#le grand cri | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr Inc. has $15.1M in annual revenue.

sabbathsermon · 1 year

Text

2. L'augmentation du grand cri (avec questions et réponses)

2. L’augmentation du grand cri (avec questions et réponses)

Deuxième étude de notre conférence à distance du 1 au 3 août 2022, à Tahiti. 2. L’augmentation du grand cri Par John Thiel, pdf Lecture biblique : Apocalypse 18:1 Après cela, je vis descendre du ciel un autre ange, qui avait un grand pouvoir. La terre fut éclairée de sa gloire. 2 Et il cria avec force et à grande voix, et dit: Elle est tombée, elle est tombée, Babylone la grande, et elle est…

View On WordPress

#1888 #1893 #1896 #appel à sortir #églises protestantes #chute de Babylone #deux partis #l&039;autre ange #le grand cri #le grand cri du troisième ange #le grand cri final

0 notes

nahkyl · 6 days

Text

The foul on Ethan I screamed like he’s my own baby brother 😭

#ethan Mbappé #le même cri que le grand frère 😭

2 notes · View notes

loeilafaim · 8 months

Text

Ce qui s'est passé à la Cave Poésie, dimanche

de Toulouse, ce week-end, c’est un tirage de tarot poétique par Madame Sarah, alias Sarah Freynet, metteuse en scène d’En Compagnie des barbares. Tarot des fétiches, dessiné par Karine Marco, écrit par Sarah Freynet et Ana Tod. Sarah Feynet qui a aussi mis en scène cri & co de Christophe Macquet… Ce qui s’est aussi passé, ce sont les retrouvailles avec l’auteur de cri & co et de Dâh, dans la…

View On WordPress

#Ana Tod #Aurelio Diaz Ronda #Brother #Cave Poésie #Christophe Macquet #Cri & co #En compagnie des Barbares #Karine Marco #Karine Monneau #Le Grand Os #Sarah Freynet #tarot des fétiches #Ulysse Guyot

0 notes

maitre123 · 2 years

Text

PARFUM VAUDOU D'AMOUR DOUBLE-ACTION MAÎTRE MEDIUM MARABOUT VOYANT SORCIER PAPA OROGAN DU MONDE,MARABOUT AU MONDE ,MARABOUT DISPONIBLE...

PARFUM VAUDOU D’AMOUR DOUBLE-ACTION MAÎTRE MEDIUM MARABOUT VOYANT SORCIER PAPA OROGAN DU MONDE,MARABOUT AU MONDE ,MARABOUT DISPONIBLE…

PARFUM VAUDOU D’AMOUR DOUBLE-ACTION MAÎTRE MEDIUM MARABOUT VOYANT SORCIER PAPA OROGAN DU MONDE,MARABOUT AU MONDE ,MARABOUT DISPONIBLE, LE PARFUM PUISSANT ,LA COMPOSITION DU PARFUM DISPONIBLE A DISTANCE ,PAYEZ SON PARFUM AU CHOIX, PARFUM EFFICACE DU GRAND MARABOUT OROGAN AU +229 91 32 34 67 OU 53 83 81 14 Voici un ensemble des parfums basé sur l’équilibre des polarités des plus efficace dans le…

View On WordPress

0 notes

goldsainz · 1 year

Text

THE ERAS TOUR — one shot.

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

MASTERLIST.

NOTE: this is fully to ignore the fact that i probably will not see taylor in argentina bc the chances of getting tickets are insane, which is okay (i already cried my eyes out) — still doesn't make it hurt any less — but i have hope another opportunity will come! nicki is amazing and after yesterday’s race (forza ferrari fr) all ferrari fans need a pick me up. enjoy this random fic!! this is kinda all over the place, but we move (italics = translation)

iked by charles_leclerc, taylorswift and 1,476,038 others

yourusername QUE?? chicos yo no puedo creer esto... ABRO EL SHOW PARA TAYLOR SWIFT!! esto es un sueño cumplido y mucho más... les dejo esta foto de cuando me enteré sobre esto hace unos meses 🙃

WHAT?? guys i cannot believe this... I OPEN TAYLOR SWIFT'S SHOW!! this is a dream come true and so much more... i leave you this picture of when i found out about this a couple months ago 🙃

view all 22,140 comments

taylorswift You are gonna kill this!!! 💕✨😁

⤷ yoursername estoy llorando!!! te amo 🤍 i'm crying!!! i love you

ynfan1 I LITERALLY DIED DEAD

taylorfan1 when world's collide... i need tickets rn

ynfan2 argentina >>

charles_leclerc So incredibly proud of you ❤️ ps: I took that picture while she face-timed me 😉

⤷ yourusername let's all thank charles

⤷ ynfan3 thank you!!

charlesfan1 don't know how ¡'m gonna get tickets... but i will

ynfan4 im broke but never broke enough for taylor and y/n

ynfan5 verla irse internacional me pone contentísima seeing her go international makes me so happy

liked by taylornation, mariabecerra and 1,392,674 others

yourusername méxico, fuiste mágico! siguiente parada, argentina 🇦🇷 no puedo esperar para cantar en mi país!! los amo tanto, esta oportunidad sin ustedes no sería posible ❤️‍🩹

mexico, you were magical! next stop, argentina 🇦🇷 i can't wait to sing in my country!! i love you so much, this opportunity would not be possible without you ❤️‍🩹

view all 20,891 comments

ynfan21 KILLED IT!!!!!!

charles _leclerc Even though I couldn't make it, I always go where you go, this time it was by watching every clip I could find. Words cannot describe how proud I am of you, amour

⤷ yoursername i'm so lucky to have you!! te amoo i love youu

charlesfan21 the fact that taylor played ciwyw, sweet nothing and cornelia street for her and charles... now that's true love

charlesfan22 missing her at the races

ynfan22 PODER VERLA FUE LO MEJOR QUE ME PASO!!! BEING ABLE TO SEE HER WAS THE BEST THING THAT HAPPENED TO ME!!!

charlesfan23 charles's comments keep my hope for true love alive

ynfan23 LA AMO I LOVE HER

charlesfan24 need to see her live

liked by ynfan31, charlesfan31 and 28,576 others

ynupdates Y/N at the Monza Grand Prix 03/09

view all 429 comments

ynfan32 SERVING LOOKS

ynfan33 best couple ever cause she’s on break and still travelling to see charles

user31 her and rosalia together is everything to me

charlesfan32 i need pics of them together NOW.

user32 rauw being cropped is killing me

ynfan34 mother is mothering fr

charlesfan33 her presence is the good luck ferrari needs

liked by ynupdates and 1,037 others

liked by scuderiaferrari, carmenmmundt and 2,185,703 others

yoursername CONGRATULATIONS!!! it never fails to amaze me just how talented you are, the year started rough but you pushed forward!! P1 is everything you hoped for and more, but no matter the result, i will always cheer you on

view all 32,785 comments

user41 IF MY PARTNER ISN'T THIS SUPPORTIVE, I DON'T WANT IT

scuderiaferrari Thank you, Y/N, for your endless support!

charles_leclerc Thank you for supporting me and letting me hug you when I'm soaked in champagne!

yoursername always, mi amor 🫶 my love

ynfan41 THE CARDIGANS ARE SOOO CUTE

charlesfan41 the fact that when y/n goes he drives like there’s no tomorrow

ynfan42 idk but y/n ignoring ferrari's comment is kind badass…..

⤷ charlesfan42 after all the shit they put him through it's well deserved

charlesfan43 THERE IS HOPE FOR FERRARI AFTER ALL

ynfan43 alguien que me consiga una relación asi someone get me a relationship like this

charlesfan44 y/n is just like us fr, ignoring ferrari and loving

liked by sabrinacarpenter, landonorris and 2,504,781 other

yourusername que ciudad tan mágica que es buenos aires! nunca me sentí tan amada en mi país como en esas horitas que compartimos!! gracias por las pulseritas de amistad que me dieron, no me las saco nunca más 💞💞

what a magical city that is buenos aires! i never felt so loved in my country as i did in those hours we shared!! thank you for all the friendship bracelets you gave me, i will never take them off 💞💞

view all 37,568 comments

charles_leclerc Never met someone that made me feel the things I feel, you are the one for me. Cannot wait to see you after so long and have you in my arms, watching a livestream to see you perform will do for now. I love you, so much, mon chéri ❤️

⤷ yourusername i just shed a couple tears... te amo tanto 🫶🥹 i love you so much

ynfan51 charles's comment... the highway looks so nice rn

ynfan52 REINA LA ROMPISTE!!!! QUEEN YOU KILLED IT

charlesfan51 lover is actually about them, taylor told me herself

orianasabatini llore cuando te vi!! sos una genia, hermosa 🤩 i cried when i saw you!!! you are a genius, beautiful

liked by yourusername and 26,930 others

charlesfan52 CHARLES YOU BETTER TREAT HER WELL

⤷ ynfan53 after the comment that he left there is no doubt

user51 entre que la vi a taylor y a ella 2 veces, mi vida esta completa!! between seeing taylor and her 2 times, my life is complete!!

ynfan54 nothing will ever top seeing her live

606 notes · View notes

secretmellowblog · 3 months

Text

Anyone who has a copy of the Julie Rose translation of Les Mis— can you help me explore a grand baloney cover up conspiracy?

In Les Mis Volume 1 Book 6 Chapter 2, Jean Valjean is expressing confusion at Javert. In some editions of the Julie Rose translation, he says

“What is all this baloney?”

While in other editions of the Rose translation he says:

“What is all this garbage?”

They took away our baloney! The government has stolen our baloney! We’re not allowed to call Javert’s baloney what it is!

I’m trying to find out what editions of Rose use which translation— Can you open up your Rose translation and let me know whether you have “baloney” or “garbage?” (The Kindle version I own has “garbage,” while another ebook version I own has “baloney.”)

Again: you’ll find it in Volume 1 book 6 Chapter 2, “how Jean can turn into Champ.” It’s towards the beginning of the scene, right after Javert orders Madeleine to dismiss him but before he reveals he denounced Madeleine to the prefecture.

“So that’s it! Why?” cried Monsieur Madeleine. “What is all this baloney? What are you trying to say? How has a criminal act been committed against me by you? What have you done to me? What wrong have you done me? You accuse yourself, you wish to be replaced—”

You can help solve the mystery of #baloneygate

#we’ve been causally losin our minds over this in the Les mis letters server #BALONEYGATE #Les mis #Les mis letters #signal boost #translation

77 notes · View notes

lisaalmeida · 4 months

Text

Vivre en femme solitaire permet parfois de mieux trouver son chemin. Il existe des lieux reculés de nous-mêmes que nous n'avons pas encore habités. Le plus souvent ils recèlent les remous de l'âme, les larmes de tristesse ou des cris de rage. Ces lieux reculés ressemblent à une grotte et lorsque nous y entrons pour la première fois, il n'est pas rare de voir s'envoler un oiseau blessé qui avait trouvé refuge et qui redécouvre à l'instant qu'il sait voler.

— Monique Grande

75 notes · View notes

juliantheupsidedown · 11 months

Text

petit ange // leclerc family

this is a soft launch before the main part. maybe it will even grow into a series? I fell in love while I was doing it

it can be considered a kind of prologue. directed more to indicate the relationship between siblings leclerc

enjoy it! and be sure to let me know what you think about it

instagram edit

aurelie_leclerc

📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

Liked by lorenzotl, arthur_leclerc, and 27,934 others

aurelie_leclerc les derniers jours de la maison avant le premier grand voyage dans une nouvelle vie (the last days at home before the first big journey into a new life)

View all 45 comments

gg_giadagianni tu me manques déjà beaucoup (i miss you so much already)

aurelia_leclerc like your comments ❤️

arthur_leclerc i can't believe that a part of me will be at a distance of 10 thousand kilometres for most months of the year, disgusting! 😮‍💨

aurelie_leclerc no matter what distance separates us, you are always a part of me, and i am you

lorenzotl fier de toi et terriblement manqué (i'm proud of you and i miss you terribly)

leclerc_pascale mon petit ange ❤️

charles_leclerc come home soon

august 1, 2018

aurelie_leclerc

Liked by leclerc_pascale, charlottesiine, and 35,024 others

aurelie_leclerc I still can't believe I missed his entire first season in Formula One. je suis si fier de toi, grand frère ❤️ (I'm so very proud of you, big brother)

tagged charles_leclerc

View all 67 comments

charles_leclerc You should definitely visit Austin next year, miette ❤️

aurelie_leclerc Of course I'll be there!

leclercfans We are incredibly looking forward to seeing you in the paddock next year!

december 2, 2018

aurelie_leclerc

Liked by lorenzotl, charles_leclerc, and 49,731 others

aurelie_leclerc I'm not the one crying the night before the first class of the new semester, because my older brother won at Monza 😭❤️

View all 207 comments

lerlecrfam She's such a proud sister, I can't now I'm crying again

charleslecfans the fact that Aurelia watches all the races live despite the huge time difference. CAN I HAVE A SISTER LIKE THAT?

september 8, 2019

lorenzotl

Liked by valentinesine, leclerc_pascale, and 469,270 others

lorenzotl SHE DID IT! I can't describe in words how proud I am of her, she proved to everyone - first of all to herself that she is worthy of it! And it was worth the tears we endured, the late-night Facetime calls in which she drops out of university and returns home, the terrible and difficult exams. My heart is overflowing with joy for my princess. I love you incredibly much, Aura. Nous sommes fiers de toi! (We are proud of you)

tagged aurelie_leclerc

View all 439 comments

leclerc_pascale Papa est très fier de toi, petit ange! (Dad is very proud of you, little angel!)

aurelie_leclerc maman 😭

charlottesiine félicitations, chérie! tu es si bien (congratulations, dear! you're so good)

aurelia_leclerc like your comments ❤️

arthur_leclerc I always knew you wanted to spray everyone with champagne, sis. je t'aime et je suis très fier (i love you and i am very proud)

famleclerc congratulations on completing your studies and returning home! we've missed you

f1lclercgirl Aurelia who sprays champagne like her brothers. I'm pretty sure that all these years she was jealous of them and wanted to repeat this trick 🥂

aurelia_leclerc like your comments ❤️

charles_leclerc I'm so sorry that on one of the most important days in your life we weren't there. But I am incredibly proud of you, knowing how much you had to go through, miette. my heart is overflowing with pride for you. And I can't wait to meet you at home ❤️

justlecgirl I cried for the second time from Charles' comment. can I have such a relationship with my brothers?

