Sep 10, 2025
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shane is kind of great at communicating, like at the all stars he was like i’m getting my man and then shut down every single deflection ilya tried omg and wheedled the truth out of him. iconic.
sugar talk — sjy
PAIRING: sim jaeyun x reader
GENRE: study partners, fluff, teasing, friends to lovers dynamic?!
SYNOPSIS: Jake should’ve started studying a week ago. Now, it’s past midnight, the coffee’s gone cold and his brain’s officially on strike.
Without thinking, he scribbles on a pale yellow sticky note, ‘Here’s a study hack: Teach the content to an imaginary friend. Bonus points if they have a funny voice’
You’re smiling — and now he’s starting to think studying with you might be the best distraction finals week has to offer. Sour candy and coffee, sticky notes and bad jokes. Who knew surviving finals week would be this sweet?
Jake Sim is a lot of things.
Decently athletic, reasonably intelligent, extremely dramatic. But prepared for finals week? Absolutely not.
He stares at his physics textbook like it personally wronged him. Wavefunctions? Quantum tunneling? Angular momentum? At this point, Jake’s convinced the uncertainty principle doesn’t just apply to subatomic particles, it’s personally targeting his future.
A pale sticky note is stuck to his forehead, labelled in red bold letters ‘FUTURE VALEDICTORIAN’ is written with an impressive amount of optimism. It’s well past midnight, and any remaining hope in the room is being slowly drained by the inverse square law of finals week stress.
Across from him, you’re still scribbling in that calm competent way you always do, like you understand this madness. Your hoodie sleeves are pushed to your elbows, eyes scanning thoughtfully. Meanwhile, Jake looks like he’s about to commit a crime against his physics textbook.
“Why does this look like hieroglyphics?” he mutters, flipping the page back and forth like the answers will suddenly reveal themselves if he squints hard enough.
You don’t even look up.“Maybe because you haven’t opened that book since the first week of class?”
“I skimmed chapter one,” he defends weakly. “It had diagrams.”
You hum, unimpressed while continuing to flip through your color-coded notes for the past hour with terrifying focus, while Jake has consumed three sour candy packets and half his dignity.
He slumps forward dramatically, cheek pressed to the textbook. “I think my brain hit terminal velocity.”
You snort. “That’s not how terminal velocity works.”
“And yet you knew what I meant. Which is exactly why you should take the final for me.”
You finally glance over, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “So your point is?”
“That I’m hopeless. Just accept it now. Time of death: Chapter eight. Projectile motion.”
You toss a gummy worm at his head “Study, Jake.”
With a groan, he sits up, eyes lazily glazing over the same sentence, again and again: “Terminal velocity is reached when the sum of the drag force and the buoyancy is equal to the downward force of gravity acting on the object.” The letters soon begin to twist, swirl, and dissolve into a meaningless haze. He blinks, tries again, but it’s like the sentence is fighting him—taunting him with its clarity just out of reach.
Jake’s hand twitches, fingers grazing the page like he’s searching for a secret message hidden in the words. “Maybe the book’s cursed,” he mutters, voice barely audible over the pounding in his temples.
His focus drifts from the dense textbook, drawn to the ‘sticky note mountain’ you’ve built. Layers of pale yellow post-it’s arranged like a carefully charted map of your thoughts. On a whim or maybe a plea for sanity he grabs one carefully and scribbles:
Here’s a study hack: Teach the content to an imaginary friend. Bonus points if they have a funny voice.
He sticks it to your notebook with a grin then leans back in his seat, waiting.
You read it aloud, the smallest twitch of a smile tugging at your lips “What kind of funny voice?” you ask, curiosity sparking
Jake's grin widens. “Cartoon squirrel. High-pitched. Maybe a lisp.”
You raise an eyebrow. “What do I get if I do it?”
He leans in, eyes gleaming. “My eternal respect.”
“So absolutely nothing.”
“EXCUSE me, eternal respect is very prestigious!” He says while waving his hands dramatically.
But you’re already scribbling on your own sticky note, slapping it down in front of him.
Only if you explain Newton’s third law in an Australian accent first.
Jake immediately straightens up, clearing his throat, before effortlessly sliding into a thick Aussie drawl (that’s he practiced way too many times)
“Oi, listen up. Newton’s third law, yeah? He points at you with a highlighter like it’s a microphone.
“Every action’s got an equal and opposite reaction.“So, like, if I throw my hopes at this exam—”
“They bounce back and crush you?” you interrupt.
“Oi—unprovoked attack. I’m wounded.” He immediately drops the act while clutching his heart.
You grin, rolling up the sleeves of your three-sizes-too-big sweatshirt before adopting a high-pitched, cartoonish tone, holding your notes dramatically like ancient scrolls.
