#sorry december is my choices month

[calamitoustide]

thinking about how choices james got married with that quaffle in his pocket

[tieronecrush]

secret santa

dbf!joel miller x f!reader

summary: your parents throw a christmas party every year, and this is your first time in the “adult” secret santa exchange. the last few times home, you’ve found joel, your dad’s friend, staring a bit too long, flicking away when he’s caught. for the game, of course, you get joel’s name. and you’re going to make sure it’s the best gift he’s ever received.

rating: E

wc: 5.6k

warnings: daddy kink, age gap (sorry folks but i did want to try my hand at dbf!joel lol i pictured him around 50, reader around mid-late 20s), alcohol consumption, mentions of food, distant relationship with parents, party, christmas, gift giving, secret santa game, bit of deception on reader's part just to get joel alone, lingerie, body worship, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, restraints (using clothes/undergarments), daddy!joel, soft!dom joel, praise, a few instances of degradation, dirty talk (as always)

a/n: (images in moodboard do not convey what reader looks like, only the vibe! no descriptions of reader) my first dbf!joel…milestone moment lol <3 hope y’all enjoy my take on the dbf trope! and tysm to my babies for beta-ing @northernbluess and @kiwisbell love you both 😚

dividers by @saradika

Twenty years. This same godforsaken party has been happening every December for the last twenty years of your life, full of overserved middle aged parents, and never has it been less enjoyable than since you’ve been an “adult”. An adult still treated as a child, chastised, fawned over, always told to follow the golden rule. No, not treat others as they wish to be treated. Your family’s golden rule was speak only when spoken to.

And your father was the enforcer. Always required you home for the party, even away, out of state for college, away for the semester studying abroad halfway across the world. You were flown home and called upon to do the heavy lifting — groceries, liquor runs, cleaning the house, decorating to make it all feel magically festive.

At times, it felt like Cinderella had nothing on you. At least she had a prince.

The only time that this party has ever been remotely improved was when Joel Miller moved into the neighborhood. He’d snuck in under your radar due to the fact that it happened the few months you were living abroad, but coming back for the party and Christmas break, you were quickly introduced to him by your father. His new “best friend”. One among many. Each serving a unique purpose to get your dad ahead.

Upon meeting Joel, you were drawn to him immediately. Skeptical over the fact he found company with your dad, but much to your surprise, he was different. Maybe lonely and looking for a friend; you’d found he was living alone, his adult daughter, Sarah, in her final years at the University of Chicago — a choice that was hers but Joel admittedly feared, you learned. He only encouraged her, regardless of the fact he was anxious about losing his kiddo.

Not the same sentiments your dad had when dropping you off to school in the farthest, cheapest corner of the country you could find. He was nearly jumping up and kicking his feet together in glee to get you out of the house.

Joel, though, Joel was kind hearted and patient. He was curious and caring, asking you about school, work, your life every time he saw you over the years. Warmth radiated from him despite his more shy demeanor. Comfortable. You felt so comfortable with him.

Which is what made the smallest of lingering glances or the slightest of smiles turned smirks that much more exhilarating.

Maybe you were being naive or projecting your burning desire for him onto every interaction, but as you stitched yourself tighter into Joel’s life over the years, you haven’t been able to help but notice him checking you out at times or slipping a subtle flirty comment into conversations between the two of you. You would give it right back, and that would usually pump the breaks, bringing things back to surface level.

There was one time this past summer, after a neighborhood barbecue that your parents left early from, that you and Joel really had a moment. It was loud, music drowning out the back and forth you were having to the point where you couldn’t quite make out every word, and Joel must have felt the same because he made sure you heard his next words clearly — “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

Agreeing immediately, he pressed his large hand into the midpoint of your back, guiding you out of the confines of the party and to the open air of the street. He led you to his place and around back, pulling two lounge chairs next to his pool closer to each other.

That night, thanks to the alcohol buzzing in your system, you confessed more about your home life and your feelings around it. Joel was surprised, given the picture-perfect image your father paints for everyone, but he was comforting as always. Even as far as offering you his spare room if you ever needed a break.

That’s when you knew you were done for. Never in your life had you wanted to just kiss someone that badly. Let alone all of the thoughts that came along with it.

Harboring this crush for your dad’s friend, fifty plus and a father himself, you attempted to keep things growing closer when you came back. Friendly, polite, reciprocating any amount of flirty banter he threw your way. Even initiating it yourself.

You were so incredibly into Joel Miller. And returning home this time, you decided it was high time you acted on those feelings.

The noise of the bustling party dies down enough for your dad to introduce the game, as if the attendees haven’t been participating for nearly as long as you’ve been alive. But your dad loves the attention on him, cracking jokes that make you roll your eyes while everyone else gives him a laugh. Always so focused on himself. How everyone else sees him. Image obsessed enough to forget to assign anyone as a Secret Santa to his own daughter but not forgetting to give her someone to gift to.

Granted, you weren’t that upset about who you’d drawn.

Watching from afar, you see Joel survey the empty space under the tree, only the deep cherry red skirt laid out on the hardwood. Nothing for him. Everyone opens their presents, laughter and excitement bubbling across the room as the point of the game begins. Partygoers start to guess their gifters, hoping to nail down their Secret Santa in one go. Conversations are struck up as people meet their pair, ‘thank you’s exchanged along with the gifts. Joel observes from his spot with a few of your neighbors, also friends with your dad, and the sight of him shifting his weight on his feet is enough to draw up the courage to approach him.

Crossing the room, flashes of him checking you out, lingering in conversations with you about work and your new apartment in the city, seeking you out each time you visit home flood your mind, reassuring your choices the closer you get to him. The closer you get to completely jumping into the deep end, the last few steps teetering you at the edge.

Slowing to a stop next to him, a finger of yours gingerly taps his strong shoulder a few times, pulling his attention away completely. Joel turns his body to face you, away from others to solely focus on you in front of him. The subtle sign of his attraction to you has your nerves tingling, clearing your throat when he speaks up in greeting.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Y’alright?” he asks, eyebrow raised. Always so goddamn sweet.

You sigh, a tinge dramatic but attempting to sell the dismay and toying with the flute glass in your hand. “Lame surprise, but I’m your Secret Santa and I stupidly left your gift upstairs. It’s a bit obnoxious to bring down so d’you mind coming up to open it and you can grab it at the end of the night?”

Joel agrees with a jolt of nervous excitement down his spine. Shuddering out the feeling subtly, he clears his throat and nods, awaiting your lead. He thinks he catches the slightest drag of your eyes up and down his body, lingering at the expanse of his shoulders and the sliver of his chest that is exposed from the two undone buttons of his red flannel.

When no one’s paying attention, you bring Joel upstairs into your old room that you’re staying in while you’re back in town for the holidays. He stands around a bit awkwardly, sticking out like a sore thumb with his broad shoulders stretching his red flannel, thick thighs straining deliciously against the perfectly worn material of his Levi’s. Stark against the frilly softness of your room, with its bright white furnishings, and feminine touches. He’s all man. Nothing like the guys your age who think they’re like him.

Joel glances about the room before he asks, “So, what was so difficult to get under the tree, sweetheart? You didn’t have to get me anything so major.”

“I wanted to. I mean, noticed you eyeing what I got you for a while so figured the least I could do was give it to you…” Joel’s face twists up in confusion, perplexed by the riddled clue before you’re standing in front of him, reaching to the side of your plaid skirt and dragging down the zipper. Joel stutters out nonsense at your actions, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Doll, I think—you don’t—” His mumblings die in his throat when you drop the material to your ankles, revealing red satin panties. When you turn around, a bow sits at the top of your ass, tying up the material to stay on your hips while elasticated bands run along the outline of your cheeks to connect to the crotch. Very little of your bum is covered, showing off the supple flesh to Joel. He’s rendered speechless, averting his gaze after a second too long of staring, the mumblings starting up again.

“S’not a good idea, shouldn’t be up here right now…” Joel looks around, looking over his shoulder toward the door. One of your hands reaches up to gingerly cup his chin, turning his flushed face to yours again. His pupils are blown wide, eyes darkened with desire. Your own gaze flicks down between the two of you, smirking at the bulge growing at the crotch of his jeans. So desperately trying to fight against what he really wants. Even when you’re serving it up in a pretty little package.