june 27, 2022

aurelie_leclerc

Liked by charlottesiine, felipedrugovich, and 504,761 others

aurelie_leclerc Happy birthday to my soul, my mind, my heart, the male version of me. I was lucky to be born with this handsome man on the same day and to be his pillow sister from birth. From the first second of my life, I'm a fan of his. and I'm incredibly proud of everything he does and was able to do! you are my support, my twin brother 🫶🏻

tagged arthur_leclerc

View all 863 comments

lerlecrfam Happy birthday to the most wonderful twins!

leclercfans this collection of photos! I'M SO EMOTIONAL. happy birthday

valentinesine joyeux anniversaire, bébé. je t'aime beaucoup (happy birthday, baby. i love you very much)

charles_leclerc happy birthday, miette

f1fanmac are we really going to ignore the fact that Felipe liked the post?

october 14, 2022

arthur_leclerc

Liked by leclerc_pascale, lorenzotl, and 724,049 others

arthur_leclerc I'm so happy because she chose me as her older twin brother. happy birthday 🤍

View all 634 comments

famleclerc I feel that Arthur has deprived us of congratulations this year

mclarengim I think this is due to the fact that Aurelia is finally at home and he personally congratulated her, now there are not 10 thousand kilometers between them

leclerc_pascale mes petits anges, joyeux anniversaire (my little angels, happy birthday)

aurelie_leclerc I wish I had a choice. If I could, I would choose Charles as a twin. happy birthday, Arti

arthur_leclerc A dagger right in my heart on MY birthday

aurelie_leclerc *our birthday

felipedrugovich happy birthday 🎂

asstonmmartin omg Felipe appeared HERE TOO?!

october 14, 2022

#au #social media au #charles leclerc #arthur leclerc #lorenzo leclerc #charles leclerc instagram edit #arthur leclerc instagram edit #charles leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc imagine #felipe drugovich #felipe drugovich imagine #leclerc!reader #f1 imagine #f2 imagine

236 notes · View notes

k-koriikorner · 8 months

Text

DAY 2 - PRAISE

kinktober 2023. - masterlist |

warnings. - gn! reader,, dom-ish!sanji,, french dialogue, reader speaks some french but has no distinguished race,, also some what short

♠︎sanji vinsmoke...

These things were simple, normal nights turned in the nights of pure passion between you and Sanji. You never cease to be amazed at how good he was at these things, despite the well known fact of him being a womanizer. All that stopped though, once he was able to have your warm body against his very own, without the fear of you pushing him away.

A series of events and an intricate collection landed you in the position you're in now. Beneath Sanji, taking every he gives you, as he pushes his pulsing, erect member into the farthest reaches of your canal. ,, hnn, you feel 's good-HAH, right ther' Sanji pleas',,

His length reached into the depths of your canal, dragging deliciously in and you of your tight entrance. The tight pull of your trench sending him nearly toppling towards you, the friction enough to send him into a frenzy. He prided himself at being a gentleman though, and opted at keeping a steady pace unless you so wished him to fasten his pace and increase your overall pleasure.

Sanji laid above you, his lanky but equally strong arms holding him up, his sky blue eyes locking onto your ethereal body beneath him. He loved having you in this position, having you babbling below him, is endearing pillow princex. Your hair, how ever long or short it was and any head covering beginning removed, lay in a halo beneath you, shifting at every thrust he made with his slick hips, covered with the evidence of your and his enjoyment.

A squelching sound began to pick up in volume from beneath your two bodies and so did your whines. The sweet sounds you were making fueled Sanji to speed up his pace, the angle of his member pushed into your gummy walls, the faint rocking on the ship pushing his hips just a little deep.

You reached a warm hand towards Sanji's cheek, he turned his head to the side to catch the hand in a kiss. ,, Mi... amor, lo estás haciendo tan bien,... tan lleno... te llenas tan bien!,, (my love, you're doing so well...so full...you fill me up so good!)

Sanji's member twitched inside of you at the realization of you speaking in his mother's tongue, and once again at the sound of your praise. Yes, Sanji has been praised and complimented for many things, mainly his cooking- but the sound of you praising him during your most intimate moments felt like a angelic hymn from your plump lips. No amount of mermaid melodies could match the enticing chime of your voice, shivers of ecstasy trailed through his abs to his member buried inside of you. A desperate whine leaving his pink lips as he gazed down at you, sky blue pearls locking onto your half lidded ones.

,,encore une fois, ma douce, dis-le encore...s'il te plaît,, (once again my sweet, say it again...please) The increase in his pace did not go unnoticed as you cried out his name at the delicious pace. The feeling of his hips rubbing against your sensitive hips, sending you into overdrive. ,,You're always so good to me- hnm...tu es si grand,, (you're so big)

Bending down to the shell of your ear, warm breath with the scent of faint cigarette smoke and bay leaves fanned the right side of your face. His pace rapidly increased, thrusting a mile a minute, your body begins to rock with every thrust. Subconsciously pulling away from his warmth, his ever encroaching thrusts- but the drag of his cock felt too enticing, the feel of his warm slightly calloused hands on either side of your waist grounded you. ,,encore une fois mon cœur... s'il te plaît, dis-le encore!,, (once again my heart, please say it again)

,,Sanj-Sanji!, tu te sens si bien, trop bien..., close 'm...so close,, (you feel so good, too good)

,,One more time mon amour, je promets que je te comblerai, je promets,, (my love, I promise I will satisfy you, I promise) Your hips began to move in sync with every jolt of his hips, stuttering at times when it became too much. Sanji lowered his face towards you heated neck, your heartbeat practically jumping from your supple skin. For a moment his last request slipped for your mind, the thoughts of you mind seemed to drift away as your lower body began to feel a hot, heavy pressure building up. A hand crept up the valleys of his back towards the nape of his neck, before finally resting, in his golden locks. Before giving them a harsh tug, drawing a pornographic moan from his glazed lips.

,, Sanji I love you, Je t'aime tellement... I... Je ne peux plus tenir,, (I love you so much...I...I can't hold on anymore)

,, Je..Je t'aime aussi ma douce- Hah!,, (I... I love you too my sweet) His voice gave out by the end of his sentence as he left you constricting around him, his member pulsed once more before white sticky ropes began shooting into your canal. You tightened your hold on Sanji as she pumped you a few times, riding out both of your highs.

Sanji gazed down at your spent body, that same otherworldly he loved to see after a night under the sheets, reflecting from your skin. He kneeled down to place a kiss to your forehead before slowly pulling out, softly shushing you at the sound of your soft whine.

Sanji walked to the built in bathroom and drew a bath for the both of you. Returning to retrieve you he blushed at the sight of your and his arousal leaving your previously occupied hole. He slowly walked towards you, gently lifting you up before beginning his routine of after care but not before you greeted his left cheek with a kiss.

#one piece #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #sanji fanfic #sanji x gn reader #sanji x black reader #black leg sanji #op fanfic #op x reader #x reader #k koriiwrites

96 notes · View notes

blurredcolour · 6 months

Text

Lavender's Blue, Lavender's Green

[One-shot]

Lewis Nixon x Enlisted!Female Reader

After you wind up injured in a freak accident, your relationship with Captain Nixon is forever altered.

Warnings: MAJOR Canon Divergence, Minor Reader Injury, Detailed Descriptions of Pain, Language, Alcohol Consumption, Weapons, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Oblique References to Nixon's Alcoholism and Infidelity, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [oral sex - m/f receiving, unprotected vaginal sex] - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: Self-indulgent canon divergence with little explanation ahead, read at your own risk. Some liberties were taken in describing reader's family life/personal history for the sake of plot. No physical descriptions or y/n used. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 8358

-------------------------

The floorboards creaked beneath your jump boots as you followed O’Keefe into the backroom of the half-destroyed café in Thalem. You could hear the strains of a string quartet rising from the square below, and the conversation between Luz and Nixon a few rooms over. O’Keefe had shown up as a replacement during Easy’s second stay in Mourmelon-le-Grand, wide-eyed and eager to get his hands dirty. The rest of you had just been glad to make it out of Haguenau alive.

But there was something about the naïve boy that reminded you of your little brother back home, the youngest of four siblings born after you, last to join the party, the most eager to experience life when the rest of you were all jaded by the loss of your mother during his birth. Add in the fact that you too had been a replacement once, joined Easy in Aldbourne for Operation Market Garden – one of twenty-seven women selected as the first female paratroopers to join the 506th – and you had felt a certain protectiveness over the kid. Which was why you found yourself watching over him now, even in this relatively harmless town.

Another groan of wood had your eyes flicking to the floor, something about the pitch of the slats not sitting right with you, but before you could open your mouth to warn him, there was an ominous ‘crack’ beneath O’Keefe. He let out a horrific shriek as the boards beneath him began to give way and you lunged forward, snapping out your left hand to grab onto any part of him you could. Seizing him by the back of the collar of his ODs, you landed flat on your stomach with a grunt with O’Keefe dangling through the newly created hole in the floor. Your helmet tumbled from your head, bouncing off his and crashing onto the tiles below.

Your arm was aching under the strain of his body weight but as you tried to spread some of the load onto your second hand, you realized the butt of your rifle was jammed between the floor and your body, pinning your right arm against you by the strap over your shoulder. The sound of multiple sets of boots running into the room was quickly followed by several pairs of hands pressing against your calves, bracing you to keep you from following O’Keefe through the hole.

“I gotta let you go, Patty.” You grit out. “It’s not far, ok?” You assured him, able to see through the ragged gap in the wood that he was dangling only a few feet from the floor below.

His response was not what you were hoping for. “Don’t let me fall!” He cried out, looking up to you with wide, calf-like eyes. “Please don’t let me go!” He began to clutch at your arm, flailing his legs as though he wanted to climb back up.

His body swung like a pendulum, bouncing and jerking before ultimately wrenching your strained shoulder from its socket and careless words born of pain from your lips.

“Augh! Jesus Christ, you fucking meatball! It’s only two feet! Let go!” You cried out, clenching your eyes shut against the blinding pain, your grip failing as your arm started to go numb.

He continued to whimper nonsensically and thrash about as heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs followed by a set of lighter ones.

“Let go of her you fucking meatball!” You heard Perconte snap at O’Keefe from below and cracked your stinging eyes open to see that Bull had seized the boy around the waist, the thrashing finally stilling before the weight of him was released from your limb as, at last, he let go of your arm.

Relief tingled through you, though did nothing to lessen the raw ache in your shoulder. Afraid to move, afraid to inhale more than tiny sips of air lest you fan the flames of pain, you laid perfectly still with your arm outstretched toward the ground below.

“What a fucking meatball.” You heard Luz giggle from behind you as he stepped forward. “Let’s get you up.” His voice grew closer as he leaned forward.

Mortifying as it was, laying there in denial was not going to make the agony end. Taking a shaky breath, you asked quietly. “George, can you go find Doc, please?” You were hoping not to arouse the suspicions of Webster, Liebgott, and Nixon who were somewhere in the room still. At least one pair of hands was still firmly gripping your calves.

“Uh, the meatball is fine, I mean Bull might tear him a new one but…” He trailed off as you turned your head slowly to look up at him, brow furrowing as lances of pain pierced your neck and shoulder. It felt as though someone were pouring boiling water down the sleeve of your uniform.

“For me, please.” You clarified, perspiration dotting your skin under the strain of masking your discomfort.

The room fell silent, whatever Liebgott and Webster had been bickering about forgotten as Luz shoved his way past them and shot out of the room. You felt the pressure against your calves ease up before Nixon was kneeling on the floor next to you, features etched with concern. “Where are you hurt?”

“Left shoulder.” You exhaled, swallowing at the way his eyes ricocheted over your prone form.

“Think you can get up for me?” He asked, his voice enticingly soft, making your heart skip a few beats as you felt suddenly willing to try anything he might ask of you so long as he kept speaking like that.

“Maybe?”

The smile he awarded you with filled your stomach with bubbling effervescence. “Good, let’s get this out of the way first.” He carefully extracted your M1 from beneath your hip before sliding it off your good shoulder, handing it off to one of the other men in the room.

Sliding his arm around your waist, he started to lift your torso from the floor, punching the air from your lungs painfully. Gnawing on the inside of your cheek viciously you did everything you could not cry out in pain. You were not the first woman in Easy to get hurt – Esther had been hit by shrapnel from a tree in Bastogne and Pearl had been shot during Dike’s disastrous assault on Foy. Both had been awarded a purple heart. You were just a girl who’d tried to hold too much weight – there would be no medal for you, so it would be best not to make a scene.

“Shit you must be in so much pain, I’m sorry.” Nixon grumbled, seemingly at a loss as to how to get your arm out of that hole and you into a more comfortable position.

Roe’s voice downstairs broke through the haze of pain, and you clenched your teeth, willing yourself to hold on a little longer as you heard him hurry up the stairs.

“You two, out.” He said firmly to Liebgott and Webster who left without comment before his hands came to rest on your hips, pulling you backwards. “Bend ya knees for me, that’s it, good job.” He spoke calmly as he worked with Nixon to lift you up into a kneeling position well away from the hole in the floor.

As your left arm drooped, your right hand quickly moved to support it in more or less the position it had been when O’Keefe’s movements had pulled it out of place. A millimetre of movement in any direction had you whimpering pathetically in the back of your throat despite your best efforts to keep the sound sealed behind your lips.

“What’s going on?” Roe asked as he knelt in front of you, taking in the way you were supporting your arm before he started to undo your ODs and then your wool shirt beneath.

“It’s my shoulder, Doc.”

He nodded as he carefully pulled open the collar to take a look, his fingers skimming along the skin of your shoulder and the strap of your undershirt. As they honed in on the hollow where your joint ought to be, you let out a yelp and nearly keeled over backward at the searing pain, grateful as Nixon pressed a hand to your lower back to keep you upright.

“Yeah it is. It’s out of joint.” Roe confirmed the sneaking suspicion you’d had.

There had been something agonizingly familiar about the whole thing, taking you back to a hot summer day when you were ten years old, riding your father’s new horse despite his explicit instructions to wait for him to be done in the field before you tried to mount it. The horse’s black coat had shone almost purple in the sunlight of the afternoon, warm to the touch as the barely broken-in animal had suffered no more than one lap around the paddock before bucking you from its back.