“In = centripetal, pulling in! Out = centrifugal, feels like pushing out—but it’s fake, tehee!
Jake actually chokes on his laugh. “You sound like if a chipmunk took AP Physics.” he says in between giggles.
Recovering from your chipmunk impression, he's reaching for another gummy worm. When you hit him with another sticky note:
If centripetal force keeps objects in circular motion, what’s keeping you from spinning out every time I mention your sister and Sunghoon?
He stares at it. Then at you, his jaw dropping slightly.
"Low blow," he mutters, eyes narrowing but there’s no heat in it, just the kind of scandalized betrayal only Jake can deliver at 1:42 AM with sugar in his veins and sleep nowhere in sight.
“I’m just asking a physics question,” you say innocently, already jotting down another post-it.
Newton’s fourth law: Jake deflects feelings with dumb jokes and gummy worms.
Jake squints before peeling it off dramatically like it personally insulted him. “Fake law. Slanted source. Zero peer review.”
Before you can reply, he makes a strangled sound and slaps a sticky note over the last one like he’s trying to erase history.
This study session is now under strict sibling-privacy law. Violators will be pelted with sour candy.
You burst out laughing. “You’re really gonna throw candy at me?”
Jake grabs another sour gummy from the neon packet and holds it up like a warning. “Don’t test me.”
“But science demands answers,” you tease.
Jake looks genuinely torn, half scandalized, half flustered, and one tiny fraction looking like he might burst into flames just at the mention of Sunghoon and his sister in the same sentence.
“She’s younger than him,” Jake mutters finally. “She’s smarter than him. She’s…off-limits. It's cosmic law.”
You smile, tilting your head. “I don’t think the universe got the memo.”
“She wore a hoodie he complimented once,” Jake says, voice rising with pure, uncut sibling panic. “Now she’s acting like he invented fabric.”
“She does wear it a lot now,” you point out. “Kinda suspicious.”
He lets out a horrified squeak, eyes widening. “They’re definitely not just friends. What if they’re actually dating?”
You peel off one last sticky note and slap it right on his chest, snapping him out of his panic.
Newton’s Fifth Law: Brothers go feral when best friends flirt with their sisters.
Jake tears the harmless looking note into two and throws it behind him like it’s cursed.
It flutters to the ground, but your laughter doesn’t.
You stretch with your arms overhead, a gentle smile tugging at your lips.“Who knew finals week would finally be fun with you?”
“Are you saying I wasn’t fun before?” he mock gasps but you just toss another sticky note at him.
You’re tolerable. Especially when you bring candy.
He grins, sticking the note over his heart. “I’m framing this.”
“You say that about every sticky note.”
“Yeah, but this one’s got you written all over it.” Your face suddenly goes warm, and Jake definitely sees it because now he’s got that look. The smug, cheeky Jake Sim grin you’ve come to know way too well.
But then something in his expression shifts. The grin lingers, but softer now, like it’s only half there. Jake lowers his hand, eyes still on yours. “You know what scares me?” he says suddenly, voice low.
You blink, completely caught off guard by the change in tone. “What?”
He shifts in his seat, hesitating. “That I’m gonna bomb this final, and everyone will finally figure out I’m not as smart as they think I am.”
No sarcasm. No smirk. Just Jake — unguarded in a way you rarely see.
Your breath hitches, but only for a second. Resting your arms on the table, your voice is gentler now. “You’re smarter than you know. You just… talk loud enough to drown out the part of you that doubts it.”
Jake looks at you, really looks at you, like you’ve just said something he didn’t realize he needed to hear. The space between you shifts quietly, humming with something unspoken.
“And what if the doubts are right?” he asks.
You smile, soft but unwavering. “Then we’ll fail gloriously together. But you won’t.”
His eyes flicker to your lips, just for a second. Then back up. “You’re really bad at letting me spiral.”
You shrug, voice barely above a whisper now. “Someone’s gotta keep you grounded.”
There’s a pause, it's long enough for the world to shrink to the table between you and the lingering heat of his gaze.
Jake leans forward, elbows on the table, close enough that your knees almost touch.
“You keep doing that,” he murmurs.
“Doing what?”
“Making me feel like I’m not completely falling apart.”
You tilt your head, heart in your throat. “Maybe you’re not.”
For a second, neither of you speaks. The air between you pulls tight, something warm and steady growing in the silence.
And then because it’s Jake, he whispers, “Still not doing vectors.”
You burst out laughing, shoving his shoulder. “You're such an idiot.”
But your smile doesn’t fade, and neither does the look in his eyes.
You’re not sure when he stopped being the guy who always claimed the same library table. But lately, a small part of you wonders, if it's centripetal force that keeps things from flying apart...
Then maybe Jake Sim is your favorite kind of gravity.
