#if u would like... to have them continue talking...

[hereforuconnwbb]

Unexpected Halt - CHAPTER NINE

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

~paige plays for uconn and azzi plays for stanford~

word count: 11.2k

warning: mentions of drugging and sa

heres chapter 9 for u guys !!! 🫶🏽 i wasnt too sure on how to continue at first, but i think ive finally got it. im hoping this chapter makes sense and ties everything together well 😭 im coming towards the end of this series—maybe just one or two more chapters left ?? im not entirely sure yet, it really depends on how i can wrap up the story and get it to flow. but um anywayssss i hope yall enjoy it !!

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Days had passed since Azzi unblocked Paige, but no messages had been sent. The silence lingered between them, heavy and unspoken. Paige had no way of knowing she was unblocked, and Azzi wasn’t sure if she wanted to be the one to break the silence first.

Paige, on the other hand, was still trying to process everything. She had spent the last few days running on autopilot—going to practice, going to class, pretending everything was fine when, in reality, she was anything but. The weight of everything with Lexi, the betrayal, the misunderstanding with Azzi—it all sat on her chest like a crushing force.

And now, Paige was faced with a decision.

Would she take the risk of reaching out, knowing she could be ignored? Or would she let Azzi come to her when she was ready?

—------------

Paige was sitting in her dorm, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone, when it rang. She didn’t recognize the number at first, but as soon as she picked up and heard the voice on the other end, her heart started racing.

“Paige Bueckers? This is Officer Reynolds from the Storrs Police Department. We’re calling to follow up on the investigation regarding Alexis Carter.”

Hearing Lexi’s full name sent a chill down Paige’s spine. She sat up straighter, gripping her phone tighter. “Yeah, I—um—yeah. What’s going on?”

“We wanted to inform you that we’ve taken Alexis Carter into custody.”

Paige’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected them to move this fast.

“We gathered enough evidence based on the videos you and Serena provided, along with the footage we obtained from Ted’s and testimonies from other witnesses. She was located earlier today, and after questioning, we proceeded with the arrest. She’s facing multiple charges, including administering a substance with intent, identity fraud for the messages she sent from your phone, and harassment.”

Paige exhaled, but the relief she thought she would feel wasn’t there. She still felt suffocated, still felt the weight of what had happened pressing down on her.

“So…what happens now?” she asked quietly.

“She’s being held in custody, and the case is moving forward. We’ll be in touch if we need you to provide further statements, but we have substantial evidence. We also wanted to check in with you—make sure you’re alright and see if you need any additional support.”

Paige wanted to say she was fine. That now that Lexi was out of the picture, everything would just go back to normal. But it wouldn’t. It couldn’t.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The officer was silent for a moment before speaking again, their tone softer. “That’s understandable. This was a traumatic event, and it’s going to take time to process. If you need resources or someone to talk to, we can arrange that for you. You’re not alone in this, Paige.”

She swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure what she needed. Right now, all she could think about was Azzi.

“Thank you,” she said after a pause.

“Of course. We’ll keep you updated as things progress. If you remember anything else or need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

With that, the call ended. Paige let her phone drop onto her bed as she stared at the wall, mind racing.

Lexi was finally gone. But the damage had already been done.

And now, she had to figure out how to pick up the pieces.

Her mind swirling with emotions after the call with the police. She didn’t know what she was expecting by sending the message, but something in her made her grab her phone and type it out anyway. She stared at the screen for a moment before hitting send, her finger hovering over the send button for a moment longer than necessary.

It was a long shot, a desperate move, but at this point, she had nothing left to lose.

“Azzi, I don’t know if this will even go through, but I just need you to know… I was the victim in all of this. I would never want to hurt you. Whatever happened wasn’t me. Lexi is the one who did this. There’s proof now, and the police are involved. I thought you’d never want to talk to me again, but I’m not giving up on us. I just want you to know the truth. I can’t keep living with this silence between us. Please, when you’re ready, I’ll be here. I just had to say this. I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

She reread the message a few times, wondering if it would even reach Azzi. Maybe the damage was too deep. Maybe she didn’t want to hear from her anymore. But then again, Paige hadn’t known what Azzi had been thinking. She didn’t know if Azzi had even been given a chance to see the full picture.

Before she could second guess herself, she tapped the “send” button.

The seconds stretched, each one feeling like an eternity as Paige watched the little spinning icon. She held her breath, waiting. And then, the message went through.

It wasn’t a huge sign, not by any means, but it was a glimmer. She blinked, staring at her screen. Her heart skipped a beat. The message was sent.

She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t thought for a second that Azzi would unblock her. But the fact that the message had gone through meant something. Azzi had at least read it—or would, eventually.

But that was all she could do for now. There was nothing more she could say. She had apologized. She had explained. The rest was up to Azzi.

Paige set her phone down beside her, a weight still heavy on her chest. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but a small part of her felt a glimmer of hope. Even if it was just a sliver, it was something.

She wiped away the tear that had escaped her eye and curled into herself, hoping for a message that might never come.

—------------

Azzi sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup, her mind racing with thoughts of everything that had happened. She hadn’t thought much about Paige in the past few days—not really. It was hard not to, of course, but Azzi had done her best to keep herself distracted. Her heart ached every time she thought of Paige, but she knew she needed time. Time to process everything, to let the anger fade, and to try to heal.

And then, her phone buzzed.

Azzi glanced down, seeing Paige’s name pop up on the screen. She hadn’t expected it. She hadn’t even thought about whether or not Paige would reach out again.

Her thumb hovered over the message. She hadn’t blocked Paige’s number, not completely, but she’d kept herself away for a reason. But now, as she stared at the message, something in her shifted. Her thumb tapped the notification, and the message opened.

Paige: Azzi, I don’t know if this will even go through, but I just need you to know… I was the victim in all of this. I would never want to hurt you. Whatever happened wasn’t me. Lexi is the one who did this. There’s proof now, and the police are involved. I thought you’d never want to talk to me again, but I’m not giving up on us. I just want you to know the truth. I can’t keep living with this silence between us. Please, when you’re ready, I’ll be here. I just had to say this. I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.

Azzi closed her eyes, the weight of Paige’s words sinking into her chest. She exhaled a shaky breath, trying to process what she had just read. For the longest time, Azzi had been convinced that Paige had hurt her. She hadn’t understood the truth, and the anger and pain she’d carried had clouded her.

But now it made sense.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Caroline’s voice from a few days ago. She had shown Azzi the videos, the evidence Paige had sent. Azzi hadn’t wanted to look at it, hadn’t wanted to know, but Caroline had insisted. The proof had been undeniable. Lexi was the one who had drugged Paige, and she had kissed her while Paige had been unconscious, taking a picture to frame her. Azzi had watched the videos, and each one had broken her heart even more.

Azzi had been so angry with Paige, but Caroline had shown her the truth and it was a lot for her to take in. And now, reading Paige’s message, everything was clearer.

Azzi: Paige… I didn’t know. I should have listened to you from the start, and I’m so sorry for blocking you. Caroline showed me the videos, and I see what happened. I can’t imagine how you must have felt. I’m sorry for everything… for not giving you the chance to explain. I was hurt, but I know now you didn’t deserve that. I understand now, and I’m so sorry.

Azzi sat back, her chest tight. She had no idea how Paige would respond, but she knew this was a step toward healing. Toward understanding. She wasn’t sure what would happen next, but for the first time in days, Azzi felt like she could breathe again.

She had forgiven Paige, but now, they had a lot to work through.

Her heart still ached, but there was hope now. Hope for something they could rebuild, piece by piece.

—------------

Paige’s heart hammered in her chest as she stared at her phone, waiting for Azzi’s reply. Her fingers felt cold, and she was almost afraid to open the message. What if Azzi didn’t respond? What if this was it?

When her phone buzzed, Paige quickly unlocked it, holding her breath as she saw the message from Azzi.

Azzi: Paige… I didn’t know. I should have listened to you from the start, and I’m so sorry for blocking you. Caroline showed me the videos, and I see what happened. I can’t imagine how you must have felt. I’m sorry for everything… for not giving you the chance to explain. I was hurt, but I know now you didn’t deserve that. I understand now, and I’m so sorry.

Paige let out a shaky breath, the weight on her chest lifting just a little. Her thumb hovered over the screen, unsure of what to say next.

Paige: “Thank you for saying that. I’ve been wanting to talk to you, but I didn’t know if you’d ever want to hear from me again. But I’m glad we’re talking now.”

She paused, thinking about everything that had happened. It was still a mess, but at least they were starting to clear the air.

Azzi: “I was really mad at you, Paige. But I see now that it wasn’t you. I should’ve trusted you more. I just couldn’t understand.”

Paige: “I get it. I messed up too, but I promise, I never wanted to hurt you.”

Azzi: “I know. It’s just going to take me some time to process everything. I don’t know what happens next, but I think I’m ready to start figuring it out.”

Paige smiled at the message, her heart a little lighter now.

Paige: “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Paige sat on her bed, staring at her phone, rereading her conversation with Azzi. She didn’t know what this meant for them, but at least they were talking again. That was something.

Before she could get lost in her thoughts, her dorm door swung open.

“Knew it!” KK’s voice rang out as she and Ice stepped inside, grinning.

Paige blinked up at them, confused. “Knew what?”

Ice smirked. “That you and Azzi would talk again. You were looking miserable as hell the past few days, but something about you feels different now.”

KK nudged Ice. “Look at her, man. She’s literally glowing.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto her lips.

Ice crossed her arms. “So? What happened?”

Paige exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “She unblocked me.”

KK let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh shit, for real?”

Paige nodded. “Yeah… we talked. She saw the videos, and she gets it now. She apologized for not listening to me.”

Ice grinned. “That’s big, P. She still cares.”

Paige shrugged, but she felt lighter than she had in days. “She needs time, which I get. I just—” She sighed, shaking her head. “I just hope we can move forward.”

KK flopped onto Paige’s bed. “You will. She knows the truth now. Just give it time.”

Ice sat beside her, nodding. “And we’ll be here making sure you don’t spiral while you wait.”

Paige huffed out a laugh, appreciating them more than she could put into words. For the first time in a while, things didn’t feel so hopeless.

The conversation shifted to the next game, and KK leaned forward, her tone teasing. “So, speaking of moving forward, there’s a little matter of that upcoming game against UCLA. It’s at their arena, in California. You should totally catch a flight to Azzi after our game. You’re technically already there, right? Just fly to see Azzi. Take a break before the next game. We’re all thinking it.”

Paige blinked, caught off guard. “You really think I should?”

Ice nodded seriously. “Yeah, why not? It’s the perfect time. Geno and CD probably won’t have a problem with it.”

Paige hesitated for a moment. “I mean, it would make sense… we’re already in California. I just need to get their approval.”

KK shot her a wink. “Exactly. And come on, you’ve guys got to fix things. Take this chance.”

—------------

Later that day, Paige walked into Geno’s office, where both he and CD were reviewing some game footage. They looked up when she entered.

“Paige, what’s up?” Geno asked, his expression neutral but welcoming.

Paige took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. “Hey, so, I was thinking… after our game against UCLA in California, I could catch a flight to Stanford instead of coming back with the team. There’s a bit of a break before our next game, so I thought I could use the time to sort out some stuff. Relationship stuff”

CD raised an eyebrow. “Relationship stuff, huh? Sounds serious.”

Paige nodded. “Yeah, it’s… with Azzi.”

The room went silent for a moment. Geno and CD exchanged a look, both clearly surprised. Geno leaned back in his chair. “Azzi? The Azzi Fudd? I didn’t realize that was happening.”

Paige bit her lip, feeling slightly awkward now. “Yeah, it’s been complicated. But we’re trying to work things out, and I think this is a good time to talk.”

CD gave her a thoughtful nod. “Well, if it’s important, we’re not going to stop you. But we do need to make sure the team stays focused. I trust you can handle it. Just don’t forget the bigger picture.”

Paige nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Then Geno added, “Oh and just so you know, we’ve been hearing some things about Azzi and Caroline. Apparently, they’re both entering the transfer portal.”

Paige froze, eyes widening in shock. “What? They’re… what? They didn’t tell me.”

CD sighed. “It’s a bit of a mess. Apparently, there’s some internal conflict at Stanford, and both of them are looking at other options.”

Paige felt a wave of disbelief hit her. “But… they didn’t even mention it to me.”

Geno looked at her, his expression thoughtful. “You might want to talk to them about it. It’s something a lot of teams are looking into, including us. If you’re going out there, maybe you can try to convince them to come to UConn. I’m sure they’d fit in well here. And, we would really love to have them here.”

Paige’s mind was racing. Azzi and Caroline leaving Stanford was something she hadn’t expected at all. She hadn’t known the extent of the situation between them, and now it seemed like everything was about to change.

“Thanks for the heads up,” she muttered, still processing. “I’ll see what I can do.”

With that, Paige left the office, her thoughts swirling. She had a lot more to think about than just her relationship with Azzi. Now, the future of her team—and possibly Azzi and Caroline’s futures—were hanging in the balance. She knew she needed to handle this carefully.

—------------

Later that night, Paige sat on her bed, staring at her phone for a while before typing out the message to Azzi. She wasn’t sure how Azzi would react to the news about the transfer portal, but she had to tell her. She took a deep breath and began typing:

Paige: Hey, I just found out about the transfer portal with you and Caroline… You didn’t mention it to me. What’s going on?

She hit send, her heart beating a little faster as she waited for Azzi’s response. Paige wasn’t sure what to expect. She was already dealing with a lot of uncertainty with their relationship, and now there was this unexpected development with the portal. The last thing she wanted was to make things more complicated.

After a few moments, Azzi’s reply came through.

Azzi: Yeah, I didn’t want to tell you yet… We’ve been trying to figure everything out. It’s not easy, but I guess it’s time to move on. The situation here just… isn’t working anymore.

Paige’s chest tightened as she read the message. She understood the decision, even if it hurt to see Azzi’s words so final. She thought about the implications—Azzi leaving Stanford, everything changing. But she wasn’t about to give up on them just yet.

Paige: Hey, I get it. I really do. Look, after the UCLA game, I’m gonna head over to Stanford to see you. I need to talk to you in person. I know it’s been rough, but I want to make things right.

Azzi’s reply came quickly, and Paige felt a bit of relief when she read it.

Azzi: Sounds good. I’ll be here. I’m glad you’re coming.

Paige smiled to herself as she read the message. She knew there was a long road ahead, but this was a step in the right direction. She had to fix things with Azzi, no matter what it took.

She put her phone down for a moment, taking a deep breath. She still had the game against UCLA to focus on, but for the first time in a while, things felt like they were moving forward.

—------------

A few days later, the UConn team touched down in LA, the warm California sun blindingly bright against the backdrop of the towering skyscrapers. The city was alive with energy, a stark contrast to the chilly weather they had left behind. The team moved through the airport, their chatter filling the air, but Paige’s mind was elsewhere. She followed the others, but her focus was on one thing: the game tomorrow. She had one more challenge to face before she could finally board a flight to Stanford.

Ice and KK walked alongside her as they made their way to the team buses, the three of them talking casually, but there was an underlying tension in the air. Ice, ever the curious one, raised an eyebrow as Paige remained quieter than usual.

“So, we know you’re heading to Stanford after the game, huh?” Ice asked, her voice teasing but with a knowing look in her eyes. “You sure about this?”

Paige’s lips pressed together into a thin line. She had told them her plan earlier, but there was a difference between talking about it and actually going through with it. She nodded, pushing aside the anxious feeling in her chest. “Yeah, I need to figure things out with Azzi.”

KK chimed in with a smirk. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more excited to get there than play tomorrow.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but the flicker of nerves in her gaze betrayed her. “I’m focused on the game,” she said, but even she could hear the uncertainty in her voice. “We’ll see how things go.”

They reached the hotel, and the team began filing inside, luggage in tow. Paige’s teammates found their rooms, and she followed the group, but her mind kept wandering back to Stanford. She didn’t know exactly how Azzi would react when they see each other at the airport, or what their conversation would be like, but she knew it had to happen. No more running.

“Don’t worry, P,” Ice said softly, falling in step beside her as they walked down the hallway. “Whatever happens, we’re all here for you. Just remember to focus tomorrow. Then you can do whatever you want after.”

Paige gave a small smile, grateful for the support. Her friends had been there for her through everything, especially the mess with Lexi and all the emotional turmoil that had come with it. Ice always had a way of making her feel like everything would be okay, even when it didn’t feel that way.

“I know,” Paige replied quietly. “But tomorrow’s game… it’s important. I just want to get through it.”

KK nudged her. “You’ll do fine, P. You always do. But then, you have to come back and deal with whatever happens next.” She gave Paige a knowing look. “Don’t leave us hanging.”

Paige let out a small laugh. “You’re gonna be the first to know.”

They arrived at the room, and Ice and KK dropped their bags, taking their usual spots on the beds. Paige’s mind, though, was already a million miles away, picturing the flight she’d be catching after the game tomorrow—her chance to set things right with Azzi.

—------------

The next day, the game against UCLA was nothing short of intense. The atmosphere in the arena was electric, with fans packed into the stands, the tension palpable in the air. UConn and UCLA were evenly matched, trading points in a high-paced battle that seemed to keep everyone on the edge of their seats. Every possession felt crucial, and both teams played with relentless energy, their defenses pushing back against any attempt at a clean shot.

Paige moved quickly on the court, the familiar rhythm of the game grounding her, even though her mind kept straying. She felt the pressure of the upcoming trip—Stanford was calling, and there was no turning back now. But despite the whirlwind of thoughts, the game was all she knew in that moment. When the ball was in her hands, everything else faded away.

She sank shot after shot, her focus sharp despite the chaos surrounding her. Her teammates relied on her, and she didn’t let them down. Every assist was well-timed, and every play was made with precision. When the game reached its final moments, with the score neck-and-neck, Paige found herself leading a fast break, pushing the ball down the court with urgency. The defense closed in, but Paige faked left and made a slick pass to her teammate, who finished with a quick layup.

The buzzer sounded seconds later, signaling UConn’s hard-fought victory. The crowd erupted, and the team erupted with them. Paige, though, was already thinking ahead. The relief of winning the game was temporary, fleeting, like a breath she could finally release. But her mind quickly shifted back to the flight waiting for her after the final whistle. The night was still young, and she had one more step to take, one more conversation to have.