The force with which you had struck the ground had dislocated your left shoulder that day, and the drive into town to see the doctor had been a torturous thirty minutes during which every jolt and bump had sent pain shooting through your body. But as soon as the doctor had put it back in place, the relief had been almost immediate.

“You can put it back, right?” You asked hoping to avoid transport somewhere like this.

“Yeah, I can.” Doc smiled softly and started digging through his satchel. “Let’s get ya some morphine first, alrigh’?”

“Wait, don’t, I’ll be useless.” You said sharply. “It’s just going to hurt when you put it back in, right?”

Roe looked to you with wide eyes, hands stilling before his expression hardened a little. “It’s gonna hurt like hell when I put it back in.” He clarified firmly and you felt Nixon’s hand twitch against your back.

“And then after that I’ll be fine.” You insisted bravely.

Nixon sighed your name, and you turned your head too fast, barely stifling a cry of pain behind trembling lips.

“Maybe you should just let Doc give you the morphine.” He said gently.

“No.” You replied stubbornly despite the fact that he was a ranking officer, turning your face back to Roe more carefully this time. “Just get it over with, please.”

Roe sighed heavily at you, muttering bitterly in French. You caught a word that sounded an awful lot like ‘mule’, but before you could question him about it, he set one hand on your bicep and the other on your forearm. A noise of pain snuck past your lips unbidden, and you clamped your free hand over your mouth as he shot you a knowing look.

“Yer gonna yowl like a goddamn alley cat, take tha morphine.”

You glared up at him stubbornly until he started to move again, bending your arm at the elbow before slowly pushing your bicep in to press along at your ribs. You let out a sob of agony against your palm, aware that the murmur of conversation downstairs had faded away, but helpless to quell your involuntary reactions to Roe’s manipulations of your limb.

You felt Nixon shift at your side, watched his knee slot between yours before he carefully cupped the back of your head to guide your face to press against his neck. Your hand fell to your lap as you burrowed into the collar of his ODs, cheek pressed against his skin, the fabric of his uniform doing a much better job of muffling the sounds of pain spilling from you. His hand sought yours between your bodies, clasping your forearm, and you gripped his tightly in return as Roe turned your left arm out from your body at a ninety-degree angle before pulling downward on your bicep.

A tremendous wail wrenched from your throat with enough force that you anticipated the taste of blood before an audible ‘clunk’ sounded from your left shoulder, resonating through your torso as your joint slid home. The tension melted from your body in an instant as the pain left you, replaced by nothing more than a dull discomfort, slumping against Nixon to take a few deep breaths. Long enough to note the hint of cedar in his aftershave before you remembered yourself.

You had found Captain Nixon handsome from the first moment you’d laid eyes on him, but as he was a married officer with an English mistress you’d also gone above and beyond to steer clear of that mess. Unfortunately, it had done little to dull your body’s natural response to his presence.

Straightening quickly, you frowned to see you’d left wet patches of tear drops on his collar, releasing his hand as though it burned you to try and brush them off.

“It’ll dry just fine.” He assured you warmly and you swallowed thickly, shuffling back a little to turn to Roe.

“Thanks Doc.” You frowned to see him pulling out a sling.

“Jus’ for a few days, can’t have it slippin’ back out.” Roe muttered and unceremoniously wrapped it under your left elbow before tying it behind your neck. “I’ll let Cap’n Speirs know yer on ligh’ duties, he’ll probably send ya up ta Major Winters as a runnah.”

You let out a sigh of relief as hopefully that meant no aid station, no getting separated from the company and lost in some replacement depot. Looking down you frowned at how open the collars of your shirt and OD jacket were and began trying to reassemble yourself one-handed.

“Here.” Nixon offered softly and carefully buttoned you back up to where you usually wore your uniform before he pushed himself to his feet, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you up as well. “Ok?” He asked and you nodded, trying not to notice the way the warmth of his body seeped through your clothes.

“Thank you, sir.” You said quietly and he nodded warmly in reply.

Grabbing his things, he gestured for you to lead the way out of the room, following close behind. As you reached the main floor, Luz held out your helmet which you took with a nod of thanks, putting it on your head before retrieving your rifle from Liebgott. You could hear Perconte continuing to give O’Keefe shit outside and you frowned deeply, making a beeline for the sound of his voice.

“Hey! I’m fucking fine, knock it off.” You barked tersely before you were beckoned over by Captain Speirs.

The sound of an explosion further up the road had your eyes fluttering open, the ruined village of Thalem dissolving into the sun-drenched back of a transport truck parked on the autobahn in Bavaria just outside the SS resort town of Berchtesgaden that 2nd Battalion was supposed to be taking. You’d been sitting here for at least twenty minutes now, the road blocked by a no-doubt man made rockslide that so far had proven impervious to everything the mortar boys had thrown at it.

Just what had pulled your thoughts back to that afternoon several weeks past you couldn’t say, though it was not the first time you had found your mind wandering there during a lull in activity. In fact, it had become harder and harder to find a time when you were not thinking about Nixon, much to your chagrin. It was not good for your health, even though his impending divorce had become very public knowledge nearly two months ago.

A palpable tension had been born between the two of you that day in Thalem, something you were certain others could sense as you’d spent two weeks at Battalion HQ, running into him more often than ever before. Averted gazes, stiffened postures, cleared throats – neither of you quite knew how to behave around each other anymore when interaction had been so natural and inconsequential before. Something had been changed that day in the café and there was no going back to the way it had been previously.

Shifting higher on the wooden bench you noted a couple of the guys in your platoon were dozing in the truck with you but everyone else seemed to have emptied out to watch impatiently as though the pressure of the entire battalion’s eyes might send the rocks cascading the rest of the way down the mountainside. The scuff of jump boots on pavement pulled your attention to the rear of the vehicle and you smiled to see O’Keefe approaching.

“Hey Patty, got tired of watching the blast boys?” You smirked and offered him a hand to pull him up, swallowing at his hesitation. “Come on, I’m fine I told you.” You chided gently.

He took it carefully and allowed you to help him into the truck and that’s when you noticed his helmet tucked under his arm, filled with wildflowers of all sorts of colours. Your breath hitched in your throat as the sight smacked of summertime at home, a dart of nostalgia and longing piercing through the layers of armor you had carefully layered over your heart to make it through this war.

His eyes followed yours and he beamed as he plonked down on the bench beside you. “There’s tons of ‘em just growing alongside the road. I thought you might like some.”

Looking to him softly you took his proffered helmet, setting it in your lap as you looked them all over, picking up a particularly vibrant purple one. “They’re beautiful, thank you.” You murmured distantly, practically transported by something so simple as wildflowers.

“Do you think that one is lavender?”

A snort from the back of the truck announced Liebgott’s return and you glanced over to see him leaning against the grill of the transport parked behind yours.

“Lavender grows in France, not Bavaria.” Webster corrected O’Keefe, tucking his notebook into his pocket before hopping up to sit on the bench across from the pair of you.

“Isn’t there that song about lavender, though? Lavender’s purple, billy billy?” Perconte squeezed in beside O’Keefe, crowding his personal space.

Ignoring their usual antics, you smiled softly to yourself, hands began to move from muscle memory as plucking the longest stemmed flower you could find before carefully winding the purple flower around it, repeating the process over and over as you started to sing.

“Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, lavender’s green”

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s the song!” O’Keefe declared brightly.

“Shut the fuck up, meatball.” Perconte hissed through gritted teeth, elbowing him sharply so you would keep singing.

“When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so ‘Twas my own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so”

Unaware that your voice was carrying across the rockface of the mountainside, you were lost in the chain of flowers you were weaving from O’Keefe’s helmet, the verses coming back to you easily after years of singing them to your younger siblings.

“Call up your men, dilly dilly, put them to work Some to the plow, dilly dilly, some to the fork Some to make hay, dilly dilly, some to cut corn While you and I, dilly dilly, keep ourselves warm”

A hush fell over the valley, even the mortar team ceasing their attempts to break through. It was not the first time they’d heard you sing, you knew all the verses to ‘Blood on the Risers’ and happily shouted them along with the rest of the Company, but it was the first time you’d sung in such a feminine way before. You’d found the most expedient way to integrate into Easy was to be one of the boys, yet here you were, reminding each and every one of them that you were a woman.

“Lavender’s green, dilly dilly, lavender’s blue If you love me, dilly dilly, I will love you Let the birds sing, dilly dilly, and the lambs play We shall be safe, dilly dilly, out of harm’s way

I love to dance, dilly dilly, I love to sing When I am queen, dilly dilly, you’ll be my king Who told me so, dilly dilly, who told me so I told myself, dilly dilly, I told me so”

As you finished the song, you curled the chain of blooms into a circle and wove it closed with several stems before turning to place it on O’Keefe’s head, blinking as it slipped down over his eyes. A chorus of harsh laughter at his expense broke out around you and you huffed in annoyance.

“Oh shoot, Patty, I put too many flowers in there, sorry about that. I’ll make you a new one.” You gently pried it off his head, setting the large crown aside before setting to work on a smaller one as the sound of a jeep could be heard coming up the road.

You’d barely put the finishing touches on the smaller crown of flowers when Speirs was ordering everyone to form up into their platoons and O’Keefe had to vanish. Mortifyingly, you found yourself standing on the pavement with both circlets clasped carefully in your hand, somehow loathe to leave them in the transport truck to be trampled but also aware that you couldn’t just carry them with you.

“Captain Nixon can look after those for you, Corporal.” Major Winters voice cut through the din of soldiers tramping back and forth to collect their gear and get ready. You turned to see him grinning at you from where he stood leaning against his jeep.

Nixon, for his part, was staring at you with an unreadable look on his face – Confusion? Bewilderment? Shock? Whatever it was it made you want to duck your head shyly, an impulse which you fought hard against as you hustled over to hold out your handmade treasures.

“Thank you very much, sir.” You murmured quietly, swallowing as he hesitated a moment before taking them gingerly, as if they were made of spun glass, while Major Winters watched on with a broad grin. “Sirs.” You saluted and hurried back to your platoon, not wanting to be the cause of any further delay, but still unable to put your finger on just what Nixon’s expression had been.

As it turned out you had quite a bit of time to puzzle it over. After securing the town without incident and cheering on the select few who made it up to the Eagle’s Nest, you ended up on a patrol under Major Winters where he discovered the ruins of Herman Goering’s hunting lodge. Left on guard duty overnight with Patty, you let him ramble on about all the things he wanted to see and do now that the war in Germany was practically over while you quietly tried to decipher the enigma that was Nixon.

Straightening from your lean against the stucco wall as you heard the sound of an engine approaching down the rather rough road, you swallowed painfully to see the man himself, posture quite relaxed as he cradled an open bottle of champagne.

“What is this place?” He asked as he climbed from the vehicle, dressed only in the wool shirt and pants of his uniform.

“Herman Goering’s house, we discovered it yesterday. Had it on double guard ever since.” Major Winters replied.

You nodded in greeting as they walked past you, though Nixon’s sunglasses made it even more impossible to interpret his mood than that last time you’d seen him.

“I can vouch for that, sir.” O’Keefe interjected quickly and you tried not to wince at his endearing awkwardness.

“Oh, anxious to get off duty, O’Keefe?” Winters taunted him.

“No, there’s just so much to see and do, sir.” The boy replied honestly, and you heard Nixon scoff under his breath as Winters unlocked the door.

“Heya meatball.” Nixon grinned in greeting as he followed Winters through the door and down the stairs and that time you really did wince.

O’Keefe looked at you hopefully and you motioned with your head for him follow them, knowing full well his curiosity must be eating him alive. Listening to the wind rustling in the trees, you sighed quietly, soaking in the peace of the moment before Winters made his way back up the stairs with O’Keefe, the boy yanking you into a hug.

“Victory in Europe! The Germans surrendered!” He crowed and you stared at him, stunned speechless for a moment before you hugged him back.

Major Winters chuckled behind him before nodding to you in confirmation, making you realize the bewildered expression that must have been on your face. You pulled back to slap O’Keefe on the shoulder with a grin.

“Gotta go get the others, there is so much booze down there!” He was vibrating with excitement.

Glancing over your shoulder towards the stairs you raised your eyebrows curiously.

“Go take a look, Corporal.” Winters nodded encouragingly before climbing into his jeep with O’Keefe and pulling out.

Hitching your rifle higher on your shoulder you carefully made your way down the stairs, mind still swirling with the news, fingertips buzzing with an odd energy you weren’t quite certain what to do with. As you stepped through the open gate into the expansive wine cellar, stocked from floor to ceiling, your eyes widened, trying to take it all in.

“What’s your favorite drink?” Nixon’s question interrupted your moment of shock, and you looked over to where he stood amid countless bottles of a richly colored red wine.

“Gin.” You replied walking further into the space, sliding your helmet from your head as he made a thoughtful noise in reply before beginning to hunt through row on row of bottles. You unshouldered your rifle to set the butt on the floor, leaning the barrel against a stack of crates before setting your helmet on top of them.

Gnawing on your lip you turned back to admire the intensity with which Nixon approached his task before a small cry of triumph escaped his lips and he pulled a green bottle from the corner, holding it out to you as he approached like the conquering hero. You could not stop the grin that tugged at your lips as you took it from him, looking over the unfamiliar label.

“Genever, from Holland. The precursor to gin. It should do.” He nodded with a self-satisfied smile.

“Thank you, Captain Nixon.” You replied warmly, doubting you’d need a whole bottle to yourself but still appreciating the gesture as you slid it into the jacket pocket of your ODs.

“Can you do me a favor?” He tilted his head.

“Sir?” You stood a little straighter.

“Call me Lewis.” He requested softly, his rich brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light of the cellar.

Swallowing roughly, your heart began to beat a little faster at the intimacy of his request as your mind flitted back to his earlier arrival.

“Only if you’ll do something in return?” You asked slowly.

“What’s that?” He leaned in, the sweetness of champagne still lingering on his breath.

