as protective headgear.

“You need to help me,” he announces.

“With what?”

“I can’t decide if I want gummy worms or chocolate.”

“You’re acting like this is life or death.”

“It is.”

“You’re so dramatic tonight.”

He squints at you. “Why are you being mean to me when I’m delicate?”

“You are not delicate.”

Jungwon immediately clutches his chest and stumbles sideways into the ramen shelf.

“Oh my god,” you laugh, grabbing his sleeve before he takes the entire display down. “Careful!”

He just giggles.

Not his usual embarrassed little laugh — a full soft airy giggle that makes his eyes disappear into crescents.

You freeze.

Jungwon notices instantly.

“What?”

“You’re giggling.”

“No I’m not.”

“You literally are.”

He giggles again immediately after denying it, and you clap a hand over your mouth because the cuteness aggression hits you so hard you almost need medical attention.

Then he gasps loudly.

“Oh my god.”

“What now?”

He holds up a packet of gummy bears with genuine emotion.

“They’re tiny.”

“…That’s usually how gummy bears work.”

“But LOOK at them.”

He thrusts them toward your face like he’s presenting a newborn child.

Something about the combination of his flushed cheeks, messy hair, and complete wonder at tiny candy nearly kills you on the spot.

“You’re adorable,” you mutter before you can stop yourself.

Jungwon freezes.

Slowly lowers the gummy bears.

Then points at himself.

“Me?”

You immediately regret speaking.

“No one said anything.”

“You called me adorable.”

“You hallucinated it.”

“I have witnesses.”

“There are no witnesses.”

He squints around the convenience store until his eyes land on an elderly cashier stocking drinks.

Then, with complete sincerity:

“She called me adorable, right?!”

The cashier blinks once.

Then smiles tiredly. “Very much so.”

You collapse against a shelf in humiliation while Jungwon looks unbearably smug.

“I win,” he whispers.

“You’re recruiting civilians now?!”

“They support me.”

“You’re impossible,” you mumble.

“And yet,” he says proudly, leaning toward you with wobbly balance, “you hang out with me anyway.”

You bought him water.

You bought him snacks.

You bought yourself patience.

Unfortunately they didn’t sell enough.

The thing about tipsy Jungwon is that his face becomes incapable of hiding anything.

Sober Jungwon? Annoyingly unreadable.

Tipsy Jungwon?

Every thought gets a full theatrical production, its own facial expression.

And every sentence comes with gestures.

You are currently experiencing all of them.

“Drink your water.”

Jungwon looks down at the bottle.

Then up at you.

Then down at the bottle again.

Then up at you.

Slowly.

Suspiciously.

“…Why?”

You stare.

“Because you’re dehydrated.”

He narrows his eyes.

The kind of dramatic narrowing usually reserved for movie villains.

“Or.”

“Oh no.”

“Or.”

“Jungwon.”

“What if you’re trying to make me pee?”

You blink.

“What.”

“What if this is all part of your plan?”

“My plan?”

“To inconvenience me.”

You actually watch him construct this conspiracy theory in real time.

His eyebrows furrow.

His lips purse.

Then suddenly his eyes widen.

Like he’s discovered evidence.

“OH MY GOD.”

“What.”

“You bought the water.”

“Yes.”

“You WANT me to pee.”

You bury your face in your hands.

Across from you, Jungwon looks incredibly pleased with himself.

Like he’s cracked an international criminal case.

At one point he becomes obsessed with making you laugh.

Not in a smooth way.

In a deeply irritating way.

The kind where he keeps making stupid faces every time you look at him.

You glance over. 😗 Duck face.

You immediately look away.

Three seconds later you glance back. 🙄 He’s rolling his eyes so dramatically you’re genuinely concerned he’ll get stuck like that.

“What are you doing?”

He shrugs.

Then crosses his eyes.

You choke.

His face immediately lights up.

“I GOT ONE.”

“You look ridiculous.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“I choose to hear compliments only.”

Then there’s the exaggerated reactions.

Everything becomes the biggest deal imaginable.

You hand him a packet of chips.

His jaw drops.

Actually drops.

“FOR ME?”

“Yes.”

His hand flies to his chest.

“That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done.”

“It’s a dollar-fifty bag of chips.”

His eyes become suspiciously shiny.

“Some people wait their whole lives for this.”

You snatch them back.

“Never mind.”

“NO.”

The sadness that crosses his face is so immediate and dramatic that you almost laugh.

He reaches out with both hands.

“Please.”

“No.”

“I’ve changed.”

“You haven’t.”

“I can!”

The worst part is when he discovers reflections.

Any reflection.

Store windows.

Car windows.

Phone screens.

Anything.

You keep finding him he’s staring into the dark convenience store window.

Making faces.

One after another.

😮

😐

🤨

😏

😗

😮 again.

“What are you doing now?”

He jumps.

Then immediately points at his reflection.

“He’s copying me.”

You physically turn away because if you look at him for another second you’re going to start laughing.

“You are so gone”

“No, I haven’t!”

“Sure.”

The confidence.

The smugness.

The little self-satisfied smile.

You want to throw him into traffic.

“You’re so pretty, YN”

The fluorescent convenience store lights buzz softly above you while Jungwon looks at you with this unbearably open expression — tipsy enough that all his usual restraint has melted away now.

Close enough that you can smell his cologne underneath the sweetness of alcohol and instant noodles.

Close enough that your brain completely stops functioning.

“You’re gonna regret saying all this tomorrow.”

“Nope.”

“Yes you are.”

“Nope,” he repeats stubbornly, though his words slur together slightly. “I’ve actually been wanting to say it for, like…” He squints upward. “A stupid amount of time.”

Your stomach flips.

Jungwon blinks at you slowly, still too close.

Then, very seriously:

“You know you’re my favourite person, right?”

The softness of it nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

You try to joke your way out of it because that’s safer.

“Is this alcohol talking?”

He thinks about it for a moment.

Then shakes his head.

“The alcohol is just making me bad at hiding it.”

Oh.

Oh.

Your face burns instantly.

Jungwon is currently staring at his reflection in the convenience store window.

“Huh.”

You don’t look up.

“Huh.”

Still don’t look up.

“HUH.”

“What is it?”

Jungwon is staring at his reflection in his phone camera.

Mouth hanging open.

Eyes wide.

“Huh.”

“Use your words, Won.”

“My lips.”

“What about them?”

“They’re red.”

You glance over.

Immediately regret it.

Because now he’s pouting at himself.

Examining every angle.

Tilting his head left.

Tilting it right.

Pushing his lips together. Biting…

Then—

He gasps.

Actually gasps.

“What.”

He slowly turns the phone around.

Showing you.

As if you’ve never seen lips before.

“Look.”

“They’re lips.”

“They’re RED lips.”

“Congratulations.”

“Why are my lips so red?”

The strawberry drink he’d been obsessively drinking all evening has stained them slightly.

His lips are bright pink.

He keeps staring.Then his eyes slowly drift towards you.

“Oh.”

“No.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“You were about to.”

He grins.

Slowly.

Like a menace.

“Wanna match me?”

You nearly choke on your drink.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“You could drink strawberry too.”

“Oh.”

His shoulders slump dramatically.

“You thought I meant—”

“JUNGWON.”

He starts laughing so hard he nearly falls off the bench.

People probably think you’re babysitting him.

And honestly?

They’re not entirely wrong.

He eventually calms down enough to drink some water.

By the time you’re walking him home, he’s become even clingier.

Not emotionally.

Physically.

He keeps drifting towards you.

Like gravity has decided he’s yours now.

Every few steps he accidentally bumps your shoulder.

Then smiles.

Then does it again.

On purpose.

“Stop.”

“Sorry.”

Bump.

“Jungwon.”

“Sorry.”

Bump.

“Jungwon.”

“I’m testing something.”

“What.”

“You smell nice.”

You stop walking.

“What?”

He shrugs.

“You smell nice.”

Then continues walking like he hasn’t just casually launched your soul into orbit.

“Okay.”

“Like clean laundry.”

“Okay.”

“And home.”

You nearly trip.

This time you’re the one who loses balance.

Jungwon catches your arm.

Then blinks.