As the team celebrated their victory in the locker room, Paige kept her composure, letting the excitement of the win wash over her but not getting swept away. She exchanged high-fives with her teammates and smiled at their praise, but her eyes kept darting toward the door. The countdown was on, and soon, she would be on her way. She couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. The next chapter was about to unfold, and she didn’t know how it would go, but one thing was clear: she was ready.

—------------

After the game, the team gathered their things and headed back to the hotel. The atmosphere was a mix of excitement and relief. Paige, however, had her focus on the next chapter—getting to Stanford and facing whatever awaited her with Azzi.

At the hotel, Paige took her time packing. She didn’t want to rush the moment. Once she was done, she left the room and met up with Ice and KK in the lobby.

“I’ll see you guys soon,” Paige said, hugging both of them. “Thanks for everything, seriously.”

“You got this, P,” Ice said with a smile. “We’re proud of you.”

“Take care of yourself, alright?” KK added, giving Paige a tight squeeze. “Let us know how everything goes with Azzi.”

Paige nodded, grateful for their support. She didn’t know what the next few days would hold, but she knew that having her friends backing her up was all she needed.

She made her way over to Geno and CD, who were talking with a couple of the other coaches near the entrance. As she approached, Geno turned to her, giving her a quick nod.

“Headed to the airport now, huh?” he asked, his expression a little serious but supportive.

Paige smiled nervously. “Yeah.”

CD raised an eyebrow. “Let us know if you need anything. And… if you convince her and Caroline to come to UConn, we’ll be waiting.”

Paige chuckled, but the thought lingered in the back of her mind. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen with Azzi, but she knew that was something they’d have to work through together.

“Thanks, guys,” Paige said, giving them both a hug. “I’ll keep you posted.”

As she walked out of the hotel, the cool evening air hit her face, a welcome contrast to the warmth of the building she was leaving behind. Her heart raced with a mix of excitement and nerves. She was about to head to the airport—about to catch her flight to Stanford to see Azzi. The weight of what was ahead settled on her chest, but she pushed it down. She had to stay focused.

She grabbed her bag, dialing for an Uber as she stepped onto the sidewalk. The car arrived quickly, and she slid into the backseat, trying to keep her thoughts in check as the city of LA passed by outside the window.

—------------

Paige sat back in her seat, buckling her seatbelt as the plane began to taxi down the runway. She pulled out her phone, fingers hesitating for a moment before she sent a quick message to Azzi.

Paige: “Just boarded my flight. Should be there in 2 hours.”

She stared at the screen, her heart thudding a little faster than usual. She hadn’t been this nervous in a while, but this was different. This was about fixing something she had broken, something she wasn’t sure could be fixed.

It didn’t take long for Azzi’s reply to come through.

Azzi: “I’ll be waiting at the airport for you. See you soon 💗”

Paige smiled softly at the message, feeling a sense of calm settle over her. She was actually going to see Azzi. It felt surreal, knowing how much had happened between them. There was a lot to say, but right now, just knowing that Azzi would be there, waiting for her, gave Paige a little hope.

As the plane lifted into the sky, Paige leaned her head back, closing her eyes for a moment. She felt a mix of emotions—nervousness, relief, anticipation. She didn’t know what the next few hours would bring, but she was going to take it one step at a time. The first step was seeing Azzi. And that was all that mattered right now.

—------------

The flight was short, barely an hour and a half, but it felt longer to Paige. Her mind raced as she watched the passing clouds outside the window, thinking about everything that had led her here. The thought of Azzi waiting at the airport kept bringing a small smile to her face. She felt a sense of warmth and nervousness mix in her chest, like she was preparing for something significant, even though she wasn’t sure exactly what that would be.

When the plane finally began its descent, Paige’s heart quickened. She wasn’t sure what she expected when she landed—whether Azzi would be waiting with open arms, or if the tension between them would be too much to overcome—but she was about to find out.

The plane touched down with a soft jolt, and Paige quickly grabbed her things, eager to get off. She checked her phone one more time, seeing Azzi’s message again. Paige’s hands were shaking just slightly, the reality of the situation settling in. She was finally here, finally going to see Azzi.

As soon as she stepped off the plane, Paige scanned the crowded terminal, her eyes searching for the one person she knew would be waiting for her. It didn’t take long. Through the crowd, she saw Azzi standing by the baggage claim, looking around. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and she had a small, hesitant smile on her face.

Paige’s heart skipped a beat. She walked toward Azzi, their eyes meeting in a quiet, unspoken understanding.

When they were close enough, Paige didn’t hesitate. She opened her arms, a simple gesture, but one that felt huge in the moment. Azzi’s face softened, and without a second thought, she stepped into Paige’s embrace. The moment their bodies met, a wave of relief seemed to wash over both of them.

Azzi’s arms wrapped around Paige tightly, and she pressed her face into the crook of Paige’s neck, inhaling deeply. All the anger, confusion, and hurt of the past few days seemed to fade away in that moment. There was nothing but the warmth of Paige’s arms and the quiet comfort of knowing that she wasn’t alone in this anymore.

Azzi closed her eyes, feeling her heart settle for the first time in what felt like forever. All she had needed was this—the simple reassurance that Paige still cared. That maybe they could still figure things out, even after everything that had happened.

For Paige, it felt like the world had paused, the noise of the airport fading into the background. Holding Azzi like this, feeling her warmth, it was everything she’d wanted but never knew how to ask for. She wanted to say so much, but for now, just this felt like enough.

They stood there for a moment, the embrace lingering longer than either of them expected. Azzi finally pulled back slightly, her hands resting on Paige’s shoulders as she looked up at her, her face soft but guarded.

“I’m sorry,” Paige whispered, her voice barely above a breath, though she hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

Azzi simply nodded, not saying a word, but Paige could see the quiet understanding in her eyes.

After a few moments, Azzi cracked a small smile. “Let’s just… take it one step at a time, okay?”

Paige nodded, her chest tight but hopeful. “Yeah. One step at a time.”

And that was all either of them needed right now.

—------------

The car ride back to Azzi’s dorm was filled with a strange tension that neither of them knew how to break. Paige sat in the passenger seat, nervously picking at her fingers, stealing occasional glances at Azzi, who kept her eyes focused on the road ahead. The weight of everything that had happened was still hanging in the air, making it hard for either of them to find a natural way to ease into conversation.

As they passed through the busy streets, Paige decided to push through the awkward silence. “So… the transfer portal situation,” she started, her voice slightly hesitating. She was nervous, but she knew they needed to address it. She’d been holding onto the question ever since hearing about it, unsure of how to bring it up without making things feel too heavy.

Azzi glanced at her quickly, her face unreadable, before focusing back on the road. She didn’t say anything, but Paige could feel the unspoken weight of it.

Paige swallowed, gathering her courage. “I know… I know it’s been tough. But, uh, which schools have been reaching out to you guys? I know UConn’s one of them.”

Azzi was quiet for a moment, then gave a small, almost resigned sigh. “Yeah, UConn’s reached out. A lot of schools have. Tennessee, UCLA, ND… and some other big ones, too. But, honestly, we’re still exploring all the options. Caroline and I, we have an idea of where we might want to go, but… it’s still up in the air.”

Paige nodded, trying to hide the rush of emotions that came over her. She wasn’t surprised that UConn was one of the schools reaching out—Geno had always made it clear he wanted the best players, and Azzi and Caroline were among the best.

A part of her couldn’t help but feel hopeful, though she pushed that feeling down, not wanting to get her hopes up too much.

“I talked to Geno about it,” Paige said, her voice a little softer. “He really wants you and Caroline there. He believes you two could make UConn unstoppable.”

Azzi didn’t say anything at first, but Paige could see the slight tension in her shoulders as she kept her eyes on the road. She didn’t know what Azzi was thinking, but it was clear that the transfer portal situation was just as complicated for her as it was for Paige.

“We’ve talked about it,” Azzi finally said, her voice quiet. “Caroline and I… we’ve got some ideas. But, yeah, we’re still figuring things out.”

The silence settled between them again, though it felt less heavy now. Paige’s mind was racing with thoughts of what this all meant. She wasn’t sure if they’d be able to work things out between them, but she was starting to think that maybe… just maybe, they could both find a way to make it work—both with their teams and with each other.

Azzi took a sharp turn, heading into the parking lot near her dorm. Paige shifted in her seat, the nerves creeping back up again. The anticipation of what was to come next—the conversation, the possible change in direction for their futures—was almost too much to bear.

Azzi parked the car and turned off the engine. She looked over at Paige, her expression soft, yet thoughtful. “We’ll figure it out.I just need some time.”

Paige nodded, her heart heavy but hopeful. “Yeah… I know.”

They sat there for a moment, neither of them speaking, just letting the quiet settle between them as the night deepened around them.

—------------

As Paige and Azzi walked through the parking lot, the cool night air brushed against them, and Paige carried her own bag despite Azzi’s insistence that she help. Azzi had offered multiple times to take the bag for her, but Paige had declined each time with a small smile, not wanting to seem like a burden. There was something comforting about the familiar weight of her own belongings in her hand, and it felt right for her to carry it herself.

They reached the dorm building, and the familiar hum of campus life surrounded them as they entered the building and made their way up to Azzi’s floor. The soft sound of their footsteps echoed through the hallway, and as they reached Azzi’s door, Paige was already mentally preparing for whatever the next few days would bring. She was hoping they could talk, finally process everything that had happened, and see where things stood between them.

Azzi opened the door to reveal Caroline lounging on the couch, her attention on her phone. She looked up when the door clicked open and, for a moment, froze. When her eyes landed on Paige, she blinked in surprise, her brow furrowing.

“Paige?” Caroline’s voice was laced with a hint of confusion, but there was something more there—a mix of curiosity and cautious hope. She quickly pushed herself up from the couch, standing to face them both.

Paige gave her a tight-lipped smile, nodding. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Azzi shot Caroline a knowing look as she stepped inside. “We’re working things out,” Azzi said, and even though her voice was calm, there was an undeniable weight to it, a promise of something better to come.

Caroline nodded, relief washing over her face, though she didn’t say anything right away. She just gave Paige a small, tentative smile before sitting back down on the couch, her phone forgotten in her lap. “I’m glad you two are figuring things out,” she said with a sincerity that softened the tension in the room.

Paige nodded, not sure what else to say, her own nerves still raw from the past few weeks. She followed Azzi to her room, feeling the slight unease in her stomach. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be here, in Azzi’s space, but everything still felt so new and fragile. She wasn’t sure if they were fully back to where they used to be, or if they were even capable of getting there.

Azzi’s room was cozy and familiar, just like Paige remembered. The bed was slightly unmade, clothes scattered on the floor in the usual places, and the soft glow of a desk lamp illuminated the room with a warm, intimate light. Azzi sat down on her bed, laying back and propping herself up with a pillow, her eyes following Paige as she started to sort through her things.

Paige set her bag down beside the dresser and began putting Azzi’s clothes away in the drawers, the mundane task helping her focus and calm her nerves. She had missed this—this small part of her life, the simple act of being in Azzi’s space and settling in like everything was normal. But it wasn’t normal, not yet, and the tension between them remained, though neither of them was sure how to break it.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Azzi said softly from her spot on the bed, her voice gentle but with an underlying tone of concern. “I could’ve helped you. You don’t need to do everything on your own.”

Paige paused for a moment, looking over her shoulder at Azzi, her expression softening. “It’s fine,” she said quietly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I need to do something. Keeps my mind busy.”

Azzi nodded, watching her for a moment before sinking back into the pillows. She hadn’t fully processed everything either, but for now, this—just having Paige there—felt like the right step. They didn’t have all the answers yet, but for the first time in what felt like forever, there was no immediate urgency to fix everything. It could wait.

As Paige finished settling in, she turned to see Azzi looking at her with a mixture of exhaustion and something softer, like she was grateful for Paige’s presence, but also unsure of where they stood.

Paige sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at her hands before turning to face Azzi. She took a deep breath, the silence lingering between them.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to lose you, Azzi. Not again.”

Azzi’s gaze softened, and she reached out, brushing her hand lightly against Paige’s. “You won’t. We’re figuring this out. Together.”

—------------

Paige took her time tidying up Azzi’s room, folding the scattered clothes and stacking them neatly in a pile by the dresser. It was a simple task, but it grounded her, kept her hands busy while her mind raced. Azzi stayed on the bed, watching in silence, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of her hoodie. The air between them was heavy—not tense, exactly, but weighted with everything they hadn’t said yet.

When Paige finally finished, she turned back toward the bed, wiping her hands on her sweatpants. Azzi was still looking at her, eyes flickering with hesitation and something else—regret. Paige could see it before she even spoke.

Azzi sat up, crossing her legs beneath her. “Paige,” she started, voice quiet, unsure. She glanced down, like she was trying to piece her words together before finally meeting Paige’s gaze again. “I need to say this. I—I was wrong.”

Paige’s brows furrowed slightly, but she didn’t say anything, letting Azzi continue.

“When I first saw the picture… when I got those messages,” Azzi swallowed hard, shaking her head as if frustrated with herself. “I didn’t even stop to think. I should have. I should’ve listened to you, I should’ve trusted you instead of letting my emotions get the best of me.” Her voice grew softer, guilt weighing down her words. “And when I saw the proof—the video of how she kissed you while you were unconscious, how she drugged you—I felt… sick. Sick that I ever doubted you.”

Paige exhaled, her expression unreadable.

Azzi clenched her hands together. “I’m so sorry. I was so caught up in how it looked, how it felt, that I didn’t even give you the chance to explain. I just—” She hesitated, eyes dropping again. “I just reacted. And that wasn’t fair to you.”

Paige stayed silent for a moment, processing Azzi’s words. She could see the sincerity in her eyes, the way her voice wavered just enough to reveal the emotions she was holding back. Azzi wasn’t just apologizing—she was hurting over how she had handled it.

Paige finally sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Azzi… it’s okay.”

Azzi’s head snapped up, her brows drawing together. “No, it’s not.”

Paige shook her head. “None of this should’ve happened in the first place. Lexi… she’s messed up. And yeah, it hurt when you didn’t believe me, but I get why it was hard to process.” Her voice softened. “I would’ve been hurt too if the situation was reversed.”

Azzi looked like she wanted to argue, but Paige gave her a small, reassuring smile. “The important thing is that we’re here now. We’re working through it.” She nudged Azzi’s knee lightly. “We’re not gonna let her win, okay?”

Azzi exhaled shakily, nodding. “Yeah. Okay.”

A comfortable silence settled over them, the weight of the conversation lifting, even if it wasn’t completely gone. Paige glanced at Azzi’s bed, then back at her. “Can we… can we cuddle?”

Azzi blinked in surprise before nodding almost immediately, shifting back to make space. “Yeah. Of course.”

Paige climbed onto the bed, pulling the blankets over them as she settled in. Azzi didn’t hesitate before burying her face into the crook of Paige’s neck, her arms wrapping around her like she had been waiting for this moment for far too long. Paige sucked in a quiet breath at the closeness, but after a moment, she relaxed, resting her chin on top of Azzi’s head. The warmth of Azzi’s body against hers, the steady rhythm of her breathing—it was calming. Familiar.

Paige hesitated, but then, gently, she pressed a soft kiss to the top of Azzi’s head. Azzi let out a quiet breath, holding Paige just a little tighter. Neither of them spoke, both content in the silence, in the feeling of being wrapped up in each other.

And slowly, with their bodies tangled together, they drifted off to sleep.

—------------

The morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Paige and Azzi were still tangled together beneath the blankets, their breathing slow and steady. Azzi’s head remained tucked beneath Paige’s chin, her arms loosely wrapped around Paige’s waist. Paige had one arm draped over Azzi’s back, holding her close even in sleep. It was the kind of peaceful scene that made it easy to forget all the complications surrounding them.

Caroline didn’t forget, though—not when she walked into the room with a plate of food in hand, fully expecting to wake Azzi up for breakfast, only to freeze in the doorway at the sight before her.

Her lips curled into a smirk as she took in the sight of Paige and Azzi curled up together, completely unaware of the world around them. It was almost unfair how cute they looked. Paige, who had always tried to play things cool, was practically cradling Azzi in her sleep. And Azzi? She looked like she had no intentions of ever letting go.

Caroline bit her lip to hold back a laugh before quietly pulling out her phone. She made sure the angle was just right before snapping a picture. She knew Azzi would kill her if she found out, but this was too good not to capture.

With the evidence secured, she finally cleared her throat. “Alright, lovebirds, time to wake up. I made breakfast, and I am not about to let it get cold while you two continue your little cuddle session.”

Azzi groaned first, nuzzling closer into Paige as if she could ignore Caroline’s voice and go back to sleep. Paige, still half-asleep, tightened her hold slightly before blinking her eyes open.

Caroline smirked. “Good morning, sunshine.”

Paige groaned, her voice thick with sleep. “Why are you in here?”

“Because I made breakfast,” Caroline said matter-of-factly. “And also because you two looked way too cozy, and I just had to document the moment.”

Paige’s brain was still catching up when Azzi finally stirred, blinking up at her before realization hit. Her eyes widened slightly, and she slowly pulled back, her cheeks flushing. Paige reluctantly let go, rubbing a hand over her face as she tried to shake off her sleepiness.

Azzi shot Caroline a suspicious look. “What do you mean document?”

Caroline grinned, holding up her phone. “You’ll see later. Now get up before I start eating without you.”

Azzi groaned, throwing a pillow in Caroline’s direction as she walked off laughing. Paige just sighed, already regretting whatever picture Caroline had taken.

But despite that, as she glanced over at Azzi—who was still red-faced but smiling softly—she couldn’t bring herself to care too much.

Azzi let out a tired sigh, running a hand through her messy hair before glancing at Paige, who was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The warmth from their cuddle lingered between them, and for a brief second, Azzi wanted to curl right back into Paige’s arms and pretend the morning didn’t exist.

But Caroline had made breakfast, and given how rare that was, Azzi figured she should take advantage of it before she regretted it.

Paige stretched, her hoodie riding up slightly before she tugged it back down. “I feel like I should be worried about that picture,” she mumbled, still groggy.

Azzi scoffed, sliding out of bed. “You should be. Caroline has no chill.”

Paige chuckled softly, finally sitting up. “Yeah, I figured that out a long time ago.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but smiled as she grabbed a hair tie from her nightstand and pulled her hair into a loose ponytail. She hesitated for a second before turning to Paige. “You coming?”

Paige met her gaze and nodded, swinging her legs over the bed. “Yeah. Can’t let Caroline eat all the food she claims she made.”