“Can you stop calling O’Keefe ‘meatball’?” You tensed in anticipation of his reaction, your heart plummeting through the concrete floor when he recoiled as if you’d struck him. Guilt bloomed bitterly in your chest, a new crop to go alongside the one you had planted that day in Thalem. “Every time someone says it, I’m reminded of the worst thing I ever said to him.” You rushed to explain your request, cautiously optimistic as his gaze slowly returned to your face. “It…wasn’t his fault he panicked. I never should have spoken to him that way.”

Nixon’s brows furrowed a moment in consideration of your request. “You really care for the kid, don’t you.” He sounded resigned and you found yourself blinking at him stupidly as he made his way back over to continue perusing the shelves.

Slowly, your brain began to process the slump of his shoulders, the forced nonchalance as he examined various labels and added choice bottles to a wooden crate at his feet.

Could he possibly be… No, that seemed utterly improbable… and yet…

All that aside, it seemed as though it could not hurt to clarify your relationship with O’Keefe. “Reminds me of my kid brother, sir.”

Nixon raised his head slowly, turning back to look at you. “Like a brother…” He said thoughtfully and you bobbed your head in agreement. “Well, I suppose I can stop in that case then.” He smirked and you exhaled with a warm smile.

“Thank you very much, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked down his nose at you expectantly.

“Thank you very much, Lewis.” You amended, pressing your lips together as they hummed in pleasure at forming his name.

Lewis’s lips stretched into a lopsided grin as he eyed you warmly for a few moments before turning back to the task at hand, filling the crate and adding it to a growing stack by the entrance before grabbing another one to repeat the process. Shaking your head, you perched a hip onto one of the tables behind you, eyes scanning the room, reflecting on its previous owner, surprised at the sudden tightness in your throat as you remembered the fresh news of the German surrender. Clearly it was going to take some time to sink in, and frequent reminders, but the tears that were threatening to well in your eyes needed to be quashed until you could find a quiet place to unleash them as silently as possible.

Partly out of a desire to simply say his name again, and largely out of a need to distract yourself from the rising tide of your own emotions, you called out to him softly again. “Hey Lewis?”

“Hmmm?” He replied and you found yourself taking far too much pleasure in how quickly he turned back to you.

“I, uh, I was sorry to hear about your dog.” You said meaningfully, that tightness in your throat returning with a vengeance when an unveiled look of fragility overtook his features.

For the first time in nearly a month you were utterly convinced of how Lewis was feeling and more than anything you thought the man was in dire need of a hug. Before your brain even registered you were moving, your feet propelled you across the floor to wrap around arms around him, pulling him close. Almost immediately his arms slid around you tightly in return, one hand clinging to your shoulder as the other pressed some unknown bottle into your lower back, his face burrowing into your neck.

Tightening your embrace, you held him warmly, almost a mirror image of how he had held you in Thalem. You were completely oblivious to the traitorous tears that had snuck down your cheeks until Lewis was pulling back, setting the bottle of liquor aside to cradle your jaw and swipe at them with his thumbs.

“It’s a hell of a dog, but not worth you crying over.” He teased gently and you rolled your eyes, mostly in frustration at yourself, shaking your head as you sniffed.

“Is this…really all over?” You whispered in disbelief, and he pressed his forehead to yours gently as he nodded.

“We shall be safe, dilly dilly, out of harms way.” He uttered and you let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, burying your face into his shoulder as he pulled you tightly against him.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, unable to stop the flood of tears now that they had snuck past your defences, each shake of your frame somehow causing Lewis to hold you tighter as though he might prevent you from crumbling to pieces. The bottle of genever pressed between your bodies almost painfully, digging into your hip, giving you something tangible to focus on as you reined in your shuddering breaths, lifting your head slowly.

“God, I got your uniform all wet again.” You said, voice thick with the aftereffects of your breakdown and he shook his head as you wiped at his collar with your sleeve.

“It’ll dry just fine.” He repeated his assurance from the café with a smirk, and you gave him a watery laugh, wiping at your face roughly.

“Trooper, is that a bottle of Dutch-gin in your pocket or…” He grinned deviously and your jaw dropped before you smacked his shoulder playfully as a peal of laughter escaped your lips.

You shuffled back to put a proper amount of space between your bodies though you noted his one hand remained splayed upon your back. The one that had previously been at nape of your neck dropped to retrieve the bottle from your pocket. “If anyone is in need of a celebratory drink, it’s definitely you.” He murmured gently.

He tilted it towards you, and you reached forward to tug at the red ribbon as he held the bottle steady, breaking the wax seal over the cork. You let the debris fall to the ground before unsealing the cork with a promising ‘pop.’ You scoffed in playful protest as Lewis helped himself to first sip before setting the genever in your outstretched hand. Taking a swig, you blinked at the complexity of it compared to the dry gin you were accustomed to in England or back home. It burned its way down your throat into your empty stomach, igniting a warm glow from within.

A few rogue droplets had been left on your lips, but before you had the chance to swipe your tongue out to collect them, Lewis’s fingertips were tracing along the sensitive flesh. Your breath caught in your throat at the way his eyes were focused on your mouth as he worked at gathering every bit of liquid whilst also tracing the fullness of your lips before lifting his fingertips to suck them clean. Dizzy from lack of oxygen, Lewis’s proximity, and the way his eyes were now boring into yours, you swallowed tightly as his hand pressed tighter to your back, pulling you closer once more. His lips had barely brushed against yours when a host of voices sounded at the top of the staircase.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” He swore against your mouth before you darted back out of his grip, chest heaving as you shoved the cork into the bottle of genever and returned it to your pocket forcefully. You quickly began to look for something to be doing with yourself.

“I’ll start loading these into the jeep, Captain?” You asked, voice tight as a bow string and all he managed in response was a dazed nod as you quickly scooped up one of the crates filled with his choice of bottles, nodding to the newest crop of arrivals on your way up the staircase.

Taking the stairs two at a time, you set the crate into the back of the jeep Winters had left for you and O’Keefe during guard duty, trying to take deep breaths of fresh air to clear your head. Christ that had been close…close to being caught…close to kissing Lewis…You sunk your teeth into your lower lip trying to smother the broad grin that threatened to unfurl on your features. There were far too many people about now to be grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Fishing your canteen from your webbing, you took a deep sip of water before smoothing your hands over your uniform and, feeling somewhat collected, returned to the cellar to move more crates.

Lewis seemed to have regained control of his senses, not that you dared to look at him, but his directions rang out through the cellar to load most of the wine into the trucks that men has just arrived with for the enjoyment of the officers while you continued carting his personal stash up the stairs until the jeep was full to bursting. All in all, he claimed five truckloads for himself and the officers of 2nd battalion. You rode backwards in the jeep, doing your best to stabilize the crates over the rough track back into town, doing your utmost to ignore his proximity in the vehicle.

A very warm welcome awaited your return to the lavish hotel where the officers were billeted, and many hands made short work of unloading all those trucks so they might make another trip for the rest of the men. By the time you’d made your way to Lewis’s room with the last of his crates, there was barely space to move for all the alcohol stashed within. No more than a small walking path from the door to the bed, if you were being honest.

“This is the last of it, sir.” You said as you looked around for a spot to put it and he looked to you sharply.

“We talked about this…” He teased, shuffling forward to grab it from you, hoisting it over to another corner of the room but you barely heard him as your eyes fell onto the two flower crowns sitting on the window ledge beside the bed.

“You kept them?” You breathed in amazement.

He looked to you before following your gaze and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was told to look after them for you.”

Picking your way across the floor carefully, you knelt on the bed with your boots hanging off the edge behind you, smiling softly to see they were a little dried out but truly no worse for wear. “You did an excellent job of it, Lewis.” You barely whispered his name aware the door was still open.

Setting your rifle on the floor at the foot of the bed, you put your helmet on the ledge before picking up the larger crown, rolling onto your hip and then onto your butt on the mattress in time to see him closing the door. “I’d bet money this fits you.” You smiled softly.

“Save your money, I already know.” He grinned, ducking down beneath the circlet of flowers before straightening with it perched atop his dark hair.

Your eyes widened in delight. “It fits perfectly.” Your fingers gently straightened it, unable to ignore the softness of his chocolate strands at they brushed against your fingers.

Lewis’s gaze flicked to your lips briefly before looking back to your eyes and you took a slow breath before trailing your hands down to frame his face, enjoying the slight scratch of his stubble against your palms. “Lewis…” You exhaled, and he surged forward to seal his lips against yours firmly.

He settled onto his knees before you, hands gripping your waist as you parted your legs and dropped a hand to his back to urge him closer. Needing no further invitation, he scooted forward, pressing against you as his tongue licked its way into your mouth. You weren’t quite sure who started it, but your fingers were a flurry of activity, pulling at the buttons of each others’ uniforms. All he managed to reveal was the wool shirt you wore underneath, your webbing dangling limply from your shoulders, while you found his bare chest. Growing impatient, Lewis tugged your shirt and undershirt free of your pants and ODs until he was able to slide his hand against the soft skin of your abdomen, making your lips fall back from his with a whimper.

“Damn it why are you wearing so many clothes…” He growled and you pressed your face against his hair to smother your laugh, knocking the flower crown askew.

“Some of us were on duty today.” You muttered back, nipping at the shell of his ear before pushing his shirt from his shoulders, letting your hands skate along his back.

Leaning forward, he pushed you back into the mattress, nipping and sucking his way along your jaw before he methodically began to remove your layers of clothing and webbing, starting with a ruthless tugging on your boot laces, until you were left in your army issue brassiere and underwear. To say that they left a lot to be desired in terms of style was an understatement, but the reverence in his gaze as his eyes raked over his hard-won reward soothed your ego somewhat. Plucking the crown from his head, you tossed it gently onto the windowsill before hugging his hips with your knees and rolling him onto his back intent on returning the favour, your dog tags jangling against his in a metallic collision.

As you tried to slide down to reach the laces of his boots, however, he grunted in denial, hauling you in for a hungry kiss as he pulled your pelvis snug against his, making you inhale sharply through your nose at the feel of his hard length against you. “Gotta get your pants off, Lew.” You tried to speak but he kept interrupting you with brushes of his lips or darts of his tongue into your mouth. Huffing slightly, you rocked forward against him firmly, making yourself shudder, but you managed to get his attention as his head fell back, eyes staring up at you half-lidded, jaw slack in a silent moan. “Gonna start with your boots and then I’m gonna get your pants off.”

“And then you’ll do that again…” He breathed and you nodded licking your lips as he released your hips.

You were admittedly not nearly as efficient as him, fingers made clumsy with want, but through persistence you prevailed in removing his boots, pants, and boxers, adding them to the scattered heap of clothing on the small patch of floor. Skimming your hands up his bare legs you revelled in the way he trembled slightly, sitting up to watch you impatiently as you made your way up from the floor. Halting your progress a moment, you ducked your head to lick a warm, wet stripe along the needy length of his cock where it stood proud against his lower abdomen, drawing a shaky cry of your name from his lips that convinced you to linger between his thighs a little longer.

Wrapping your fingers around him, you swirled your tongue around the tip before slowly sliding his length into your mouth, watching his cheeks flush and eyes flutter close as he wrenched at the bedding violently.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart…” He panted, his abdominal muscles flexing erratically.

Smile curling around him, you dragged your lips up his length only to sink your mouth back down onto him, covering the last bit you couldn’t manage with your fist, allowing your saliva to run freely.

“Christ you’re good at that.” There was the edge of a whine to his voice and suddenly he was pulling your mouth from him, chest heaving. “Keep that up and this’ll be over before it begins…” He muttered and sat up, gripping your hips to guide you onto the bed properly.

His lips latched onto nipple through the thin cotton of your bra before you could open your mouth to apologize, making your hips buck up against his stomach greedily as your fingers delved into his hair. Pulling the cup down he laved his tongue along the sensitive peak, before shifting his attentions to its partner, your soft sighs of pleasure filling the room. Sliding his hands to your back, he guided you up to sit before making quick work of the hook and eye closure between your shoulder blades, tossing your bra aside onto a crate of liquor before pressing you back down into the mattress with a kiss to your sternum, just above where your dog tags rested against your bare skin.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them over your hips and down your legs before they too were unceremoniously tossed aside. “Goddamn sweetheart you are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He murmured, pressing his lips against the side of your knee before he hooked it over his shoulder as he came to rest on his stomach between your legs.

“Lew I…” You started to protest, embarrassed about the fact that you hadn’t seen a shower in a few days, but the words died on your lips as his fingers ran through your slick folds.

“You’re so wet, did I make you this wet?” He murmured in awe, and you nodded slowly, his answering grin almost blinding in its intensity. “Well, best not let it go to waste.” Lewis winked before sealing his mouth over your core, sucking the very breath from your lungs as his tongue delved hungrily to find your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Throwing your arm over your mouth, you smothered a harsh curse of delight into the crook of your elbow as he slung his forearm across your hips to pin them down so he might better intensify the level of pleasure he was dealing you as his tongue plunged into your heat. His nose took over the stimulation of your clit, while the stubble on his cheeks and jaw made your inner thighs tremble. The sounds he was making between your legs were positively lewd and only heightened the swirling headiness that wrapped around you. You clung to his hair as he began to suck on your clit, making you see stars behind your clenched eyelids, every exhale an eager moan or keen smothered against your skin.

Lewis’s hand slid up along your side to cup your breast, his fingers shifting to pinch and roll at your nipple, vaulting you over the edge as you rambled his name over and over. The tension of ecstasy slowly ebbed from your body, and he lifted his head with a broad grin, swiping at his upper lip with his thumb before sucking it clean. “Someday I’m gonna do that somewhere so remote you can scream at the top of your lungs.” He nuzzled your hair, pressing his lips to your ear as you laughed breathlessly.

“You sound so certain…” You teased, but he merely raised an eyebrow in response, his palm cupping your still-sensitive core, making your eyes roll back in your head.

“I am, yes. Certain that I can make you cum with my hands, my mouth, my cock. Certain that I’d like the opportunity to do so again and again…” You forced your eyes open to look over his features slowly.

“Yeah?” You exhaled, not quite sure what you had been expecting when you fell into bed with him, just knowing it was what you had wanted above all else in that moment.

“Yeah, sweetheart, until you’re sick of me.” He kissed you gently, the salty tang of your release still on his lips.

Gripping the back of his head, you returned the kiss hungrily, shifting your hips to rock up against his length, swallowing his ragged moan as you finally fulfilled your promise to repeat that motion. “Show me.” You whispered, aching to feel him inside you.