Then immediately starts laughing.

“You almost fell.”

“Because of you.”

He continues laughing.

And suddenly you realise something.

He’s looking at you.

Not around you.

Not through you.

At you.

Like you’re the funniest thing he’s ever seen.

Like you’re his favourite thing to look at.

The thought makes your chest feel strangely warm.

Eventually you reach his apartment building.

You expect him to say goodbye (not that you’re gonna leave him like this).

Maybe thank you.

Maybe apologise for being a nuisance.

Instead he just stands there.

Looking at you.

Quiet.

For the first time all evening.

The silence feels strange.

Jungwon rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh.”

“What?”

His ears are red.

Very red.

“I forgot something.”

“What?”

He looks suddenly nervous.

Actually nervous.

Which is bizarre because he’d spent the last hour hours confidently discussing street lamp romance.

“What did you forget?”

He stares at his shoes.

Then at you.

Then away again.

And somehow that makes your heart pound harder than anything else tonight.

Because Jungwon never gets shy.

Not like this.

Not around you.

“Oh.”

He laughs awkwardly.

“I don’t know how to say it.”

You blink.

“Say what?”

He groans.

Actually groans.

Then covers his face.

“This was easier in my head.”

“Jungwon.”

“I had a speech.”

“You had a speech?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to it?”

He points at the sky.

“The moon stole it.”

You laugh.

You can’t help it.

His eyes immediately soften.

Like hearing you laugh was worth embarrassing himself.

Jungwon smiles.

“I like you.”

The words come out so simply.

So gently.

Like he’s been carrying them forever.

“I think I’ve liked you for a really long time. Oh God, I wasn’t gonna tell you tonight.”

“No?”

“No.”

“What was the plan?”

“Probably suffer.”

You snort while staring at him for a bit.

“I like you too.”

For a second, Jungwon just blinks.

Then blinks again.

Then—

“Wait.”

“What?”

“Actually?”

You laugh.

“Actually.”

His mouth falls open.

Then closes.

Then opens again.

“Actually actually?”

“Oh my god.”

“Actually actually ACTUALLY?”

“Yes.”

His hands immediately fly to his head.

“NO WAY.”

You burst out laughing.

He starts pacing.

Three steps forward.

Two steps back.

One confused little spin.

“NO WAY.”

“Jungwon.”

“YOU LIKE ME?”

“Lower your voice.”

“You LIKE me?”

“Yes.”

“Like.”

“Yes.”

“Like like?”

You groan.

He doubles over laughing.

Then suddenly grabs your shoulders.

“You have terrible taste.”

“What?”

“You chose me.”

“You literally like me too.”

“Yeah but I knew I had terrible taste already.”

You smack his arm.

Then his grin softens.

Just a little.

And he leans forward slightly.

“So.”

“So?”

“We can do couple stuff now.”

You narrow your eyes.

“What does that mean?”

He thinks.

For a concerning amount of time.

Then points dramatically.

“Matching keychains.”

“…”

“And sharing fries.”

“…”

“And I get to sit really close to you.”

“You already do that.”

“Oh.”

He brightens.

“Then nothing changes.”

You laugh again.

And Jungwon just stares.

Like he’s mesmerised.

Like he’s still trying to process the fact that this is real.

Then—

His eyes widen. Alarmingly.

“Oh no.”

“What?”

“Oh no.”

“What?”

“I need to pee.”

You blink.

“What?”

“I NEED TO PEE.”

The silence that follows is incredible.

You stare.

He stares.

Then—

“WHY DIDN’T YOU GO EARLIER?”

“I WAS BUSY CONFESSING.”

“THAT WAS TEN MINUTES AGO.”

“I KNOW.”

“JUNGWON.”

“IT WAS EMOTIONAL.”

He immediately takes off toward the apartment entrance.

Then almost slips.

“WHOA.”

His arms start windmilling.

You grab the back of his shirt.

“CAREFUL.”

“I’M TRYING.”

He stumbles forward.

Regains balance.

Loses it again.

“OH THIS IS BAD.”

“You walk like a baby deer.”

“I WALK LIKE A MAJESTIC STALLION.”

By now you’re laughing so hard your stomach hurts.

Meanwhile Jungwon is speed-waddling toward the elevator with the urgency of a man fighting for his life.

He stumbles to open the door to his place.

He practically throws himself inside.

Then immediately turns around.

Points at you.

“WAIT.”

“What?”

His face lights up.

The biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“You’re my girlfriend.”

The words seem to surprise him all over again.

Like he forgot.

Like he’s rediscovering it every thirty seconds.

A delighted gasp escapes him.

“YOU’RE MY GIRLFRIEND.”

“Oh my god.”

“WAIT.”

Another gasp.

“YOU LIKE ME.”

“GO PEE.”

“RIGHT.”

Then—

“WAIT.”

You groan.

“What now?”

Jungwon pokes his head out of the bathroom door.

His lips are still ridiculously pink.

His hair is a mess.

His eyes are sparkling.

And somehow he’s still smiling.

“Wanna match me?”

You immediately know what he’s referring to.

The stupid red lips conversation from earlier.

Your face heats up.

“JUNGWON.”

His laughter echoes through the hallway.

The doors finally close.

And right before they shut completely—

You hear him yell:

“I’M GONNA PEE SO FAST.”

© taetebebe 2026

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[taetebebe]

hiii, I’ve been a long time reader and I absolutely love your works!

you’ve inspired me to start writing on my own and I was wondering if you wanted to be moots?🥹

my blog is dottedsilxz and I just posted my first little imagine <3

i hope you are well and i love you!!!

HELLO????? 😭😭😭

THIS IS ACTUALLY THE SWEETEST MESSAGE EVER OH MY GOD

first of all, thank you so much for reading my works and for taking the time to send this.

and SECONDLY, YOU STARTED WRITING BECAUSE OF ME?!?!?! excuse me while i go cry in a corner. that is genuinely one of the nicest things anyone could say to a writer and i feel so incredibly honoured 🥹

AND OF COURSE WE CAN BE MOOTS WHAT <3

congratulations on posting your first imagine! that is such a big step and i'm already so proud of you for putting your writing out there <3 i'm definitely going to go check out like rn

thank you for being so lovely and for all your support 🥺 i hope you're doing well too, taking care of yourself, drinking water, and writing all the little stories your heart wants to tell

sending you the biggest hug ever!!

welcome to the writing community, sweetheart <3

[taetebebe]

i was gonna post tonight but the internet hates me...

[taetebebe]

Could you write Jungwon helping reader through a panic attack?

My exams are sooo close now and I liveeee Ur writing, it's sook comforting <<<33333

STUDY, STRESS, AND JUNGWON (IN THAT ORDER...UNFORTUNATELY)

Pairing: bf!Jungwon x f!reader - est. relationship

Panic attacks, sleep deprivation, and a dangerously attentive boyfriend.

Genre: Slice-of-life • soft romance • hurt/comfort • fluff • college au

TW: Panic attacks • Academic burnout • Anxiety • Hyperventilating • Sleep deprivation • Stress-induced breakdown • Mentions of self-neglect (forgetting to eat/sleep) • Crying • questioning one's self worth

WC: 1.9k ✦ Requests: CLOSED ✦

— from the operator. anon, sorry this is late! if you didnt already have your exam GOODLUCK!! of you did Im sure you did amazingly. I have my exams coming up soon 🥲

: ⌗ masterline: all fics ⌗ : ⌗ directory: taglist ⌗ : ⌗ directory: rules ⌗

You don’t realise you’re spiralling at first.

It starts small. A missed sentence in your notes. Then another. A paragraph you read three times without understanding a single word. Your room is too warm, then too cold. The highlighter in your hand slips because your fingers are trembling, but you convince yourself it’s just exhaustion.

Outside your window, the city is quiet in that strange late-night way that only makes you feel more alone.

3:04 AM glows from the corner of your laptop screen.

You still have three lectures left to revise.

Your chest tightens.

You stare at the page harder like maybe you can force information into your brain through panic alone.

The words blur. You blink rapidly. Breathe.

You try.

But suddenly your heartbeat feels wrong. Too fast. Too loud. You become horribly aware of your own body—your lungs not filling enough, your throat too tight, the pressure building behind your ribs.