He makes no movement toward the door, which you take as a sign of letting go of at least some of his apprehension. Fingers grip the hem of your sweater, pulling it up and over your head, discarding it on your carpet along with your skirt.

Matching red satin material, the bra you’re wearing has a similar structure to your panties. Held up with straps and the usual clasps at the back, the front is a large gift bow, pulled tight when you tied it earlier this evening to push up the flesh of your breasts. One tug at the tail end of both the ribbons, the one at your chest and at your ass, would fully expose you to Joel. Something you’re desperate to propose to him.

“Aren’t you gonna unwrap your present, Joel?” Picking up each of his hands in yours, you guide one to your lower back and one to your chest, coaxing his fingers to wrap around the ends of the bows. “Or do you not like your gift? I thought you wanted this…”

“No, no, no. I like it. I really fucking like it, sweetheart, I just…Everybody’s downstairs and—”

“I can be quiet. I’m a good girl, Joel.”

That flips a switch in him, hearing those words from you. His eyes darken further, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips. A burning stare combs over you, head to toe, alighting flames in your gut that lick against your insides. Heat crawls across the back of your neck, pooling in your collarbone, and craving oozes between your ribs and between each of your vertebrae. Joel’s right hand lifts from his side, skating up the length of your left arm and leaving goosebumps rising in its wake. Fingertips ghost over the strap of your bra, down to the center of your collarbone, and sitting there. That lasts only a second before his long, thick fingers wrap around the base of your throat, raising his loose grip to settle underneath your jaw.

The silence is heavy, airy breaths the only sounds passed between the two of you. His hand at your neck coaxes your head to tip back, staring up at him looking down at you. A flicker to your lips. A low, curious hum. Arousal pools in between your thighs as you wait with bated breath for something, anything to happen.

“You’re dangerous, doll.” His whisper is coated in lust, his gaze greedy as it drinks you in once again.

“I’m a gift,” you correct sweetly, feigning innocence as a smirk grows on your face at his dark chuckle.

“A gift that keeps on giving?” he questions. His hand twists to allow his thumb to find your bottom lip, dragging across its glossy, cherry surface.

“I guess you’ll have to find out…” Your mouth stays open after speaking, tongue slipping out to lick the tip of Joel’s thumb. He presses his finger further, pushing between your lips as you welcome it, sucking gently. Joel sighs, shoulders relaxing while his eyes flash with need.

“Christ…” he hisses under his breath, shaking his head subtly before clearing his throat. Speaking sternly, unwavering, he says, “Can I unwrap my present, babydoll?”

His thumb leaves your mouth with a quiet pop, hand finding its place again at the slack of the bow at your chest, other arm wrapping around to find the bow at your ass. A gentle tug moves the satiny smooth material a few centimeters, not enough to pull it fully undone.

“All yours, Joel. Picked out ‘specially for you.” Joel smirks at your candied reply, eager to give him exactly what he’s been wishing for. What you’ve caught him staring at the last few times you’ve come back home. What you have been wanting for just as long, if not longer.

“Such a sweet girl. Beautiful girl.”

The words send a tingle down your spine, stoking the flames inside of you. Your eyes stay trained on Joel’s face while his fingers draw the bow at your chest undone, the lengths of material hanging at your sides and exposing your breasts. He licks his lips at the sight of your pebbled nipples, rolling out a stifled groan from his chest.

“Fuck, baby…S’pretty.”

Joel’s hands fan across your lower back, holding your hips against his, pressing his bulge into your covered mound. His broad frame folds forward, draping you backwards in his arms as his mouth attaches to your chest. Humid, open-mouthed kisses are littered across your skin, nips taken at the tender flesh of your breasts. Closing his lips around one of your nipples, he sucks strongly, pulling a whimper from your throat.

“Thought you could be quiet, doll?” he rasps, raising an eyebrow as he looks up at you from your sternum.

Nodding furiously, you pout your lower lip out, whispering back, “I can be, I will be. I promise.”

“You promise? Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby.” Joel stands up straight, pulling you with him to press against his torso. Catching your lips in a deep kiss, Joel breathes a sigh into your mouth, melting his tongue against yours and drinking in the taste of you.

Dripping with saccharine sugar. Coated with syrupy goodness, plump and succulent like a maraschino cherry. A toothache, or maybe even a heartache waiting to happen.

He’s fucking screwed, but damn if it doesn’t feel good as he nails himself to his own persecution from whoever may find out about this.

Handfuls of your undulating curves fill his palms as he kisses you, groaning into your mouth as he grabs at the swell of your ass. Silky satin brushes against his hand, reminding him of the other part of his present to unwrap. Pulling away from your mouth with one last lick of your candied taste, he has the mind to imagine what the rest of your flavors all across your body might be.

Joel turns you in his arms, back flush to his chest as he grinds his bulge against the lustrous fabric, smirking to himself as you whimper quietly, so hushed he can barely hear it over his heartbeat thudding in his ears. Lips coast over the shell of your ear, nibbling your lobe before pressing a kiss right below.

“Can I undo your other pretty bow, babygirl? Unwrap the rest of my present?” Joel nips again when you breathe out consent. He walks you closer to the bed, hitting your knees against the frame before he takes one step back, touch still lingering on your skin. From behind you, he sighs appreciatively as he drinks in your form, licking his lips as his eyes devour you.

Pinching the ribbon between his thick fingers, he flicks it against your skin, satisfied with the way you react with goosebumps raised. One gentle tug unravels it all, exposing your cheeks to him fully and with the drop of the material from between his fingertips, your panties fall to the floor. One hand wrapping around your thigh, Joel coaxes you to step out to the side with it, kicking the fabric from your ankle.

He kneels behind you, pressing his lips against the swell of your ass. Flooded with the scent of your skin, vanilla and cinnamon, the smell of Christmas. Nose smashed into the supple flesh, teeth sinking into the curve, a gentle bite stealing another taste of you. A curse is mumbled against you, a sweet kiss pressed on the tiny birthmark on your ass, tongue tracing into the fading bite mark.

“Joel…” you whine above him, hand reaching back and nimble fingers tangling into his messy, gray curls.

“I know, doll. Got lost there for a second. You’re so perfect…”

He sighs again, standing up with a quiet crack in his joints. A blatant reminder of the difference between you two. Young versus old. Sprightly versus verging on doddering. Even if he is eager, there’s no denying the difference.

There’s no doubt in your mind that Joel’s about to be more of a gift to you than you are to him. The way he’s touching you, delicate worship before he’s even gotten to what he truly wants, taking his time despite the pressure of the party downstairs. Serves as a reassurance that he wants this as much as you do, wants to take his sweet time if this is going to be his only chance.

You pray to god it isn’t. Even before you’ve even laid eyes on his cock, you just know. He’s going to fuck you senseless. Ruin every other man for you.

In a blur, he guides you to fall forward onto the mattress, hooking fingers to remove your panties from your other ankle while you scoot toward the center. He finds solace between your legs, propping your hips up into a kneeling position to give him easier leverage. 

“Think this might be my favorite present I’ve been given, doll. So fucking gorgeous. Looking delectable…Can I have a taste, darling? You as sweet as you seem?”

Your head is turned sideways, laying against the plush comforter, opening your mouth to whisper to him in the same moment he swipes his tongue through your folds, groaning into your inner thigh before he dives back in, working to devour you like a man starved, quenching his thirst on your arousal. Flicking his tongue against your pearl, coated in your translucence, suckling at it with pure need. Turning to press the front of your face into your bedding, it muffles your moans and whines, raising in pitch as he fucks your tight cunt with his strong tongue, lapping at you with the same fervor he’d lick the color from a candy cane.

“Fuck, Joel, fuck fuck fuck!” you shout in a scouring voice, scratching your vocal chords together with a strain. Curling your fingers into the softened, washed fabric, you gasp when one of his solid fingers slips into your walls. He groans, holding back his louder reaction to your gripping walls, hypnotized by the way you even stretch around his fingers when he adds another.