Lewis exhaled hotly against your lips before shifting his hips back, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance before he rocked forward to slowly sink into you. He sealed his mouth over yours almost painfully as you whimpered hungrily, his own rumble of pleasure reverberating through your chest. His head fell to rest against your collarbone, his breath caressing your skin once he was fully seated inside you, unmoving.

“Lew…” You whimpered softly, digging your fingers into his shoulders, writhing against him slightly.

“I know, sweetheart just…fuck you’ll be my undoing…” He whispered before he kissed you fiercely, pulling his hips back only to thrust forward once more, earning a moan of delight from you.

Your bodies began the push and pull of carnal pleasure, moving in tandem as though this were your hundredth coupling rather than your first. Grasping your knee, Lewis hiked it higher on his hip, angling his thrusts deeper into your willing body, making you toss your head to the side as you clenched your jaw against the desire to wail in delight.

“Wish I could…hear you so fucking badly…” He grit out before grasping your chin and turning your face back so he could press his mouth to yours as he rut against you firmly, his pubic bone grinding against your clit deliciously.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, the vicious undertow nearly obliterating your ability to think as Lewis quickly pulled out from your convulsing warmth to release across your abdomen with an agonized groan that was admittedly less than concealed before he collapsed onto the bed at your side. The pair of you lay there, speechless, covered in a sheen of sweat, chests heaving with frantic breaths before he shifted to feather soft kisses along the side of your face, reaching for a weathered scrap of green cloth that served as an army handkerchief to wipe your skin clean.

The ferocious growl your stomach emitted in the relative silence of the room had you tense as Lewis cracked up. “Sweetheart when was the last time you ate?”

“Oh, Christ I don’t know…” You muttered, covering your face with both hands in mortification.

Laughing richly, he kissed your knuckles before forcing himself up. “Alright, ok. Food. I’m going to find you some food. And then I’m going to spend the rest of this night right here in this bed with you, so don’t you go anywhere.” He looked down at you with playful seriousness as he stepped into the pants of your ODs, ruining the effect. “Shit.” He muttered.

Giggling into your palm, you shook your head before sighing as you pulled the blankets over your bare skin, feeling the chill of the mountain air now that he’d taken his body heat away from you. “Hey Lew?”

He looked to you quickly, nearly dressed – in his own clothes this time. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’ll be here.” You smiled warmly, the stretch of your lips only widened by the grin of glee he directed at you before climbing back into bed to kiss you warmly. Your poor, empty digestive system growled insistently, and he huffed against your lips.

“Alright, fine…I’ll be back with food.” Lewis kissed your cheek before sliding into his jump boots and stepping out with his laces untied in search of sustenance for you both, fully intent on not making another public appearance until the next morning.

-------------------------

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @fuckoffthanos

#lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon imagine #lewis nixon imagines #lewis nixon #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers

134 notes · View notes

sabbathsermon · 2 years

Text

École du Sabbat 2022 (second semestre) - Leçons sur la voix du ciel

École du Sabbat 2022 (second semestre) – Leçons sur la voix du ciel

Frères et sœurs, voilà notre prochaine école du Sabbat pour la deuxième partie de cette année 2022. Elle promet d’être riche en révélations prophétiques, tant qu’en défis spirituels personnels et intenses. Nous vous encourageons à vous procurer votre exemplaire pour étudier avec nous ce sujet d’une grande importance pour le temps dans lequel nous vivons aujourd’hui. Cliquez ici pour obtenir…

View On WordPress

#Apocalypse 18:4 #Babylone #coopération #instruments humains #Joël 2:23 #la pluie de l&039;arrière-saison #le Consolateur #le grand cri #le Saint-Esprit #le troisième ange #préparation #promesse de l&039;Esprit #Sortez du milieu d’elle #Trois anges #Troisième personne de la Divinité #un Docteur de justice #une autre voix du ciel

0 notes

chibrary · 7 months

Text

"I was relieved when I saw him walking out of that crash [during the 2020 Italian Grand Prix]. Charles is part of the family. We've known him since he was nine and he started karting with Pierre.

They did their first cup together in Magny-Cours, and then they met each other again in Menton competing at a race organized by Hervé Leclerc and Philippe Bianchi, on a track near the beach. It was during that time that I really started bonding with the Leclerc family. I still remember Herve bringing some chocolate to Pierre after the podium because he had finished second. My child was so happy about it.

Charles is a year younger. They raced together on Sodikart for a year: Anthoine, Esteban, Charles and Pierre were always on the same track, competing together, so of course we-- the parents-- were always together as well. When the races were in England, Charles was sleeping at our place. When the races were in Italy, Pierre was sleeping at Charles's place. Then Pierre moved to F4.

I don't think there has ever been a big rivalry between them, even though their careers were similar.

Charles is probably even more part of the family since Hervé passed away. Our door will always be open to him and he knows it. I cried so much when he won his first F1 race in Spa, even though the conditions were difficult after the death of Anthoine…. I liked Charles's gesture for him [Anthoine] that day. I've told myself that two stars were watching after him in the sky. And then a week later, he made us dream again when he won in Monza in-front of thousands of Tifosi.

So you know, seeing his crash in 2020 broke my heart."

Source: "Gasly, le magnifique: L'historique victoire de Monza vécue et racontée par les proches de Pierre Gasly" Format: Book (French) Author: Jean-Jacques Gasly, Pierre's father Translation: @/findyseb5 on Twitter, via @/vetteleclerc

#series:f1 #format:book #year:2020 #driver:pierre

117 notes · View notes

hussyknee · 3 months

Text

Somewhat put off by the spoilers I've read about Mary and George. There's no doubt nearly all relationships in the British court were some level of sordid, but King James, to all intents and purposes, had genuine feelings for his three male favourites, most especially George Villiers. He was no Henry VIII. I don't know why they wanted to reduce the most famous and open homosexual relationship in European royal history to a comedy between a "cock-struck" old lech and a conniving courtier that led him by the nose and then betrayed and murdered him.

All evidence points to George at least being loyal to James (if you discount his love letters as simply sucking up to his benefactor) and even had a fond relationship with his Queen and his son Charles. He was in fact in France when James died, and reportedly cried when he heard the news.

It's even a little heartbreaking because this is right after Nicholas Galitzine played the closeted gay Prince Henry in Red, White and Royal Blue, who in the book is proud of the open and unashamed love between his ancestor and his lover, and the way even James's son Charles I honoured Villiers for accompanying him to the Spanish Court to ask for the hand of the Infanta.

“Actually . . . you remember how I told you about the gay king, James I?”

“The one with the dumb jock boyfriend?”

“Yes, that one. Well, his most beloved favorite was a man named George Villiers. ‘The handsomest-bodied man in all of England,’ they called him. James was completely besotted. Everyone knew. This French poet, de Viau, wrote a poem about it.” He clears his throat and starts to recite: ‘One man fucks Monsieur le Grand, another fucks the Comte de Tonnerre , and it is well known that the King of England, fucks the Duke of Buckingham.’” Alex must be staring, because he adds, “Well, it rhymes in French. Anyway. Did you know the reason the King James translation of the Bible exists is because the Church of England was so displeased with James for flaunting his relationship with Villiers that he had the translation commissioned to appease them?”

“You’re kidding.”

“He stood in front of the Privy Council and said, ‘Christ had John, and I have George.’’

“Jesus.”

“Precisely.” Henry’s still looking up at the statue, but Alex can’t stop looking at him and the sly smile on his face, lost in his own thoughts. “And James’s son, Charles I, is the reason we have dear Samson. It’s the only Giambologna that ever left Florence. He was a gift to Charles from the King of Spain, and Charles gave it, this massive, absolutely priceless masterpiece of a sculpture, to Villiers. And a few centuries later, here he is. One of the most beautiful pieces we own, and we didn’t even steal it. We only needed Villiers and his trolloping ways with the queer monarchs. To me, if there were a registry of national gay landmarks in Britain, Samson would be on it.”

Henry’s beaming like a proud parent, like Samson is his, and Alex is hit with a wave of pride in kind.

He takes his phone out and lines up a shot, Henry standing there all soft and rumpled and smiling next to one of the most exquisite works of art in the world.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m taking a picture of a national gay landmark,” Alex tells him. “And also a statue.”

Like all white liberals, Casey McQuiston tends to romanticise the crime against humanity that is royalty and also that house built by bunch of slave owners that has since housed a progression of genocidal war criminals. There's very little to like about any British monarch. But the relationship between James and Villiers is a significant part of gay history and there's no need to smear it even more than it's already been smeared the last four hundred years, contrary to the actual known facts.

Idk man. I'm sensitive to this stuff Ig. Maybe I'd be a little more positive about it if I watched it, but the trailer gave me "tee hee they're gay" vibes so Idk if I want to.

Edit: so it seems the trailer is misleading and the story is more complex than a "tee hee gay" comedy. I might watch it after all, even if the starkly visible age difference makes me a bit queasy. How tf is Galitzine nearly thirty and a babyface with those razor cheekbones?? Perfect to show how uncomfortable it looks for a middle aged man to get with a kid of twenty.

#nicholas galitzine #mary and george spoilers #mary and george #british history #the stuarts #king james vi and i #george villers #king charles i #period drama #julianne moore #lgbtqia #lgbt history #queer media #queer representation #queer history #queer drama #knee of huss

45 notes · View notes

kidstemplatte · 7 months

Text

daisy chains

pairing: terzo/fem! reader | word count: 8.6k

summary: the story of how you and your childhood best friend, terzo, repaired a broken bond.

warnings: very very very vague and brief description of sex.

playlist if you're interested! message at the end as usual <3

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

Terzo Emeritus: Your best friend, first lover, and soon, worst enemy.

You and Terzo were both raised in the Clergy and as you frequently spent time together, you couldn’t help but be drawn to his personality. It was hard to ignore the goofy faces he’d flash at you during service, the outlandishly hilarious questions he had no hesitation to ask Papa Nihil no matter how many people were watching, the crumpled pieces of paper he’d toss at you with amateurish comments about the subject matter being preached at you, to which you’d add unflattering doodles of his father blabbering and toss it right back.

One day after mass, as you exited the large chamber, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Reacting to the sudden touch, you stopped in your tracks and turned around. There he stood, the funny boy who made your days a little more lively. He had messy jet-black hair, glowing olive skin, a cheeky smile, and most notably, a piercing left eye, its pitch-black center contrasting beautifully against his soft white pupils as well as his other green eye.

“I’m Terzo.” He greeted you, a thick Italian accent adorning his voice as he held out his hand.

“I like your name.” You replied.

“I like yours too! Eh, what is it?” He asked.

You giggled, shaking his hand. “Y/N.”

“Y/N! Bellisima!” He beamed, blowing a kiss into the air. “I like your drawings, Y/N.”

“Thanks. I like your eyes.” You replied.

“Grazie! Hey, Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Can I show you something cool?” he asked, eagerly.

“Sure!” you chirped.

The boy bolted past the door and began sprinting down the hallway in the opposite direction of the crowd’s movement.

“Hey- wait for me!” You cried out, chasing after him, but struggling to keep up. As you ran further away from the clamor of the crowd, the sound of your rapid panting and footsteps echoed through the corridor. Finally reaching the end of the hallway, you continued following Terzo, who had just bolted out a pair of glass double doors.

“Terzo! Wait up-”

Woah.

You had never been out here before. It was breathtaking.

In front of you was a decadent garden. Rows of perfectly trimmed hedges and beautiful flowerbeds sprawled across the terrain, with ivy-covered arches overlooking them. The pathway carved into the ground was similar to that of an enchanted labyrinth, except exuding a sense of safety rather than fear. There was no getting lost in this garden, no matter how winding, the path always led you right back to where you started.

“This is Primo’s garden. Pretty, si?” flaunted Terzo. “Secondo says flowers are for girls. I don’t think that’s true.”

“I don’t think so either.” You agreed. “Who’s Secondo?”

“Mio fratello.”

“Your brother? Frowny-face?” You inquired, molding your facial expression into a bitter scowl.

“Ha! Si, Frowny-face.” He imitated your expression and then grinned. “Seguimi!” He gestured to you, waving his hand for you to follow him under the grand arch and into the garden.

“Your brother did all this?” You asked, astonished by the utopia in front of you.

“Si!”

“Oh, look at the roses!” you exclaimed, pointing at the bed of beautiful red flowers.

“Oh? You want?” He asked, stopping in his tracks and looking towards the roses.

“Is that allowed?” You cautioned.

“Eh, he doesn’t have to know…” He suggested impishly, tiptoeing towards the bed of roses.

Suddenly, like magic, the oldest Emeritus son appeared beside you.

“No no no no no no no, get out at once, mess with le margherite, not my fiore prezioso! Shoo!” he scolded, waving his hands so you would scatter.

You two dejectedly abided, following the perfectly paved path out of the garden. Pacing through the soft grass, you headed towards a patch of grass with an assemblage of daisies sprouting from it.

Primo was always complaining about those things; the daisies that never seemed to go away. He didn’t plant them there, they just appeared seemingly out of the blue. If he cut them down, they grew once more, with ten times the amount. They would never die.

Terzo let out a “huff” as he plopped himself on the ground beside the flowers, muttering to himself what you presumed to be violent threats in Italian.

With care, you plucked one of the many flowers off the ground , holding it up and examining it closely. It was beautiful, the vibrant yellow center contrasting beautifully against the soft white petals as well as the soft green of the grass. You began collecting more from the ground, threading the stems together, to create a daisy chain. Some of the daisies were a little withered, missing a few petals. But you didn’t mind. It was a daisy chain, nonetheless.

Your daisy chain had soon become a daisy crown, as you pieced your first and last flower together.

“Pretty!” you announced, placing the crown atop his raven hair.

“Me?” He asked.

“Yeah! Boys can like flowers and be pretty.”

“I guess that’s true.” He reckoned. “Can you teach me?”

“Yeah!” You both sat in the grass, chatting and making daisy chains for what felt like hours until the sky turned a hazy orange and you were being called back inside by Primo.

“Terzo! Margherita! Cosa fai? È tardi! Come inside, I make brasato al barolo.” His voice bellowed through the air.

“Brasato al barolo?! Arrivo, Primo!” Terzo shouted in response.

“Bruhza- brasato?” You awkwardly pronounced.