No no no.

You push your chair back too quickly. It screeches against the floor.

Your notes scatter.

Your hands are shaking now. Actually shaking.

You inhale sharply, but it catches halfway, turning into this awful broken gasp that makes fear shoot through you even harder.

“I can’t do this,” you whisper.

And once the thought enters your head, it multiplies.

I’m behind. I’m going to fail. Everyone else understands this except me. I wasted too much time. I can’t breathe.

Your vision starts tunnelling.

You grab the edge of your desk because suddenly the room feels unsteady.

But then you have your phone in your hand and you see his name.

Won <3

Something in you cracks.

You don’t even think before pressing call.

The ringing barely lasts a second.

“Hello?”

The second you hear his voice, warm and sleepy and concerned all at once, your composure completely collapses.

He hears it immediately.

“Hey,” he says softly, voice sharpening with worry. “What happened?”

You try to answer, but your breathing breaks apart halfway through the sentence.

And Jungwon goes quiet for half a second.

Not confused quiet.

Focused quiet.

The kind where he’s already switching into taking care of you.

“Okay,” he says gently. “Baby, listen to me first.”

You press a trembling hand over your mouth.

“I can’t—” Your breath stutters painfully. “I can’t breathe properly—”

“You can,” he says immediately, calm and firm in a way that makes you want to cry harder. “I know it feels like you can’t right now, but you are breathing. Your body’s just panicking.”

Another sharp inhale catches in your throat.

“I’m gonna stay with you, okay?”

You nod before realising he can’t see it.

“O-okay.”

“Good.”

You hear movement on his end—rustling sheets, a drawer opening.

“Are you alone?”

“Mm.”

“Can you unlock your door for me?”

Your head lifts slightly. “What?”

“I’m coming over.”

“Jungwon, it’s late—”

“I know.”

His voice stays impossibly gentle.

“I’m still coming.”

The next ten minutes feel endless.

You sit curled on the floor beside your bed because somewhere during the call your legs stopped feeling stable enough to stand. Jungwon keeps talking the entire time.

Not forcing conversation.

Just… grounding you.

“Tell me five things you can see.”

You sniff shakily, staring around your dim room.

“My lamp.”

“Good.”

“The mug you got me.”

“The ugly cat one?”

A tiny, broken laugh escapes you despite yourself.

“Yeah.”

“There you go,” he murmurs softly, hearing the change instantly. “Keep going.”

By the time you get to the fifth object, your breathing is still uneven, but slightly less suffocating.

Then you hear hurried footsteps outside your apartment.

A knock.

“Baby?”

You stand too fast and nearly stumble.

The moment you open the door, Jungwon’s face changes.

Not dramatic.

Not panicked.

But his eyes soften immediately in that painful way people do when they see someone they love hurting.

You must look awful—tear-streaked face, oversized hoodie, shaking hands.

He steps inside quickly and shuts the door behind him.

And then he reaches for you.

Not suddenly.

Slowly.

Giving you time.

His hands settle carefully around your wrists first, thumbs rubbing lightly against your skin.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

That’s it.

Just hey.

Like he’s speaking to something fragile.

Your face crumples.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper instantly.

“For what?”

“I called you and—I know you were sleeping and I’m being dramatic and—”

“No.” His voice cuts through yours immediately, firm but soft. “Don’t do that.”

Your breathing catches again.

Jungwon moves closer until his forehead almost touches yours.

“You are not a burden for needing help.”

The words hit harder than they should.

Your eyes burn.

“I can’t calm down,” you admit in a tiny voice.

“That’s okay. I’ll help you.”

There’s something about the way he says it.

Like helping you is the most natural thing in the world.

He guides you toward the bed slowly, keeping one hand around yours the entire time.

“Sit.”

You obey automatically.

Jungwon kneels in front of you immediately after, still in sweatpants and a hoodie he clearly threw on in a rush. His hair is messy from sleep. There’s a faint crease on his cheek from his pillow.

And yet every bit of his attention is fixed entirely on you.

“Look at me for a second.”

You do.

“Good.”

He takes your trembling hands carefully into his own.

“Match my breathing, okay? Don’t force it. Just follow me.”

He exaggerates the inhale slightly.

Slow in.

Slow out.

Again.

You try.

The first attempt fails halfway and turns shaky.

Your chest tightens in frustration instantly. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” Jungwon squeezes your hands gently.

“Don’t think about fixing it all at once. Just breathe with me one time.”

One time.

That feels manageable.

So you try again.

Inhale.

His thumbs stroke over your knuckles.

Exhale.

“There you go,” he murmurs softly.

Again.

And again.

Your breathing still trembles, but the horrible dizzy edge starts fading little by little.

Jungwon notices every tiny improvement.

“You’re doing well.”

You shake your head weakly.

“I’m really not.”

“You are.”

His voice stays steady.

“You called me before it got worse. You’re breathing. You’re trying. That’s doing well.”

You stare at him.

Your chest aches for an entirely different reason now.

“I’m scared,” you whisper.

The admission comes out so small it almost embarrasses you.

But Jungwon’s expression only softens further.

“Of the exams?”

You nod.

“What if I fail?”

He leans forward slightly, elbows resting against your knees.

“Then you fail one exam.”

“It’s not just one exam—”

“I know it feels bigger than that right now,” he says quietly. “But listen to me carefully.”

His fingers tighten gently around yours until you focus fully on him again.

“One exam cannot measure your worth as a person.”

Your eyes sting.

“You worked so hard these past weeks. I’ve seen you studying until your eyes hurt. Missing meals because you forget. Falling asleep on your notes.” His brows pull together slightly. “You care so much that you’re destroying yourself over it.”

A tear slips down your cheek.

Jungwon wipes it away immediately with his thumb.

“You don’t need to earn rest,” he says softly. “And you don’t need perfect grades for people to love you.”

That one breaks you.

Because somewhere deep down, you think maybe you do.

Jungwon sees it on your face instantly.

“Oh,” he whispers. Heartbreaking.

Like he hates that you’ve been carrying that thought alone.

He shifts upward onto the bed beside you and pulls you carefully into his chest.

You go willingly this time.

The second his arms wrap around you fully, something inside you unclenches.

He’s warm.

Warm enough that your freezing hands start thawing against his hoodie.

One of his hands slides up and down your back slowly.

Not rushed.

Just repetitive enough to soothe your nervous system.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your hair.

Your breathing hitches again, but softer now.

“I feel stupid.”

“You’re having a panic attack,” he says quietly. “Not failing at life.”

You clutch weakly at the fabric of his hoodie.

Jungwon adjusts immediately so you’re more comfortable, one hand cradling the back of your head.

“Can you tell me what started it?”

“The studying,” you mumble against him. “I couldn’t understand anything anymore and then I started thinking about failing and disappointing everyone and—”

“Did you eat dinner?”

You pause.

“…I had coffee.”

He sighs softly into your hair.

“That’s not dinner.”

“I forgot.”

“I know.”

No annoyance.

Just concern.

He pulls back slightly to look at you.

“When’s the last time you slept properly?”

You avoid his eyes.

Jungwon gives you the tiniest look.

“Baby.”

“…Yesterday?”

“That’s not a proper answer, Y/N”

You mumble something unintelligible.

His eyebrows rise.

“You slept three hours.”

It isn’t a question.

You look away guiltily.

Jungwon exhales slowly through his nose like he’s trying not to sound upset.

Not at you.

For you.

“No wonder your body crashed.”

He brushes your hair away from your face carefully.

“You can’t run entirely on stress and caffeine.”

“I don’t have time to rest.”

“Yes, you do, princess.”

“I really don’t.”

“You do if the alternative is collapsing.”

You go quiet.

Because he’s right.

And you both know it.

Jungwon studies your face for a moment before speaking again, voice gentler now.

“Do you trust me?”

“…Yes.”

“Then tonight we’re not studying anymore.”

You immediately tense. “But—”

“No.”

He says it softly but decisively while kissing you swiftly on the forehead.

“You’re done for tonight.”

Your eyes widen slightly in panic again. “I can’t afford to waste more time—”

“Resting is not wasting time.”