Head against your thigh, he studies the way you take his middle and ring fingers, the velvety slick of your pussy, and the spongy spot he finds, curling his digits to press into it and watch you squirm helplessly from the sensitive pleasure.

“Talkin’ all well mannered and pretty. So quiet and polite all the time. With your ‘yes’sir’s and ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s. You think about saying those to me while you’re under me like this?”

“Yes, yes’sir. All the fucking time. Every time I—I looked at you, felt myself…felt myself gettin’ so fucking wet. Was always dripping around you, waiting for something to happen. For you to take me so I can be a good girl for you, sir,” you confess, obedience and need sitting every word so prettily into his ears. “M’so—Fuck m’gonna come, Joel.”

He nods slowly, taking last looks at your cunt before he moves his fingers in and out quicker, dipping his chin down for his mouth to find your clit against, lapping at your dripping wetness and sucking hard. At the next press of his fingers against that spot inside of you, your vision grows blurred, white haze painting everything with a dreamlike filter. You bite into the linen fabric of your comforter, gagging yourself to keep quiet as you come, digging the balls of your feet to the mattress to push yourself away from Joel who continues to work you through it. He grabs at you, tugging you back to get his fill until you sob, overstimulation drawing tears up to the corners of your eyes.

“All kept and composed and ladylike. Been taught to behave, haven’t you? Bet you fucking love to be such a little slut. Anybody ever let you? Such a dirty girl, aren’t you, babydoll?” Joel’s voice sounds distanced at first, senses falling back into place in your body as you come down completely. His work-worn hands coast over your body, roughening against your soft skin like sandpaper moving with the grain. Little resistance but catching in places it favors.

“Just—Just for you, Daddy.” It slips out smoothly from your mouth, the weight of the title heavy against your tongue in the same way you imagine his cock would feel. Filling. Satisfying.

Joel rises slowly from where he’s bent behind you, letting one leg fall behind him as he stands, the other propped on the bed. His eyes narrow in on yours, lips parted and tongue darting out as he replays what you said.

Daddy.

First, you’re already on his mind and years younger, yet he couldn’t stop picturing you in this exact position. Next, you’re the one to make the first move, dragging him away from this Christmas party and presenting him with a Secret Santa gift that feels way out of the budget. You’re priceless. And now, you’re laid out for him, already nearly at the level of fucked out from him only using his mouth and fingers, and you’re fucking calling him Daddy.

Best Christmas of his goddamn life.

“Now, darlin’, were you saving that to be the cherry on top of the cake? ‘Cause that’s just about the sweetest thing. My pretty lil’ babydoll saying she’s Daddy’s dirty girl,” he scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head while his fingers work his button open on his jeans, dragging the zipper down against his throbbing bulge. “Gonna have to be quiet, yeah? Gotta keep your sweet mouth closed while Daddy fucks you, doll.”

“I’ll be quiet, promise. Please, Daddy.” Your pleas widen Joel’s smirk, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips once again. He pushes his denim down with his cotton boxers in their wake, sighing softly when his hard cock is fully freed. His tip is aching and red, leaking precum and leaving a wet spot on his underwear. With one hand, he starts to slowly stroke himself, holding in a moan enough that it leaves his lips as a soft exhale.

“Good girl…” he mumbles, studying your form. “Move back toward me, babygirl. Hands behind your back.”

Complying with his direction, you inch back until Joel places a hand on your lower back. At that, you lay forward again, the side of your face pressing against the duvet as Joel steps back from the bed and searches the floor. A dribble of drool drips from the corner of your lips as you watch him, one large hand around his cock, spreading his precum along his length. Part of you has the mind to beg for him in your mouth, to completely disregard the need pulsating your cunt at the moment, and to feel his warm spend coating your throat as he finishes fucking it.

But you’re fucking selfish. This is also a gift for you, so win-win.

Pressing your wrists together at your lower back, you observe as Joel locates what he is looking for, standing up with a devilish smirk. Your panties.

He towers over you again when he steps back to you, one hand coasting over the curve of your ass, a gentle smack delivered that makes a quiet yelp escape from your lips. The same hand skims back up your skin, easily grabbing both of your wrists in his long fingers and holding them closer while he slips the silky material behind. In a quick motion, he has your arms tied together with a bow, a content smile on his face as he makes eye contact with you.

“Wrapped all up again, babydoll. Such a pretty gift for me.”

“Well you’ve got a pretty package, Daddy,” you reply with a mischievous giggle, earning a breathy chuckle from Joel behind you. He grips the knot of your makeshift restraint, tugging taut to arch your back and pull your hips closer. His other hand wraps around the base of himself, dragging the head of him through your drenched folds, circling your clit, and chuckling again at the jump of your thighs.

“Please, Daddy, I need—” you start pleading, muffled into linen before you’re cut off by the stretch of Joel’s cock filling your tight hole, a gasp escaping your lungs with a punch. Your mouth is stuffed with the duvet from your bite down, nursing your tongue against the material as he slowly presses into you, inch by inch. There’s an ever-so-slight pain candy-coating the pleasure, melting away to get to the gooey, oozing center that spreads over your entire body.

Pausing when he reaches the hilt of himself, Joel sighs, rolling his head back as he internally thanks whatever Christmas magic must be out there for this moment.

“So fucking tight, baby.” 

Your dampened whine shoots a wave of intense need throughout him, growling low as he holds your restraint tighter, dragging his hips back before he starts a punishing pace. Control escapes him, desire taking over his actions as he starts to properly fuck you. His cock teaching you how to take every single inch of it.

Messes of his name and your moans are stifled and stuttered into the comforter gagging you, chest hovering over the mattress as Joel holds tight to the knot in your panties.

“Can’t hold back any longer, baby, jus’—fuck—jus’ gonna take Daddy’s cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” The only precision remains in the soft cracks of skin on skin, not loud enough to draw any attention from the party downstairs. Poppy carols play faintly in the background, the only other soundtrack being the vulgar mumbles slipping from Joel’s lips.

Drawing you closer and closer, the edge is tasted on your tongue, so close but barely in reach as the man behind you rocks his hips, the tip of his hard cock brushing that same spongy spot inside of you that he managed to reach with his fingers, bruising into your cervix with each snap.

At the next drag-out, Joel pulls away from you completely. When you whine with protest, he’s tugging you to stand up on your knees, whispering in your ear amid his quick movements, “Need to see your face when I make you come all over my cock…”

Before you can be left with any thoughts to a response, he’s flipping you onto your back, hands tied still, and tugging you near again. He steals a pillow from the top of your bed, shoving it under your hips to lift your pelvis, gifting himself the perfect angle to thrust into you again from the height he stands at.

The new angle punches out moans from your chest, Joel’s name littering the empty room as you try so hard to remain quiet.

“Shh, I know, doll, I know. Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Y’love bein’ Daddy’s little slut.” Nodding furiously, another louder moan leaves your mouth, brows knit together with worry as you hurtle closer and closer to the edge.

A large palm moves to cover your mouth, shaking his head slowly to remind you of your promise to be his good girl, his quiet girl. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, Daddy…” He feels the vibrations of your voice against his hand, the words muddled into slight nonsense from pleasure clouding your brain. Joel holds onto one of your legs, pulling it up to hook onto his shoulder and press forward to get deeper inside of you. The switch has you screaming into his palm, eyes squeezing shut as you squirm under him.

“Eyes on me, babygirl. Keep your eyes on Daddy.”

Joel’s hips pound into you, chasing his own climax. Your eyes snap open at his instruction, mouthing at his hand and moaning loudly behind it, nodding your head furiously. Your tight walls squeeze around his hard cock, his grunts held back to keep quiet despite the noise of the party downstairs growing in volume.

“Come on, doll. Come on my cock…Fuck, you gonna let Daddy fill up your pretty little cunt?” The quick, speechless nods answers his question, both of you toeing the edge.

There’s a moment when both of you seize up, muscles tense and eyes burning into each other’s. It only lasts a split second before it explodes with a pop, at the same second a champagne bottle pops downstairs. Joel breathes out your name, over and over, mingling with your whimpers of his name and Daddy switching back and forth in your mind. Interchangeable to you.