⊹ enha4everr’s note ⊹presenting my highly requested jake fic. i’m so sorry it took longer than expected (just been in a terrible slump) but the banter between both characters just kept me going, and i couldn’t keep you lovelies waiting. let me know what you think!!
just a reminder that this piece of writing is from my imagination and does not represent the names mentioned.
taglist✨💕 @norihoyeon @chuuyaobsessed @frostenmind-11 @meowwwon @hollxe1 @lveegsoi @i-am-not-dal @serinebsblog @luvksnn @motherscrustytoenailclippings @e-r-i-15 @enjakey @mixxie2203 @chuuyaobsessed @panninithepannana @frosten9-11
// serious post
here’s the thing i don’t get: people tell you to communicate your feelings, and then react negatively when you feel something they don’t think you should.
i’m ill in six different directions: my feelings are mostly negative and generally illogical. i get upset for reasons that i know don’t matter in the bigger scheme of things. but i can’t express that anger or hurt, because then people think that i am selfish, and entitled, and a bad friend. on the other hand, though, i’m also bad at hiding my feelings, and saying you’re okay when you clearly aren’t is also rude. so it’s just a constant struggle between “how much can i say to make this person feel that i’m answering truthfully, without them deciding i’m a selfish asshole.”
people tell me that you can’t rationalize away your emotions, and then react with disgust when i can’t do that for “the things that matter.” i’m upset. i know i shouldn’t be, i’m upset that i’m upset, but you sitting there judging me isn’t exactly going to help the situation. i know that whatever’s going on with my friends is more important than how it affects me. but then what does selflessness look like? is it not being upset in the first place, or is it just hiding your expression of your hurt? am i incapable of being a good friend because i can’t keep myself from feeling things i shouldn’t?
i just don’t get people sometimes. it’s like everyone has a rulebook for what’s allowed, and they just forgot to give me a copy. i get told communicate, communicate, communicate, over and over, and everyone forgets to mention what i’m meant to be conveying. because sometimes it really seems that what they want isn’t the truth.
The Prisoner of Beauty
Oh my lord. Ive been binge watching a crap ton of cdramas in the last week or so cause I finally got into historical dramas again. This drama was one of the top ranked for the website I used and since ive seen most of the ones from there and liked I thought Id watch this one as well. And who wouldve guess IT WAS SO GOOD. Like this is singlehandedly the most realistic enemies to lovers. It isnt used just as a plot point but the hatred in the beginning is so natural and not forced. The development of their love feels so real and not forced in one bit. It has the vibes of the romance is just a side plot. Lowkey is. So if youre not into like politics and drawn out romances rn then dont watch this rn. Save it for when you can watch the entire thing because it is so intertwined and really perfects that romance aspect. I was laughing my ass off at some bits. At others I was tearing up and, this is what i classify as an amazing series, i felt that twinge in my chest. Like the one where its so painful and addictive. Like eating somethings a bit too spicy. So big big applause to the screenwriters and directors of this show I am truly amazed. It was just soooooo goood. Anyhow if youre looking for a 100/10 romance that just makes sense. THIS IS IT.
also might make a cdrama rec post after this just cause ive binged so many and want to recommend to other but also get more recs.
talking about mentally ill tnt duo
them learning to use safe words outside of sex or dynamic stuff, to have an alternative way of communicating during episodes
actually that's a very important thing: everyone, establish a system of "safewords" with the safe people in your life.
Words, phrases, emojis, tapping, squeezing, etc - create a system that allows you to discreetely communicate. examples of what it can be used for: * reassuring/getting reassurance (when for whatever reason you can't express it verbally) * communicating that a joke has gone too far, * asking for help with getting out of an uncomfortable situation (for example a social event), * making sure something you're saying is genuine and honest - it's important especially when you both have issues (don't abuse the phrase by asking about trivial things) but when you need to make absolute sure that what's being said is fully true it's very useful to have a little safe word that you know neither person is going to break. this comes in handy with things like checking if someone's safe, or when you need reassurance that they definitely care about you * communicating that you're not feeling safe (great to have with parents/parental figures in your life/someone reliable with a car for when you need them to come get you from somewhere) * communicating that you need to say something and be heard out, and that you don't wanna attack them, but this is an issue that you have to work through *communicating that you need space - or the opposite
There's reasons ways to use safewords in that manner, but i'd say it's very important to develop some kind of a system like that with close friends/partner(s)/parental figures etc
aaand of course yes absolutely great hc fully support that (lmao i got a little off-topic)
Kissing Spider-Man was incredible. Wade had done it a thousand times by now. They would meet in the late hours of the night and push each other against the wall of a dark alley. Frantically, Wade would pull Spider-Man’s mask to his nose and lean in. Kissing Spider-Man had become his favourite part of the night.