He cups your face lightly, forcing you to look at him.

“Right now your brain is overloaded. Nothing is sticking anymore anyway.”

You hate that he’s right about that too.

Jungwon strokes his thumb under your eye.

“So here’s what we’re gonna do.”

His tone becomes calm and practical—the voice he uses whenever he’s taking care of things for you.

“You’re going to drink water.”

You make a face.

“Yes, actually.”

Despite everything, you let out a tiny laugh.

“There she is,” he says quietly, smiling just a little.

Then he stands, grabs your water bottle from the desk, and returns without letting you protest.

He waits while you drink.

Then he disappears briefly into your tiny kitchen.

You hear cupboards opening.

A few minutes later he comes back with instant ramen and the last packet of crackers you forgot you owned.

“You cooked?” you ask weakly.

“Using the term ‘cooked’ generously.”

He settles beside you again.

“Eat a little.”

You try to refuse at first.

Jungwon gives you a look.

You eventually take the chopsticks.

He watches carefully to make sure you actually eat more than two bites.

And the entire time, he keeps touching you lightly.

A hand on your knee.

Your shoulder.

Your hair.

Tiny grounding reminders that you aren’t alone.

Later, when the panic finally fades into exhaustion, you end up curled against his chest beneath your blankets while he reorganises your chaotic exam schedule on your laptop.

“You colour-coded it?” you mumble sleepily.

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“You like me.”

You smile faintly against his hoodie.

“I love you, actually.”

His fingers comb gently through your hair.

“You know,” he says quietly after a while, “if you fail something…”

“Mm?”

“I’ll still be here the next morning.”

Your throat tightens painfully.

Jungwon presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“No grade changes that.”

© taetebebe 2026

𖤘𖤘 always on the line ⌗ @stormlit-pages @ddeonuswife @ikeucakeu @wontechno @Rhejeh @staarflowerr @kienhawon @cripplinghooman @ddeondalandan @deluluscenarios @Ragnazrael @addictedtohobi @laylasbunbunny @kristynaaah @julsforjulieni

𖤘𖤘 listeners on this line ⌗ @jdvouge @starsunoo @wonluvvy @charlatted

[taetebebe]

Could you write Jungwon helping reader through a panic attack?

My exams are sooo close now and I liveeee Ur writing, it's sook comforting <<<33333

STUDY, STRESS, AND JUNGWON (IN THAT ORDER...UNFORTUNATELY)

Pairing: bf!Jungwon x f!reader - est. relationship

Panic attacks, sleep deprivation, and a dangerously attentive boyfriend.

Genre: Slice-of-life • soft romance • hurt/comfort • fluff • college au

TW: Panic attacks • Academic burnout • Anxiety • Hyperventilating • Sleep deprivation • Stress-induced breakdown • Mentions of self-neglect (forgetting to eat/sleep) • Crying • questioning one's self worth

WC: 1.9k ✦ Requests: CLOSED ✦

— from the operator. anon, sorry this is late! if you didnt already have your exam GOODLUCK!! of you did Im sure you did amazingly. I have my exams coming up soon 🥲

: ⌗ masterline: all fics ⌗ : ⌗ directory: taglist ⌗ : ⌗ directory: rules ⌗

You don’t realise you’re spiralling at first.

It starts small. A missed sentence in your notes. Then another. A paragraph you read three times without understanding a single word. Your room is too warm, then too cold. The highlighter in your hand slips because your fingers are trembling, but you convince yourself it’s just exhaustion.

Outside your window, the city is quiet in that strange late-night way that only makes you feel more alone.

3:04 AM glows from the corner of your laptop screen.

You still have three lectures left to revise.

Your chest tightens.

You stare at the page harder like maybe you can force information into your brain through panic alone.

The words blur. You blink rapidly. Breathe.

You try.

But suddenly your heartbeat feels wrong. Too fast. Too loud. You become horribly aware of your own body—your lungs not filling enough, your throat too tight, the pressure building behind your ribs.

No no no.

You push your chair back too quickly. It screeches against the floor.

Your notes scatter.

Your hands are shaking now. Actually shaking.

You inhale sharply, but it catches halfway, turning into this awful broken gasp that makes fear shoot through you even harder.

“I can’t do this,” you whisper.

And once the thought enters your head, it multiplies.

I’m behind. I’m going to fail. Everyone else understands this except me. I wasted too much time. I can’t breathe.

Your vision starts tunnelling.

You grab the edge of your desk because suddenly the room feels unsteady.

But then you have your phone in your hand and you see his name.

Won <3

Something in you cracks.

You don’t even think before pressing call.

The ringing barely lasts a second.

“Hello?”

The second you hear his voice, warm and sleepy and concerned all at once, your composure completely collapses.

He hears it immediately.

“Hey,” he says softly, voice sharpening with worry. “What happened?”

You try to answer, but your breathing breaks apart halfway through the sentence.

And Jungwon goes quiet for half a second.

Not confused quiet.

Focused quiet.

The kind where he’s already switching into taking care of you.

“Okay,” he says gently. “Baby, listen to me first.”

You press a trembling hand over your mouth.

“I can’t—” Your breath stutters painfully. “I can’t breathe properly—”

“You can,” he says immediately, calm and firm in a way that makes you want to cry harder. “I know it feels like you can’t right now, but you are breathing. Your body’s just panicking.”

Another sharp inhale catches in your throat.

“I’m gonna stay with you, okay?”

You nod before realising he can’t see it.

“O-okay.”

“Good.”

You hear movement on his end—rustling sheets, a drawer opening.

“Are you alone?”

“Mm.”

“Can you unlock your door for me?”

Your head lifts slightly. “What?”

“I’m coming over.”

“Jungwon, it’s late—”

“I know.”

His voice stays impossibly gentle.

“I’m still coming.”

The next ten minutes feel endless.

You sit curled on the floor beside your bed because somewhere during the call your legs stopped feeling stable enough to stand. Jungwon keeps talking the entire time.

Not forcing conversation.

Just… grounding you.

“Tell me five things you can see.”

You sniff shakily, staring around your dim room.

“My lamp.”

“Good.”

“The mug you got me.”

“The ugly cat one?”

A tiny, broken laugh escapes you despite yourself.

“Yeah.”

“There you go,” he murmurs softly, hearing the change instantly. “Keep going.”

By the time you get to the fifth object, your breathing is still uneven, but slightly less suffocating.

Then you hear hurried footsteps outside your apartment.

A knock.

“Baby?”

You stand too fast and nearly stumble.

The moment you open the door, Jungwon’s face changes.

Not dramatic.

Not panicked.

But his eyes soften immediately in that painful way people do when they see someone they love hurting.

You must look awful—tear-streaked face, oversized hoodie, shaking hands.

He steps inside quickly and shuts the door behind him.

And then he reaches for you.

Not suddenly.

Slowly.

Giving you time.

His hands settle carefully around your wrists first, thumbs rubbing lightly against your skin.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

That’s it.

Just hey.

Like he’s speaking to something fragile.

Your face crumples.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper instantly.

“For what?”

“I called you and—I know you were sleeping and I’m being dramatic and—”

“No.” His voice cuts through yours immediately, firm but soft. “Don’t do that.”

Your breathing catches again.

Jungwon moves closer until his forehead almost touches yours.

“You are not a burden for needing help.”

The words hit harder than they should.

Your eyes burn.

“I can’t calm down,” you admit in a tiny voice.

“That’s okay. I’ll help you.”

There’s something about the way he says it.

Like helping you is the most natural thing in the world.

He guides you toward the bed slowly, keeping one hand around yours the entire time.

“Sit.”

You obey automatically.

Jungwon kneels in front of you immediately after, still in sweatpants and a hoodie he clearly threw on in a rush. His hair is messy from sleep. There’s a faint crease on his cheek from his pillow.

And yet every bit of his attention is fixed entirely on you.

“Look at me for a second.”

You do.

“Good.”

He takes your trembling hands carefully into his own.

“Match my breathing, okay? Don’t force it. Just follow me.”

He exaggerates the inhale slightly.

Slow in.

Slow out.

Again.

You try.