“You’ve never had Brasato al Barolo?!” He gasped, mouth agape as if you had just revealed the world’s most profound secret.

“No.” You confessed.

“You’re eating with us tonight, Margherita!” Terzo declared, grabbing you by the hand and taking off towards the building.

Soon enough, you two had a tradition: sneaking off to make daisy chains in the outskirts of the garden. Those were simpler times you would soon yearn for. You two grew up with the daisies, sharing secrets, laughter, and precious memories, including your first kiss.

One day, you sat by the daisy patch, waiting for Terzo’s arrival. You sat in solitude, twirling the strands of grass in your fingers, wondering what was taking him so long. Your contemplation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of screaming and quick footsteps growing closer and closer. Terzo was sprinting towards you at full speed, then collapsed into the grass, breathing heavily.

“Y/N!” He shouted, despite being right next to you,

“What happened?! Are you okay?” You fretted, crouching on the ground beside him.

“I saw something disgusting!” He said, sitting up and now facing you.

“What?!”

“I saw Secondo kissing a girl!” He said, pointing to his mouth and letting out an exaggerated vomiting noise. “Bleaugh!”

“Ewww!” You shuddered. “Gross!”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“I have an idea.” Terzo prompted, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“What is it?” You responded.

“Let’s try it,” he suggested, grinning wickedly.

“Kissing?”

“Yeah! We’re nine now! Basically grown-ups.” Terzo reasoned.

“I thought it was gross?” You questioned, tilting your head to the side.

“It’s gross because it’s Secondo. Wanna do it?”

“Sure.” you agreed.

“Ready?”

“Okay.” You agreed, squealing and shaking your hands to let all your nervous energy out.

“Three…” He started.

“Two…” You continued.

“One.” You chorused.

Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you two leaned in and pressed your lips together for about a millisecond.

Peck.

You two erupted into a storm of laughter, flailing about and rolling in the grass. “Ew!!! Ew!!! Ew!!! Ew!!!” The both of you shrieked repeatedly through exuberant giggles, tears rolling down your cheeks. Recovering from your fit of laughter, you two opened your eyes and were faced with none other than Terzo’s brother, Secondo, hovering above you, his scowl as frightening as ever. He loomed over you, carrying a sense of impending doom with him, akin to the Grim Reaper.

“Terzo. Partire.” he commanded his brother. Ah, Secondo. Bearer of bad news, as always.

“Why?” Terzo retaliated, propping himself up so he was now sitting up straight.

“Hai il cotillion.” Secondo replied.

“Non mi interessa.”

“Io dirò Papa.” He threatened.

Terzo threw himself back on the grass, shut his eyes, and let out a cartoonish snoring noise. You stifled a giggle.

“Io dirò Primo.”

Terzo sighed, reluctantly standing up from his spot on the grass as you also stood up beside him. Secondo’s gaze shifted from his brother to you, eyeing you for a moment before snickering.

“Ha. Looks like she’s taller than you now. Good luck getting a girlfriend, fratellino.” He snorted.

Really, Secondo? He had to say that in English?

“I am?” You asked, looking to your side and finding out you were indeed taller than your best friend, the top of his head barely under your eye level. You initially wanted to jump for joy, tease, “Take that, Terzo!” But seeing the hurt look on his face immediately eliminated that desire.

“Secondo, that’s mean.” You scolded him.

“The truth hurts.” He quipped, turning around and storming off back towards the church.

“It’s okay Terzo, girls just mature faster than guys. Soon you’ll be the tallest one in the whole Clergy.” You reassured him.

“Whatever… I have to go. See you, Margherita.” He waved, making a kissy face at you before letting out a hearty laugh.

You stuck your tongue out in return, then laughed as you waved goodbye to Terzo trampling through the grass, off to another boring cotillion lesson. The thought of someone as wild as Terzo participating in such formal activities humored you greatly. Doesn’t matter how old he got, he would never grow up.

°❀°

From then on out, the two of you spent your time with the daisies. You grew with them.

You got older and watched each other change as the years flew by. Terzo got taller. Maybe not as tall as he’d like to be, but still, taller. And very handsome. Everyone practically clawed at him, debilitatingly envious of the attention you received from him, although it was strictly platonic. One may think that all the mornings you were spotted leaving his room were due to some frisky activity the night before, but that was far from the truth. Unless frisky activity was watching horror movies, painting each other’s nails, and gossiping until you could hear the birds chirping, indicating it was probably time to go to bed.

The bond you two had was sacred. Your deepest darkest secrets were kept safe with each other, the things you wouldn’t dare to utter to anybody else. Together, you were wild and free, sneaking out into the latest hours of the night, coming back home drunken and dizzy, and soon having to hold each other’s hair back. You liked Terzo’s hair a little long, but you wouldn’t tell him that. You two fought each other’s battles, took each other’s stabs, cleaned each other’s wounds. You were a shoulder to cry on when Terzo displayed rare moments of vulnerability, and in return, he offered the same security to you, holding you while you cried over some stupid boy, or something much more serious. Nobody dared to mess with you, because that meant they were messing with Terzo. And that was a death wish.

You were best friends, and that’s all. From adolescence to adulthood.

The morning of your 18th birthday, you woke up to a firm knock on your door and a voice echoing through the hallway.

“Margherita!” You heard Terzo sing joyously.

“One- One second.” You grumbled, voice cracking as you awakened from your slumber. You groaned as you forced the soft duvet off your body, crawling out of the warm embrace of your bed. Not wanting Terzo to see you looking rusty, even though he had countless times before, you barely opened the door, peeking outside. He was already gone. What a weird boy. As you stepped aside, your foot brushed something on the floor. Looking down, you caught sight of a piece of paper that was slipped under your door, one that was haphazardly torn out of a journal probably supposed to be used for taking notes. You chuckled to yourself.

Forgive me, I have some duties to attend to today. I’ll be back here at 7:00 to come pick you up for your birthday celebration. See you soon, Margherita.

-Terzo

Birthday celebration? You smiled, pondering what he would do for you. Terzo was many things, but predictable was not one of them.

You decided to get a little dressed up. It was your special day, after all. Rummaging through your closet, you settled on a nice floral sundress with a lace trim, as well as your favorite pair of shoes, which happened to match quite nicely. You spruced up your hair, tying a bow in the back with a pastel ribbon you were lucky enough to have found sitting in your drawer.

The day was pleasant. Your friends and siblings of sin showered you with love and attention, some even presenting you with gifts that made your heart beam with graciousness.

Just before Terzo was scheduled to arrive, you touched yourself up a bit, fixing your makeup and hair. You gave yourself a final look in the mirror before hearing a knock on the door at promptly 7:00 p.m.

Terzo looked very handsome, you must say. His raven hair was slicked back, a few strands falling out in just the right places. He was wearing a white dress shirt and black pants, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, which were placed behind his back.

“Wow, bellisima!” He beamed, pulling out a red rose from behind his back.

“Aw, thanks, Terzo.” You smiled, taking the rose and holding it to your chest.

“My beautiful best friend all dolled up. Give me a twirl!” He exclaimed, taking you by the hand and spinning you around before you even had the chance to agree.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.” He said, just as he caught you at the end of your twirl.

“Thanks, Terzo.” You replied, a soft blush spreading across your cheeks. “You look nice too.”

“Grazie! Shall we go?” He asked, holding out his hand.

“Where?” You questioned while taking his hand in yours.

“You’ll find out!” announced Terzo, before taking off.

You two embarked on your typical route to your daisy bush. But after passing through the glass doors, to your surprise, he turned in the opposite direction of the daisies. He dragged you towards the garden you were still forbidden from entering after all these years, Primo still wary of his brother’s antics.

“Wait- are we allowed to be in here?” you asked. “Si. We aren’t kids anymore. I was granted permission. Look how mature I am now!”

“Sure.” You laughed.

It was just as beautiful as you remembered, maybe even more beautiful. Not quite as big, but that’s what happens when you grow up, you presumed.

He led you to an area beside a large oak tree, its leaves providing the perfect amount of shade. A large blanket was spread across the grass, and placed in the middle was a basket containing some desserts, drinks, and a few small gifts.

“Aw, Terzo, this is so sweet.” You expressed, placing a hand over your heart at his thoughtful gesture.

“It’s what you deserve.” He replied. “A beautiful setup for a beautiful girl, no?”

“Stop it.” You blushed.

You two took a seat on the quilt, taking a moment of silence to soak in the scenery.

“It’s so weird finally being back in here.” You said fondly. You know, I’m still a little bit upset Primo banned me from coming inside too. I didn’t even take anything!”

“Si, but Primo had a hunch.”

“Huh?”

“That wherever you go I would follow.”

“Did he really say that?”

“Si.” He nodded.

As the night grew darker, a soft breeze began to pick up, and goosebumps began to graze the surface of your skin.

Terzo noticed you tucking your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them to warm yourself up.

“Are you cold?” asked Terzo, a concerned tone in his voice.

“Kind of, but I’m fine.” You reassured him, although your body language screamed otherwise. In response, Terzo wrapped his arms around you as you rested your head against him, snuggling into his warmth. You loved this. You loved his scent, his touch, his presence; it kept you grounded, kept you human.

“Terzo?” You uttered, your head still leaning against him.

“Si?”

“You’re my favorite person in the world.”

“And you are mine.”

You don’t know how it happened. Terzo pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, something he had done before. Looking up from where you had nestled your head, you two met eyes, but it was different this time; your heartbeat came to a sudden halt. The twinkle in his white eye was brighter than it ever had been, and you longed to get closer to it. Closer to him. You were completely engulfed in your entrancement with your best friend. The spark in his eyes had become a newly born flame, and you felt your heart’s wings flutter like a moth fleeting towards light.

“Pretty.” he uttered, voice barely audible.

“Pretty?”

“You. You are pretty.” He reiterated, not breaking eye contact.

Nothing was to be heard except the soft hum of the cicadas and the stream rustling in the distance.

“I don’t know,” you responded, looking away shyly.

“I do.” He said, placing his hand on the side of your face, as he began grazing his thumb across your cheek.

His gaze moved from your eyes to your lips, and back up once again. The arm that was still wrapped around you was drawing you in closer, as an unspoken heat began to arise between the two of you.

Terzo placed his lips on yours in a gentle kiss, lingering for a moment before pulling away.

This felt right. This felt good.

You looked Terzo in the eyes, face flushed, before you eagerly dove back in, lips crashing against each other as you explored each other’s mouths, establishing a steady rhythm. Your hands traveled around his body, pulling him closer as you two kissed in the moonlight, giving you an ethereal glow.

One thing led to another, and things became more heated; hands tugging at hair, teeth nipping at necks, bodies melting into each other’s touch.

“I want you.” Terzo whispered against your neck in between kisses and bites.

“I want you too.” You mouthed. “Please.”

He showed you everything that night, feelings you didn’t even know were possible, and explored parts of you that nobody else had before.

You remember the rhythm of him so vividly you could make music out of it, each breath, moan, whisper, and word that escaped his mouth. He made you feel beautiful for the first time in your entire life, even when you were in your most vulnerable state, lying exposed under him.

“You’re beautiful.” He reassured you when you felt the urge to hide yourself from him. “So beautiful.”

Fear became arousal, any minimal pain becoming pleasure, as a friendship became something more. You fit together perfectly. You were made for each other. And after you two both reached the heights of pleasure, Terzo collapsed beside you, rolling over so you were face-to-face.

“I love you, Terzo,” You panted, hazy in your state of afterglow.

“I love you too.” He replied, pulling you into his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “La mia Margherita.”

You woke up in your own bed the next morning, eyes darting around the room after noticing Terzo’s absence. It wasn’t too odd for him to have left bed before you, he typically had to leave your sleepovers early in the morning to fulfill his tasks. You decided after getting ready to check if he was in the office he was newly granted. Yesterday was a big night, after all.

You knocked on his office door before inviting yourself inside.

“Terzo!” you grabbed his attention, shutting the large door behind you. What’s wrong?” you asked, stepping towards his desk.

He looked upset, his posture tense as he sat in his desk chair, hand resting on his forehead as his brow furrowed deeply.

“Hi, Y/N. Take a seat.” He addressed you, gesturing to the seat on the other side of the ornate desk.

“Are we in a meeting?” You asked, laughing as you took a seat in the chair.

“Y/N.” he started, his voice cold as he looked up at you.

“Yes?” you replied, anxious regarding his suddenly harsh tone.

“I apologize about last night.”

“How come?”

“I let my impulses take over.”

“No, Terzo, it was good! You didn’t hurt me at all! It’s okay.” You sweetly reassured him.

“It’s not that. It’s just… I shouldn’t have given in.”

You recoiled at his statement. Why was he speaking of you as if you were a sin? What were you, some temptation? Had he forgotten what church we were in?

“Given in?” You questioned, voice weakening. “What does that mean?”

“It was unprofessional.”

“Unprofessional? I’m not your colleague, Terzo, what are you talking about?’

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I need some distance moving forward.

“Distance? What do you mean? Why aren’t you answering my questions?”

“Y/N, I said, it is just… not a good time.”

“We have all the time in the world. We can make time, Terzo! Please!” You pathetically pleaded, a familiar ache welling up in your throat and chest. “Did… did last night mean nothing to you?” Tears began pouring down your face. “Have the last 11 years meant nothing too?”

“I never said that.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you were just horny and thought it would be hot to 'rid me of my innocence’ or some shit like that? Whatever perverted fantasy guys like you have? Well, congrats, Terzo. You did it. You’re a real savior.”

“I just, I cannot have you as my lover.” He stated.

“Why not? We did something… I did something I was so afraid of because I trusted you. Do you know how hard that was for me? Do you want me, or do you not?” You cried, voice breaking.

“It is not a good idea for me to have a lover.” repeated Terzo, his voice monotonous, like he was programmed to say so.

“What are you even saying? Was I not… good?” You cried out in desperation, cringing at your own words.

“I have a role to fulfill. I need to focus on my future.”

“Am I not a part of your future, Terzo?” You wept.

Terzo did not reply. He looked away from you, his expression cold and empty. Like a moth to a flame, he burned you. Plucked the petals off of you and watched them float into a roaring, relentless fire, the smooth white edges withering into a lifeless dust.

“What the fuck happened to you?” You cried, desperate for some sort of reaction from him, good or bad.