Pleasure fizzes over your bodies like bubbles in the flutes being filled, the bubbling aerations trickling up up up to your head, making you feel lighter than air as pure bliss overwhelms you. Tingles aftershock across your nerves, a shiver sent down your spine as Joel pulls out.

Quietly, he groans as he watches his excess spend drip out of you, mixing with your come and glistening against your folds. One thick finger swipes at the spot, pushing the swirl of you back inside of your walls.

A soft whimper slips from your lips and Joel’s eyes meet yours in a flash, a gentle smile stretching across your face. He coaxes you to sit up and unties your hands behind your back, slowly massaging your wrists with his thumbs and kissing where the skin rubbed against the fabric. The tender touches accompany the soothing, comfortable silence.

Redressing you, Joel attempts to tie the bows of your bra and panties, huffing softly in frustration. You giggle when he’s working on your bra, taking his chin gingerly between your fingers and turning his head to look at you. Leaning in, his lips catch yours in a sweet, sugary gumdrop kiss. 

It’s another moment before both of you are fully dressed again. You study yourself in the mirror above your dresser, smoothing your hair down. Joel steps up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder through the knit sweater. He turns you around to face him again, grinning shyly as his eyes comb over your face.

The two of you share another kiss, his calloused hand cradling your cheek when he pulls away.

“You gonna be under my tree again on Christmas day, doll?”

“Depends…Were you naughty or nice this year?” you counter, earning a quiet laugh from Joel as he shakes his head.

“Think what just happened has put me on the naughty list for a long time, babygirl. And you, too.” He shoots you a cheeky wink and you laugh, shaking your head as you lock your fingers together in front of you.

“I did actually get you something though…” you admit shyly, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.

Joel grins, eyes flicking down to your anxious hands. His thumb brushes against the skin of your cheek, eyes meeting yours again as he replies, “You have another gift for me? Didn’t need to do that, doll.”

“I mean…Kinda needed a backup plan if this whole thing didn’t work out.” A chuckle is shared between both of you before you continue, “Sorry for spoiling the whole guessing game of Secret Santa.”

“Darlin’, you could spoil any games for me if it ends up with this kinda surprise.” Joel smirks before stealing another quick kiss, pulling away when you step back to fish out the small, meticulously wrapped giftbox from the top right drawer of your dresser.

Handing over the square package, Joel’s eyes glitter with boyish excitement. The corner of his mouth pulls up to one side while his thick fingers slip under the creases of the paper to rip the tape, undoing the festive wrapping to reveal the lidded giftbox that he opens quickly. Inside, Joel studies the contents. Small triangles with rounded corners made from thin nylon plastic. A deep emerald green, all sitting like precious gemstones. His initials are branded into one side with gold paint, the flip side emblemed with the silhouette of an owl.

“Sweetheart…Thank you. These are real nice…” he speaks softly while he picks one up between his index and thumb, turning it between the tips of his fingers. “They’re perfect. Gonna be sad if I end up losing one of these like all my other picks.”

You smile sweetly, stepping closer again and resting your hands on his biceps, “Guess you’ll have to take good care of ‘em.”

As he looks at you, he mirrors your smile, sharing one more gentle kiss before whispering against your lips, “Can think of another something I have to take good care of.”

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[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (14)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: this took aaaaaaages. I won't keep you. Go right ahead. Check back at the end with moi 💋

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The Mallorca holiday is not the only thing that ends in this chapter. Ewan and his Darling reckon with the truth, and they have to decide whether it's all worth it. Especially with what's coming...

The rest of the evening goes off without a hitch. It’s as if the stars have aligned and the universe has conspired to give two lovers the perfect date they so deserve after months and months of rolling in the muck.

It could be plain luck, but really, the credit goes to Ewan’s meticulous planning. Before leaving for Spain, he already knew he would have to pull out all the stops to get some proper time alone with you. Away from the rest of the group. And especially away from the guy you’re dating. 

The dedicated artiste in him can find some twisted pleasure in how this area of his life imitates his art. Wouldn’t it be easier to tap into Aemond if some part of him—of Ewan—carries some resentment for Matt?

Ewan had it in him to envision how this series of events would serve as his fuel for the Battle Above the Gods’ Eye. 

So long as he gets you back. As you sit across the candlelit table, he can’t stop staring. His dimples carve themselves deeper with every laugh or glance you throw his way. It’s the kind of brazen adoration that could make a person feel exposed, vulnerable even—but not with you. He could let you dig as deep as you’d like and he will still feel safe. Intoxicating, but in a good way. 

In turn, your eyes become drawn to those crescents on his cheeks, and you display a loving expression of your own. He blossoms under your scrutiny.

You’re in the middle of shoving a forkful of entrée into your mouth, not very demure-like, when he dreamily says, as if in a trance, “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

The fork freezes mid-air, and your resulting snort further proves the absurdity of his sentiment. You sure have an almost unguarded way of presenting yourself for a Hollywood actress. Not that it matters with Ewan. You could be clad in nothing but a potato sack and the lad would think the sun shines out of your arse. That being said, the potato sack would allow him easy access to the main source of his bliss—nevertheless—the look he continues to give you proves nothing short of devotion.

“So smooth, Ewan,” you respond, feeling warm all over. “Do you have any other lines, or can I eat my food in peace now?”

“Hey, I’m not stopping you,” he smirks.

“No, you’re just staring.”

“Guess I’m just… making up for lost time,” he expresses, more sincere this time, unable to mask the longing in his tone.

You hold back your snarky retort. The logical side of you wants to believe that the period you spent apart had been necessary, and that both of you grew as people in the interim. He landed the role, you were able to focus on filming, and it was well and good—until it all came crashing down when he broke first that December night. 

If you hadn’t broken things off and the production for Ewan’s film bypassed him, it would have been on your conscience. But maybe your continued romance would have provided some balm for the both of you. 

It’s no use looking back on that now. You both made your choices. And now you stand on the precipice of what could be the end, or the beginning of everything anew. 

He is indulging in his wine when you finally find your words. “I’m sorry, Ewan. For everything.”

He catches on the crack in your voice and the quiver of your lip. His hand shoots across the table to encase yours. “Hey, darling, it’s okay. We’re going to be okay.”

“Are we?”

“Yeah. Look, you know how I feel about you. I love you, and that’s all that matters. Everything else is just noise.”

“But—”

“I’ll always love you,” he pauses, before dropping the words that make your heart clench uncontrollably, “even if you choose him.”

“Oh, Ewan—”

“Don’t get me wrong. It would hurt like a bitch. It would kill me… but I’ll survive, you know what I mean?”

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. “You’re too good to me.”

“No,” he sighs, smiling ruefully. “Thing is, I haven’t been. Not always, and I’ll have to live with that. But whatever makes you happy now… is what I want. It’s all I want.”

“Okay,” you reply, and you mean it. You believe him. 

“So,” he says, his voice a little lighter, “darling, should I be offended that you still haven’t given me my birthday gift?”

Your brows shoot straight up. “Oh? I guess I should have… Well, what would you like?”

Ewan holds your gaze unwaveringly for a moment, waiting for you to catch on to the significance of his impish smirk. You roll your eyes fondly. “Not here, babe. There are other people in this restaurant. It wouldn’t be ideal. Besides, we really shouldn’t give Deuxmoi more fodder for their messed-up blind items.”

A beat of silence, broken by your shared laughter. And the night unfolds perfectly.

You’re halfway to the restaurant’s exit when the inevitable happens—a hesitant voice calls out behind you, stopping you both in your tracks.

“Excuse me?”

You turn to find a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, standing a few steps away. Her phone is clutched tightly in her hands, and her eyes are wide with recognition. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt… but are you… from the show House of the Dragon?”

Ewan freezes for half a second, his brows lifting in surprise, before his easy charm kicks in. “That would be us.”

“Busted,” you add with a grin.

“Oh my God,” the girl whispers, visibly overwhelmed. “Would it… would it be okay if I got a picture? I’m such a huge fan of both of you.”