The first attempt fails halfway and turns shaky.

Your chest tightens in frustration instantly. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” Jungwon squeezes your hands gently.

“Don’t think about fixing it all at once. Just breathe with me one time.”

One time.

That feels manageable.

So you try again.

Inhale.

His thumbs stroke over your knuckles.

Exhale.

“There you go,” he murmurs softly.

Again.

And again.

Your breathing still trembles, but the horrible dizzy edge starts fading little by little.

Jungwon notices every tiny improvement.

“You’re doing well.”

You shake your head weakly.

“I’m really not.”

“You are.”

His voice stays steady.

“You called me before it got worse. You’re breathing. You’re trying. That’s doing well.”

You stare at him.

Your chest aches for an entirely different reason now.

“I’m scared,” you whisper.

The admission comes out so small it almost embarrasses you.

But Jungwon’s expression only softens further.

“Of the exams?”

You nod.

“What if I fail?”

He leans forward slightly, elbows resting against your knees.

“Then you fail one exam.”

“It’s not just one exam—”

“I know it feels bigger than that right now,” he says quietly. “But listen to me carefully.”

His fingers tighten gently around yours until you focus fully on him again.

“One exam cannot measure your worth as a person.”

Your eyes sting.

“You worked so hard these past weeks. I’ve seen you studying until your eyes hurt. Missing meals because you forget. Falling asleep on your notes.” His brows pull together slightly. “You care so much that you’re destroying yourself over it.”

A tear slips down your cheek.

Jungwon wipes it away immediately with his thumb.

“You don’t need to earn rest,” he says softly. “And you don’t need perfect grades for people to love you.”

That one breaks you.

Because somewhere deep down, you think maybe you do.

Jungwon sees it on your face instantly.

“Oh,” he whispers. Heartbreaking.

Like he hates that you’ve been carrying that thought alone.

He shifts upward onto the bed beside you and pulls you carefully into his chest.

You go willingly this time.

The second his arms wrap around you fully, something inside you unclenches.

He’s warm.

Warm enough that your freezing hands start thawing against his hoodie.

One of his hands slides up and down your back slowly.

Not rushed.

Just repetitive enough to soothe your nervous system.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your hair.

Your breathing hitches again, but softer now.

“I feel stupid.”

“You’re having a panic attack,” he says quietly. “Not failing at life.”

You clutch weakly at the fabric of his hoodie.

Jungwon adjusts immediately so you’re more comfortable, one hand cradling the back of your head.

“Can you tell me what started it?”

“The studying,” you mumble against him. “I couldn’t understand anything anymore and then I started thinking about failing and disappointing everyone and—”

“Did you eat dinner?”

You pause.

“…I had coffee.”

He sighs softly into your hair.

“That’s not dinner.”

“I forgot.”

“I know.”

No annoyance.

Just concern.

He pulls back slightly to look at you.

“When’s the last time you slept properly?”

You avoid his eyes.

Jungwon gives you the tiniest look.

“Baby.”

“…Yesterday?”

“That’s not a proper answer, Y/N”

You mumble something unintelligible.

His eyebrows rise.

“You slept three hours.”

It isn’t a question.

You look away guiltily.

Jungwon exhales slowly through his nose like he’s trying not to sound upset.

Not at you.

For you.

“No wonder your body crashed.”

He brushes your hair away from your face carefully.

“You can’t run entirely on stress and caffeine.”

“I don’t have time to rest.”

“Yes, you do, princess.”

“I really don’t.”

“You do if the alternative is collapsing.”

You go quiet.

Because he’s right.

And you both know it.

Jungwon studies your face for a moment before speaking again, voice gentler now.

“Do you trust me?”

“…Yes.”

“Then tonight we’re not studying anymore.”

You immediately tense. “But—”

“No.”

He says it softly but decisively while kissing you swiftly on the forehead.

“You’re done for tonight.”

Your eyes widen slightly in panic again. “I can’t afford to waste more time—”

“Resting is not wasting time.”

He cups your face lightly, forcing you to look at him.

“Right now your brain is overloaded. Nothing is sticking anymore anyway.”

You hate that he’s right about that too.

Jungwon strokes his thumb under your eye.

“So here’s what we’re gonna do.”

His tone becomes calm and practical—the voice he uses whenever he’s taking care of things for you.

“You’re going to drink water.”

You make a face.

“Yes, actually.”

Despite everything, you let out a tiny laugh.

“There she is,” he says quietly, smiling just a little.

Then he stands, grabs your water bottle from the desk, and returns without letting you protest.

He waits while you drink.

Then he disappears briefly into your tiny kitchen.

You hear cupboards opening.

A few minutes later he comes back with instant ramen and the last packet of crackers you forgot you owned.

“You cooked?” you ask weakly.

“Using the term ‘cooked’ generously.”

He settles beside you again.

“Eat a little.”

You try to refuse at first.

Jungwon gives you a look.

You eventually take the chopsticks.

He watches carefully to make sure you actually eat more than two bites.

And the entire time, he keeps touching you lightly.

A hand on your knee.

Your shoulder.

Your hair.

Tiny grounding reminders that you aren’t alone.

Later, when the panic finally fades into exhaustion, you end up curled against his chest beneath your blankets while he reorganises your chaotic exam schedule on your laptop.

“You colour-coded it?” you mumble sleepily.

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“You like me.”

You smile faintly against his hoodie.

“I love you, actually.”

His fingers comb gently through your hair.

“You know,” he says quietly after a while, “if you fail something…”

“Mm?”

“I’ll still be here the next morning.”

Your throat tightens painfully.

Jungwon presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“No grade changes that.”

© taetebebe 2026

𖤘𖤘 always on the line ⌗ @stormlit-pages @ddeonuswife @ikeucakeu @wontechno @Rhejeh @staarflowerr @kienhawon @cripplinghooman @ddeondalandan @deluluscenarios @Ragnazrael @addictedtohobi @laylasbunbunny @kristynaaah @julsforjulieni

𖤘𖤘 listeners on this line ⌗ @jdvouge @starsunoo @wonluvvy @charlatted

[enjungwons]

[taetebebe]

☾ SLEEP TIGHT

Pairing: non-idol!Jake x f!Reader (est. relationship)

Baby, come and lay with me tonight

Genre: slice of life • domestic intimacy • comfort • fluff • soft romance

WC: 2.7k ✦ Requests: OPEN ✦

— from the operator. Listening to Sleep Tight honestly reminded me of a night a few months ago when Jake went live. Because of the time difference (1 hour), it was right as I was going to bed, and when he was wrapping up he said some really sweet, comforting things — especially for anyone it was already night for. I ended up crying for hours after, not even knowing why at first, just realising later that I really needed to hear that. This fic came from that same feeling — that quiet comfort, like someone’s watching over you and telling you it’s okay to rest.

: ⌗ masterline: all fics ⌗ : ⌗ directory: taglist ⌗ : ⌗ directory: rules ⌗

Night doesn’t scare you the way it used to.

It just feels… heavy.

Not loud. Not sharp. Just weighty, like the world settles into itself once the sun disappears, and everything you’ve been holding in all day finally realises it’s allowed to exist.

You don’t turn on the big light when you get home.

You never do anymore.

The apartment stays dim, lit only by the faint amber glow from the kitchen hood light you forgot to turn off that morning. It casts long shadows across the floor, stretching toward you as you slip your shoes off by the door, careful not to let them thud.

You don’t know why you’re being quiet.

You live alone.

Well. You used to.

Your phone buzzes in your hand before you can overthink it.

[Jake]: Home yet?

You stare at the message for a second longer than necessary.

Your thumb hovers. Drops. Types.

[You]: Just got in.

The reply comes almost immediately.

[Jake]: Good. [Jake]: Don’t move.

You huff a quiet laugh through your nose, shaking your head as you toe your shoes neatly against the wall like you’ve been trained to do it. He says things like that all the time—soft commands disguised as concern. It’s never controlling. Never heavy.

Just… Jake.

You drop your bag onto the chair, shrug out of your coat, and pad barefoot toward the living room. The couch still smells faintly like him—clean laundry and that subtle warmth that clings to skin after someone’s been there long enough to matter.

You sit.