Azzi smirked. “You’re assuming she didn’t just order it and put it on plates.”

Paige gave her a knowing look. “That’s exactly what I’m assuming.”

They both laughed as they made their way out of the room and into the small common area where Caroline had set up breakfast. A stack of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and some fruit sat on the table, and sure enough, a few empty takeout containers were shoved into the trash.

Azzi gave Caroline a look. “Wow. You really went all out with this homemade meal.”

Caroline grinned, unbothered. “I slaved over this. You’re welcome.”

Paige snorted, grabbing a plate. “Uh-huh. Thanks for all your hard work.”

Caroline shrugged. “Hey, the effort to plate it counts for something.” She smirked at Paige as she took a bite of her food. “So… how was your sleepover?”

Azzi shot her a warning look. “Caroline.”

“What?” Caroline grinned innocently before winking at Paige. “Just asking. You both looked real comfortable this morning.”

Paige rolled her eyes but smirked slightly. “We slept. That’s what happened.”

Caroline hummed. “Sure, sure.” She glanced at Azzi before taking a bite of her food. “Well, if y’all wanna keep playing house, don’t let me stop you.”

Azzi sighed, ignoring her as she grabbed some food for herself. Paige just shook her head, but underneath the teasing, she could see the genuine relief on Caroline’s face. As annoying as she was, she had been rooting for them the whole time.

And for the first time in a long time, Paige felt like things were finally falling back into place.

They settled at the table, the clinking of forks against plates filling the comfortable silence between them. The food, despite being very obviously from a takeout container, wasn’t bad, and Paige had to admit she appreciated the effort—at least Caroline had plated it.

Azzi sat across from her, quietly eating while occasionally sneaking glances at Paige, like she was still processing the fact that she was here. Paige caught her once, smirking slightly as she raised a brow. Azzi just shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips as she focused back on her food.

Caroline, of course, was the first to break the silence. “So, Paige, how long are you sticking around?”

Paige wiped her mouth with a napkin before answering. “Geno wants me back in time for practice, so… another two days.”

Azzi’s chewing slowed, and Caroline tilted her head. “That’s kinda short.”

“Yeah, I know,” Paige admitted, glancing at Azzi before continuing. “But honestly? I’m just glad he and CD let me come here instead of heading straight back to Connecticut with the team.”

Azzi looked up at that, her expression softening. Paige could see the unspoken I’m glad too in her eyes, but Azzi didn’t say it out loud.

Caroline nodded, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. “Damn. Geno really let you off the leash for a bit, huh?”

Paige chuckled. “More like he granted me permission. Probably helped that CD was kinda on my side about it.”

Azzi smirked. “So basically, CD allowed you.”

Paige grinned. “Pretty much.”

Caroline laughed. “Sounds about right.”

Azzi glanced at Paige again, a question lingering behind her eyes, but she didn’t voice it. Paige could tell she was thinking about the fact that they only had two days together before she had to leave. And honestly? Paige was thinking about it too.

Two days wasn’t much. But it was something.

And right now, she’d take whatever time she could get.

—------------

The conversation drifted into lighter topics as they ate, the tension from the past few days finally beginning to ease. Paige still felt the weight of everything that had happened, but at least now, sitting across from Azzi, talking, laughing—even if it was at Caroline’s expense—it didn’t feel so overwhelming.

Caroline leaned back in her chair, finishing the last of her food. “So, what’s the plan for today? Are you two gonna, like… go on a cute little date or just sit here and stare at each other?”

Azzi shot her a look. “You are so annoying.”

Caroline smirked. “It’s a talent.”

Paige chuckled, setting her fork down. “I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly planning a romantic getaway, considering, you know… everything.”

Azzi shifted in her seat, twirling her fork between her fingers. “We don’t have to do anything big,” she said, glancing at Paige. “We could just… hang out. Maybe go shoot around for a bit, get some fresh air.”

Paige met her gaze, a small smile forming. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Caroline groaned. “God, you two are so predictable. Basketball is literally your love language.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “And?”

Caroline held her hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying. You could, I don’t know, go to an actual place. Like a restaurant, or the mall, or—”

“We could,” Paige cut in, smirking. “But we won’t.”

Caroline sighed dramatically. “You’re both hopeless.”

Paige just grinned, standing and grabbing her plate. “Hopeless but happy.”

Azzi bit her lip, trying to hide the smile threatening to break through, but Paige caught it anyway. It made something warm settle in her chest.

—------------

After breakfast, the three of them decided to stay in for a bit, just letting the morning stretch out lazily. The air in the dorm felt peaceful—no rush, no pressure. Paige and Azzi spent the time lounging in the common room, chatting idly, with Caroline doing most of the talking while Paige and Azzi exchanged quiet glances when they could.

By the time afternoon rolled around, the sun had warmed the day, and the urge to get moving settled in. Caroline had already made herself scarce, and Azzi and Paige were left with the quiet buzz of anticipation for the afternoon.

“Ready to head to the courts?” Azzi asked, standing up from the couch and grabbing her jacket from the back of her chair.

Paige grinned, standing up too. “Yeah, let’s go. I’m itching for some competition.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You sure you want that? I’m in prime form today.”

Paige chuckled. “Please. I’m not worried.”

They both made their way down to the campus courts, the sound of bouncing balls and sneakers on concrete greeting them as they approached. The courts were mostly empty, the perfect setting for a little one-on-one.

Azzi grabbed a ball from the rack by the court and dribbled it lightly, glancing at Paige with a competitive gleam in her eye. “How about a game to 11?”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Loser has to buy dinner?”

Azzi smirked. “That’s the deal. You down?”

“Always,” Paige said, already bouncing on her feet, ready to go.

The game started off slow, both of them sizing each other up, shots made and missed in equal measure. Their laughter filled the air, their competitive edge only making the atmosphere more electric. Paige made a few quick layups, her moves sharp, but Azzi wasn’t far behind, getting into a rhythm and hitting some impressive shots of her own.

Every time Paige thought she had the advantage, Azzi would come back with a play that made her stop and take notice. They were both in their element, pushing each other to the edge, testing each other’s limits.

The score crept closer to 11, each point feeling harder to secure. Paige was breathing a little heavier now, but she kept pushing through, giving it everything she had. Azzi, on the other hand, looked like she was just getting started, her eyes locked in with a focused intensity.

Finally, Azzi hit a clean three-pointer that brought her to 11, the ball swishing through the net with a satisfying sound.

“Yes!” Azzi shouted, raising her arms in victory.

Paige let out a dramatic sigh, putting her hands on her hips. “Guess that means I’m buying the food.”

Azzi grinned, walking over to her and offering a high-five. “You can’t win them all.”

Paige smirked and slapped her hand against Azzi’s. “Yeah, but I was still gonna pay for dinner.”

Azzi blinked in surprise. “What?”

Paige shrugged nonchalantly, turning to grab the ball. “I said I’d do it anyway. No way I’m letting you pay for it after you just won. That’s just how I am.”

Azzi’s face softened, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You really are something, you know that?”

Paige grinned. “It’s a gift. But I’ll still probably get you something extra, to make up for this defeat.”

Azzi rolled her eyes playfully. “You don’t have to do that. You already owe me dinner.”

“True,” Paige said with a wink. “But I’m still getting you dessert.”

They both continued to shoot around after their little competition. 

After a while, they walked off the court together, the afternoon sun hanging low as they chatted and laughed, the game fading into the background as the idea of dinner—and the company they’d share—took center stage.

—------------

Back at Azzi’s dorm, they took turns showering, washing off the sweat from their game. Paige went first, letting the hot water soothe her muscles, the remnants of their competitive match still lingering in her body. By the time she stepped out, towel-drying her hair, Azzi was already grabbing her things, ready to take her turn.

“I’ll be quick,” Azzi said as she disappeared into the bathroom.

Paige smirked. “You better be. I’m getting hungry.”

Azzi just laughed before shutting the door, and Paige took the time to check her phone, scrolling through a few texts and social media notifications while she waited.

Once Azzi was done, she stepped out with damp hair, dressed casually in a hoodie and shorts. Paige had already made herself comfortable on Azzi’s bed, looking up as Azzi ran a towel through her curls.

“So, what’s the plan?” Azzi asked, tossing the towel aside.

Paige grinned. “I was thinking takeaway and a drive-in movie.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A drive-in?”

“Yeah,” Paige nodded. “I looked it up while you were in the shower—there’s one not too far from here. Thought it’d be nice. Chill vibes.”

Azzi smiled, clearly liking the idea. “That actually sounds perfect.”

“Alright then,” Paige said, sitting up. “Let’s pack the essentials.”

They grabbed a few blankets, some pillows, and anything else they might need before heading out to Azzi’s car. The night had settled in by the time they left, the air cool but not uncomfortably so. After picking up their food that Paige had ordered from a local takeout spot, they made their way to the drive-in, pulling into a good spot near the back.

Azzi backed the car up, opening the trunk so they could set up in the back. They arranged the blankets and pillows, making a cozy space before climbing in. Azzi settled between Paige’s legs, leaning back against her chest, and Paige instinctively wrapped her arms around her, holding her close. The warmth between them was immediate, and Azzi let out a content sigh as she got comfortable.

“This is nice,” Azzi murmured, tilting her head slightly so their cheeks brushed.

Paige hummed in agreement, tightening her hold slightly. “Yeah. Perfect way to end the night.”

As the movie started, the soft glow from the screen illuminated the cars around them, creating a peaceful, intimate atmosphere. The hum of distant conversations, the occasional honk, and the quiet murmur of the film set the perfect background noise.

Azzi pulled out her phone, unlocking it as she went to Instagram. Paige peeked over her shoulder, watching as Azzi opened the camera, recording a short video of the view around them—the giant screen ahead, the night sky above, and the cozy setup they had in the trunk. Then, with a quick double-tap on the screen, the camera flipped to them.

Azzi grinned, her head leaning into Paige’s as she smiled at the camera. Paige smirked slightly, her arms still wrapped around Azzi as they both sat close, their faces almost touching. The warmth of the moment was captured perfectly—the way they fit together, the ease between them, the quiet intimacy.

Azzi typed out a caption “Nights like this with my bestfriend💗” before glancing at Paige. “I’m posting this on my story.”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “Oh, people are definitely gonna go crazy when they see that.”

Azzi smirked, hitting ‘post’ without hesitation. “Oh well, I said with my ‘bestfriend’.”

Paige squeezed her gently. “You want the internet to explode, don’t you?”

Azzi laughed. “Maybe a little.”

Paige just smiled, pressing her chin lightly against Azzi’s shoulder as they settled back into the moment, letting the night carry them away.

—------------

As the night settled in and the movie played in the background, Paige’s mind wandered. She didn’t want to bring it up, didn’t want to ruin the calmness of the moment, but something was nagging at her.

She leaned her head back against the trunk, staring up at the stars for a moment before glancing down at Azzi, who was still curled between her legs, the warmth of her body settling perfectly against Paige’s.

“Azzi,” Paige started softly, her fingers absentmindedly running through Azzi’s hair, “where do we stand?”

Azzi blinked up at her, sensing the shift in Paige’s tone. She tilted her head slightly, meeting Paige’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

Paige hesitated, then spoke quietly, “I mean… are we still dating? Are we going to try to make this work, or are we just kind of… here, you know?”

Azzi’s gaze softened, and she reached up, resting her hand over Paige’s. “We’re still dating, Paige. And we’re working on it. I mean… there’s a lot to work on, but I want to. I want to make this work.”

Paige’s heart fluttered at the simple but reassuring words. She smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of Azzi’s head. “I want that too. I love you, Azzi.”

Azzi smiled up at her, their faces close. “I love you too, Paige.”

Just as the air between them settled with the warmth of their words, Paige’s phone suddenly buzzed, vibrating in her pocket. She glanced down, seeing the group chat with KK and Ice lighting up with notifications.

Her heart sank a little. “Oh no,” she muttered, quickly unlocking her phone.

KK: So, are we calling this the hard launch or what? 👀

Ice: Is this a ‘bestfriend’ or ‘more than bestfriend’ situation? 😜

KK: Wait, Azzi’s caption says ‘nights like this with my bestfriend 💗’… bestfriend? REALLY? 😏

Paige’s face flushed a little, and she couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly the conversation had turned into full-blown teasing. She quickly typed a response.

Paige: You guys are ridiculous, I swear.

But the teasing didn’t stop there. The messages continued to pour in, and Paige’s phone buzzed again, this time with a flood of social media notifications. She saw her story was blowing up, people commenting, liking, and sharing it.

KK: Socials are GOING OFF 😂😂 people are saying they didn’t expect this… some people are like ‘aww cute friends’ and others are straight-up denying y’all are together.

Ice: People are wild. You gotta love the denial. Also, can we just talk about how cute you two are? 😍

Paige could only shake her head, chuckling as she scrolled through the flood of comments. She could see the mix of reactions—some people totally convinced they were dating, some pretending like they weren’t, and others totally oblivious to what was really going on.

Azzi watched Paige, her expression amused as she read through the messages on Paige’s phone. “Looks like you’re causing a stir.”

Paige laughed, raising an eyebrow at Azzi. “You did this. You made the caption.”

Azzi grinned, shrugging nonchalantly. “What can I say? The ‘bestfriend’ part is true cause I mean, you are my bestfriend Paige, and I’m allowed to tease a little. Besides, it’s fun to watch everyone lose their minds.”

Paige smirked, shaking her head. “Well, you’re not wrong. It is pretty funny. But the internet is definitely not ready for what they just saw.”

“Too bad,” Azzi said with a playful wink. “Let them freak out.”

“Yeah, because we’ve got the real thing figured out, don’t we?” Paige’s voice softened, her hand gently resting on Azzi’s.

Azzi’s smile deepened, and she shifted a little, leaning back into Paige’s embrace. “Definitely. They can say what they want. We’re good.”

Paige nodded, closing her phone and setting it aside. “You’re right. Let them talk. We’ll just keep doing us.”

—------------

As the night stretched on, the movie on the screen became nothing more than background noise. Paige and Azzi sat wrapped up in each other, cocooned in their own little world inside the trunk of Azzi’s car. The distant hum of other cars, the occasional laughter from other drive-in guests, and the cool breeze of the night made everything feel strangely serene.

Azzi let out a soft sigh, tilting her head slightly to glance up at Paige. “I’m really happy you came here.” Her voice was quiet but full of meaning, as if the words carried more weight than she was even letting on.

Paige’s grip around her tightened slightly, her chin resting on Azzi’s shoulder. “Yeah?”

Azzi nodded, shifting just enough to look at Paige fully. “Yeah. I mean… after everything, I just—I didn’t know if we were going to get back to this, you know? But now that we have… I don’t know, I feel like I can breathe again.”

Paige took a deep breath, letting the words settle between them. She knew what Azzi meant. The weight of the past few weeks—the uncertainty, the hurt, the mess of it all—had been suffocating. But now, sitting here, with Azzi leaning against her, Paige finally felt grounded again.

“I feel the same way,” Paige admitted, running her fingers gently along Azzi’s arm. “I hated being away from you, Az. Not talking, not knowing if we’d get through this… it sucked.”

Azzi turned slightly in Paige’s hold, facing her more directly, their faces just inches apart. “But we did.” She reached up, cupping Paige’s face gently, her thumb brushing over her cheek. “And I’m so happy we did.”

Paige let her eyes flutter shut for a second, just savoring the warmth of Azzi’s touch. Then she opened them, looking directly into Azzi’s. “Me too.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension shifting into something softer, deeper. The faint glow from the screen illuminated Azzi’s face, casting her features in a warm light. Paige felt her heart stutter at the sight—at how effortlessly beautiful Azzi looked, how much she had missed this, missed her.

Azzi’s gaze flickered to Paige’s lips for just a second before she leaned in, closing the distance between them. The kiss started slow, tentative at first, as if they were both still processing how much they had missed this. But then Paige’s hands moved—one sliding to the small of Azzi’s back, the other curling into her hoodie, pulling her in closer.

Azzi responded instantly, deepening the kiss, her fingers slipping into Paige’s hair as she tilted her head just enough to mold against her perfectly. There was no urgency, no rush—just the warmth of their lips moving together, the unspoken emotions between them pouring into the kiss.

Paige sighed softly against Azzi’s lips, letting herself sink into the feeling. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was reassurance, a promise, a welcome home.

Azzi pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against Paige’s, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. Her lips were slightly swollen, and Paige knew hers probably were too.

“I really, really love you,” Azzi murmured, her voice full of emotion.

Paige’s lips curled into a small smile, her hand tightening at Azzi’s waist. “I really, really love you too.”

Azzi let out a quiet, happy hum, her fingers still threading through Paige’s hair. “I don’t ever want to do that again—go through all of that. I know we’re still working on things, but… I don’t want to be without you, P.”

Paige kissed her again, just a soft peck this time. “You won’t be. We’re in this, Az. We’ll figure everything out.”

Azzi smiled against Paige’s lips before pulling back, snuggling into her embrace again. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

Paige chuckled, resting her chin on top of Azzi’s head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And with that, they sat there, wrapped up in each other, feeling happier and more at peace than they had in a long time.

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[fangel]

OH MY GOSHHH ♡-໒₍: o̴̶̷᷄ ̫ o̴̶̷᷅ก̀₎১՞ i can’t believe i was able to give you some inspiration that’s so crazy to me and im soooo happy you were able to overcome the fear of writing unholy nasty content because ya know what, hell yeah !! embrace the weird freak nasty pervert sht. i love you ㅠㅠ thank god you took this fic out of the drafts !!! my rambles i made while reading are below.. ♡

first part in and i was already HOOKED. i’m (very obviously) a sucker for religious fics so of course i was foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog when i saw this notif. but it’s the way you write their devotion so beautifully detailed that i was like ‘oh yeah, im in for a ride.’

AND mc so quick to be like …maybe thinking of sin isn’t so bad just from seeing jake WHILE PRAYING IN CHURCH FOR HIMMM 😭😭 #real adore her already

something about jake is so perfect for religious au’s and idk how to describe it but YOU get it. i know you do.. i love u for that hehe

I LIVE AND LOVE for mc trying to find understanding of her feelings :( poor baby trying to navigate human emotions while being swallowed by quilt. the other girls talking about jake with “a quiet admiration, soft and innocent” — meanwhile mc’s is as you described “heavier” SET HER FREE !!!!! — “why did yours feel like something that sat in your chest, something that pressed against your ribs with every prayer, something that burned.”