Ewan glances at you for approval, before he smiles and nods at the girl. “Sure, let’s do it.”

The girl practically vibrates with excitement as she hands her phone to a passing waiter. She giggles nervously, moving in close for the photo, and then you notice her glancing at you in a state of awe. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers. 

“Damn right, she is,” Ewan says sincerely.

“Thank you so much,” the girl gushes, taking her phone back from the waiter. “You’re both amazing. Really.”

As she walks away, Ewan leans in and mumbles in your ear, “I guess we’re not as inconspicuous as we thought.”

You laugh under your breath. “Let’s get out of here.”

The cool night air greets you two, sporting your superhero masks, the fabric blocking the faint metallic scent of oncoming rain. You make it halfway down the long main street before the sky opens up, the first fat raindrops splashing against the cobblestones. Within seconds, it’s pouring, the rain drenching you both as you scramble for cover.

Ewan pulls you toward a narrow alley, where an aging awning juts out above a shuttered shopfront. The shelter is flimsy at best, but it’s enough to keep the worst of the downpour at bay. You’re both breathless and laughing, your clothes sticking to your skin.

He lifts his mask just enough to show his mouth, a grin tugging at the corners. “Rain’s not so bad, is it?”

You pull your own mask off entirely, shaking out your damp hair as you glance up at him. “Speak for yourself, Spidey. I’m soaked.”

He takes a step closer, his hands sliding gently around your waist. “And yet you look incredible.”

You snort, though your cheeks flush at the usual intensity of his words. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re stunning,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower. His fingers tighten on your waist, and you can feel the warmth of him even through the cold rain. “C’mere.”

You don’t hesitate. Reaching up, you tug his mask higher, just past his nose, exposing his lips. Then you rise onto your toes, closing the space between you. The kiss is deep, unhurried, and utterly consuming. Rain slides down your face and his, cool droplets mingling with the warmth of your skin. One of his hands moves up to cradle the back of your neck, drawing you impossibly closer to deepen the kiss.

You moan against his mouth, and his heart soars. 

When you finally pull back, you’re both panting, your lips wet and foreheads pressed together.

“You’re unreal, darling,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire. “How did I get so fucking lucky?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you kiss him again, softer this time, as if sealing a promise only the two of you could ever understand.

Matt stands on the villa’s enclosed balcony, nursing a half-empty glass of Rioja and gazing out into the moonlit courtyard. The rain has softened to a mere drizzle, but everyone remains scattered inside the large holiday house. A knot of frustration is growing in his chest. He hadn’t been looking for anything serious when the two of you started seeing each other—at least that’s what he keeps telling himself. But watching you walk hand in hand with Ewan as you enter the gates feels like a punch to the gut.

You pause near the courtyard’s edge, leaning into Ewan’s shoulder as you exchange a few quiet words. Even from this distance, Matt can see the easy intimacy between you—the kind of connection he hasn’t quite managed to reach with you. He drains the rest of his wine in one gulp, the bitterness lingering on his tongue as he sets the glass down on the railing with more force than necessary.

“You know, glaring at them isn’t going to change anything,” comes a familiar, teasing voice.

He turns to find Liv leaning against the doorframe, one brow arched and a knowing smirk on her lips. Unlike him, she seems utterly at ease, as if she’s been waiting for this moment.

“Wasn’t glaring,” he mutters, though the tension in his jaw betrays him.

“Right,” she drawls, stepping onto the balcony. “Just brooding in the dark getting sloshed. Very subtle.”

Matt lets out a low chuckle despite himself, running a hand through his hair. “Subtlety’s overrated, love.”

Liv moves to stand beside him, following his gaze toward the courtyard. You and Ewan are heading inside now, your laughter grating at Matt’s ears as he watches your soaked figures, not that either of you seems to care. 

“You’re not going to make a scene, are you?” Liv asks, her tone light but edged with genuine concern.

He shakes his head. “Course not. We’re professionals.”

“But?” she prompts, tilting her head to study him.

“But it doesn’t mean I’m giving up.” His voice is steady, but there’s a vulnerability beneath it that catches her off guard. “Not yet, anyway.”

“You know I support you,” she says finally, “but there’s a fine line between persistence and masochism.”

He glances at her, his lips twitching into a wry smile. “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m serious, Matt,” she insists, though her tone softens. “If you’re going to fight for her, do it because you love her, not because you’re afraid of losing.”

Matt looks at her, really looks at her, and for the first time, he notices the faint freckles dusting her nose, the flecks of gold in her deep brown eyes. There’s something unspoken in her gaze—an understanding, perhaps even admiration—and it nearly throws him off balance.

“Thanks,” he says after a moment, his voice quieter. “For the advice.”

“Don’t mention it.” She offers him a small, lopsided smile. “Just don’t make an arse of yourself, yeah? Remember, you are Daemon fucking Targaryen, after all.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “That I am.”

As she turns to leave, Matt finds himself watching her for a beat longer than necessary, a thought flickering at the edge of his mind. But he pushes it aside, refocusing on the task ahead. You’re still inside, still within reach…

But no. 

He’s not ready to let you go—not yet. But the truth is, you were never his to hold onto. Maybe you never had been.

The vacation winds down far too quickly, as such things always do. Bags are packed and lined against walls, the last remnants of a shared holiday ready to disperse back to their separate lives.

Louise moves through the villa with her phone in hand, snapping selfies with everyone in sight. Her laughter is infectious as she cajoles even the most camera-shy among the cast to join. Namely, Ewan Mitchell. She’s especially persistent with him, sneaking in shots when he isn’t looking or pulling others into the frame to get him to relax.

Freddie and Tom take one last dip in the pool, their shouts and splashes echoing through the courtyard. They’re trying to see who can hold their breath underwater the longest, both acting like overgrown kids unwilling to admit the holiday is ending. Bethany and Phia, meanwhile, are busy tidying up the kitchen. Somehow, they manage to rope in a few of the guys to help, using mock threats of withholding night-out invitations to get the job done.

You sit in the quiet of the villa’s courtyard, the sunrise emerging low on the horizon, painting the scene in hues of gold and amber. You find yourself enjoying the stillness, savouring this pocket of calm before reality rushes back in.

But the peace is short-lived. A familiar voice calls your name, and you glance up to see Matt approaching with his deliberate gait, his eyes shaded with an emotion you’re almost afraid to name. 

You know he knows. You know it’s time.

“Hey,” he says, stopping a few feet away. The air between you is charged, heavy with things unsaid, but perhaps these very same things have lingered since the beginning of your little romance.

“Hey,” you mirror softly, already knowing where this conversation is heading.

He gestures toward the empty chair beside you. “Mind if I join?”

You shake your head, and he takes the seat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. For a moment, neither of you speaks. The sounds of the villa fill the silence—distant chatter, everyone fussing and unaware of what’s unraveling between yourself and Matt. 

Finally, he breaks the quiet. “I’ve been thinking about us. About… what comes next.”

You’re not surprised. You had seen the tension in his jaw last night, the flicker of frustration in his eyes as you returned to the villa hand in hand with Ewan. You’d known this conversation was inevitable.

“Matt…” you start, but he holds up a hand, stopping you.

“Just… let me say this first,” he says, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. “I know things between us weren’t supposed to get complicated. And I know I wasn’t looking for something serious when we started this. But somewhere along the way, that changed for me.”

He shifts, his fingers threading together as he searches for the right words. “I don’t regret any of it. Not a single moment. But I also know I can’t hold onto something that was never really mine to begin with.”

Your chest tightens at his words, taking in the raw honesty in his tone. You reach out, placing a hand over his. “You mean a lot to me, Matt. You really do. But…”

“But it’s him, isn’t it?” he finishes for you, his smile stiff and not reaching his eyes. “It’s always been him.”

You want to nod, but it doesn’t feel right. You worry that any sort of affirmation from you at this moment would be too cruel. Salt in his wound. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know,” he says simply. He leans back, exhaling deeply as he tilts his head as he gazes at you. “While I still have you, my love… while you’re still here with me… mind if I steal one last kiss?”