Exhale.

And feel it again.

That ache behind your ribs. The one you’ve been pretending not to notice all day.

You don’t cry. You don’t spiral. You just sit there, hands folded loosely in your lap, staring at the dark TV screen like it might offer answers if you look long enough.

Your phone buzzes again.

[Jake]: I’m outside.

Your head lifts.

Too fast.

Your heart does that stupid little thing it does now—skipping, then stuttering, then settling into something calmer just knowing he’s close.

You don’t respond. You don’t need to.

There’s a soft knock at the door not even thirty seconds later. Not loud. Not tentative either. Just enough to say I’m here without asking permission to exist.

You stand, smoothing your hands down your sweater before you even realize you’re doing it, and open the door.

Jake’s hair is damp, like he rushed. Hoodie zipped only halfway, collar slightly crooked. His eyes soften the moment they find you, like the whole day rearranges itself around that single fact.

“There you are,” he says quietly.

Something in your chest loosens.

“Hi,” you reply, voice smaller than you mean it to be.

He doesn’t comment on it.

He never does.

Jake steps inside, toes his shoes off without looking, and closes the door behind him with care. He doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t touch you right away. Just stands there for half a second too long, reading you like he always does.

Your shoulders. Your breathing. The way your eyes don’t quite meet his.

“Long day?” he asks.

You shrug. It’s instinctive. Defensive. Automatic.

“M’fine.”

He hums softly, unconvinced, and reaches out—not to pull you in, not to cage you—but to rest two fingers against your wrist, light as a question.

You let him.

His thumb presses once, right over your pulse.

It’s grounding.

“C’mon,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to tell me anything yet.”

Yet.

That word matters.

He guides you toward the couch, sits first so you don’t feel cornered, then opens his arms in that familiar way that never demands—only offers.

You hesitate for half a breath.

Then you go.

You curl into him, cheek against his chest, knees tucked in as he wraps himself around you like it’s second nature. His hand settles at the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair, slow and steady.

Your breathing starts to match his before you even notice.

“There,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Your eyes sting.

You don’t cry.

But your lashes tremble.

Jake notices anyway.

He always does.

He presses a soft kiss to your temple—not rushed, not dramatic—just a quiet promise sealed in warmth.

“You can sleep if you want,” he says. “I’ll stay up.”

You shake your head faintly.

“Don’t have to,” you murmur.

“I want to.”

The conviction in his voice is gentle, unwavering.

You close your eyes.

Outside, the city hums faintly. Somewhere far away, a car passes. The moonlight slips in through the window, pale and soft, brushing over the curve of Jake’s shoulder and catching in his hair.

His hand keeps moving.

Slow. Rhythmic.

Like a lullaby without sound.

You don’t remember when your breathing evens out.

Just that at some point, the tightness behind your ribs loosens enough for air to reach places it hasn’t all day.

Jake notices the change immediately.

He always does.

Your shoulders drop first. The rigid line of them softening beneath his arm. Then your fingers—curled loosely into the fabric of his hoodie—relax, grip easing until your hand lies open against his chest, palm warm and trusting.

He adjusts without waking you.

Just shifts slightly, slow enough that your body doesn’t startle, angling himself so your head rests more comfortably against him. His arm tightens around your waist by a fraction, not to hold you in place—just to remind you he’s there.

The moonlight has crept further into the room now, silvering the edges of everything. It paints soft shadows along your face, catches on your lashes, the faint crease between your brows that never fully disappears, even in sleep.

Jake exhales through his nose.

“You don’t know how tired you look,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

His thumb brushes once, gently, beneath your eye—careful not to wake you. As if smoothing away something invisible. As if it might help.

He doesn’t move when your body shifts.

You sigh softly, cheek pressing closer into his chest, nose brushing the cotton of his hoodie. He stills completely, breath shallow for a second, like he’s afraid even breathing might pull you away from him.

Then he relaxes again.

You stay.

Minutes pass. Maybe longer. Time gets strange at night—stretching, slowing, folding into itself. Jake doesn’t check the clock. He doesn’t need to.

He listens.

To the steady rhythm of your breathing. To the faint hum of the city outside. To the quiet inside his own chest that only ever seems to exist when you’re like this—safe, close, real.

His fingers resume their slow path through your hair.

Not absentminded. Intentional.

Like he’s memorising you.

When your brow tightens again, just a little, he notices. When your lips part, breath hitching for half a second, he notices that too.

Jake lowers his head, resting his chin lightly against the top of yours.

“You don’t have to be strong here,” he whispers.

Your body reacts before your mind does.

A small sound leaves you—barely more than a breath—but it’s enough. Jake feels it vibrate through his chest. Feels the way your fingers curl again, searching.

He adjusts his grip, one hand sliding up your back, warm and solid, anchoring you in place.

“You don’t,” he repeats softly. “I promise.”

Your lashes flutter.

You don’t fully wake, but you drift closer to the surface, hovering somewhere between sleep and consciousness. Enough to register the warmth. The safety. The fact that you’re not alone.

“Jake…” you murmur, voice fragile with half-dream.

He responds instantly.

“Hey,” he whispers back, lips brushing your hair. “I’m here.”

Your brow furrows again.

“Tired,” you breathe.

“I know,” he says.

The simplicity of the answer almost undoes you.

You shift, trying to get more comfortable, and Jake helps without being asked—guiding you gently so you’re lying more fully against him, your legs tangled with his, your head nestled into the hollow of his shoulder.

His hoodie rides up slightly at your waist. Cool air brushes your skin before his hand follows, warm, steady, resting there like it belongs.

You relax into it.

“You can sleep,” he murmurs. “I’ve got the night.”

Something in his voice cracks just enough to be real.

You swallow.

“Promise?” you whisper.

Jake doesn’t hesitate.

“Always.”

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie again, tighter this time, as if anchoring that promise to something tangible.

“Okay,” you breathe.

And then—finally—you break.

It’s quiet at first. A tiny hitch in your breathing. Then another. Your shoulders tremble once, involuntarily, like your body’s betraying you before your mind can catch up.

Jake freezes for exactly half a second.

Then he pulls you closer.

It’s instinctive. Protective. He shifts so you’re shielded by his body, one arm firm around your back, the other cradling your head, holding you like you might shatter if he doesn’t.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, voice low and steady. “I’ve got you. You’re okay, beautiful.”

Your breath stutters.

“I didn’t mean to—” you start, voice breaking.

“I know,” he says immediately. “You don’t have to mean anything.”

The tears come anyway.

Silent at first. Then messy. They soak into his hoodie, warm and real, and Jake doesn’t flinch—not even when your fingers twist into the fabric like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go.

He doesn’t try to stop it.

He lets you cry.

His hand moves slowly up and down your back, grounding, patient. He presses his lips to your hair again, over and over, like punctuation. Like reassurance.

“I know,” he murmurs softly. “I know it’s heavy.”

Your shoulders shake harder now, the restraint finally gone. All the things you didn’t say today—didn’t say all week—spill out through tears instead.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” you whisper, voice muffled against his chest. “I should be fine. Nothing even happened. I just—”

“Hey,” Jake interrupts gently. He pulls back just enough to look at you, one hand still steady at your back, the other lifting your chin so you can’t hide completely.

His eyes are soft. No judgment. No confusion.

“Being tired isn’t a failure,” he says quietly. “And feeling things doesn’t mean you’re weak.”

Your lashes are wet. Your eyes shine in the dim light, vulnerable and unsure.

“I hate needing help,” you admit.

Jake’s thumb brushes beneath your eye, wiping away a tear with care.

“I don’t,” he says.

You blink.

“I like being someone you can lean on,” he continues. “Not because you can’t stand on your own—but because you don’t have to do it alone.”

Your breath catches.

He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, noses almost touching.

“Let me take care of you tonight,” he whispers. “Just tonight, please.”

You nod.

A tiny movement. Barely there.

But it’s enough.

Jake exhales, something easing in his chest, and pulls you back into him, this time more securely, more certainly. Like he knows you’re not going anywhere.

Your crying slows.

Then stops.

You’re exhausted now. Completely. The kind of tired that settles into your bones, deep and heavy.