⤷ YOURE COOKING, and it’s still only the beginning askdlakzpa

(insert every quote of dialogue from the scene where the nun lectures purity, masturbation, and sexual nature because every single line was hard as fuck oh my god) ((..kiss me pls i beg of you i love your brain…))

the apple…. the snake…… the garden of eden reference….. the first sin…. !!!! I WILL SUCCUMB EVERY TIME !!!!

who tf got my girl karina expelled 😒 a girl can’t have hobbies and be hot ? she can’t get some ?? fuck it i would’ve joined them

“eve took the apple. she chose knowledge, chose to know desire, hunger, craving. and for that she was cast out. but maybe that was never a punishment. maybe it was freedom.” SPEAK YOUR (THE) TRUTH KARINA 🔥🔥🔥 okay but seriously love this sequence of mc finding someone who indulges on what she wants to, and being told that it’s not something to regret. mc needed that — so much of religious lessons / morals (my brain isn’t working to find the right words) are based on fear !!! rights and wrongs, the consequences of going against god’s word or values, etc. putting fear into people to live a certain way. i love how you touched on that

her touching herself THERE, IN THE PLACE OF WORSHIP… ?! okay me too #twin #realfreaksonly

THE FUCKING TENSION BETWEEN MC AND JAKE DURING THE CONFESSION SCENE WHATTHEHELLL AHHHHHHHHHHHH i would’ve bent over that pew so fast 😭

the scene of jake begging mc to show him how she touched herself….. and then she just gets down to it and whips his dick out anzjakzak “i’m going to pray for forgiveness” LMAO I LOVE U LIL PERV CHURCH GIRL - the entire thing was so hot.. i am the real pervert 😞

once they started they didn’t stop LMFAO already diving into talking about kinks too !!! this is what i’m here for !!!!! i just know his nose would drive me insane too.. mc is just getting more and more real

why do i feel guilt ?!? “because we’ve been taught to fear Him more than we’ve been taught to trust His love.” OHMYGUCKING GOD JUST SHOOT ME — continues to spew more beautiful dialogue (ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू) while just lovin and touchin on each other oh wow where is my completely devote partner to worship and love me regardless of what anything else says

THEY ARE IN LOVVVEREEE 🤍🤍🤍🤍 all is right in the world

okay but honestly, this was such an amazing read (and my first jake fic i’ve read, so this is extra special to me hehe) the way you captured the characters emotions was so well done. i love all the religious references as a former catholic girl myself so of course i ate this up. all the analogies and metaphors were so perfect. you also write dialogue really well. there were so many more quotes i could’ve included because so much of it stood out to me ㅠㅠ truly phenomenal !! your characters felt real and it was so easy to connect with them too. from the imagery and details to the overall themes of guilt and shame are just so good, so yummy. really enjoyed jake’s pov too omg ily so bad also the smut was hot asf !!! TRUST, i will be reading more of your works bc that freaky nasty poly jayke fic has been calling my name for weeks now

i haven’t read a fic in over a month maybe longer but this tag really brought me right out of my reading slump. i will tackle your other works tomorrow ♥️ thank you so much for writing this, you’re so talented and amazing and beautiful and lovely i adore you

the fall of a man — sjy

SYNOPSIS: You were taught that virtue was a woman’s greatest strength, that temptation was a test of will, that desire was the serpent’s whisper leading you astray. But when temptation comes in the form of Sim Jaeyun—holy, untouchable, the very image of devotion—your faith begins to waver.

content tags: slow burn, plot with little bit of porn, mutual pining, both of them are religious and virgins, set in catholic university that is lead by nuns, they don't have sex ed!! adam and eve references, religious guilt, reader crushing and thirsting over jake in religious way that's been written for almost 5k words, some of the scenes are heavily inspired by 'guilty as sin' by ts.

warning: heavy sacrilegious content, karina kind of represent the serpent in reader's pov, blasphemy, explicit content (smut): reader masturbate in the chapel, virgins trying to fuck, virginity loss (obv), blowjob, fingering, unprotected sex (condom don't exist), jake call out god's name a lot of times. wc: 16.7k

note: my darling, @fangel really inspired me and make me overcome my fear in writing the most unholiest thing in the world, i'm inlove with you, bae and you really changed my world with your fics <3 i wrote this fic for armin arlert way back 2023 but never had the guts to publish it, but hey u give me a reason to continue this fic. and to my readers out there, i hope you enjoy reading this fic, i love writing jake's pov here :)

Ever since you were a child, you followed everything your parents told you. Raised in a devoutly religious household, your days revolved around faith—joining church activities, attending every Sunday mass without fail, even flying to Puerto Rico with your family to take part in Misa de Aguinaldo.

Religion wasn't just a part of your life; it was your life.

You loved God. You loved listening to preachers, absorbing their words like scripture carved into your soul. You loved spreading the message of Jesus Christ, the warmth of faith filling you every time you shared His name.

You prayed constantly—palms pressed together, head bowed, whispering words of gratitude for every blessing, of repentance for every misstep. You prayed for strength, for purity, for the will to resist temptation.

And yet—temptation had a name.

And his name is Sim Jaeyun.

You remember the first time you saw him walking through the gates of the Catholic university you both attended.

Jake Sim was the very embodiment of devotion, of unwavering faith. He carried himself with an air of holiness, always with a rosary wrapped around his fingers or a Bible tucked beneath his arm. He spoke with conviction, every word laced with the kind of certainty only true believers possessed. And yet, to you, he was something else entirely.

The way he moved, the way his voice echoed through the chapel—it was hypnotic. Your prayers would falter on your tongue whenever he stood at the altar, leading hymns with a voice so steady, so sure.

You had watched him, your eyes tracing the curve of his lips as he spoke, the way his lashes fluttered when he blinked. You had memorized the way candlelight danced across his skin, the way the veins in his hands shifted when he clasped them in prayer.

The boy who knelt before the cross with his eyes closed in deep, persistent faithfulness.

The boy who touched the rosary beads with such reverence, his fingers gliding over each one as if they held the weight of his salvation.

But all you could think about was how those same fingers would feel tracing the lines of your body, how they would press into your skin—not in prayer, but in something far more sinful.

How his lips would taste if they weren't murmuring scripture, if instead, they whispered your name in the dark.

How his faith would crumble if he ever looked at you the way you wanted him to.

And as you sat in the pews, hands clasped, head bowed, you prayed—not for strength, not for purity, but for him.

You shouldn't think about him that way. You shouldn't let your mind wander, not here, not in the house of God.

You knew the weight of sin, the warnings etched into you since childhood. Your family had made it clear—masturbation, desire, sex before marriage—each was a path to damnation. To act on them was to betray God.

Do not lay a hand on any boy. Do not think of flesh, of pleasure, of sin. Do not touch your body with thoughts of another.

But if you had never touched him, never let your hands stray to your own skin —if all you had were thoughts, then how could you already feel guilty as sin?

The golden light of the late afternoon filtered through the stained-glass windows of the university chapel, casting soft hues of red, blue, and gold onto the polished wooden pews. The air was still, filled only with the faint scent of old parchment and melting candle wax.

You sat near the front, fingers absentmindedly tracing the spine of your prayer book. The chapel was mostly empty, save for a few students lingering in quiet reflection. And him.

Sim Jaeyun stood near the altar, carefully arranging hymnals. Even in the simplicity of his tasks, there was a quiet devotion to him—an unshaken faith that made it impossible to look away.

You tried to focus on the words of the scripture open in front of you, but your thoughts were restless. It wasn't the first time you had stayed after midday prayers, and it wasn't the first time you had found yourself stealing glances at him.

A quiet sound of footsteps against the marble floor.

"You're here again."

You glanced up to find Jake standing at the edge. You nodded, offering a small smile. "I like the chapel in the afternoon. It's peaceful."

Jake hummed in agreement, sliding into the pew beside you, though he kept a respectful distance. "It's my favorite time, too," he admitted, clasping his hands together. "When the day is slowing down, but the world isn't quite asleep yet."

You studied him for a moment, watching as the sunlight touched his face, illuminating the softness in his features. "What do you pray for?" you asked.

Jake exhaled, his gaze fixed ahead. "For strength," he said. "To always follow the right path."

You nodded slowly, looking down at your hands.

"And you?" he asked.

You hesitated. You knew what you should say. Strength. Wisdom. Purity.

But instead, you murmured, "For understanding."

Jake turned to you, brow slightly furrowed. "Understanding?"

You swallowed. "There are... thoughts I don't always understand." You hesitated, fingers tightening around the pages of your prayer book. "And I ask for guidance. To know what is right."

For a moment, Jake was silent, then he offered a small, knowing smile. "God sees our hearts even when we struggle to see them ourselves." His voice was gentle and reassuring. "Sometimes, we don't need to have all the answers. We just need to trust Him to show us the way."

His words should have comforted you. But as you looked at him—at the boy who made your heart race in ways you couldn't explain—you weren't sure if the path you longed for was the one God had intended for you.

Sim Jaeyun barely even knew you. The two of you only shared a religion class, occasionally finding yourselves in the same prayer group. Your interactions were brief—just passing glances, a quiet exchange of smiles. Sometimes, after kneeling in prayer, he would hand you a sandwich and a bottle of water and you always accepted with a small nod of thanks, though the warmth in your chest lingered long after.

During every community outreach, you would catch glimpses of him—kneeling to pet stray dogs and cats, laughter spilling from his lips as children clung to his arms, their tiny hands gripping at his sleeves. He spoke to the elderly with a patience and gentleness that felt almost sacred, offering up his seat without hesitation, carrying their bags.

He was the kind of person people gravitated toward, the kind of person who made faith feel tangible—something living and breathing, rather than just words in a book.

You wondered if someone like him, someone��pure as gold, ever sinned.

Sim Jaeyun was a name whispered often in the girls' residence hall. Every night, as curfew neared, you would hear them murmuring from their bunks.

"He'd make such a good husband." "Imagine him as a father—he'd be perfect." "Any girl would be lucky to have him."

A quiet admiration, soft and innocent. So why was yours so much heavier? So much more?

Why did yours feel like something that sat in your chest, something that pressed against your ribs with every prayer, something that burned?

"Your body is sacred."

The nun's voice rang through the classroom. She moved slowly between the rows of desks, the wooden stick in her hand tapping lightly against her palm with every step.

It was an all-girls class since she was teaching anatomy. But this wasn't just about the body. It was about purity.

She stopped near the front of the room, turning to face the class. Her gaze swept over each of you, as if she could see straight into your thoughts. "God has given you this body," she continued. "A temple. A gift. A vessel meant for holiness, not for sin."

You swallowed, shifting slightly in your seat.

"Temptation is everywhere," she said. "It creeps into your thoughts, into your hands, into the desires you do not speak of. But hear me, girls—"God is watching.""

The stick tapped against her palm again.

"Masturbation," she said, the word itself feeling heavy as it filled the silence, "is a sin against your own flesh. To lay a hand upon yourself in lust is to defile what was meant to be pure."

A hush settled over the room. Some girls looked down at their desks, others sat rigid, eyes wide, hands folded neatly in their laps as if to prove they had never done such a thing—never even thought about it.

You felt a heat crawl up the back of your neck.

"When you indulge in these acts," she continued, voice sharp with a warning, "your body burns—not with passion, not with pleasure, but with sin. A fire that does not cleanse, but corrupts."

She paused, her gaze sweeping the room again,

"And when you engage in sex outside of marriage, when you surrender yourself to the desires of the flesh, that fire does not leave you. It stays. It marks you. And on the day of judgment, when you stand before God, He will see it. He will know."

A shudder ran through you. You clenched your hands together, nails pressing into your palms.

Then, the nun's eyes landed on you.

"You understand, don't you?" she asked, though it wasn't really a question.

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came.

And just for a moment, you thought of him.

Sim Jaeyun.

Of the way his fingers brushed over rosary beads in prayer. Of the way his voice sounded when he spoke of faith, of devotion. Of how those hands, that voice, could ruin you.

And as the nun continued, warning of damnation, of the watchful eyes of God, you couldn't help but wonder.

If God was watching, did He already know what was in your heart? And worse—had He already condemned you for it?

"Yes, I understand," you said, though the words felt heavy on your tongue.

Guilt settled deep in your chest. Your palms were damp, fingers twitching slightly as you clasped them together.

You needed to repent.

You needed to pray until the thoughts left you, until the weight of sin lifted from your heart. Until the fire the nun spoke of no longer burned beneath your skin.

"Here, an apple for you."

A small hand reached toward yours, fingers curled around a tiny, imperfect apple. The child's eyes were bright with innocence, his smile wide as he offered it to you.

It was community outreach day in the mountains, where children ran barefoot over the uneven ground, laughter ringing through the crisp afternoon air. The scent of earth and firewood lingered, mingling with the distant voices of volunteers.

You knelt slightly, accepting the apple with a gentle smile. "Thank you," you said, your voice soft.

The boy beamed, pleased by your gratitude before running off to join the others.

You were about to take a bite of the apple when a sudden tap on your shoulder made you pause. Turning, you found your classmate standing behind you, her expression impatient.

"I need you to find Karina," she said, arms crossed. "She's missing again. And we need to leave by three."

You sighed, tucking the apple into your pocket. "Alright, I'll look for her."

With that, you made your way up the stone steps leading further into the hills, where the trees grew denser and the voices of the other volunteers faded into the rustling of leaves. The fresh mountain air brushed against your skin, carrying the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke.

As you climbed higher, a small tug on your sleeve made you stop.

"Lady, where are you going?"

You looked down to see a little girl standing beside you, her dark eyes round with curiosity. She was sucking her thumb, her tiny fingers clutching the fabric of your shirt.

Crouching down to her level, you offered a reassuring smile. "I need to find my friend."

The girl tilted her head, studying you with the kind of seriousness only children could manage. Then, after a moment, she leaned in slightly and whispered, "Be careful out there."

You raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

She pulled her thumb from her mouth and grinned, baring her tiny teeth. "There's a snake," she hissed, making a slithering motion with her hands. "They bite!"

You laughed, shaking your head. "I'll be careful."

With a gentle pat on the girl's head, you urged her to go play with the others before continuing your search.

"Karina!" you called, your voice echoing through the trees. The afternoon air was with the scent of damp earth and pine, the only sounds around you the rustling of leaves and the distant chatter of children below.

After what felt like ages of wandering, you sighed, pulling the apple from your pocket. Your thumb brushed against its smooth surface as you took slow steps forward, letting yourself take a small break.

Then, just as you were about to take a bite, something caught your eye.

It was small cabin, worn by time, tucked between the trees. You hadn't noticed it before, hadn't even realized anyone lived this far up the mountain.

Lifting your head, you parted your lips to call for Karina again but you heard a low, quiet, barely audible voice over the wind.

Your breath hitched slightly, and instinctively, you stayed silent.

Tilting your head, you slowly took a bite of the apple, the crunch loud in the stillness. Step by step, you moved around the cabin, careful not to make a sound.

You crept closer, your breath shallow, your fingers curled tightly around the apple. The rough wooden cabin stood against the trees, its single window slightly ajar. Through the gap, the muffled voices inside grew clearer—soft murmurs, hushed laughter.

A breathless moan.

Your body tensed, You hesitated for only a moment before tilting your head, peering through the dust-coated glass.

And that's when you saw the most sinful acts you've ever witness.

Karina was sprawled against the wooden table, her back arching beneath the weight of the farmer pressing into her. Her dress was bunched up around her waist, her bare thighs caging his hips. His hands gripped her skin, fingers digging into the softness of her legs, his mouth trailing down the curve of her neck.

Your stomach twisted, but you couldn't look away.

Karina wasn't resisting. She wasn't recoiling in shame or horror. There was no fear in her expression, no sign of guilt or repentance.

She was pulling him closer.

Her fingers wove into his hair, tugging slightly as her head fell back, exposing more of her throat to his lips. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her mouth parting with quiet, trembling gasps.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

The nun's words echoed in your head, warnings of fire, of suffering, of bodies burning for their sins.

But Karina wasn't burning.

Your breath trembled as you stared, as the world you had known—the one built on prayer, on restraint, on the fear of temptation—began to splinter.

How is she not burning?

The apple slipped from your fingers, tumbling to the ground with a dull thud.

A hiss was heard. The sound was sharp, unnatural, cutting through the silence of the forest. Your body stiffened, a cold shiver crawling up your spine. Slowly, your gaze flickered to the tree beside you.

A snake. Its body coiled around the rough bark, scales glistening in the fading sunlight. It was watching you, its tongue flickering out.

Eve was tempted. Eve took the fruit.

Your stomach twisted violently as you staggered back, tearing your eyes away from both the serpent and the scene inside the cabin.

You ran. Branches scraped against your skin as you pushed through the trees, your feet barely touching the ground. The echoes of Karina's breathless moans clung to you, no matter how fast you tried to outrun them.

You needed to forget. To erase the moment of sin that had burned itself into your mind. To cleanse yourself before the weight of temptation swallowed you whole.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee..."

Your eyes clenched shut as you muttered the prayer, over and over, you repeated the words, as if their rhythm alone could cleanse your mind, could undo what you had seen.

The rosary felt heavy in your hands, the beads pressing into your palm. But no matter how tightly you held it, no matter how desperately you clung to prayer, the memory would not leave you.

"Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."

You sucked in a sharp breath, your chest tightening.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners—"

Your voice broke. This was your fall.

A single tear slipped down your cheek, then another, until you were gripping the rosary so tightly your knuckles turned white. A quiet sniffle escaped you, but the tears kept coming, blurring the dim candlelight of the chapel.

You could not stop trembling, your stomach tightening, a dull ache spreading between your legs, heat pooling where it should not.

Your thighs pressed together instinctively, but it did nothing to stop the throbbing. You clenched your fists, willing the sensation away, but the images had already taken root.

Karina. The farmer. The way her body had arched into him, how she had clung to him. It should have horrified you. It should have disgusted you.

Instead, a shudder ran through you as your mind betrayed you, as the image shifted, reshaped itself into something far more forbidden.

Not Karina.

You.

And not the farmer.

Jake.

Your breath hitched. The thought was wrong—blasphemous. But it came unbidden, vivid and consuming, slipping into the cracks of your mind like sin itself. You saw him above you, his hands gripping your waist, his lips murmuring something against your skin.

Your rosary slipped from your fingers, the beads scattering against the marble floor.

You gasped softly, snapping your eyes open as if waking from a dream—no, a nightmare.