His words take you by surprise, but the sincerity in his eyes makes you nod. He leans in, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips meet yours. The kiss is gentle, filled with bittersweet yearning, and when he pulls away, there’s a sense of finality in his gaze.

“I would have been the happiest man if you let me fall in love with you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek, “my Alyna.”

Then he rises, giving you one last lingering look before turning and walking away.

The memory of that night plays in your mind as you sit on the plane, your hand intertwined with Ewan’s. He’s staring out the window, his profile bathed in the soft glow of the light streaming from the window. You’re both quiet, but his thumb strokes idly against the back of your hand, a silent reassurance of his presence.

The flashback is vivid—Matt’s earnestness, the way he had let you go with grace. But even in that moment, there had been no doubt in your mind. It had always been Ewan. From the moment you met him, from the way he looks at you now as if you are the only thing in the world that matters, you knew. Every detour, every mistake, every painful scenario had only ever led you back to him.

Ewan turns to you then, his eyes soft and searching. “You okay, darling?”

You nod, squeezing his hand. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” he asks, his tone gentle.

You hesitate for a moment before answering. “About how lucky I am.”

Those damn dimples appear as he smiles. “Funny. I was just thinking the same thing.”

You laugh softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. The steady rhythm of his breathing soothes you as your eyes flutter shut, and for the first time in a long while, you feel truly at peace. The past is behind you, and the future—whatever it may hold—is something you’re ready to face together.

As the plane cuts through the clouds, carrying you both to LA, you let the weight of the last few months fall away. Your boyfriend’s arm wraps around you, anchoring you with him in the present. And everything feels exactly as it should.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, and the two of you barely make it into the hallway before your lips clash again. The mimosas from the bar downstairs left a faint tang in your mouth, but Ewan’s familiar taste is just as sharp as he slides his tongue past your lips. His hands grip your face with sheer desire as he kisses you, his body pressing you against the wall outside your suite.

You fumble with the room key, laughing breathlessly against his lips when the thin piece of plastic slips from your fingers. “Ewan,” you groan, “if you don’t let me get the door open, we’re going to scandalise the hotel staff.”

His teeth grazes the curve of your jaw as he growls softly, “Don’t care. Let them watch, darling.”

The lock finally clicks, and the two of you tumble inside, the door swinging shut with a muted thud behind you. He kicks off his shoes without a thought, already reaching for the zipper at the back of your dress. His fingers are skilled, traversing the familiar territory of your curves, impatiently hitching the fabric down to your hips.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his accent curling deliciously around the words as his gaze devours every inch of you. 

Your hands aren’t idle either, tugging his shirt over his head and raking your nails lightly down his chest. He hisses at the sensation, his muscles tensing under your touch. “God, I missed this,” you purr, your lips following the path of your hands.

“Missed you,” he counters, pulling you closer until there isn’t a breath of space left between you. The queen-sized bed is only a few steps away, but neither of you seem to care, too lost in the frenzy of lips, teeth, tongue, and hands.

When he finally lifts you into his arms and carries you to the mattress, he lays you down with a gentleness that belies the hunger in his eyes and the world stands still as he hovers over you.

“I need you, my darling,” he confesses lowly.

“You have me,” you whisper back, pulling him down to meet your lips once more.

What follows is a collision of need and intimacy, a desperate reclamation of what had always been yours. 

The next morning, sunlight pours through the sheer curtain of your hotel room. The soft sounds of downtown LA waking up filter through the window. You snuggle against him, his arm lazily draped around your waist, your bare skin pressed together under the tangled sheets. It had been a long, passionate night of lovemaking. Leave it to Ewan to make up for months of lost time in a matter of hours. 

He presses a sleepy kiss to your shoulder, his voice still groggy with sleep. “Good morning, love.”

You smile, closing your eyes again as his lips brush your temple. This is peace—a fleeting, beautiful pocket of bliss. But peace isn’t destined to last, especially not for those in your profession.

Something will get brought up, unearthed, stirred. 

Meanwhile, across the internet, chaos has erupted. 

A Daily Mail article runs alongside blurry paparazzi photos of you and Matt in Spain and an older photo of you sharing a laugh on a date with Ewan in LA. The headline screams betrayal: “Caught Between Two Dragons: Actress Allegedly Juggled Co-Stars Matt Smith and Ewan Mitchell During Spain Getaway!” The story spins a salacious tale, claiming you had been seen cozying up to Matt before jetting off with Ewan.

Of course, TMZ can be relied on to publish the most unreliable piece, alleging that Ewan became involved with you while still publicly linked to Jenna. Photos of Ewan and you with fans in Spain were put side by side with those of him and Jenna smiling at each other in interviews. “Sources claim Mitchell has been sneaking around, one girlfriend from his TV show set and one from his upcoming film set…”

A Deuxmoi post soon follows, fueling the fire with even more speculation. “Spotted: rising actress allegedly two-timing her co-stars,” it reads, accompanied by grainy photos that should be anything but believable. There’s a shot of you and Ewan at the cozy, private dinner in Mallorca, looking every bit like a couple, followed by a picture—clearly taken from a distance—of you and Matt sharing that bittersweet goodbye kiss on the villa terrace. Louise’s sneaky photo has gone viral, misinterpreted and plastered across social media.

The story is twisted, of course—context lost in the frenzy of assumptions and rumours. But the truth rarely matters to the public. The narrative has already taken on a life of its own, the whispers and pointed fingers spreading,  along with the swelling tide of judgment from people who don’t know you, or the situation, at all.

The internet is divided.

Fans on Twitter rally in support.

“I don’t care what the tabloids say—she and Ewan belong together. The chemistry doesn’t lie.”

“They’re all adults; let them figure it out. The press needs to stop pitting people against each other.”

But the criticism was harsh, too.

“If she’s been playing both sides, that’s low. Poor Matt.”

“They're both cheaters. They deserve each other.”

“This is such a PR mess. Just admit it if you’re together!”

Back in the hotel room, the chaos of the outside world is a distant hum—until your phone buzzes incessantly on the nightstand. You groan, reaching for it, but Ewan pulls you back to his chest.

“Don’t,” he murmurs against your neck. “I don’t wanna share you with the world just yet, darling. You’re all mine.”

Everyone can speculate, criticise, gossip, and whatnot, but none of that noise matters when you’re in the arms of the one you love. 

The world can fuckin’ wait.

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued...)

Some notes in the margins...

If this reads like I'm trying to rediscover my footing in this story, that's cause I am. Trust me, I am not satisfied with this chapter. But I am also my own biggest critic...

Can you guess which scene(s) I slacked on?

Plus, the way I talked big game about the supposedly legendary smut scene. I just... could not. For now. I reckon it'll be a bonus chapter soon.

More drama! More drama! At least it's just them two now 😉

[someone-will-remember-us]

A total of 51 men are on trial over their alleged attacks on Gisèle Pelicot, recruited by her then-husband Dominique Pelicot, who has admitted drugging and raping her.

The 50 men accused of rape and assault alongside Dominique Pelicot are aged between 26 and 74. They include a nurse, a journalist, a prison warden, a local councillor, a soldier, lorry drivers and farm workers. They each face up to 20 years in prison.

In total, 49 are accused of rape, one of attempted rape and one of sexual assault. Five others are also accused of possessing child abuse imagery.

Most lived in south-eastern France within a 60km radius of the village of Mazan, where the Pelicots lived. Six have previous convictions for domestic violence, two have convictions for sexual violence. A total of 23 have a criminal record for offences such as drunk-driving and possession of drugs.

Some of the accused men have admitted rape but said they did not set out with this intention, and have apologised in court to Gisèle Pelicot, 72, a grandmother and former logistics manager. Others have denied the charge of rape, saying they believed they were taking part in a game by the couple.

Gisèle Pelicot was unknowingly sedated and raped by her former husband, Dominique Pelicot, 71, who crushed sleeping tablets and anti-anxiety medication into her food and drinks and invited men to rape her over a nine-year period from 2011 to 2020.