He was familiar with it now.
Deadpool could describe exactly how Spider-Man held onto his hips as their lips danced. He could tell you all about the little sigh Webs did when they broke for air and he could tell you every detail about the hero’s shameful walk out of the alley.
He was so familiar with kissing Spider-Man.
So, when Wade didn’t feel the hero’s hand on his hips, gently squeezing, he only felt slightly uneasy. Granted, Wade felt worse when the hero stood slack, his weight pushed against the wall instead of onto Wade. Something was wrong.
Gently, he leaned away from the hero, creating a space between them and coughed, awkwardly. Spider-Man fidgeted with his hands.
“What’s wrong?” Spider-Man’s voice was quiet. He reached out to pull the merc closer but huffed angrily when Wade stood firmly away. If Deadpool wasn’t so concerned, he would have laughed. Sighing instead, he asked, “What’s wrong with you?” Wade could only see half of the arachnid’s face but watched as a large frown formed. Okay, so something major was wrong.
“Deadpool…” Spider-Man’s voice was breathless and embarrassed. Whatever was about to be said, was serious. Wade had the sudden urge to run and flee, whicht was overwhelming. He would never forgive himself if he abandoned Spider-Man like this. Instead Wade convinced his stupid mind to shut up and focus on the trembling man in front of him. Why the fuck was Webs trembling?
“Are you cold?”
“What?” Spider-Man chuckled, shaking his head no. Wade quickly pointed out how much the spider was shivering and frowned when after realising it was a product of the man’s ever-unforgiving anxiety.
Wade repeated the question and the hero’s mask wrinkled as he scrunched his face. Spider-Man reached forward, grasping Wade’s hand gently. He sighed, heavily, like he was preparing himself to say something awful.
He was.
“Deadpool…” Spider-Man’s voice was just as quiet as before “What are we?”
This had shocked the merc. What were they? Something, that was for sure, but no label felt like it fit them. Webs sat with him whilst his body regenerated and squeezed Wade’s hand as a reminder that everything would be okay. Wade had sat on countless rooftops watching Spider-Man from a distance, ready to jump in and save him as soon as it was needed. And of course, they kissed. They had made out so, so much. And Wade had figured that they were something. He was just never one for labels.
Spider-Man was staring up at him. His white lenses reflected the moonlight as he gazed up towards Wade. Shit. Webs wanted to label this. Shit. Wade chuckled, nervously, and averted his eyes. “What are we?” Spider-Man repeated his question, voice firmer this time.
When Deadpool hadn’t responded, the smaller man continued, “Because someone asked me out today. And I rejected them.” His voice was slowly turning bitter and angry. “I feel like I should be loyal to you, that I can’t be casual with other people because of you,” He took a sharp inhale, “And it sucks, Deadpool. Because I don’t know what we are.”
“I don’t do labels Webs,”
“So, are you rejecting me?”
Instead of answering, Wade leant down and caught Spider-Man’s lips in a gentle kiss. He wanted to scream that, no he wasn’t rejecting the man. Labels were just scary and Wade didn’t want to screw this up. He wanted to shout about how perfect their dynamic was without the existence of labels and he hoped the kiss portrayed that.
When they broke apart, Webs’s expression hadn’t changed. He repeated his question, again.
“Do you want us to be a thing?” His voice was still sour.
“Yes.”
“Ask me out.”
Wade whined. He had only ever seen half of the other man’s face and didn’t even know the hero’s name. Their relationship was so private and it thrived off of the lack of intimacy. They didn’t need to know about each other's personal lives. The mystery was important. It was part of their banter. Plus, Wade didn’t think he wouldn't be a good match for the hero; Their morals were too different and their relationship would have too many conflicts.
But the idea of seeing Spider-Man with someone else hurt. It struck Wade right in the heart and made it difficult to breathe. Suddenly, he felt selfish and wanted to keep Webs for himself. Wade wanted to hide Spider-Man’s soft laugh and heavy sighs away from the world. They were his and his only.
“Deadpo-“
“Wade.” His chest felt tight. “If we’re going to be exclusive, we should at least know each other's names.” Wade took a large step away from the hero and stuck out a gloved hand. “Wade.” He repeated, confidence seeping into his voice. Spider-Man laughed, his classic laugh which caused Wade to smile.
“Are we going to be exclusive?” The question was easy to answer. The idea of webs being with someone else - kissing someone else - made him want to scream. So Wade nodded. Yes.
Slowly, Spider-Man shook his hand.
“Peter. Parker.”
Wade leaned in again and kissed Peter. This felt right. This felt so right. The kiss was softer this time, gentle and romantic. It was new. This time, Peter broke the kiss by pushing his weight back into the wall. “Can you ask me out now, Wade?”