Your hands flew to your chest, pressing against your heart as if you could smother the racing beat beneath your skin.

No. No, no, no.

Tears welled in your eyes again, this time not just from guilt but from fear—of yourself.

This was your fall.

The serpent had coiled itself around you, whispering its venom into your ears, seeping into your thoughts, your body.

Karina was expelled after the nuns discovered what she had done during the community outreach.

You helped her pack in silence, folding the last of her skirts into a worn-out suitcase.

Your nose was red, your eyes swollen—for many reasons. Of course, you hadn't told anyone what you saw. That was yet another reason you were a sinner. You had kept her secret, watched in silence as she was cast out.

But worse—you couldn't stop thinking about it.

And worst of all, you had lost another prayer partner.

Your voice was quiet when you finally asked, "Do you regret it?"

Karina's hands stilled over the fabric of her blouse. She stared at the ground for a long moment before exhaling slowly. "No."

"They're sending me away," she continued. "Some isolated place, far from men. Away from temptation. They'll make me enter seminary, force me to repent, try to fix me."

She let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "Fix me. As if I'm broken."

You said nothing, letting her words settle between you.

Karina turned then, her gaze finding yours. "But I don't regret it. No matter what they try to tell me." A small, humorless smile tugged at her lips. "But you wouldn't understand, would you?"

Your fingers curled into the fabric of her dress as you folded it, staring at the delicate lace trim. "There are a lot of things I don't understand," you admitted. Then, meeting her eyes, you added, "But I do not judge. I am here to listen."

Karina studied you, her expression is pained. Then she let out a slow breath, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You know the story of Adam and Eve," she said.

You nodded. "Of course."

"They call it the fall," she murmured, tilting her head slightly. "But have you ever thought that maybe it wasn't a fall at all?"

You frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her fingers intertwined. "Eve took the apple. She chose knowledge, chose to know desire, hunger, craving. And for that, she was cast out." Karina exhaled through her nose, a bitter smile on her lips. "But maybe that was never a punishment. Maybe it was freedom."

She glanced at you then, "Christianity tells us that craving is sinful. That wanting—whether it's knowledge, pleasure, or love—will ruin us." Her voice lowered, "but tell me—why would God give us bodies that feel if He didn't want us to use them?"

Your throat felt dry.

"You've thought about it, haven't you?" Karina questioned. "You've felt it."

Heat crept up your neck, shame curling tight in your stomach.

Karina smiled, but it wasn't mocking. If anything, it was knowing. "It's normal to crave, you know," she said. "To want."

"In the city," Karina continued, "I heard students openly talk about sex. About how it's natural. They even discuss things like hormones, the way the body reacts to desire. When your clitoris—"

"Shhh!" Your eyes widened as you shot a panicked glance toward the door. Your hand moved on instinct, pressing against her lips to silence her.

"Do not use such vulgar words!" you hissed, even hearing such a thing felt wrong, like an invitation for sin to take root inside you.

Karina only laughed, she gently pulled your hand away, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "Why? Because the nuns don't want you to know your own body?"

Your cheeks burned, your fingers curling into your lap as you looked away. "Because it's wrong," you muttered. "You speak of things that lead to damnation."

Karina sighed, tilting her head. "Says who? The nuns? The ones who tell us that touching ourselves will set our bodies on fire?" She leaned in slightly, "Tell me, have you ever actually tried it?"

Your breath hitched as you swallowed, your pulse hammering against your skin. "I—I would never—"

Karina smiled knowingly. "Of course you wouldn't. Because you're afraid, aren't you?"

You stiffened. "Afraid of what?"

"That they were lying to you," she said simply.

You stared at her, Karina reached for your hand, her touch gentle as she placed it over your own lap. "If it's really so sinful," she murmured, "if it really makes you burn... then why don't you test it?"

Your breath caught in your throat. Her fingers pressed lightly against yours. "Go on. Just once. Just to see if their words hold any truth."

"If you want to touch yourself," she continued, undeterred by your silence, "put your fingers inside—but don't just push in and out. Curl them inside, find the spot that makes your legs shake."

Your entire body went rigid as Karina leaned closer, her lips curling, almost amused at your reaction. "And your clitoris—"

"Stop," you gasped, eyes widening as you instinctively clamped a hand over her mouth. Your other hand flew to the door, your head snapping toward it, terrified that someone might hear.

She giggled against your palm, her laughter muffled before she gently pulled your hand away. "Why are you so scared?" she teased. "It's just your body. It's natural."

Your cheeks were burning now, hot with embarrassment.

Karina sighed, tilting her head as if she pitied you. "If you ever do find someone," she continued, undeterred, "a boy—"

You swallowed hard.

"Let him play with your nipples." Her voice dipped lower, as if she were sharing a secret meant only for you. "Let him suck them, bite them just a little. It feels so good."

Your thighs clenched involuntarily.

"And a boy," she went on, eyes glinting with mischievous, "his penis—"

"Karina!"

She laughed, completely unashamed of her own words. "What? It's true! If you want to make a boy weak, touch him there. Play with it, stroke it, suck on it—especially the tip."

A choked sound escaped you.

"Giving someone pleasure," she said, watching your reaction, "is just as enjoyable as receiving it. Maybe even more."

Your hands trembled in your lap. You couldn't even look at her now. Your mind felt clouded, a war raging between every lesson the nuns had taught you and the curiosity her words planted deep inside you.

Karina exhaled, shaking her head. "You poor thing," she murmured, you bit your lip hard, trying to drown out the heat rising in your body with pain.

"You should try it, you know," she said after a beat, her voice almost gentle now. "Just once. Just so you know if they were lying to you all along."

Your chest tightened, your heart hammering so loudly you feared it might betray you.

Because the worst part wasn't her words.

It was that you wanted to know if she was right.

So you repented again.

You prayed and prayed for forgiveness, whispering desperate pleas beneath your breath, pressing your forehead against the cold chapel floor. You gripped your rosary so tightly that the beads left indentations in your palm, as if pain itself could cleanse you.

But it was getting harder. Especially now, with Holy Week approaching. Longer prayers, deeper fasting, more time spent in solemn reflection. And yet, the more you immersed yourself in worship, the more temptation gnawed at you.

Especially since Sim Jaeyun was the one leading Passion Week.

You sat among the others, hands folded in your lap, your gaze fixed on the cross, trying not to think about him. Trying not to remember Karina's words.

"If you ever find someone, let him touch you, let him play with you—"

You swallowed hard, clenching your fists against your thighs.

Women and men were not allowed to be seen too close together. A proper distance must always be kept, a respectable space left between bodies. A simple conversation was permitted—but only from afar.

"You do pray very often."

The voice came from behind you. You stiffened, your breath catching in your throat as you turned slightly—only to find him.

Jake stood just a few feet away, hands clasped in front of him. "Is something bothering you?"

You turned back toward the cross, swallowing the lump in your throat. Your fingers curled against your knees, sweat forming at your temples.

"No," you whispered, though the lie burned on your tongue.

Jake was silent for a moment. Then, softly, he said, "You can talk to me, you know. If something is troubling you."

You closed your eyes. How could you tell him?

How could you tell him that the prayers weren't working? That no matter how hard you tried, the thoughts would not leave you? That he was becoming the temptation you could no longer escape?

Your eyes started to water again, he knelt beside you, as his presence settled so dangerously close—closer than what was proper.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears, your fingers tightening around the rosary.

Jake watched you. From this close, he could see the way the candlelight illuminated your face, casting soft shadows along the delicate curve of your cheekbones. Your skin glowed, almost ethereal, as if touched by something divine.

You looked like a painting—one of the old Renaissance depictions of saints and martyrs.

Beautiful.

His gaze drifted lower, to the way your lips barely moved as you whispered prayers, the words shaky, your hands trembled over the rosary, clutched so tightly.

His eyes fell to your knees. The fabric of your skirt had shifted slightly, revealing the barest hint of bruised skin—evidence of hours spent kneeling.

He had seen piety before. He had witnessed countless prayers, watched the most devout of worshippers bow their heads in absolute faith.

But this—the way you prayed, the way you looked before the altar—felt different. He couldn't imagine what sin someone like you could have possibly committed.

His voice came quietly, "You should rest."

You flinched slightly at the sound of his voice,

"I can't," you murmured.

And then softly, without thinking—he reached out.

His hand hovered over yours for just a breath before settling atop your trembling fingers. Palm to palm, warm and steady, stopping you mid-prayer.

He didn't know what possessed him to touch you. Perhaps it was the way you looked so lost, so utterly consumed by something unseen. Or perhaps it was the fact that no nun was watching, no one to scold him for standing too close, for placing his hand over yours.

His touch was meant to be assuring. Nothing more. Nothing sinful.

But then you stiffened beneath him.

Your breath caught in your throat, your shoulders going rigid, your fingers twitching beneath his. Your heartbeat slammed against your ribs.

You turned your face toward him.

Jake sucked in a quiet breath as his eyes met yours—wide, desperate, a single tear slipping down your cheek.

He had never seen a gaze like that before. Not in church, not in prayer, not in the face of someone seeking salvation.

His fingers flexed slightly against yours, the warmth of your skin radiating beneath his palm. His thumb brushed against the back of your hand, a slow, instinctive movement, like a silent reassurance.

Before he could stop himself, his other hand lifted. Gently, hesitantly, he swiped away the tear that had slipped down your cheek, his fingertips barely grazing your skin.

You gasped softly. It was the smallest sound, but it sent something through him, something that made his fingers linger just a second too long against your face.

Your skin was warm beneath his touch. Soft. Alive.

It took everything in him to pull away.

The moment his fingers left your cheek, a strange kind of loss settled in his chest. He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the fabric of his handkerchief before carefully pulling it out. Silently, he placed it in your trembling hands.

"Whatever you were praying for," he murmured, "I'm sure God will understand."

As if to anchor you back into the faith you were grasping so desperately onto, he smiled.

The kind of smile meant to bring comfort. But to you, it only made it worse.

"I should go," Jake said, you nodded, unable to meet his gaze. He shift beside you, the soft rustling of fabric as he stood. His presence lingered for just a moment longer before the sound of his footsteps echoed against the chapel floor, growing fainter.

And yet, his warmth remained.

Your hands trembled as you lifted the handkerchief to your face, pressing it against your damp cheeks. His scent clung to the fabric—a faint trace of sandalwood and incense, something undeniably him.

You exhaled shakily, squeezing your eyes shut.

God will understand.

A broken sob escaped your lips as you clutched the fabric tighter, your body trembling with something you no longer had the strength to fight. Tears slipped freely down your cheeks, soaking into the handkerchief as you sniffled against it.

Your fingertips skimmed over the waistband of your skirt, then lower, brushing against the thin fabric beneath.

A sharp breath left you when you felt the wetness, sticky and warm, pooling between your thighs, evidence of the thoughts you had failed to purge.

You should stop. You should repent.

And yet, your other hand only tightened around the handkerchief, pressing it closer to your face, inhaling the faint traces of him.

Still kneeling, you stared at the cross before you. Your body trembled, shame curling in your stomach.

You sobbed, your weight tipping forward, forehead pressing against the marble floor. Your free hand clenched at your skirt, your knuckles white with restraint.

Your finger dipped inside, a choked gasp slipping past your lips at the sudden intrusion.

The feeling was new, startling and unfamiliar. You hesitated only for a moment before pressing deeper, your body clenching around the touch, breath hitching as pleasure licked up your spine.

The nuns had warned you—the body will burn.

But as your fingers curled, as something electric shot through your legs, making them tremble, you realized this was not pain nor suffering.

Your mouth parted, a quiet, breathless sound escaping as you rocked into your own touch, your other hand bracing against the marble floor to steady yourself, the overwhelming scent of him filling your senses.

Sim Jaeyun—his hands hovering over yours, the warmth of his palm against your trembling fingers, the way he had wiped away your tear.

Your fingers pressed deeper, and a soft gasp escaped your lips. You imagined it was his touch, his fingers exploring you with hesitant curiosity.

"You do pray very often," his voice echoed in your mind, "Is something bothering you?"

Yes, he was bothering you.

You pictured him above you, his fingers tracing over the same places your own were now.

"Does it burn?" he would ask, voice laced with something both sinful and sacred.

And you would shake your head—because it didn't.

It felt holy.

Your body arched into your own touch, your legs trembling as heat coiled deep inside you, tighter and tighter, threatening to consume you whole. The pressure, the ache, the need—it was overwhelming. It was blasphemous.

Yet, it was the closest you had ever felt to salvation.

A gasp tore from your lips, soft yet sinful in the silence of the chapel. Your fingers pushed deeper, your body rocking to meet them, each movement sending dizzying waves of pleasure through you.

Beads of sweat dripped from your forehead, falling onto the floor. You added another finger, stretching yourself further, testing the limits of your own body. A choked whimper escaped as your walls clenched around the intrusion, your breathing ragged. Your other hand fumbled against the floor, grasping for stability, but there was none—no safety, no sanctuary, no way to stop now.

You think about his hands on your waist, his lips trailing down your neck. Your body tensed, your fingers working faster, chasing the edge of an unknown pleasure that built higher and higher—until it was too much, too much.

With one final, shuddering breath, the world shattered around you. Your body trembled, pleasure crashing over you in violent waves, a silent cry caught in your throat as your mind went blank.

Your body slumped forward, forehead pressing against the cool marble floor, your fingers slipping out as the aftershocks of pleasure left you breathless.

There was only silence. Only your heaving breaths, the scent of candle wax and incense thick in the air, the fading echoes of his name somewhere in the depths of your mind.

Then, guilt settled in, so heavy. You had really fallen.

And yet, as you lay there, pulse still racing, you couldn't bring yourself to repent.

The days blurred into nights, and with each passing moment, you felt yourself slipping further into something you could no longer control.

You couldn't meet your own reflection anymore. The girl in the mirror was not the same—her eyes hollow with guilt, her lips parted in silent prayer that never reached the heavens. You had abandoned the comfort of your rosary, leaving it untouched on your bedside table. Even the scent of candle wax and incense, once a balm to your soul, now felt suffocating.

It was as if a devil had settled inside you, whispering in your ear, feeding your thoughts with things no holy woman should crave. And yet, no matter how fiercely you fought it, you kept returning to your sin.

Each night, beneath the shroud of darkness, your body became a traitor. Your hands moved without permission, exploring places you had been taught were forbidden. Your bedsheets tangled around your legs, damp with sweat, evidence of your transgressions.

And always, always, his name spilled from your lips.

Each time, you found yourself back in the same position—fingers trembling, thighs clenched, gasping into the silence of your room, drowning in him. And it felt too good to stop.

"Have mercy on me, O God, according to Your unfailing love..."

You whispered it every day in the chapel, hands clutching the rosary so tightly. "According to Your great compassion, blot out my transgressions. Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin..."

Tears slipped down your cheeks, soaking into the fabric of your sleeves as you knelt before the altar. You sobbed, your body wracked with guilt, your lips forming words of repentance.

And yet—when you returned to your bed that night, your body trembling with guilt, your prayers still lingering in the air—

You touched yourself anyway.

"It's impressive how you always pray," Jake said, his voice gentle, filled with quiet admiration. A small smile graced his lips. Another interaction. Another moment that would be burned into your mind, another weight added to the burden of your sin.

"How you always find time to speak with Him," he continued. "I'm sure whatever you're praying for, you'd be heard."

You swallowed hard. Would God listen when your prayers were no longer pure? When you begged not for salvation, but for relief from the temptation standing before you?

You forced a polite nod, quickly wiping at your damp cheeks, hoping he wouldn't notice how red your eyes were. How broken you looked. Your knees ached from kneeling for so long, your fingers sore from gripping the rosary too tightly. If only he knew what your prayers had become—not words of devotion, but desperate pleas for deliverance.

You were about to stand, to create distance, to escape before your body could betray you again. But before you could move, Jake lowered himself to kneel beside you.

The proximity sent a shiver down your spine. His presence was grounding, yet it set something uneasy alight inside you.

"You know," he said, voice soft, "I quite admire you."

Jake smiled, warm and sincere, his eyes searching yours as if he was seeing something sacred in you. "You share a special relationship with God," he continued. "The way you pray, the way you devote yourself—it's beautiful."

"I've seen the way you never miss a prayer," he went on. "The way you kneel here for hours, speaking to Him when no one else is watching. I've seen the tears, the way you hold your rosary."

His gaze flickered down to your hands, still red from gripping the beads too tightly.

"And I think... that kind of devotion is rare."

You swallowed, forcing yourself to look away, because his words—his praise—felt heavier than anything the nuns had ever told you.

Because it was him saying it.

He didn't know that your devotion wasn't pure. That your prayers were not for holiness, but for control. That when you closed your eyes at night, it wasn't scripture that filled your mind, but the memory of his touch.

"God must love you very much," Jake murmured, tilting his head slightly. "To have someone as loyal as you."

You inhaled shakily, without thinking, you shifted back, settling onto the wooden pew. Jake stayed where he was, still kneeling, his gaze fixed on the cross. You swallowed. Your fingers curled around the rosary in your palm

"Can I confess, Jake?"

Your voice was barely above a whisper. Jake turned his head, he hesitated for a moment before moving to sit beside you, his posture still composed. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice is with quiet curiosity. "I am not a priest—I can't take such confessions."

You exhaled sharply, your grip tightening around the rosary.

"Forgive me, for I have sinned."

Jake stilled beside you his confusion was evident in the way his brows knitted together, in the way his head tilted slightly as if trying to piece together what you meant. "Why?" he asked slowly.

You couldn't look at him. If you did, you feared he would see it. The truth. The war inside you. The way he was the very thing you needed to confess.

Your throat tightened as you muttered the next following words. "Because," you whispered, forcing the words out before you lost the courage to speak them, "I don't think I want to repent."

Jake stiffened beside you. His breath hitched, his entire body going rigid. His fingers curled against his lap, gripping the fabric of his trousers. "H-How can you say that?" His voice was unsteady, a stark contrast to the usual calmness he carried. His soft features, always composed, always gentle, were now pulled into shock and disbelief.

You swallowed, your throat dry, your heart slamming against your ribs as you forced yourself to continue. If you stopped now, if you let fear take hold, you would never be free of this.

"I think of things I shouldn't."Your voice trembled, but your gaze didn't waver this time. "I touched myself."