Pelicot has admitted the charges against him and said that for almost a decade he was in contact with men on an online chatroom titled “without her knowledge” where he would organise for strangers to come to the couple’s home

“I am a rapist, like the others in this room,” Pelicot told the court.

The case is being heard by a panel of five professional judges in the southern city of Avignon and runs until December. Gisèle Pelicot has waived her right to anonymity in order for the trial to be held in public, saying: “Shame must change sides.”

As the men appear in court over the course of the four-month trial, the Guardian will detail their profiles and testimony.

Cyrille D, 54

Trained as a butcher, Cyrille D is accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot in her home in September 2019. Cyrille D’s partner, the mother of his children, was on holiday at the time. He said he was sexually frustrated in his relationship and had gone on to the online chatroom to console himself.

In court, Cyrille D admitted rape, saying he had realised later that he had not gained Gisèle Pelicot’s consent, only her husband’s. He said Gisèle Pelicot was clearly unconscious but that her husband had been “insistent”. He said: “I’m sorry, I was naive, a little stupid, an idiot.” He told the court that while in prison on remand he had understood that “women do not belong to men”.

Gisèle Pelicot’s lawyer said video evidence had showed that the alleged rape by Cyrille D had put her life in danger as she had risked not being able to breathe.

Cyrille D detailed a violent childhood at the hands of his alcoholic father, who he said would wait outside school with a meat cleaver to attack him and threaten him. “My father was Hitler,” he told the court. After a brutal public beating by his father outside school, Cyrille D was placed in care as a teenager.

Lionel R, 44

A worker at the Pelicots’ local supermarket in Carpentras, Lionel R was a married father of three when he made contact with Dominique Pelicot. In court, Lionel R admitted raping Gisèle Pelicot on 2 December 2018 at her home, but he said he had not intended to commit rape.

“Since I never obtained Mrs Pelicot’s consent, I have no choice but to accept the facts,” he told the court. Turning to Gisèle Pelicot, he said: “I am sorry, I can only imagine the nightmare you’ve lived through … and I am part of this nightmare.” He said: “I never told myself: ‘I will rape that woman” but he admitted: “I’m guilty of rape.” He added that he should have left when he saw she was unconscious, and that it was cowardly of him not to have said anything.

The court heard that Dominique Pelicot had previously brought an unsuspecting Gisèle Pelicot shopping at the supermarket so that Lionel R could see if he was attracted to her.

Lionel R told the court he had been sexually abused at the age of 12 to 13 by the president of the pétanque club in his village.

Jacques C, 72

A former fire officer who had worked as a truck driver and then owned a pizzeria, Jacques C had been married for 25 years and had two children.

He told the court he denied rape. He said he had been “naive” and he thought that Gisèle Pelicot would wake up and it was a game by the couple.

Jacques C admitted touching Pelicot, but said there had been no penetration and therefore no rape.

Jacques C told the court he considered that his religious education had made him a “giving person” who did good and respected women. He said he loved women “in all their complexity”.

Jean-Pierre M, 63

A former lorry driver for an agricultural cooperative in southern France, Jean-Pierre M is not accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot. Instead, he is accused of using the same technique to drug and rape his own wife, and organising for Pelicot to rape her with him.

Described in court as a “disciple” of Pelicot, he admitted sedating his wife, with whom he had five children, and enlisting Pelicot to rape her.

The two men made contact in the online chatroom called “without her knowledge”. Pelicot is alleged to have provided sedatives to drug the man’s wife, explained the method and travelled to rape the woman himself.

Twelve rapes of Jean-Pierre’s wife are alleged to have taken place between 2015 and 2020. Jean-Pierre told the court that he admitted the charges.

Pelicot admitted raping Jean-Pierre’s wife on several occasions and said he regretted his actions. He said he had cut contact with the couple after Jean-Pierre’s wife woke up during one of the assaults while he was in her bedroom.

The court heard how Jean-Pierre’s childhood in the French countryside was marked by extreme poverty, extreme violence and he was the victim of sexual abuse within his family. “I was raised by pigs in the woods,” he had told his children.

Joan K, 26

A soldier in the French military, Joan K is the youngest man on trial. He was 22 at the time of his alleged raping of Gisèle Pelicot on two separate visits to her home in 2019 and 2020.

He told the court: “I’m a rapist because the law says I am” – but he said he had not intended to rape and “at the time I did not know what consent was”.

He said he had been invited to the couple’s home by Dominique Pelicot for an encounter and had not asked for Gisèle Pelicot’s consent, saying he learned only in prison what consent was.

He said he had found it strange that Gisèle Pelicot was snoring, and that he knew she was unconscious but he had not known that meant she had not consented.

In November 2019, Joan K was absent for the premature birth of his daughter on the night he was accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot for the first time.

Born in French Guiana, he joined his brother in Avignon when he was 16 before enlisting in the army. The court heard he had lived on the streets as a teenager and three of his brothers had died. He lost his army job when he was arrested. He was described by a psychologist as a chronic user of alcohol and cannabis, “depressive, impulsive and solitary”.

Hugues M, 39

A tiler, motorbike enthusiast and father of two, Hugues M is accused of the attempted rape of Gisèle Pelicot a few days before his then girlfriend’s birthday in October 2019. He denies the charge. He said he did not know Gisèle Pelicot was drugged and had not looked at her face, just her body.

His ex-partner Emilie O, 33, who met him online and lived with him for five years, told the court she feared she may have been drugged and sexually assaulted by him herself. “I don’t know if I was raped,” she said. “It’s terrible. I will always have doubts.”

She told the court that one night in 2019 she had woken up to find her partner attempting to assault her. She launched a police complaint, but it was dismissed for “lack of material evidence”. She told the court she had experienced “dizziness” between September 2019 and March 2020, but investigators did not detect any substances that might have affected her at the time.

Husamettin D, 43

A married father who had given up part-time work to care for his disabled son, Husamettin D is accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot in June 2019. He denied the charge in court saying: “I don’t accept being called a rapist, I’m not a rapist.”

The court heard that Husamettin D had made contact with Dominique Pelicot in the chatroom and had gone to the Pelicots’ home the same night, telling his own wife he was going out.

Pelicot had told him he was looking for an “Arab” man for his wife – Husamettin, born in Turkey, used the online pseudonym “Karim”.

He admitted that Gisèle Pelicot “seemed dead”, with her leg dangling oddly, but he said he had thought it was a scenario or game and that she was pretending.

He said Dominique Pelicot had said his wife was in agreement. He said he had not known she was drugged.

The court heard that Husamettin D had become addicted to cannabis from the age of 11, and had lived in children’s homes. In 2000, he was convicted for dealing drugs.

Fabien S, 39

A man with 16 previous convictions ranging from armed robbery and drug dealing to domestic violence and sexual assault of a minor, Fabien S said he admitted the charge of raping Gisèle Pelicot in August 2018. But he said he had not gone to the Pelicots’ home with the intention of raping her.

“I didn’t go there to rape her. I didn’t know I was supposed to rape her, but I recognise the facts,” he said, adding he had “not paid attention” to whether or not she had consented.

He said he wasn’t interested in a scenario where a woman was unconscious because he liked to hear women scream. He apologised to Gisèle Pelicot in court.

The court heard that Fabien S allegedly raped Gisèle Pelicot in her dining room. Asked how this was possible, Dominique Pelicot said he had put drugs in her meal and carried her unconscious to the dining room table.

The court heard that Fabien S had been sexually abused by his father from the age of two, then placed in different foster families where he faced further violence and sexual abuse, and that he was admitted to psychiatric care at the age of 16. From 18 to 28 he lived on the streets in Toulon as an alcoholic.

Mathieu D, 53

The father of two had worked as baker for 25 years before having to leave his job because of an intolerance to wheat.

He is accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot with Dominique Pelicot on 3 October 2020. He admitted the facts, saying he was high on the drug MDMA at the time and thought it was a game with a married couple.

Mathieu D accepted later that Gisèle Pelicot had not been in a fit state to consent. “I can’t deny it was rape,” he said.

The court heard that Mathieu D’s stepfather had been violent. Mathieu D told investigators he was inspired by Buddhism and “the balance of karmas”.