Stabbed by his betrayal and sudden distance, you stood up and slammed the chair into the desk, resulting in a shrill creaking noise and a rough slam that made your ears hurt.

“Fuck you. Fuck you, Terzo. Fuck you. I hope you fail just like Nihil told you you would. I can’t wait to see it happen. Fuck you.”

You stormed out of the room, shutting the door with such force that you could hear the contents of the room rattle as you sped down the hall.

Slamming the door to your room, you threw yourself onto your bed, putting your face into your pillow as a gut-wrenching wail left your throat. For hours, you bawled, letting out broken sobs so deep from within your body someone nearby might think you were dying. Your face was drenched in your snot and tears, the pillow stifling your breathing, making your gasps heavier and more painful. You clenched your hands into fists so tight they trembled, punching the mattress over and over again, wishing it was a person who could cry back, who could feel even a glimpse of the pain you were experiencing. You were furious. Filled with pure, seething rage. Not only with Terzo, but yourself. How could you give up your body to someone like that? So foolishly? How idiotic could you be to think a playboy like Terzo would view you any differently than anyone else? You would never get your body back. It was Terzo’s now. His last memories of you were ones you wish you could erase from his mind, ones of you writhing in pleasure, and ones of you bursting with anger. You wanted to break everything in sight. You wanted revenge, and you would get it. You knew just how.

The process of becoming a preacher in the clergy was notorious for being tedious and lengthy, even for an Emeritus son. A series of tests as well as several essays, presentations, and duties were required. The final obligation to achieve promotion was to present a journal assembled over time, documenting the studies and embarkments accomplished over the past few years.

His examination day was tomorrow.

It was a good thing you knew where Terzo kept his things.

You remember walking past Nihil’s office the next day, stopping in your tracks when you were bombarded by the sound of furious yelling so loud it might shatter glass.

“You are worthless. Worthless. Is this what you have to bring to the Emeritus name? Nothing? How foolish I was to think you would ever live up to the task. To any task. You are an embarrassment.”

Oh, no.

You wanted to take it back. Dive into the lake where you had thrown the locked leather journal and give it back. Maybe drown in the process.

You placed your trembling hand over your mouth, tears welling up in your eyes as you began to comprehend what you had just done to your best friend, who no doubt knew you were behind its disappearance.

Soon, the door swung open, startling you nearly as much as your presence startled Terzo.

“Terzo, I… I’m sorry-“

He paid no mind to your apology, striding right past you, your shoulders brushing as he flew by.

He had ruined your chances at love, and you, his chances of success. Now, both of your chances at friendship were ruined as well.

How could he forgive you?

°❀°

The daisies were far overgrown.

It had been 5 years. 5 years since his betrayal and yours. 5 years of watching him prance around the abbey with people he probably didn’t even know the names of, with wit and character not even measuring up to half of yours. He had changed since your separation; sure, he had always had flings, but now he was just a full-on fuckboy.

Nobody in the Clergy dared to mention your falling out, surely it had to be a sensitive topic; you two were practically glued to each other’s sides, and suddenly couldn’t stand to be in the same room as each other.

Whispers spread about the church like wildfire, rumors which concocted possible explanations for your separation:

“I heard she cheated on him.”

“Apparently she was bad in bed.”

“I heard she was a psycho bitch.”

“He deserves better.”

Each time you ran into each other led to a sense of unpleasantness in the air and painfully awkward, sometimes heated exchanges; a notable example being when he dared to show up to your 21st birthday party.

The lights were dimmed, casting everyone in a shadowy glow, your intoxication causing the figures in the room to blur together. However, through the disorientation, you could still make out Terzo’s face in the crowd.

The alcohol had ignited a newfound courage inside of you, as you pushed your way through the swarm of people and stood face to face with him.

“Why are you here?” you growled.

“I was minding my own business.”

“Minding your own business at my party? If you’re here to be a whore, do it some other night. I know it’s all you’re good for, so it may be a little difficult, but fuck off, please.” You fumed.

“Whore?” He scoffed. “Should I repeat the things you were saying to me exactly three years ago on this very day?”

“Wow, Terzo, I’m impressed. I didn’t know someone as stupid as you would be able to do the math.” You snarked bitterly.

“Stupid? I taught you everything, Y/N. So some other poor man wouldn’t have to struggle to get it up while he did all the work.” He quipped.

“You sure didn’t struggle.” You retorted, the grip on your glass tightening.

“Then again, when have you ever had any respect for people’s work?” His stare suddenly darkened, sending a shiver down your spine, even in the heat of the crowd. “Oh, it’s okay, dolcezza. One day someone will give you the fairytale you desire, you’ll be a sad little housewife who will never lift a finger unless it’s for her own pleasure since her husband can’t get the job done.”

It was like someone took over your body. You were a puppet, your intoxicated rage pulling you by the strings, launching your arm forward, and drenching the man in front of you in red wine.

He didn’t even flinch. Not even did he blink. Instead, he stared down at you with a wicked smirk, licking the splattered wine off of his lips, before flashing his teeth in a smug grin. That evil, sexy bastard.

Now you were the crazy one. You were the one who attacked first, while Terzo stood as comfortably as ever. You wished he fought back, taking the empty glass in your hand and smashing it against your head, drenching yourself in the same dark red he was tainted with. You didn’t even bother to say goodbye to anyone, wiping tears from your eyes as you left the masses of the party to celebrate your existence without you.

°❀°

Nearly a year had passed after your confrontation with Terzo, and you two had not spoken since then.

It was a typical Saturday sermon, you and your siblings sitting in neat rows, awaiting the arrival of Papa Nihil. As time passed by, chatter began to arise; where was Papa?

The noise came to a sudden halt whenever the chamber doors swung open as Papa Nihil entered, followed by his third son. Stepping behind the pulpit, Papa cleared his throat.

“Today is a blessed day.” He began, capturing the attention of the room. “Today is a blessed day because it is proof that our devotion to the Dark Lord can overcome any obstacles. That his darkness can push us to new heights that far surpass the heavens.” His voice echoed through the silence of the room. “I am pleased to announce that today’s sermon will be delivered by our newest preacher, my son, Terzo.” the man announced.

He did it.

He started all over again, from scratch, and managed to get it done. You were shocked, even though you shouldn’t have been- you knew he had it in him. He was going to be Papa one day, you knew, so why was his sudden shift in power hurting you so much? Why were you still angry over something that happened four years ago? It felt like he had won a game you didn’t even know you were playing. You had been tearing yourself apart from the inside out over what you had done, spoiling his first chance at success, telling yourself you wanted him to succeed even without you, but deep down, you were still bitter. Bitter seeing him so high and mighty after what he did to you.

Or was it because as he elevated higher and higher, he was still drifting further from you?

Terzo stood before the pulpit, head held high as he recited a prayer. “Ad impiam Dominum, Salvatorem nostrum, oro, tenebrae tuae valeant tangere corda eorum qui in hoc conclavi hoc serviunt. Ut nos ad studium libertatis, cognitionis ac voluptatis, dirigas. Nema.”

“Nema.” You whispered as the rest of the clergy echoed his prayer.

“I will leave this to you. I trust the Clergy is in good hands.” Nihil stated, exiting the room at a senile pace.

“Ciao, my Siblings of Sin. I figured today I would start with something fresh, something a little more… youthful.” He began, evoking laughter from his audience. Already off to a good start. “Today I would like to- actually- love to examine something found in every one of you … lust. Now in this church, we are no strangers to sin of any kind, but this one… We relish it. We are not ashamed of it. It is the reason we are all here, to begin with. What creates life. But what if I told you that lust is not only what brings us into this world… but what keeps us here as well? It is not only heated nights and bodies intertwined, it is something… greater.”

You couldn’t listen to this. You couldn’t. It was too much, even after all these years. As you slowly felt yourself begin to disconnect from reality in a state of dissociation, a ringing began to build in your ears, like your body was trying to protect you from whatever he was saying. You mindlessly stared at the floor as he continued preaching, and in the blink of an eye, an hour had passed, as Terzo made his final statement.

“It is lust that keeps us alive. Thank you, siblings.”

The church burst into applause, clearly moved by his words. But it made you angry. This wasn’t a performance act, this was service, but he had the Clergy wrapped around his finger with his captivating presence. But, at the same time, could you be mad at him for a job well done? You were the bitter one, holding onto your past as you desperately pumped air into its cold, dead lungs, trying to bring it back to life and rekindle a flame that was long gone.

As you were about to exit the room with your siblings of sin, you had the urge to say something on your way out. You reached the front of the room, Terzo standing just feet away at the pedestal, your mind rapidly firing through things you could say to him. Say sorry. Tell him he did well. Flip him off. Grab him by the hair and throw him into the wall. Or… grab him by the hair, pull him in close, and- Ugh. And just as you passed him, you built up the courage to give him one brief message.

“Congratulations.” You quietly uttered, not even making eye contact, before following your siblings of sin out of the room.

Terzo continued to exhibit talent and passion through his sermons over the next year. He was a gifted speaker; he had no trouble capturing the attention of the crowd. You actively fought against his charm, attempting to train yourself to tune out Terzo’s preaching. It was hard to pay attention to the subject matter at hand whenever his voice brought back memories of the laughter, whispers, and conversations you shared throughout your childhood. Unfortunately, due to the overwhelmingly positive reactions he received from the siblings, he was preaching quite a lot, every Saturday at that. You stayed in the shadows during group discussions, your voice silent, your passion for the Dark Lord not alive as it once was. Eventually, you started skipping sermons on Saturdays altogether. Missing your own God hurt less than missing your best friend.

You knew you should be over it, it was foolish and immature to hold onto your past conflicts, which happened years ago at this point. But you hated him. Or, at least, you hated seeing him. The power had gotten to his head, there was no doubt. His ego had never been higher. You couldn’t stand seeing him stride around the Abbey looking so satisfied with himself, arm wrapped around the nearest person as he ushered them to his bedroom.

And no matter how hard you tried to drown it out, his words still echoed in your mind.

“It is lust that keeps us alive.”

°❀°

One Saturday, when you had planned to study in the library, word spread that everyone was to attend service that day. You would rather do anything but go, but you couldn’t disobey the direct orders given to you. You took a seat in the back of the room as usual, bracing yourself to hear Terzo’s voice. As the siblings waited for the arrival of their speaker, you fidgeted with your habit, staring at the ground as you anxiously pondered what message was so important for everybody to be summoned. You heard footsteps pacing towards the pulpit, a sigh, and then a voice addressing the Clergy. But to your surprise, it was not Terzo’s voice, rather than that belonging to his brother, Primo. Primo stood at the head of the room, his facial expression solemn, and cleared his throat.

“Siblings of Sin,” He began. Something was wrong.

“We are a family here. We have come together as a group of outcasts, free thinkers, and rebellious souls. We have found comfort and safety in each other, and will continue to do so throughout all phases of life.” He stated, his grim tone leaving the siblings on the edge of their seats.

“And death.”

Your heart dropped. No, there was no way.

If you’re here to be a whore, do it some other night. I know it’s all you’re good for-

Someone as stupid as you-

Fuck you. Fuck you, Terzo. Fuck you. I hope you fail just like Nihil told you you would. I can’t wait to see it happen. Fuck you.

Every hateful thing you had ever said to Terzo began replaying in your mind at a debilitating pace. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way. You sat in the back of the chamber, trying not to hyperventilate as the world caved in around you. It felt as if your heart had sunken into the ground beneath you, and you wished you would sink with it. That it was you instead of Terzo. You began to spiral so deeply you swore the room began to as well, your surroundings blurring together as the walls began to spin, and-

“We will never forget Papa Nihil and his impact.”

The spinning stopped. You could finally breathe. The tears streaming down your face became tears of joy as you experienced a relief so enlightening you felt like you could float. It was horrible, that the news of someone’s death brought you relief, but you were infinitely grateful that the someone wasn’t Terzo. But why wasn’t Terzo here?

It didn’t matter. He was somewhere. And you had to find him.

You stood up, excusing yourself from the service as you burst out the door and sprinted down the hallway. The adrenaline you faced was still coursing through your veins and fueled your every step. Your body, driven by autopilot, knew where it was taking you before your mind even did. You ran down the hall and out of the two glass doors, nearly tripping down the staircase as you entered the large field. A patch of daisies stood in the distance, and beside it, a figure hunched over, sitting on the ground. Terzo.

You ran faster than you ever had in your entire life, nearly crashing into the grass as you knelt beside him.

“Terzo!” you panted. He did not respond, focusing on something in his hands. You looked down and noticed a few daisies were set before him, two in his hands as he tied them together. “I’m not here to start a fight, Terzo.” His silence combined with your shrill voice made you feel like the preacher here. “Terzo, please just talk to me, I- I thought you died, Terzo.” you expressed, voice cracking.

“What?” He responded, his head snapping up.

“I thought you died.” You hysterically repeated. “I thought you were gone. When they, they told us about Nihil—before they said who it was- I- I thought it was you.” You wept. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around him so tightly he might burst, his body initially stiffening up, but soon melting into your embrace. You had seen him and heard him throughout the past five years, but you hadn’t felt him in far too long. How you missed him. His scent, his warm body pressed against yours. The soft rise and fall of his chest. You pulled away, soaking in the eye contact you had craved for so long. “I was so scared. I was so scared. It was like… The world stopped. And I just… I regretted everything. I felt what it was like to lose you. Again. For those few seconds. I wanted nothing else more than to have you back. And I do. I want you back. I’m… Why am I always the one crying? I just, I want you back.” You wept violently. “I miss you, I miss you so bad. I want my best friend back. I know you’ve moved on but it hurts to hold this in. I miss you so bad, I masked it behind hate, but I want you back so badly.”

“… I miss you too, Y/N.” replied Terzo, quietly.

“Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t even share my condolences- I’m sorry about Nihil. Is that why you skipped service today?” you asked, momentarily hesitating before resting a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine. He’ll come back to haunt me, if not literally, figuratively. And no, I am not the one skipping service. I haven’t had my Saturday spot in months now, I switched to the late-night sessions on Fridays.”

“Why did they move you?”

“They didn’t. I chose it. I thought maybe you would come to that one.” He confessed.

“You… you noticed I was gone?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then… why didn’t you just come talk to me?” you asked.

“I thought, why would you want to talk to me after what I did to you?”