Jake's body jerked slightly, his lips parted again, but no words came, as if he had been struck speechless, as if the confession had ripped the breath from his lungs. His Adam's apple bobbed with a harsh swallow, the tendons in his neck tightening. His gaze flickered away, darting briefly to the cross above the altar, as if seeking guidance, as if seeking a way out. But there was none. He could not look at you, not when the weight of your confession was still lingering in the air

"You..." he started, but the words failed him. He shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose. His brows furrowed, "Why are you telling me this?"

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap, nails digging into your palms as you forced yourself to speak—forced yourself to ruin yourself completely. "Because it was you, Jake."

Jake inhale, his eyes widening, but only for a second. Something changed—something deep inside him, something that flickered behind his dark gaze like a dying flame suddenly reignited.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, your skin tingling under the intensity of his stare. But you didn't stop. You couldn't.

"I touch myself with the thought of you."

Jake's fingers dug into his thighs, gripping so tightly. His breathing turned shallow, uneven, his chest rising and falling at a pace that betrayed his struggle. His gaze dropped—just for a second—to your lips, before snapping back up, but the damage was already done.

He was flustered.

"D-Do not say v-vulgar things," Jake whispered, his hands trembling slightly where they rested against his lap. But it was his eyes that held you captive—wide, burning, conflicted.

Your throat tightened, and before you could stop yourself, tears welled in your eyes again. "I don't think I'm free of guilt if I confess to God."

Jake flinched at your words. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach for you, to stop you, to comfort you—but he didn't. Because he shouldn't.

"I keep praying for forgiveness," you continued, your voice trembling, "but I do not regret what I have done."

Jake inhaled sharply. His gaze flickered to the cross for only a moment—as if searching for guidance—before returning to you. Your lips trembled as you forced out the truth, the final confession that sealed your fall.

"I only feel guilty because thinking of you is a sinful act against my own people."

A tear slipped down your cheek, falling onto your lap, soaking into the fabric of your skirt. You weren't sure what you were asking from him—absolution, understanding, or something far more dangerous.

"God is willing to forgive again and again, right?" you choked out. Jake's breath hitched, and then you asked the only question that truly mattered. "But are you willing to forgive me?"

His throat bobbed with another hard swallow, but he couldn't speak. Because there was no answer to give. Not one that would be right. Not one that would be true. He stood abruptly. The movement was sudden, almost jerky, as if he was running—fleeing.

You watched him, lips quivering, hands still clenched together in your lap.

His palm was sweaty as he brushed it against his robe, his pulse erratic as he stepped out of the chapel, the heavy door closing behind him with a finality that made your chest ache.

You didn't call after him. You didn't move. Because what could you say? He was already gone.

Jake arrived early at the residence hall, his movements stiff, controlled, as if forcing himself into habit, but as soon as the door shut behind him, his composure cracked. His chest rose and fell with deep, unsteady breaths, his hands running through his hair in frustration. The ghost of your voice lingered in his ears, wrapping around his mind like a noose.

"I touch myself with the thought of you."

"I do not regret what I have done."

His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. He sank onto the bed, head falling back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut.

"But are you willing to forgive me?"

His breath came out shaky, ragged, as he muttered, "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name..." His voice was strained and the prayer did nothing.

Nothing to rid him of the images flooding his mind, of your tear-streaked face, of the way your voice trembled, of the way you looked at him as if he held the answer to your salvation. He sucked in a sharp breath as his hands gripped the sheets beside him, as the tension in his body coiled so tight it hurt.

And then—he felt the unbearable heat pooling low in his stomach. The painful ache of his cock pressing against the fabric of his pants.

He let out a quiet, desperate whine, the sound muffled against his palm as he ran a hand over his face, as if trying to scrub away the shame, the want, the overwhelming weight of you. Still, the words of his prayer tumbled from his lips, over and over, between broken breaths.

Just like Adam, he had been steadfast. Pure. Untouched by temptation. He had walked the path of righteousness without faltering, without question, his faith as unwavering as the ground beneath his feet. He had known his purpose—to obey, to serve, to resist.

And yet, you— the Eve.

A whisper of temptation. Just as Eve had reached for the fruit, her fingers brushing against the knowledge of sin, you had reached for him—not with hands, but with words.

And now, like Adam, he was failing. He had seen the fruit before him. He had heard the serpent's voice, had felt the first stirrings of doubt deep in his chest, where conviction once lived.

He wanted to reach back.

To taste. To know. To fall.

Because wasn't that what Adam had done? He hadn't been deceived—he had chosen to fall with Eve. He had taken the fruit from her hand, knowing what it would cost.

"Take a bite."

The voice echoed in his mind, low and insistent, curling around his thoughts like a serpent coiled around a branch. Jake sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, but he did not see it.

Instead, he saw you.

He imagined you whispering to him, your lips forming the very words that now tormented him. He imagined your fingers brushing against his wrist, leading him closer to ruin. Just as Eve had turned to Adam with the fruit cradled in her palm, you had turned to him with your confession, tempting him in ways he had never been tempted before.

His cock throbbed painfully beneath the confines of his pants, damp with his own arousal.

"Take a bite," the voice urged again, slithering through the cracks of his crumbling resistance. His hands clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He should continue praying, to fight whatever temptation the devil was filling him.

But instead, he lay there, panting, burning not with the way the nun teaches, his body betraying him as he squeezed his eyes shut. He let himself imagine.

"Heaven and earth are full," the voices soared inside the chapel, the morning light streaming through the stained-glass windows.

"Are full of your glory."

Jake's lips parted, but he did not sing. His gaze was fixed on you. You stood in the choir, your voice blending seamlessly with the others, yet somehow, to him, it was the only one that mattered.

Your long white dress fell in soft folds to your feet, the fabric catching in the gentle morning breeze drifting through the open doors. The wind moved through your hair, shifting it slightly, making it look almost weightless.

You were a vision of purity wrapped in divinity.

"Hosanna, hosanna."

Your eyes are dull and distant, told a different story. You sang the words, but you were not present. There was no joy, no reverence, only an emptiness that should not belong to someone standing before God.

"Hosanna in the highest."

But to him, you were the highest. More than the chapel's towering walls, more than the altar bathed in candlelight, more than the cross above them all. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to touch, to reach, to worship. But not as a believer should.

"Show me."

The words slipped from Jake's. Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes widening as you stared at him.

The small room at the back of the chapel felt unbearably tight, with the scent of old books and dust, the faint aroma of candle wax lingering in the corners. A candlelight was at the center of the table.

This was a place of study, of quiet contemplation, and A man and a woman should not be alone together. Not when the door was shut.

"Show me." Jake swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Show me how you touch yourself."

"H-Huh?" You stuttered, barely able to form words, your mind struggling to comprehend what he had just said. "Jake, you're so pure... I don't want you to be tainted like me. I already disappoint God—"

"Please, just show me."

His voice was desperate, his restraint fraying at the edges. Jake stepped forward, closing the distance between you.

Your breath hitched as he leaned over the table between you, hands bracing against the worn wood, trapping you between his body and the cold stone wall.

"I have thoughts about you too."

Your eyes snapped up to his, his eyes were glassy, his lips trembling as if the weight of his own confession was too much to bear, unshed tears brimming in his lashes.

"I thought of you that night," he murmured. You sucked in a breath, pressing yourself further into the table.

"I disappointed God too."

"Jake. . . " Your breath hitched at his confession as your eyes is searching on him. "Are you not afraid? Of the fire that will burn you?" you asked.

Jake's breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling as he leaned closer, his hands tightening against the edge of the table. "Does it burn you when you touch yourself?"

"Because when I thought of you," Jake continued, "my body just ached for your embrace."

Your heart pounded so loudly; you almost want to lower your head due to the proximity.

"It's not the fire that burns me."

He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched as his gaze bore into yours, "It's the ache of longing for you."

You had feared he would resist, that he would turn away, condemn you, beg for salvation. But he wasn't begging for salvation. He was begging for you.

"Take a bite," a voice in the back of your mind hissed—low and insidious.

And without another word, without hesitation, you reached for him. Your fingers curled around the nape of his neck, you pulled him in, lips met his.

A low, desperate moan escaped Jake's throat as he crushed you against him, his hands finding your waist, gripping you so tightly. His body pressed into yours, heat radiating through the layers of fabric that still separated you.

His lips moved against yours with a hunger that startled you. The tears that had brimmed in his eyes slipped down his cheeks.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling, needing. The kiss was desperate, both of your teeth are clashing. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. The pressure of his mouth against yours softened after a moment, his lips parting slightly, then his tongue brushed against yours.

A soft gasp left your lips, and Jake seized the moment, his tongue slipping past the seam of your mouth, exploring, tasting. He groaned into you, the sound vibrating against your chest, making something hot coil in your stomach.

Your grip tightening in his hair as the kiss deepened, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes, coaxing you into submission.

"If you want to make a boy weak, touch him there. Play with it, stroke it."

Still kissing him, your free hand drifted lower, hesitant, until your fingers pressed over the hardness beneath his pants.

Jake cried out. His entire body jerked, his hips stuttering beneath your touch as he broke the kiss with a sharp gasp.

"Oh my Lord—"

His head fell forward, forehead pressing against your shoulder as his breath came out in ragged, uneven pants. His hands clenched at your waist, gripping the fabric of your dress.

You swallowed, watching in fascination as his body trembled beneath your touch.

Carefully, experimentally, you pressed your palm more firmly against him, stroking him slow through the fabric.

Jake whimpered. His hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more friction, chasing the pleasure, more relief, yet it was never enough. Your name slipped from his lips in a strangled moan, muffled against your shoulder.

"I want to see you. Please." You whisper, more like a whine as your fingers continued to stroke him through the fabric of his pants.

Jake lifted his head slowly, his breath ragged, his pupils blown wide with something that had nothing to do with faith. Tears streaked his flushed cheeks, his lips parted as they trembled.

His gaze locked onto yours, vulnerable yet so needy.

"W-Will you touch me more?"

His voice cracked at the end, his body shuddering as he fumbled with the buttons of his pants, his fingers shaking too much to work quickly. You watched as he hesitated, his chest rising and falling rapidly, before finally tugging the fabric down past his hips.

Your breath caught in your throat.

A penis. His cock was thick, long, flushed a deep shade of red. Fluid leaked from the swollen tip, dripping down the shaft in slow, glistening trails.

You remembered feeling disgusted way in anatomy class, staring at the stiff, clinical images in textbooks, thinking the male body was strange, almost grotesque.

Now, your mouth watered.

Heat pooled deep in your belly, your pussy clenching together involuntarily. You didn't even realize what you were doing until you were already on your knees.

Jake's breath hitched, his body going rigid. His wide, teary eyes stared down at you.

"W-What a-are you doing?" He exhaled sharply, his voice cracking. You glanced up at him, your hands settling on his thighs.

A whisper from your past came back to you, "Suck on it—especially the tip."

Your lips parted, and you murmured, "I'm going to pray for forgiveness." then you took him into your mouth.

"Ahhh—!"

A choked gasp tore from his lips, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. His hands flew to your head, fingers tangling in your hair, but he didn't push. He held on for dear life.

His knees buckled slightly, his breath coming in ragged, shuddering gasps as your warm mouth engulfed him.

You tasted the saltiness of his arousal, the unfamiliar flavor spreading across your tongue, but instead of pulling away, you took more.

"Jesus Christ, this is disgusting," Jake cried, his voice shaking—yet his hands remained buried in your hair, his hips jerking forward, pushing himself deeper into your mouth.

His breath came out in broken gasps as he watched you, watched the way your cheeks hollowed around his cock, the way your lips stretched to accommodate him. His fingers trembled where they tangled in your hair, torn between holding back and pushing in further.

"It feels too good—too good, too good—" he whined, his mouth falling open, eyes glassy.

Your stomach tightened at the sound, heat curling between your thighs at the way he was breaking apart. You wanted more, you needed more.

Your tongue traced along the underside of his shaft, your head bobbing steadily, each movement coaxing more whimpers from his lips. His thighs trembled beneath your hands, his entire body shaking with pleasure so foreign to him that he didn't know what to do with it.

"You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain." The words echoed in the back of your mind, a commandment you had already shattered beyond repair.

But you like hearing him, hearing the way he gasped for God, the way his voice cracked when he moaned between whispered prayers.

Your eyes flickered up, meeting his gaze. Jake whimpered, his breath stuttering as you took him further, pushing yourself until the tip of his cock brushed the back of your throat. Your gag reflex tightened, but you didn't pull away. You held him there, letting him feel everything.

"A-Ahhh—!"

A loud, uncontrollable moan ripped from his throat as his head fell back, exposing the column of his neck, veins prominent, his Adam's apple bobbing with every gasping breath.

His body tensed, his fingers gripping you too tightly, as if he was seeing God Himself in the pleasure washing over him.

His moans grew louder, needier—his entire existence reduced to you and the sin you were leading him into.

His grip in your hair tightened, his hips stuttering as he fought to keep himself from thrusting into your mouth, from losing himself entirely.

"S-Something's coming—something's coming."

His voice broke, whimpering and breathless. Still bobbing your head, you reached down with one hand, lifting your skirt, fingers sliding beneath the fabric of your underwear. The moment your fingers brushed against your slick folds; a moan vibrated against his shaft.

Jake gasped, his thighs tensing, his entire body shuddering at the sensation.

Your wetness coated your fingers, and with no hesitation, you pushed one inside, curling it the way you always had when you were alone—except now, you weren't alone.

Now, it felt too good to be true. Because Jake was in front of you.

Because Jake was falling with you.

Your own pleasure built with every movement of your fingers, every muffled moan that sent vibrations through him.

His hand slid down, trembling, until it brushed against your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears pooling at the corner of your eyes, tears from how deep you had taken him, from how overwhelming it all was.

His touch was tender, contradicting the broken, filthy sounds spilling from his lips.

"You're—" he choked out, his voice wrecked. "You're touching yourself?"

You hummed around him, confirming, not slowing down, your fingers working deeper inside yourself as his body tensed above you.

Jake whimpered, his head falling forward, his lips barely parted as he stared. His stomach coiled tighter and tighter, his body trembling as his hips stuttered, chasing the feeling, unable to hold back.

"You look so beautiful," he sobbed, his voice raw and shaking. "So divine."

His gaze never left you, drinking in the sight of you—on your knees before him, lips wrapped around his length, taking him so deep without breaking eye contact.

A choked moan tore from his throat at the way you looked up at him, at the sheer devotion in your eyes. It was as if you had been sculpted by God Himself, crafted not from dust but from light, from holiness.

Jake had always admired you.

The way you prayed every afternoon in the chapel, hands clasped. How your lips moved so softly in whispered hymns, the way your voice blended into the choir like something celestial.

How you knelt before the altar, head bowed, untouched by the world around you, your beauty standing apart from anything he had ever known.

Now, you were kneeling for him, your mouth worshipped something else entirely.

His hips jerked forward, unrestrained, a sob catching in his throat.

"Oh—oh, my God—"

His entire body shook, the pleasure nearly blinding. A choked sob left his lips as his release spilled into your mouth, hot and thick, coating your tongue. His hips jerked involuntarily, pressing deeper until your nose met his abdomen, forcing you to take every last drop.

You moaned at the sensation, fingers working faster inside yourself, chasing the same pleasure that had just undone him. The taste of him lingered on your tongue, salty, forbidden—yet you swallowed it all, not letting a single drop go to waste.

Above you, Jake shuddered violently, his hands tangling in your hair as if clinging to you for stability.

His head tipped back; his lips parted in a silent cry as he came down from his high. His fingers trembled against your scalp, stroking gently.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he whispered, his eyes clenched shut, his chest rising. He held you there, cradling your head against his abdomen, his body still twitching from the aftershocks.

You tapped his thigh twice, a silent signal. Jake inhaled sharply, His grip loosened instantly, and with shaky hands, he let go of you, his cock slipping from your mouth.

A thin string of saliva connected you, stretching between your lips and the flushed tip of him before breaking. Your tongue remained out, your breath ragged, your lips swollen and slick with the remnants of his release.

"You... you swallowed my seed," Jake whispered, you stared up at him through lidded eyes, your breath shaky, your body still moving, fingers still working inside yourself.

His gaze flickered downward, following the slow, desperate motion of your hand beneath your lifted skirt. His cock twitched, still sensitive, yet already stirring again at the sight of you.

"It... it should be in your uterus," he muttered, his brows drawing together. "Not your mouth."

A slow smile curled at your lips, heat simmering beneath your skin as you reached for his hand, guiding it to your cheek.

"Then pump me with your seed, Jake," you whispered.

A sharp inhale left his lips, his fingers tightening at your sides before he pulled you to your feet.

His mouth was on yours again, his hands trailing down your back, finding the zipper of your dress. He tugged it down slowly, the fabric loosened, slipping over your shoulders, pooling at your feet.

Jake pulled away, his lips parting as he took you in—your bare form. His throat bobbed, fingers trembling slightly as they traced over your waist.

He bent down, lips finding the curve of your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

Your gaze lifted past him, to the walls of the room—where portraits of nuns, saints, and martyrs hung in quiet judgement. Their solemn eyes bore into you, unblinking, unwavering. Your chest tightened, guilt creeping in but you didn't want to stop.

Instead, you let your eyes fall shut, choosing to surrender—to savor the moment.

"Teach me how to please you," Jake murmured against your skin, his hands encircling your waist, holding you close.

You inhaled sharply, your fingers threading through his hair before drifting down to cup his face. Your foreheads pressed together, breath mingling.

Jake's eyes fluttered shut as he sighed against your palm, his lips brushing against the center of it before pressing a tender kiss there. His own hands lifted, fingers tracing the shape of yours.

You pulled away slowly, you reached behind you, unclasping your bralette. The straps slipped from your shoulders, the fabric falling away, leaving your bare skin exposed to the afternoon light. Your underwear followed, sliding down your legs until you stepped out of them, standing before him in nothing but temptation itself.

Jake's breath caught, his entire body rigid as he took in the sight of you—completely bare, completely his to look upon, to touch.

His lips parted, his gaze roamed over you, over the soft curve of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the smooth expanse of your thighs. He had seen statues of angels, paintings of the Virgin Mary draped in flowing white, but no work of art, no scripture, no vision of heaven itself had ever looked as divine as you did now.

You turned, settling yourself onto the wooden table behind you, your legs parting slowly, revealing yourself to him without hesitation.

A shaky exhale left your lips as your fingers trailed down your own skin, tracing along your inner thigh before sliding to your labia. You arched your back slightly, sighing as you spread yourself wider, holding his gaze.