Jake feels it when your weight sinks fully into him.

“There you go,” he murmurs. “Sleep tight, sweetheart.”

His hand resumes its gentle rhythm. His breathing stays slow, steady, intentionally calm.

Outside, the moon hangs low and bright.

Inside, wrapped in his arms, you finally drift under—safe, held, watched over.

And Jake stays awake.

Just like he promised.

You wake up slowly.

Not all at once—just enough to realise you’re warm.

Too warm to be alone.

Your cheek is pressed against something solid, steady, rising and falling beneath you. The faint, familiar scent of Jake’s laundry detergent and skin wraps around you before your eyes even open, and for a split second, your body tenses on instinct.

Then memory settles in.

The couch. The moonlight. His arms around you.

Jake.

Your fingers twitch first.

They’re still curled into his hoodie, knuckles relaxed now, no longer desperate. Your legs are tangled with his, his thigh solid beneath yours, holding you in place. One of his arms is wrapped securely around your back, the other bent beneath your head, hand resting lightly in your hair like he never moved it. 

You blink.

The room is darker now. The moon has shifted, light slicing through the window at a different angle. The city outside has quieted, the hum lower, slower.

Late.

You lift your head just slightly, careful not to wake him.

Jake’s eyes are open.

They soften the moment they meet yours.

“Hey,” he whispers.

You freeze.

“Oh,” you breathe, embarrassed suddenly, like you’ve been caught doing something intimate—which, you suppose, you have. “I—sorry. Did I wake you?”

He shakes his head immediately.

“No. I was already awake.”

Of course he was.

You swallow, easing back down against his chest, your cheek fitting perfectly where it was before, like your body remembers this position better than your mind does.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask quietly.

Jake’s chest rises beneath your ear. Falls.

“I didn’t want to,” he admits.

Your brow furrows faintly.

“Why?”

His hand moves in your hair again, slow, almost hesitant this time. Like he’s choosing his words carefully.

“Because you finally looked peaceful,” he says. “Didn’t want to miss it.”

Something warm twists in your chest.

You shift slightly, turning your face toward him so you can see him properly. His features are soft in the dim light—eyes a little tired, lashes casting shadows against his cheeks. He looks… real. Not the easy smile he wears so effortlessly during the day. Not the joking warmth.

Just Jake.

“Have you been up the whole time?” you ask.

He nods once.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say automatically, guilt creeping in. “I didn’t mean to keep you—”

Jake’s thumb presses gently against your jaw, stopping you mid-spiral.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t do that.”

Your lips part.

“Do what?”

“Turn this into something you feel bad about,” he says quietly. “I stayed because I wanted to.”

You search his face, looking for hesitation. Obligation. Anything that might tell you he’s saying this just to be kind.

You find none.

“Doesn’t it get tiring?” you ask softly. “Always… being there for people?”

Jake exhales.

“Sometimes,” he admits. “But not like this.”

You tense slightly, unsure where he’s going.

“Not with you,” he clarifies. “With you, it feels… right.”

The word lands gently but firmly.

Right.

You swallow again.

“Jake…”

He lets out a soft breath, almost a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“Truth is,” he says, voice low, “sometimes I’m scared I won’t be enough. That I’ll say the wrong thing. That I won’t know how to help when it really matters.”

Your hand lifts on its own, resting against his chest, right over his heart.

“You already help,” you whisper. “Just by being here.”

His breath catches.

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

You nod.

“I don’t feel alone when you’re with me,” you say. “Even when I don’t know how to explain what’s wrong.”

Jake leans in slowly, forehead pressing to yours, noses brushing.

“That’s all I ever want to be,” he whispers. “Someone you can breathe around.”

The quiet between you stretches—not awkward, not heavy. Just full.

You shift closer, legs tangling more securely with his, your body fitting into his like it was designed for this exact moment.

Jake adjusts instinctively, pulling you closer, one arm tightening around you as if to shield you from the rest of the world.

“Try to sleep again,” he murmurs. “I’ll stay.”

You hesitate.

“What if I wake up again?”

“I’ll still be here.”

“And if you fall asleep?”

He smiles softly, finally.

“Then we fall asleep together.”

That thought settles something deep inside you.

You nod, eyes already growing heavy again, exhaustion reclaiming its space.

Jake presses a kiss to your forehead. Then another, softer, lingering.

“Sleep tight,” he whispers.

Your breathing slows.

This time, when you drift under, it’s deeper. Heavier. Safer.

Jake stays awake a little longer, watching the way your face smooths in sleep, the way your hand remains curled into his hoodie like a promise you don’t know you’re making.

Eventually, even he can’t fight it.

His eyes close.

And for the first time in a long while, he lets himself rest too—holding you as the night finally saves you both.

© taetebebe 2026

𖤘𖤘 always on the line ⌗ @stormlit-pages @ddeonuswife @ikeucakeu @wontechno @Rhejeh @staarflowerr @kienhawon @cripplinghooman @ddeondalandan @deluluscenarios @Ragnazrael @addictedtohobi @laylasbunbunny @kristynaaah

𖤘𖤘 listeners on this line ⌗ @jdvouge @globaloppaaa

[taetebebe]

OH MY GOD HOW IS THIS REALLLLL

[taetebebe]

PUTTING STICKERS ON THEM ฅ^>⩊<^ ฅ

Paring: bf!Enhypen x f!reader

the sticker collections needs to be showcased, right?

WC: 720 ✦ Requests: CLOSED ✦

— from the operator. this has been in my drafts since that one time jungwon got the flu shot and showed off his tiny sticker looking bandaid on his bicep 🫠

: ⌗ masterline: all fics ⌗ : ⌗ directory: taglist ⌗ : ⌗ directory: rules ⌗

Jungwon (•˕ •マⳊ

His biceps, of course. He laughs and flexes the moment you stick the first little cartoon cat on his arm, teasing, “Are you trying to make me look tougher?” You roll your eyes but keep pressing more on, decorating the curve of his muscles with smiley suns, motivational phrases, and even a random sparkly heart. He plays along by flexing harder every time you add a new sticker, asking if it makes them look “shinier.” By the end, his entire bicep looks like a motivational poster, and he keeps flexing dramatically until you’re giggling too hard to keep sticking them on.

Heeseung ₍ᵔ.˛.ᵔ₎

You decide his face is the perfect canvas, and he just sighs dramatically but lets you go on anyway. He pretends to be annoyed, mumbling things like “This is so childish,” but the corners of his lips twitch every time you carefully smooth another star-shaped sticker onto his cheekbones. By the time you’re done, his face is covered in pastel stickers — hearts, moons, even a random puppy one you found at the bottom of the sheet. Heeseung catches his reflection in your phone camera and bursts into laughter, unable to keep up the act anymore. He doesn’t even wipe them off right away, just leans in close and asks if he looks “cuter than usual.”

Jay ᨐฅ

You stick them onto his hands and fingers, knowing full well he uses them the most while practicing guitar, sketching, or just gesturing dramatically when he’s talking. At first he raises a brow, saying it feels weird, but he doesn’t stop you. Each little sticker — roses, flames, tiny music notes — ends up like rings and tattoos wrapping around his knuckles and the back of his hands. He flexes his fingers and smirks, muttering, “Not bad, actually. Feels kind of artistic.” Later, he forgets he’s still wearing them, and when he absentmindedly strums his guitar with stickers still on, you swear it looks like the coolest album cover ever.

Jake 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯

His ears are your target. He laughs so hard he almost falls over when you press smiley face stickers to his earlobes like they’re earrings. You keep layering them, even sticking a tiny puppy-shaped one right on the curve of his ear, which makes him grin wider because it matches his “puppy” nickname. Jake doesn’t fight you at all — instead, he leans down, tilts his head, and says, “You missed a spot,” just so you’ll keep going. He insists on FaceTiming his mom to show her, claiming, “Look! She finally gave me earrings!”

Sunghoon ૮(•͈⌔•͈)ა

His jawline. You carefully line it with tiny holographic star stickers, and at first, he pretends to be completely indifferent, scrolling on his phone as you work. But when you’re done and you tilt his face toward the light, the reflective stars catch and glitter like he’s walking straight out of some high-fashion magazine shoot. He smirks knowingly, finally catching your stunned look. “You like it too much,” he teases, though you can see the satisfaction in his eyes when he takes a mirror selfie with them still on. The boy who rarely indulges in silly things doesn’t remove them for hours.