“If you know it was so wrong, then why did you do it, Terzo?” you snapped.

Terzo did not respond, and instead, stared at the flowers in his hands.

“Don’t go silent on me again. Please. I remember exactly what you said five years ago, Terzo. You told me, ‘It is not a good idea for me to have a lover.’ And then you go off to fuck however many siblings of sin, and won’t even look me in the eyes? I don’t care how long ago it was, Terzo, it still hurts just as bad as it did the day you told me to take a seat across from you. Every time I think of what happened in the garden, I… It hurts. I felt disgusting, Terzo. I felt so guilty. I still do. I wanted to scrub my body clean of you after you left me, I wanted you out of my body and mind. But you never left. I wanted so badly not to want you after what happened. But I still did. You broke my trust, Terzo. You broke my heart. And seeing you walk around the Abbey all high and mighty, so happy, at your peak, without me, it’s destroying me. ”

“Y/N. I haven’t had a single lover since the day I left you. All those quick fucks- they weren’t lovers. Those people were the impulses I let take over. Not you. You were more than that. I am far from my peak. I am at my lowest. The only thing that kept me alive was you, Y/N. Lust was the second-best thing. I’m sorry, Y/N. I am so sorry.” He apologized, looking up at you, his eyes full of remorse.

“Then why did you ghost me? Why, Terzo, if it was so hard, why did you-”

“It wasn’t my choice, Y/N,” He interjected.

“What do you mean, it wasn’t your choice?” You sniffled, rubbing tears from your eyes.

“It was my father, Y/N. My father- Nihil told me I couldn’t be around you anymore. He knew we were more than a stupid fling, that’s why he stopped it. He considered a relationship that was as committed as ours, platonic or romantic, more of a distraction from my duties than worthless hookups would be. And then, after I had nothing to present to him, he thought it proved his point. That you weren’t good for me, you distracted me from my goals. It only worsened his disapproval. I should’ve stood up to him. I should have explained otherwise. But I was afraid.”

“Terzo, I… It did prove his point. I ruined your chance. I’m the reason you had to wait to become a preacher.” You lamented, guilt riddling your heart.

“It is true, you took the journal. It hurt. That you intended to do such a thing, soil my progress. But you didn’t ruin anything for me. I ruined it for myself. I wasn’t ready for that responsibility at all. There was nothing in the journal to begin with, Y/N.” He revealed.

“What?”

“I did nothing. I had nothing to present.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, Y/N. There was nothing.” he restated.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew I hurt you so deeply. I didn’t want to hurt you again.I thought you wouldn’t want to be around me ever again. I was afraid of my father’s reaction. And now, I don’t have to be afraid.”

Both of you were so blinded by your stubbornness, unwillingness to communicate, and fear of rekindling a flame you thought was long gone, that you did not realize you both longed for the same thing: each other.

“I can’t pretend this is just a friendship, Terzo. Or that it ever was. I know it was one night, but I… it’s not just that.”

“It was never just one night,” he responded.

“Could we… would you ever want to try again, Terzo?” you asked, fearfully preparing yourself for rejection.

“I want that more than anything.” Silence spread through the air once again. But this one was a comfortable silence, one that allowed you to bathe in each other’s presence. One that allowed you to be grateful for the each other and nothing else. You looked down at the flowers placed in front of him.

“Sometimes when I am stressed, I do what you taught me. Make daisy chains.” He explained. “It feels like you’re with me.”

Your heart melted at the sentiment of the action, as he tied the final two flowers together.

“Well, I’m with you now. And I’m not going anywhere.” you professed.

Terzo tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and placed the crown on top of your head.

“And neither am I.” He said, kissing the top of your head before pulling you into another hug, one less frantic than the one before, but still just as needed. The feeling of his heart beating against yours breathed new air into your lungs, brought you back to life, his arms wrapped around you providing you a familiar sense of safety you had been deprived of for years now.

“My best friend. My soulmate. La mia Margherita.”

°❀°

As you rolled over in bed, you found yourself face to face with your lover, his appearance still blissfully remnant of his slumber; heavy eyes and perfectly messy hair.

“Happy birthday, Margherita.” he rasped, a soft smile grazing his lips.

You two began getting ready for the day, side-by-side in the bathroom mirror, as you always did.

“Shit. I’m out of paint.” He cursed, after opening the container and seeing the contents were empty.

You rummaged through your makeup bag and handed him a tube of eyeliner, saving the day.

“Ah, grazie. What would I do without you?” He asked, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“I’m not sure.” You teased. For a moment, you just stared at him in the mirror, admiring his features as he applied his eye makeup. “Hard to believe you’re a Cardinal.” You broke the silence.

“You thought I couldn’t do it?” He played with you, gently jabbing you in the side with his elbow.

“Oh, no, it's just- it feels like yesterday you were giving your first sermon as a preacher.” You recalled. “It is lust that keeps us alive.”

“You still remember?” He asked, smiling fondly.

“Of course I do.”

“I won’t let you forget, my lust may continue into my afterlife as well.”

“You’re gonna be a horny ghost?” You laughed.

“Si.” He confirmed, evoking more laughter out of you. “Merda. I have a meeting at 12. What time is it?” He asked, frantically looking around for a clock.

“You’re a mess. Good thing that’s why I love you.” You chuckled, entering your bedroom to check the time. “It’s 11:55.”

“Merda! Okay, I have to go now. I’ll be back here at around 12. Have fun with your sisters.”

“See you, Terzo.” You said, kissing him on the cheek before he bolted out of the room.

Later that day, after a nice brunch with your sisters, you and Terzo sat on a stone bench in the garden, admiring the surrounding scenery. You discovered something new about it each time you visited- Primo’s attention to detail never ceased to impress you.

“So, about what I said earlier…” He began.

“About being a horny ghost? Terzo, we aren’t doing anything in here.” You bantered.

“You’re right. It is too bright outside. Unless you suggest otherwise. Ah, I joke. But what I was going to say is…” He took a deep breath in. “How much of my first sermon do you remember?”

“Um, honestly, not a lot… My head wasn’t in the right place,” you admitted.

“I assumed. But there is something I said that day that I would like to tell you now if that’s okay.”

You nodded.

“I have learned a lot about lust. And, while a lot of it is, well, a hands-on experience, I could say- the most important thing I have learned about it is something I learned in contemplation, by myself.”

“What is it?”

“That lust is not only heated nights and bodies intertwined, it is something… greater. But what I did not say was that- that something greater is you, Y/N. We are taught lust is longing, a desire so deep that we cannot live without it… Something innate inside of us… You are the only thing that ignites that inside of me. The only thing that has ever been innate to me, ever. There is nothing else I long for more than you.” confessed Terzo, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box. Your jaw dropped when he opened it, revealing a dazzling gold ring that glimmered in the sunlight, the band embedded with gems, and in the center, a sparkling diamond surrounded by engravements resembling petals.

A daisy ring.

“Y/N… Will you marry me?”

The winding path had led you right back to where you began, a love so pure and treasured it could never fade.

Terzo Emeritus, your best friend, former enemy, your first and last lover.

The tears forming in your eyes made them glimmer as brightly as the ring itself, as you replied,

“Yes.”

Terzo slipped the ring onto your finger, pulling you in for a passionate kiss before wrapping you in his embrace. And as you were mid-embrace with your fiancée, you opened your eyes, and in the distance, spotted a few daisies daring to sprout beside the garden gates.

Primo was right. Those things would never die.

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

o m g.

please forgive me, i always get all sappy at the end of my posts even though it's stupid haha. this is the longest i've ever consistently worked on a fic, and the longest one i've written. this was a wild wild ride let me tell you. i actually had to shut my laptop at one point cause i started tearing up, i know the story is nothing revolutionary, but i’m emotional haha. also… i HIGHLY recommend the playlist. i’m biased but i am in love with this playlist haha. there are a lot of hidden details and concepts in this fic i kind of geek out over. if you’re interested in an analysis post, lmk! or if you’re not, well i might make one anyway haha i’m annoying lmao

thank you endlessly for reading, as always.

/) /) ( . . ) ♡i love you! ( づ🌷

-alice

📎 check out my masterlist!

✉️ requests are always open!

#the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #papa emeritus iii #terzo #papa emeritus #papa terzo #papa emeritus x reader #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader

68 notes · View notes

orageusealizarine · 2 months

Text

Je voudrais, parfois, que personne d'autre que toi ne lise ce que je t'écris. Paroles perdues, paroles proférées à la nuit : tu es mon grand arbre, tu es mon grand vent, tu es le feu qui brûle et disperse mes paroles tues. Mais tous ces mots ne font-ils pas plus que te dire ? Et n'est-ce pas mon devoir de désigner au monde ta beauté ? (Comme je désigne le ciel et les végétations, amie prise par la main sur le parvis familier pour lui montrer cerisier et tulipes invisibles).

Survivrais-je un monde où ta beauté n'a pas été dite ? Plus que ta beauté - ta ferveur, ta soumission consentie à mes mots et mes mains, ta nudité claire et neutre à louer comme un présage salutaire. Oui, comment vivre dans un monde où s'ignore la générosité de tes paumes ouvertes et offertes ?

Je renonce à l'ignorance coutumière, à l'aveuglement : il faut, par mes paroles, dessiller l’œil solaire - répandre sur toi nos rayons d'or ; t'avoir en pleine lumière - en plein cri de joie : percer yeux et tympans et louer jusqu'aux parties les plus blanches de ton être (les plus fades, les plus inutiles - celles que mes baisers chérissent deux fois plus pour les rendre combles).

Doré par mes mots, par mes prières - par mes avidités et mes songes liquides ; oint de mon désir nouveau-né, tu resplendis. Fleurs de sueur humectées par leur germination, tu fais, pour qui sait sentir, le printemps plus réel. On marche, et la nature brille de tes mémoires : la terre exhalée et humide, crevée tout à coup de mille germes, rappelle ta chair ravinée de caresses. Fléau moite que ce printemps qui gorge les ruisseaux (mois détesté des bergers idéaux, des bucoliques oisivetés), qui te dégorge à son passage - divinité océane que tu contrefais ou concrétises.

Salive solaire ablution, nos doigts, nos ventres, nos cuisses - regards délavés éternels - gaieté, la terre grasse la chair ébranlées à plaisir - tes paupières, rivières sur-emplies, coulures épaisses bordées d'astres : fonte printanière que rien n'entrave. Mais comment dire ton corps ? confondu aux floraisons dans mon langage chimique.

27 notes · View notes

pleasecallmealsip · 2 months

Text

Marat's Address to the Parisians

Le Junius Français, no .1, June 2 , 1790.

O Parisiens ! hommes légers, faibles & pusillanimes, dont le goût pour les nouveautés va jusqu’à la fureur, & dont la passion pour les grandes choses n’est qu’un accès passager ; qui raffolez de la liberté comme des modes du jour ; qui n’avez ni lumières, ni plan, ni principes ; qui préférez l’adroit flagorneur au conseiller sévère ; qui méconnaissez vos défenseurs ; qui vous abandonnez à la foi du premier venu ; qui vous livrez à vos ennemis sur leur parole ; qui pardonnez aux perfides et aux traîtres, au premier signe contrition ; qui dans vos projets ou vos vengeances, suivez sans cesse l’impulsion du moment ; qui êtes toujours prêts à donner un coup de collier ; qui allez au bien par vanité, et que la nature eût donné de la judiciaire et de la constance : faudra-t-il donc toujours vous traiter comme de vieux enfants ? Les leçons de la sagesse, et les vues de la prudence ne sont plus faites pour vous. Des légions de folliculaires faméliques vous ont blasés à force de sottises et d’atrocités ; les bonnes choses glissent sur vous sans effet : déjà vous ne prenez plaisir qu’aux conseils outrés, aux traits déchirants, aux invectives grossières : déjà les termes les plus forts vous paraissent sans énergie : et bientôt vous n’ouvrirez l’oreille qu’aux cris d’alarme, de meurtre, de trahison. Tant de fois agités pour des riens, comment fixer votre attention ; comment vous tenir en garde contre toute surprise ; comment vous tenir continuellement éveillés ? Un seul moyen me reste, c’est de suivre vos goûts, et de varier mon ton. O Parisiens ! Quelque bizarre que ce rôle paraisse aux yeux du sage, votre ancien ami ne dédaignera pas de le prendre, il n’est occupé que du soin de votre salut ; pour vous empêcher de retomber dans l’abîme, il n’est point d’efforts qu’il ne fasse, et toujours le Junius Français sera votre incorruptible défenseur, votre défenseur intrépide.

my translation:

O Parisians! Lightweight, feeble, and pusillanimous men, your appetite for novelties reaches furious excess, and your passion for grand things is but a brief flicker; you craze after freedom as if crazing after fashions of the day; you have neither insight, nor plan, nor principles; you prefer the skilful sycophant to the stern advisor; you disregard your defenders; you let yourselves be swayed by whosoever comes along first; you hand yourselves over to your enemies over their word; you forgive the perfidious and the treacherous at the first sign of contrition; through your projects or your vengeance you are unceasingly following your impulse of the moment; you are always ready to give another push; you seek to do good out of vanity, and nature ought to have given you judiciousness and constancy: will you forever need to be treated like overgrown children?

The lessons of wisdom, and the views of prudence are no longer made for you. Legions of famished fillers of periodical papers have wearied you with silliness and with atrocities; the good things are sliding over you unnoticed: already you only feel pleased with the overblown advices, the agonising remarks, the gross invectives: already you find the strongest words to lack energy: and soon you will only open your ears to cries of alarm, of murder, of treason. So often agitated by nothing, how could your attention be fixed; how can you be put on guard against all surprises; how can you be kept continually awake? I have been left with only one way, and that is to conform to your appetites and to vary my tone. O Parisians! However bizarre this role might seem to the eyes of the wise, your old friend will not begrudge to perform it, he is occupied but with your very survival; to prevent you from relapsing into the abyss, no single effort will he not make, and always the Junius Français will be your incorruptible defender, your defender undaunted.

#frev #french revolution #jean paul marat #marat

29 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

whitelioness

Vee.

yjminseok-blog

𝑑𝑜 𝑖 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑚𝑜𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒

sinduraisawitch

Evil Sindura Fc

gemsnap

I Refuse To Be Straight And Decent.

bbdecor-blog1

B & B Decorative