"Come here, J-Jake," you moaned, your breath hitching as you pushed a single finger inside yourself. Jake swallowed hard, his hands shaking as he reached for the buttons of his shirt. One by one, he undid them. He let the fabric slide from his shoulders, pooling onto the floor before taking slow steps toward you.

As he neared, his breath hitched, his gaze lowering to where your fingers disappeared inside your slick folds. His pupils dilated, "It's so wet," he whispered.

Before you could respond, his hand moved. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, still slick from your arousal, and gently pulled your hand away.

Jake's gaze flickered to your glistening fingers, then he brought your hand to his lips.

You gasped, your walls clenching involuntarily as his tongue flicked out, tasting you for the first time. His lashes fluttered shut, a soft groan slipping past his lips as he took more of you onto his tongue, savoring the taste.

When Jake opened his eyes again, they were darker.

"I want more." A sudden moan tore from your throat at his words, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. You reached for his wrist, guiding his hand between your legs, breath hitching the moment his fingers brushed against your slick folds.

Jake sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers trembling as they hesitated at your entrance, slowly he pushed a single finger inside you.

A gasp escaped you as he entered. His jaw clenched at the sensation, his breath uneven as he felt you—felt the way your walls clenched around him, soft and wet and so impossibly tight.

His free hand gripped your thigh for support, his own body shuddering. Then he curled his finger.

"Oh God!" A sharp cry left your lips, your back arching at the sudden jolt of pleasure. Jake choked on a moan, watching you intently, his eyes locked onto every flicker of expression on your face.

He did it again, this time slower, pressing deeper, and your fingers dug into his shoulders.  His breathing grew heavier, his forehead nearly pressing against yours as he whispered, "Can I touch your breasts?"

Your head fell back, your lips parting on a silent gasp. You nodded frantically, eyes shut, too overwhelmed to speak properly. But a pleading "please" slipped from your lips.

That was all the permission he needed. Jake's other hand rose cautiously, fingers ghosting over the curve of your breast before cupping it fully, squeezing experimentally. His breath hitched at the feeling—warm, soft, the peak pebbling under his touch.

You moaned at the contact, pressing into his palm, "You like that?" he asked.

You nodded quickly, tilting your chin up to kiss him again, swallowing his breath. Your body was burning in a way that the nuns never depicted, your core aching with want, and you didn't care how shameless you sounded when you pleaded, "Please, touch me more."

Jake swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as his fingers kneaded your breast, his other hand still buried deep inside you, working slow, torturous circles that made you gasp.

"Lean down and suck my breast," you whispered against his lips. "I heard it feels good."

Jake pulled back slightly, blinking down at you, his cheeks flushed. "Like a baby?" he asked, almost innocently, though the way his hips pressed forward, grinding his aching cock against your thigh, told another story entirely.

You let out a breathy laugh, though it was cut short when he twisted his fingers inside you, making your back arch.

"No," you whimpered. "Like a man who wants me."

Jake groaned, before lowering his head, his lips parting as he took your nipple into his mouth. The moment his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud; a cry left you.

He started gently at first, his lips soft and warm against your breast, still testing, still learning how to touch you. But as your back arched, as your fingers tangled into his hair and held him there, he grew bolder.

His lips sealing around your nipple, his tongue swirling. Then his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh, just enough to send a delicious shudder down your spine.

"Jake—" you gasped, thighs clenching around his waist, trapping him against you.

He moaned against your skin, his free hand massaged your other breast, fingers rolling the hardened peak between them, mimicking the movements of his tongue.

"Add another finger inside me—please, please," you begged, voice breaking, hands clutching at his shoulders, urging him deeper.

Jake's forehead pressing against your chest bracing himself as he obeyed. His second finger slipped inside, stretching you further, filling you in a way that made your toes curl. Your walls clenched around him, tight, warm, so wet, and Jake whimpered, his hips bucking against your thigh at the feeling of you around his fingers.

"I want you inside me," you whispered into his ear, tears slipped down your cheeks. Jake let out a shuddering breath, his body stiffening at your words. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment. "They said it will hurt," Jake whispered, his fingers, still buried deep inside you, twitched. His free hand came up to your cheek, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb, his touch so tender it made your chest ache.

He swallowed hard. "I don't want to hurt you."

You leaned into his touch, your lips brushing against his wrist as you whispered, "I want to feel all of you, Jake. Even if it hurts, I want you."

Jake's breath hitched, his forehead pressing against yours. With trembling hands, he withdrew his fingers from your heat, watching the way your body shuddered, the way your thighs quivered as he left you empty. He brought his fingers to his lips without thinking, tasting you again, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out a quiet, needy moan.

Jake let out a shaky exhale, gripping himself at the base. His other hand rested on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. "Are you sure?" he asked.

You nodded, spreading your legs further, offering yourself to him completely. "Please, Jake."

With a shaky breath, Jake lined himself up with your entrance, his tip pressing against your heat. His hands trembled as he gripped your thighs, steadying himself, his forehead resting against yours as he slowly, carefully, began to push inside.

A gasp tore from your lips the moment he breached you. Your arms wrapped around him, clinging to his shoulders, molding yourself against him as your body adjusted to the slow intrusion of his thick cock.

The stretch was overwhelming. Tears welled in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks as your walls struggled to accommodate him. Looking down, you saw—he had barely entered you. Only the tip, and yet, it already felt so much.

Jake let out a strangled moan, his breath stuttering as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

"S-Slow," you whimpered, your body trembling beneath him. Jake nodded rapidly, biting his lip so hard. His entire body was tense, his self-control hanging by a thread as he forced himself to move at an excruciatingly slow pace.

"You’re so—" He choked on his words, a desperate whimper escaping him. "So tight—God—"

His hips twitched involuntarily, and you gasped, your nails raking down his back at the sudden jolt of sensation. Jake's breath hitched at the sharp sting of your nails, his cock throbbing as he pushed in another inch.

A broken sob escaped you.

"I-It’s too much—" you whimpered, your walls fluttering around him, trying to adjust, trying to take all of him.

"Shh, I know, I know—" he whispered, kissing your tear-streaked cheek, peppering soft kisses along your jaw, trying to ease the overwhelming stretch. His hands slid down to your thighs, holding you open, rubbing gentle circles into your skin as he murmured against your lips, "do you want me to pull out?"

You shake your head, Jake exhaled sharply, his breath warm against your skin, his hands steadying you before he pressed forward again, stretching you further. Until you felt his abdomen on your navel. Every movement forcing your walls to open for him, to take him in ways you hadn’t known were possible.

Your breath hitched when you finally felt the press of his abdomen flush against your navel. A hiss escaped you, your back arching off the wooden table at the overwhelming sensation of being completely full. "Y-You're inside me," you gasped, as your gaze dropped between your bodies.

Jake groaned softly, his hands gripping your waist, his cock throbbing inside you as he fought to remain still, to give you time to adjust. "Yeah," he murmured, "I'm inside you."

Your breath was ragged, your fingers shaking as they slid up to his face, tracing the curve of his jaw. "I'm not burning," you whispered, half in disbelief. "I'm not burning."

The nuns had lied. The warnings, the fear, the fire they swore would consume you if you ever gave in to desire—it was nowhere to be found. There was only warmth. Only Jake.

Jake swallowed hard, his gaze locking onto yours. He reached for your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes.

"You're not burning," you whispered. Jake brows furrowing, a gasp tore from your lips as he pulled out slightly before thrusting forward again, sinking into you. His mouth fell open, his head tilting back as he felt you, felt the way your walls clung to him, squeezing him.

His lips parted, but the only sounds that came were broken, incoherent prayers.

"Oh, God—" he choked out. His hands shook as they traced over your body, touching you, his fingers skimming your sides, your stomach, your breasts. You cried out as the pain shifted, morphing into pleasure.

"You're so beautiful," Jake sobbed, he thrust back inside you, deeper than before, his arms tightening around you. His chin rested atop your head, his lips brushing against your hair as he inhaled, breathing you in, letting your scent consume him as much as your body did.

"You're—you're everything," he whispered shakily, his hips rolling into you. "Made perfect, sculpted by God’s own hands," he moaned against your skin. "How could something so sinful feel so good?"

You whimpered beneath him, clinging to his shoulders. 

"I could do this every day," he moaned. Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering open, finding his face above you. He pulled back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his trembling hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks, wiping away the remnants of your tears. His forehead pressed against yours.

"I would do this every day," he corrected himself, groaned as he thrust deeper, his hips stuttering slightly at the way your walls clenched around him. "Worship you like this. Love you like this."

Your moans grew louder, your nails pressing deeper into his skin, leaving marks along his back as if claiming him in return.

Jake groaned, his lips parting, his body trembling from the way you felt. "Would you let me?" His eyes searched yours. "Would you let me taint you? Every day?"

His hands roamed your body, gripping your waist, then sliding lower to cup the back of your thighs, pulling you closer. His movements slowed, dragging out every sensation, every inch of him inside you.

Your back arched, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist, locking him in place, your breath coming in soft, desperate gasps as the pleasure built inside you. "Yes, yes!" you cried out. "Taint me, fill me with your seed—I don’t care anymore!"

A ragged moan tore from his throat as he thrust harder. "You're all I've ever wanted." His pace turned desperate, frantic. His hands shook as he rocked into you. His lips crashed against yours, swallowing your moans as he drove deeper, his body pressing you down into the wooden table. The room was filled with the sinful sounds of skin meeting skin, of breathless gasps and muffled cries.

"I’ll give you everything," Jake panted, his forehead pressing against yours, sweat dripping from his temple. "I’ll fill you up, I’ll make you mine—"

His thrusts grew erratic, his hips snapping forward, chasing release, chasing you.

Your walls clenched tighter, pulsing around him, and he whimpered, his body tensing, his breath stuttering as the pleasure coiled unbearably tight inside him.

"Jake, Jake," you whimpered, your hands drifted lower, fingers grazing over the stretch where your bodies met. You could feel him inside you, thick, pulsing, dragging against your walls with each deep, sliding thrust. 

Your fingers dipped lower, pressing against your clit. A sharp gasp escaped you. The moment your fingers touched the sensitive bundle of nerves, a bolt of another intense pleasure shot through you. 

Jake groaned at the movement, his grip tightening, his lips parting as he watched you touch yourself.

"It feels too good—too good," you sobbed, rolling slow, shaky circles against your clit, heightening the pleasure building inside you. Your walls spasmed around him, gripping him tighter, making his hips stutter.

"Oh my Lord," Jake moaned, his head dropping against your shoulder, his body shaking with the effort to keep himself together. "This—this feels too good. I am willing to sin every day to get a taste of you."

"I would trade heaven just to stay inside you forever—"

His teeth grazed your jaw, his fingers locking around your wrists, guiding your movements against your clit, urging you faster, desperate to bring you with him.

"Please—please, come for me," he begged, and with one last deep thrust, as your fingers circled your clit faster, as his cock hit the perfect spot inside you.

The pleasure snapped through you, your entire body seizing as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. Your walls clenched around him, pulsing, milking him as your climax washed through every inch of your being.

Jake choked on a moan, his body jerking as he buried himself deep, hips stuttering, his breath breaking into ragged gasps. His hands trembled as they gripped your hips, holding you still as his release spilled inside you, hot and thick, filling you completely.

His lips found yours again as he emptied himself into you, his body still shaking from the intensity of it all.

You gasped into his mouth, still riding the aftershocks, feeling the warmth of him inside you. Neither of you moved for a long moment, too overwhelmed, too wrecked to do anything but exist in the sinful haze of what had just happened.

Jake’s hands slowly slid up your back, his fingers tracing over your spine made your chest tighten. Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze soft but dazed, as if he still couldn’t quite believe what he had done—what you had done together.

 "Are you okay?"

Your heart ached at the tenderness in his voice, at the way he searched your face for any sign of regret. But there was none. You reached up, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering against his cheek.

"I'm full of you," you murmured, "I can feel you inside me."

Jake groaned, his hands tightening on your hips, his entire body tensing as he let out a shaky breath. Yet, even as exhaustion threatened to pull him under, his cock twitched inside you—still buried to the hilt, still too sensitive, yet already stirring again at your words

"Don't say that," he whispered, but his hands betrayed him.

They slid upward, over your waist, tracing the curve of your ribs before finding your breasts again, cupping them, thumbs circling your pebbled peaks. His fingers kneaded softly, rolling the sensitive flesh between his palms. 

Your back arched, your head tipping back, letting your hair cascade over the edge of the table. Your lips parted in a breathless moan, the aftershocks of pleasure still tingling in your veins, yet now, a new wave of desire was coiling inside you again. 

You were undone beneath him, your body glistening with sweat, your lips swollen from his kisses, your eyes still dazed, darkened with lust. And yet, you looked untouched. 

His grip on your breasts tightened slightly, his hips pressing forward just enough to remind you that he was still inside you.

"You make me forget who I am," he murmured, his breath shaky against your throat. "What I'm supposed to be."

His lips found the pulse at your neck, trailing down again at every inch of your skin. 

Neither of you noticed the way the candlelight flickered. Because you had both awakened the Tree of Knowledge.

And neither of you would ever return to Eden.

Jake had always been a man of God.

From the moment he could speak, he was taught that he was formed from the dust of the earth, molded by divine hands, a creation of purpose. His parents instilled in him the belief that he was meant to walk the righteous path, to live a life devoted to prayer, to obedience, to purity.

He appreciated every intricate work of the Creator—the way the sun spilled golden light over the stained-glass windows of the churches, the way the choir’s voices soared in perfect harmony, the way scripture spoke of faith and the reward of salvation. He saw God in everything, and in return, he gave himself to Him, dedicating his days to scripture, to service, to resisting the sins that so easily ensnared others.

Where others strayed, he remained steadfast. Where others indulged in temptation, he turned away.

He had watched boys his age succumbs to their own desires— lusting over naked bodies, wandering hands beneath heavy blankets. He had seen the way girls blushed at their names being called by the wrong kind of voice, the way they giggled behind cupped hands, oblivious to how close they danced to damnation.

But not him.

Jake had spent his youth guarding his body, his mind, his soul. He never allowed himself to waver, never let his thoughts wander to things he had been told were unholy. And if—if—his body ever betrayed him in the quiet of night, if his skin burned with an unfamiliar ache, if his mind was tempted by images that had no place in his heart, he would fall to his knees in prayer.

He would beg for forgiveness, whispering fervent apologies, asking for the strength to resist, the grace to overcome.

And for years, he believed he was strong enough.

He believed his faith was unshakable, that no force on earth could tempt him away from his devotion. He had spent his life resisting, rejecting, turning away from desire as though it were a serpent poised to strike.

During one of his evening services at the university chapel, he saw you. At first, it was nothing. A passing glance. A new face among many, just another student filling the pews, singing hymns.

But then, he saw you again.

And again.

You stood among the choir, always placed near the back, always just slightly out of reach—like something meant to be admired from afar, never touched. Your voice wove seamlessly into the others, rising with the organ, filling the chapel, but it wasn't just your voice.

It was the way you bowed your head in prayer, hands folded so delicately. It was the way you knelt before the altar, the way your fingers curled around your rosary.

And every time he saw you, every time your lashes fluttered closed, every time your lips parted to whisper scripture. He would whisper to himself, Song of Solomon 4:7.

"You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you."

Because when he looked at you, he saw something more than human.

He saw a reflection of God’s love, a testament to His creativity—flawless, untouched, pure in ways he never realized he could ache for.

He told himself it was admiration. That his heart only quickened because he saw God in you. That the warmth spreading through his chest whenever you smiled at the nuns, whenever your fingers brushed against the pages of your worn bible, was nothing but spiritual devotion.

But the more he saw you, the harder it became to believe the lie. Because you were forbidden. So untouchable it hurt.

And by the time he had a taste of your poison, by the time your lips had met his, by the time he had felt the warmth of your body pressed against him, wrapped around him. He couldn’t stop craving.

"Jake—" you whined, your voice hushed, breathless, your hands pressed against the cool tiles of the wall for balance. Your body rocked with each deep thrust, your skirt bunched up around your waist, your panties pulled aside in rushed desperation.

Here he was, buried deep inside you in the thin, suffocating space of the girls’ restroom, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you as you bounced against him. He had barely gotten them down before he was inside you. 

Jake let out a shaky breath, his forehead falling against the back of your shoulder, his hips snapping forward, a choked moan escaping his lips as your walls squeezed around him.

"D-Do you love my c-cock inside you?"  He stammered. His hands slid from your hips, traveling up, slipping beneath your uniform blouse to cup your breasts, kneading them, his thumbs rolling over your sensitive peaks as he thrust deeper.

"Answer me," he pleaded, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

A sharp gasp left your lips, your head tilting back against his shoulder as your walls clenched even tighter. "Y-Yes," you whispered, your fingers curling against the cold tile, your knees going weak.

"Say it."

"I love it, Jake," you sobbed, barely holding yourself up as he drove into you faster. "I love your cock inside me—I love it so much—"

Jake whimpered, his grip on you tightening, his entire body shuddering against yours as he lost himself again.

Nothing in this world felt holier than you. Every secret rendezvous was another prayer whispered in the dark, another moment stolen between fleeting glances and hurried footsteps, another sin sealed between trembling lips.

It was your skin against his, pressed against the cold walls of empty classrooms, hidden beneath the dim glow of flickering candlelight in the chapel, tangled in sheets that smelled of guilt and devotion.

It was your kiss—sweet and sinful, your lips brushing against his top lip before capturing him fully, pulling him under, making him forget the weight of his conscience.

It was the way your fingers found his face, tracing over his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, down to the sharp line of his jaw.

"Jake," you would whisper, your touch like a baptism, washing away the person he once was and leaving behind someone entirely yours.

Your hands never hesitated when they roamed his body, memorizing the contours of his muscles, the dip of his collarbone, the ridges of his spine. Your body molded to his, fitting perfectly, as if you had been crafted just for him.

And God, how could something that felt this right be wrong? How could he look at you and believe this was damnation?

You were not a temptation.

You were his salvation, And if this was sin—if loving you, wanting you, needing you—meant turning away from heaven, then so be it.

Because Jake had already made his choice and he would choose you every time.

"They say if you have sexual preferences, it's called a kink," Jake mused, his arms wrapped loosely around your shoulders as he stared out at the lake, watching the water ripple under the soft afternoon light.

It was a rare that the both of you escape—just the two of you, away from the suffocating walls of the university.  Here, it was quiet. Peaceful.