Sunoo ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა

You decorate his neck, and he squeals the second you press the first one on. “Ahh, it tickles!” he says, swatting your hand gently but letting you continue. You create a whole “necklace” made of flower, candy, and jewel-shaped stickers wrapping around his collarbones like the brightest accessory he could ever own. Sunoo immediately starts posing like he’s on a runway, tilting his head side to side and fluttering his lashes as if the stickers are actual diamonds. He even insists on taking a whole photo shoot with you, making you promise to save every single picture.

Ni-ki (>𐃷<)

His legs are your chosen spot, because he always has endless energy and you figure his long limbs could use some fun. You start near his knees, adding little rocket and robot stickers that make him laugh out loud. “Why my legs?!” he asks, but you just keep decorating down his shins. He doesn’t fight you — he actually props his legs up and lets you keep going, proud when you run out of stickers before you run out of leg space. Later, he refuses to peel them off before practice, insisting, “Maybe it’ll make my kicks stronger.”

© taetebebe 2026

𖤘𖤘 always on the line ⌗ @stormlit-pages @ddeonuswife @ikeucakeu @wontechno @Rhejeh @staarflowerr @kienhawon @cripplinghooman @ddeondalandan @deluluscenarios @Ragnazrael @addictedtohobi @laylasbunbunny @kristynaaah @julsforjulieni

[taetebebe]

the hello kitty sticker on heeseungs face in the banner 😔😔😔 you did that for me didn’t u :3333

ofc i did, wifey <3

[taetebebe]

hi

again

i loved

ur newest

wonnie fic

it was awesome

like always

i hope ur

eating and drinking and sleeping enough

i love

you <3

Hi anonnie!! Hru??

I think i united a lot of insomniacs like myself with that one lmao - im glad u enjoyed it!

Im trying to eat, sleep and drink more cuz i defo aint doing it enough 😭

[taetebebe]

PUTTING STICKERS ON THEM ฅ^>⩊<^ ฅ

Paring: bf!Enhypen x f!reader

the sticker collections needs to be showcased, right?

WC: 720 ✦ Requests: CLOSED ✦

— from the operator. this has been in my drafts since that one time jungwon got the flu shot and showed off his tiny sticker looking bandaid on his bicep 🫠

: ⌗ masterline: all fics ⌗ : ⌗ directory: taglist ⌗ : ⌗ directory: rules ⌗

Jungwon (•˕ •マⳊ

His biceps, of course. He laughs and flexes the moment you stick the first little cartoon cat on his arm, teasing, “Are you trying to make me look tougher?” You roll your eyes but keep pressing more on, decorating the curve of his muscles with smiley suns, motivational phrases, and even a random sparkly heart. He plays along by flexing harder every time you add a new sticker, asking if it makes them look “shinier.” By the end, his entire bicep looks like a motivational poster, and he keeps flexing dramatically until you’re giggling too hard to keep sticking them on.

Heeseung ₍ᵔ.˛.ᵔ₎

You decide his face is the perfect canvas, and he just sighs dramatically but lets you go on anyway. He pretends to be annoyed, mumbling things like “This is so childish,” but the corners of his lips twitch every time you carefully smooth another star-shaped sticker onto his cheekbones. By the time you’re done, his face is covered in pastel stickers — hearts, moons, even a random puppy one you found at the bottom of the sheet. Heeseung catches his reflection in your phone camera and bursts into laughter, unable to keep up the act anymore. He doesn’t even wipe them off right away, just leans in close and asks if he looks “cuter than usual.”

Jay ᨐฅ

You stick them onto his hands and fingers, knowing full well he uses them the most while practicing guitar, sketching, or just gesturing dramatically when he’s talking. At first he raises a brow, saying it feels weird, but he doesn’t stop you. Each little sticker — roses, flames, tiny music notes — ends up like rings and tattoos wrapping around his knuckles and the back of his hands. He flexes his fingers and smirks, muttering, “Not bad, actually. Feels kind of artistic.” Later, he forgets he’s still wearing them, and when he absentmindedly strums his guitar with stickers still on, you swear it looks like the coolest album cover ever.

Jake 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯

His ears are your target. He laughs so hard he almost falls over when you press smiley face stickers to his earlobes like they’re earrings. You keep layering them, even sticking a tiny puppy-shaped one right on the curve of his ear, which makes him grin wider because it matches his “puppy” nickname. Jake doesn’t fight you at all — instead, he leans down, tilts his head, and says, “You missed a spot,” just so you’ll keep going. He insists on FaceTiming his mom to show her, claiming, “Look! She finally gave me earrings!”

Sunghoon ૮(•͈⌔•͈)ა

His jawline. You carefully line it with tiny holographic star stickers, and at first, he pretends to be completely indifferent, scrolling on his phone as you work. But when you’re done and you tilt his face toward the light, the reflective stars catch and glitter like he’s walking straight out of some high-fashion magazine shoot. He smirks knowingly, finally catching your stunned look. “You like it too much,” he teases, though you can see the satisfaction in his eyes when he takes a mirror selfie with them still on. The boy who rarely indulges in silly things doesn’t remove them for hours.

Sunoo ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა

You decorate his neck, and he squeals the second you press the first one on. “Ahh, it tickles!” he says, swatting your hand gently but letting you continue. You create a whole “necklace” made of flower, candy, and jewel-shaped stickers wrapping around his collarbones like the brightest accessory he could ever own. Sunoo immediately starts posing like he’s on a runway, tilting his head side to side and fluttering his lashes as if the stickers are actual diamonds. He even insists on taking a whole photo shoot with you, making you promise to save every single picture.

Ni-ki (>𐃷<)

His legs are your chosen spot, because he always has endless energy and you figure his long limbs could use some fun. You start near his knees, adding little rocket and robot stickers that make him laugh out loud. “Why my legs?!” he asks, but you just keep decorating down his shins. He doesn’t fight you — he actually props his legs up and lets you keep going, proud when you run out of stickers before you run out of leg space. Later, he refuses to peel them off before practice, insisting, “Maybe it’ll make my kicks stronger.”

© taetebebe 2026

𖤘𖤘 always on the line ⌗ @stormlit-pages @ddeonuswife @ikeucakeu @wontechno @Rhejeh @staarflowerr @kienhawon @cripplinghooman @ddeondalandan @deluluscenarios @Ragnazrael @addictedtohobi @laylasbunbunny @kristynaaah @julsforjulieni

[taetebebe]

New theme - she looks better in light mode 🍀

[taetebebe]

Look who showed up for my bday !!

[taetebebe]

Closing my requests for now!!

there is acc a good few in the inbox i need to finish plus i have to work on my wips too (u knife lovers hate me ik)

not to mention exams are coming up soon - gotta lock in

[taetebebe]

ALL THE SMALL THINGS <3

︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ happy bday to me ig lol

You’re locked out of your apartment in pyjamas, your phone is on 3%, and it’s raining hard enough that your hair sticks to your face by the time he finds you sitting outside your door looking absolutely miserable.

Jungwon stares for one second before bursting into laughter.

“You look insane.”

“You’re supposed to comfort me.”

“I am comforting you,” he says, still laughing while pulling his hoodie over your head like it’ll somehow fix everything.

An hour later, the two of you are sitting in a tiny convenience store at 1AM eating microwaved ramen because every restaurant is closed. Your birthday cake is literally a triangle kimbap with a candle stabbed into the rice.

Jungwon insists on singing anyway.

Loud. Completely serious.

You’re so embarrassed you nearly hide your face in your hands, but he just watches you with that stupid soft expression he gets sometimes — the one that feels too warm to look at directly.

“You know,” he says quietly after a while, “I had this whole plan.”

“What happened to it?”

“You happened.”

And somehow that makes this feel better than any fancy dinner ever could.

© taetebebe 2026

⌗ masterline: all fics ⌗ ⌗ directory: taglist ⌗  ✦ Requests: CLOSED ✦