You hummed in amusement, leaning back against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. "Hmm, I think I have a nose kink."

Jake chuckled, tilting his head slightly. "A nose kink?"

You grinned, turning to look up at him, mischief dancing in your eyes. "I love your nose," you said simply, reaching up to tap the tip of it gently with your finger. "I love how it bumps against my clit."

A giggle slipped from your lips as Jake let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head, his ears tinged slightly pink.

"You're unbelievable," he murmured, pressing his chin lightly against your shoulder, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his fondness.

You shifted, wrapping your arms around his, your fingers playing with the fabric of his sleeves. "What about you? Do you have a kink?"

Jake pretended to think, his lips pursing before he finally admitted, "I love your tongue."

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh?"

His smile widened, his fingers trailing lazily along your arms. "I love how soft it is when you kiss me," he said, voice dropping slightly. "I love the way it feels against my skin, how warm it is when you—"

He stopped himself, biting his lip, his cheeks darkening as he let out a flustered chuckle. "You know."

You turned fully in his embrace, resting your chin against his chest as you beamed up at him. "Say it."

Jake groaned, rolling his eyes, but there was nothing but adoration in them as he dipped his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. "I love how your tongue feels when you're tasting me."

Your giggles turned into full laughter, your arms tightening around him, and he let out a breathy laugh of his own, shaking his head in defeat.

The wind rustled through the trees, the lake shimmering under the sunlight.

"Do you think God still loves us?" you asked, Jake's fingers threaded through your hair, slow and gentle, playing with your scalp as he stared out at the lake, watching the way the sunlight danced over the rippling water.

"Yes," he said, without hesitation.

You blinked, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. "How can you be so sure?"

Jake exhaled softly, his lips curling into a small, thoughtful smile. "Because love doesn’t disappear just because we fall." His gaze met yours. "God loved David even after his sins. He loved Peter even after he denied Him three times. Love isn’t something that fades because of our mistakes. It’s unconditional."

Your chest tightened at his words, at the quiet conviction in his voice.

"Then why do I still feel guilty?" you whispered, pressing your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Jake sighed, his chin resting lightly atop your head. "Because we've been taught to fear Him more than we've been taught to trust His love."

Silence stretched, only the soft rustling of trees and the distant laughter from the festival carrying through the breeze. After a moment, Jake spoke again, "but when I’m with you…" he paused, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your arm, "I feel closer to God than I ever have before."

You pulled back slightly, eyes searching his, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest. "How?"

He smiled, leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead again before whispering,

"Because you are the most beautiful thing He’s ever created."

Your breath hitched, your hands tightening around his shirt as warmth bloomed in your chest.

Jake tilted his head, his lips hovering just above yours. "And if loving you is a sin…" he murmured, a teasing smile playing on his lips, "then I guess I’ll just have to keep repenting."

His hands wandered lower, tracing slow, idle patterns along your upper thigh. You shivered slightly at his touch, but it wasn’t just the sensation that made your breath hitch—it was the way his finger moved deliberately, forming letters, one by one, spelling out a single word:

"Mine."

Your lips parted, your heart stuttering in your chest as your gaze flickered up to meet his.

Jake only smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting, "I will leave the university," he said suddenly. 

Jake exhaled slowly, "I’ve realized a lot of things, and one of them is…" He hesitated, searching your face, then sighed. "I don’t think I was ever meant to be the man they wanted me to be."

Your throat tightened. "Jake—"

"Everything is okay," he reassured you, his voice firm, calming. "I don’t regret any of it. Not the prayers, not the faith—but I also don’t regret you. And if the only way to keep you is to walk away from what was never truly mine, then I’ll do it."

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears, your fingers curling around his wrists. "You would do that?"

"I would do anything for you," he muttered, "I was never meant to be a saint, and I don’t think I want to be anymore." His fingers tightened around yours, grounding himself in the warmth of your touch, in the certainty of this moment. "I just want to be yours." 

A breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding.  You swallowed, your lips parting before you whispered, "Ruth 1:16-17."

Jake tilted his head slightly, his brows raising in curiosity. You smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "Where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay."

His gaze softened, warm and full of love, as if in that moment, there was nothing else in the world but you and him. Jake swallowed, his fingers tightening around yours as he whispered back, "Song of Solomon 3:4."

Your breath hitched. A sharp sting burned behind your eyes as you realized what he was saying, as the words sank into your skin, into your soul. Tears welled up, spilling onto your cheeks as he brought a trembling hand to cup your face, his thumb wiping them away.

"I have found the one whom my soul loves."

A quiet sob escaped you as you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle into the deepest parts of you.

That was the day you faced the judgment of others.

Whispers followed you down the chapel halls, sharp as knives, spoken behind cupped hands and lowered eyes. You were no longer the devout girl they had known, no longer the image of purity they had placed on a pedestal.

You were cast out, stripped of the life you had once known, condemned for surrendering to the desires they warned you against. For falling, like Eve, for stepping into temptation and taking the bite that could never be undone.

But none of it mattered. Because just as Adam had followed Eve into exile, Jake followed you. It had always been him and you. It would always be him and you.

You would always choose him—religiously, faithfully.

You clutched Jake’s hand, sweat beading on your forehead, your body trembling as pain surged through you. Your body trembling with exhaustion. The midwife kneeled before you, her voice firm yet reassuring, guiding you through labored breaths as she prepared to deliver your third child.

Jake pressed a kiss to your damp temple, whispering words of encouragement, of love, his grip unwavering as he held onto you, just as he always had.

He wiped away the tears spilling from your eyes, just as he had that day by the lake, when he promised you that everything would be okay.

And as you cried out, as life pushed forward, as your body bore the proof of your love.

"You’re so strong," he murmured. "Just a little more, my love. I’m right here."

Another sharp cry left your lips, your back arching as the final push sent waves of relief crashing over you.

A baby’s cry filled the room.

A sharp, piercing sound, followed by the relieved murmurs of the midwife as she carefully wrapped the tiny, wriggling form in soft cloth. Your head fell back against the pillow, your chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. Jake’s hand trembled as he reached for you, his lips pressing against your knuckles, his gratitude unspoken but infinite.

Tiny footsteps thundered against the wooden floor.

"Mama!"

The door burst open, and two small figures ran inside, their eager little hands gripping the edges of your bedsheet.

Cain and Abel—your firstborns.

Their wide eyes shimmered with excitement; their faces flushed from running. Cain, the elder, clung to Jake’s arm, while Abel climbed onto the edge of the bed, trying to peer over your shoulder.

"Did it hurt, Mama? Are you okay?" Cain asked, his brows furrowed in concern, his little hands gripping onto Jake’s sleeve.

"It’s okay, my love," you soothed, your voice weak but filled with warmth as you reached for them. "I am okay."

Jake’s breath hitched as the midwife gently placed the newborn into his waiting arms. A soft gasp left his lips as he cradled the tiny child against his chest, his eyes glistening with tears. His fingers traced the delicate curve of the baby’s cheek, his voice breaking as he whispered, "Seth."

At the sound of his father’s voice, the newborn let out a small, sleepy whimper, tiny fists curling against Jake’s chest. Cain and Abel watched in awe; their excitement momentarily silenced as they stared at their new baby brother.

"Seth," Abel repeated softly, as if testing the name on his tongue.

"He’s so small," Cain murmured, his fingers twitching as if resisting the urge to reach out and touch him.

Jake let out a choked laugh, pressing a kiss to Seth’s forehead before carefully settling beside you on the bed. His arm curled around your shoulders, pulling you close, his free hand still cradling your newest son. And as your children gathered around you, their voices filled with wonder.

As Jake’s lips found your forehead once more, you exhaled, a breathless, relieved sigh. You thought of Eden. Of Adam, formed from dust. Of Eve, crafted from his rib, made for him, meant to be his. The two of them had once lived untouched, unburdened, perfect in their innocence.

But love—true love—was never meant to exist without choice.

And so, they had fallen. Not out of defiance. Not out of sin. But out of love—a love so deep, so human, it had rewritten the course of existence itself.

Your body spent, your children nestled close, your husband’s arms wrapped around you as he held his world in his hands. Your tired eyes fluttered shut, as Jake pressed another soft kiss against your skin, your newborn stirred gently in his father’s arms.

Falling had never been a punishment. Because It is a gift.

perm taglist: @won4me @ikaw-at-ikaw, @kristynaaah, @fancypeacepersona @tunafishyfishylike @vvenusoncasual, @cutehoons02,

[burningcheese-merchant]

youll be fine merchant, after all i follow you because i like you saying things, you make things interesting in a way, im not sure how to describe it, but what i do want to say is that you dont need to feel that way, u doing fine and i hope you continue doing fine

I'm grateful for your kind words. I really am. I'm touched you took the time to say something to me. But... Idk.

I'm feeling very raw today. I want to be totally real just once. Just this one time. No sarcasm or joking around like I usually do. Be my therapist/blank wall to whom I address my words of woe for a minute. Then we can all go back to normal after that

I've been having a major crisis of self-confidence lately. Been feeling stupid. Useless. Good for nothing. Probably just the Big Sad talking but that guy hasn't shut up for an awfully long time and he's harder to tune out on some days

Writing was always an escape for me. A form of catharsis. I'm actually quite terrible at speaking to people irl. I'm very shy and awkward. Social anxiety on steroids. I always expressed myself better in writing as opposed to spoken words. Idk it just feels a lot less stifling to me. I feel more free. Less judged. More in control of my thoughts. If that makes any sense.

Bit the bullet and started posting fics on AO3 just to indulge myself. Never really expected to get any attention. There was a ship I liked and there weren't really any fics for it, so I became the change I wished to see in the world. That was all it was. You want something done right, do it your damn self.

Wrote more. Different things with different characters and different ideas. Gained a lot more traction. Caught another bullet in my teeth and made this blog. People seem to like my ideas for some reason. I start to think "hey. Maybe I really am a good writer."

Then I took a few story-shaped sledgehammers to the skull and remembered that no, I'm not. Lol.

Comparison is the thief of joy. I know that. Nobody needs to remind me. But it's easier said than practiced. Read biscuitlabyrinth's stuff and felt like a fraud. Read Jambound and felt like a skyscraper-sized fraud. It's hard not to compare yourself to others when the "others" are practically hailed as heroes by the fandom. When there are mountains upon mountains of fanart happily illustrating their work. When their story has the most hits and the most kudos and the most comments and the most bookmarks in the entire Cookie Run tag on AO3, and only receives more every passing day. When there are people who want to bind the fic and make it an actual, physical book, because they love it so much. No one has ever said or done any of that for me or my stuff. Never got even a fraction of that love or attention. Not even close. And I never, ever will.

Yeah yeah. Two cakes. Everyone has said that to me. But if you all had to choose. If you could only eat one cake while the other one went straight to the trash. You wouldn't pick mine, would you? You'd pick the other one. You'd pick Jambound. Everyone would. Even my friends on here would. Why bother wasting time and ingredients baking the thing if you know that's how it's going to be? What's the point?

I know I'm not owed success. Nobody is. It's earned. It just... hurts, I guess. It hurts to feel compelled to doubt yourself so strongly after finally allowing yourself to believe you've done a good job at something for once in your life. To feel like even when I try, even when I put my best foot forward, it's not good enough. Nobody actually cares. No one will ever think of you like they think of those other people and their work. No one will think of you at all. You're just a sad little wannabe loser, wallowing in their shadows.

I don't blame those people for these feelings. I don't blame anyone except myself. To think or do otherwise would be childish. No one is responsible for making me feel inferior/inadequate besides me. I accept that these thought and feelings are foolish. Whiny. Unfair. No one should pay them any mind. I'll sort through them on my own.

It's stupid, all of this. Oh no, some person's fanfiction is more popular than yours. Boo hoo. It's the end of the world. Stupid. It's all stupid. And yet, the feelings persist. It sucks. I don't want to feel this way. I'd rather just forget about it all and go back to being the loser who was content just writing for herself and nobody else, really. I don't look good in green, that's for sure lol. But it's hard. It's hard to let go of something that's got its jaws clenched around your neck so tight. Waiting for you to stop fighting and bleed out before it can finish its meal.

I always thought that writing was the only thing I was ever good at. That I was ever good for. Learned the hard way that that's not true. That my best was never anything but mediocre in reality. It's really no wonder Jambound is as beloved as it is. It's wonderful. Fantastic. It deserves all the praise it gets. I wish I could write half as well as that. But I don't. And now sometimes I wonder if anyone would even notice, even if I did.

I'm not happy writing anymore. Feels like it got snatched from me. The thing I love, that always brought me a measure of peace no matter how depressed I got. Gone. I can't draw worth a damn. I'm not funny. I'm not that smart. I never thought I had anything to give anyone except my writing. Now I understand that I don't have that, either. My cake sucks. No wonder everyone would rather eat theirs.

I'll get over it eventually. I'm stubborn if nothing else at all. I've got stories to tell and finish, even if they'll never mean anything to anyone except myself. Might as well. For my own sake.

There. Said my piece. Poured my miserable little heart out. Let's not talk about this anymore. Go back to enjoying the fancy, professional cake and celebrating the talented baker. Leave me to my cracked countertop covered in stale flour and rotten eggs and bland frosting. I never said anything worth listening to. I'm not sure I ever have.

No more self-pity after this, back to being a silly bozo as usual. Thanks for reading all this gunk if you bothered to for whatever reason. Y'all have a nice day. Better than mine, hopefully

[balemouns]

[SHARE A COFFEE]⠀/⠀"so this is where you're from." the stoneheart is a picture of skillful smiles and adroit fluency as he slides into the leather-cushioned booth against the wall of the cozy cafe, steaming cup and saucer in hand. the large window beside them provides ample light, presenting a wide-angle view of the commercial street corner outside, yet fixed with good enough insulation to let in none of the sound.

visible. cozy. quaint. he's actually never been much of a coffee shop patron, but there's always a first time for everything when seeing new sights.

"it feels a little different from you, doesn't it. of course, i don't mean that as a bad thing——plenty of people don't resemble their homelands much." once the latte's reached a nicer temperature, he lifts the cup and takes a shallow sip, blowing lightly across the surface. the fluff of air and whipped cream wobbles. hm. too much sugar.

"anyway, i've since learned that you run an orphanage here in fontaine. suddenly a lot of things from that temple make sense. that young magician——lyney——i think i understand things a little better now. you must have a really extraordinary institution."

it's been far too long since she last encountered her unlikely ally -- nearly two seasons ago, in fact, with winter approaching. even by a window, the light inside the café is dimmer than the outside patio, but surroundings are also quieter, better for asking questions. what brings him back here, now? if he's truly from beyond the stars, what value can be taken from teyvat?... and, of course, there's only so much she can offer, for whatever value his organization's superior technology can offer. arlecchino stirs her own coffee mindlessly as he settles in --- his second comment almost prompts an offer to clarify something she suspects he's been wondering about for some time. "ah... well, to belong in a particular place is a luxury only some of the children in my organization can afford. lyney is lucky to count himself amongst those children," and she herself is not one of them. nevertheless, to address the third, "...the house of the hearth offers home for any child missing it, no matter the capacity in which it is needed. but from what you've described, it sounds like you've learned more about what we are, or what we do."

a glance out the window, then down to her coffee. this time, it is dark, only a touch of sugar added that has long-since dissolved, despite her own insistent stirring as she thinks. "...it's not just here in fontaine -- the house is in every nation of teyvat. it makes us an invaluable network of information... and yet, despite our reach, I have learned nothing more about you since we last spoke. I assume we're meeting again because your own organization has some interest in teyvat, no...? it can't just be this film festival, mr. aventurine."

[hinamie]

theyre soft your honour

[lynxfrost13]

I promised myself that if I did a solid workout today I would post HOPR lore I’m gonna be here all night 💪😭

[harmcityherald]

I've found a wayward bishop who needs our love and attention. I'm thinking to leave him black but with blood red trim. he will look positively lurid.

[riarnu]

ಠ益ಠ

[chocolate-cream-soldier]

---

[themonkey2025]

can i be honest this shit's so bad it's got me posting in r/bpd to feel for five seconds like other people GET it and i don't have to explain myself

[gree-gon]

i never completed the "sona taking selfies w reborn charas" series i wanted to do after finishing the game :(

i saved saphira for "one of the last ones" bcuz i wanted to do a proper one LMAOO she never got included. its a crime

i got ace in tho so thats good <3

[impossible-rat-babies]

I luv u eyrie and ur funny lil messed up time w love n the echo

[mishy-mashy]

Hi! I noticed you bring up fanfiction every once in a while, so do you have an ao3?

I DO

But the stuff I post here isn't actually written out and posted anywhere else, and my ao3 (posted stories) is pretty bare. Like, I only touch it to read other people's stuff at this point

Everything I do write is OC stuff though, and that's not everyone's jam

The stuff I do post here all comes from my notes for said fic ideas. They're all fleshed out enough that I can write them into proper stories. Like, the whole plot is figured out, I know where to end, character perspectives, all that jazz. I just don't write them out, since I don't have that motivation, and the stories would end up huge

I don't like posting the actual stories either. People have asked for updates on the new chapters I just put down, and I've run into a lot of copy-pasters. Even the few things I have on ao3 is having a mimic somewhere. So I otherwise keep everything to myself, or post little things here

I've been going through my past stuff lately to reorganize. It's fun. Even if they're old (some are over 5 years old), I find little gems that surprise me like these

(Unordinary; Re:Zero; BNHA)

Like- they aren't that bad. That's surprising. How old are these things???

[sammygender]

the thing thats always missing in conversations about gender in general is the fact that 'cis', as an identity, is not a innate Thing Some People Are, but rather a state of acceptance society grooms us into from birth

[gayleafpool]

I stopped reading warriors after omen of the stars wrapped up but I’ve always been a big Leafpool fan. You’re telling me she does the same way they fake-killed Hollyleaf???

ITS INSANE and actually i would have thought it was an interesting way for her to die but the main issue i have with her death is that she was killed in a novella as a opposed 2 in a main series book which is insane to me bc she was a major protag of the second arc. the erins have literally never killed off a major pov character in a side book before and it makes me so mad. they hate leafpool so bad 😭

[homophyte]

mmhhgm 2 AM thinking about HRT…………..perhaps my urgency is influenced by the belief that my transness only becomes acceptable after certain parameters are met and that it is in some way inappropriate to present myself as a trans person while being pretransition . something radical about the exposure of the whole process instead of being one of those instagram transes who pop into existence 7 years on T and post top surgery