Andy R, 37

An unemployed agricultural labourer and married father of two, Andy R has two domestic violence convictions and is accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot at her home on New Year’s Eve 2018.

He said he did not intend to rape Gisèle Pelicot, telling the court: “As the husband had given me permission, in my mind she agreed to it.”

Andy R arrived at the Pelicots’ home an hour after first making contact online with Dominique Pelicot on New Year’s Eve. He said he had “nothing else to do” that night because his brothers hadn’t invited him to their New Year’s Eve party. He said he had thought it was a sexual “game” between the Pelicots.

The court heard he had been addicted to alcohol since he was 13 or 14, and was a regular user of cocaine.

Simone M, 42

A builder, former soldier and father of five, Simone M lived on the next street to the Pelicots in the village of Mazan. He is the only alleged rapist whom Gisèle Pelicot recognised when she was shown video evidence by police.

She told the court he had come into their living room once to discuss cycling with her husband. “I saw him now and then in the bakery; I would say hello. I never thought he’d come and rape me,” she said.

The former mountain infantryman made contact with Dominique Pelicot in the online chatroom before realising they lived less than 200 metres apart. Simone M lived opposite the tennis club where Dominique Pelicot played. “Things were going badly with my ex-wife, I was looking for love, an encounter to calm myself,” Simone M told the court.

Dominique Pelicot suggested Simone M first come to the house during the day “to see how beautiful my wife is”, adding: “If she asks, say you’ve come to discuss my bike.”

Simone M is accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot on the night of 14 November 2018. He denies rape. He said he thought Gisèle Pelicot was only pretending to be asleep and would wake up. “I’m not a rapist,” he told the court.

His ex-wife told the court he had once threatened her with an axe.

Simone M is from New Caledonia, where he grew up. As a teenager he was abused and raped by a man his parents had sent him to live with as a labourer. The court heard he had a complex about his penis size and needed constant reassurance. He had debts and periods of alcoholism.

He has a 15-month-old daughter with his current partner, who told the court she stands by him.

Thierry Po, 61

A refrigeration specialist and father of three from Bouches-du-Rhône in southern France, Thierry Po is also charged with possession of hundreds of child abuse images found on a USB stick after his arrest for the alleged rape of Gisèle Pelicot. He admits those charges but denies raping Gisèle Pelicot on 21 August 2020.

He said hadn’t seen anything abnormal about the night he went to the Pelicots’ home, believing he was meeting a couple. “I always thought Mrs Pelicot would wake up,” he said. “She wasn’t cold, she wasn’t dead, her skin was soft.”

He said he had not sought Gisèle Pelicot’s consent because he had lots of experience of encounters with couples when it was mostly the man who gave consent for the woman. He said he had had three “major” previous experiences where a husband had invited him to have sex with a wife and “she’ll be asleep, she doesn’t want to know, we’ll film it”. In one case, the woman had woken up. In two cases, he had left without seeing the women’s faces. He said he couldn’t tell if those women had been asleep or not.

He told the court: “After I leave prison, I’d like to create an association to get men like me to understand that consent is important. I’d go to swingers’ clubs and say: “Don’t forget to get consent!”

Jérôme V, 46

The former grocery store worker and father of three is one of the few accused men who admit the charges of raping Gisèle Pelicot with the knowledge that she was drugged. He told the expert psychiatrist in the case that he was aware she had not consented.

He allegedly went to the Pelicots’ home six times between March and June 2020 to rape her during the first Covid lockdown in France. A volunteer in the fire service, he lived 30 minutes’ drive away.

He told the court: “I didn’t keep going back because rape mode was my thing, but because I couldn’t control my sexuality.” He said he was at first attracted by the idea of having an inert body at his disposal and being free to act however he wanted.

He said his life was defined by sexual urges, and he was regularly unfaithful to partners because they “couldn’t meet my demands” and he tried extreme practices to break the “monotony”. He said he paid “less and less” attention to his partners.

Jérôme V said he was addicted to sex and that Pelicot took advantage of that. In court, looking over at Gisèle Pelicot, he said he was ashamed “to have done bad to someone who seems so pure”. At his home, a list of 89 names of sexual partners were found. “I needed to count my conquests,” he said.

His current partner told the court she stood by him and visited him regularly in prison.

He said he was never supported or protected by his parents. He was bullied at school and once forcibly stripped in public by other pupils at high school.

Thierry Pa, 54

A former builder who turned to alcohol when his 18-year-old son died in a road collision, Thierry Pa was an inpatient on a psychiatric ward after suffering from depression when investigators identified him as allegedly raping Gisèle Pelicot several months earlier in 2020.

He had separated from his wife a few weeks before his alleged rape of Gisèle Pelicot in July 2020 and had left his family home, saying he was unable to bear the photographs and memories of his son.

He said he had contacted Dominique Pelicot online for an encounter with a couple. He denied rape, saying: “I didn’t set out from my house saying: ‘I’m going to rape someone.’” He said: “I don’t understand how she didn’t feel anything, didn’t realise.” He said he thought Pelicot may have drugged him, and that he was manipulated and brainwashed by Pelicot.

His ex-wife told the court the alleged rape was out of character. She said she would like to get back together with him.

The court heard that Thierry Pa’s mother was an alcoholic and his father was often absent.

Adrien L, 34

Adrien L, a former building site manager from Carpentras, was convicted last year of the rapes of three former partners in a different trial and is serving a 14-year jail sentence.

He denied raping Gisèle Pelicot in March 2014. He said he had thought he was taking part in a game and did not think she was drugged.

Aged 23 at the time of the alleged rape of Gisèle Pelicot, he is one of the youngest men on trial. He was educated at private school before joining his father’s successful building business, and was described as coming from a higher-income background than many of the other men accused.

He told the court that when he was 21 he discovered after a paternity test that he was not the biological father of the three-year-old girl he was raising with his girlfriend. He said from that point onwards, “I had a hatred towards women”.

The night he was alleged to have raped Gisèle Pelicot, his new girlfriend was nine months pregnant and gave birth 10 days later. He admitted to court experts that he had mistreated his pregnant girlfriend and called her a whore.

The court heard that he was sexually abused by a cousin when he was 10.

Jean T, 52

A former roofer born on the French Indian Ocean island of Réunion, Jean T was in a nine-year relationship when he drove two-and-a-half hours from Lyon to allegedly rape Gisèle Pelicot in her bed on the night of 21 September 2018.

He had made contact with Dominique Pelicot in the chatroom, where he used the name “Bill”.

He told the court: “I am not a rapist”. He said he thought Dominique Pelicot had drugged him. “I don’t remember anything,” he said.

In court, he recalled many details of the evening, including the house, the rules of undressing in the kitchen and seeing Gisèle Pelicot on the bed. But he told the court he had no memory of the actual moment of his alleged rape of Pelicot, and recalled only getting into his car afterwards when he drove home.

Judges observed that he had not appeared drugged in seven videos, in which he was active and gave a thumbs-up sign. He was asked why, if he feared he had been drugged, he did not report this to police. He said at the time he had thought: “It was a bad encounter, forget about it.”

The court heard he had regularly sought encounters with couples for more than a decade and had paid sex workers but “it felt dirty”.

Redouan E, 55

A former anaesthesia nurse in hospital operating theatres in Morocco, Redouan E lived in Avignon, where he worked as a community nurse.

He was married for the second time and in the process of adopting a young girl from Morocco. He was disappointed that the adoption process was stopped after he was arrested for allegedly raping Gisèle Pelicot at her home on a Saturday night in June 2019.

Redouan E told the court: “I plead not guilty.” He denied rape, saying he was the “victim of a trick” and had been too “terrified” of Dominique Pelicot to say no. Confronted with video evidence of several alleged rapes of Gisèle Pelicot, he said: “I was terrified, but you can’t see it.” He said he did not leave because he feared that would ruin Pelicot’s Saturday night.

He said he had not known Gisèle Pelicot was sedated. Asked in court, how, as a trained aneasthesia nurse, he had not seen that Gisèle Pelicot was unconscious, he said he thought she was pretending to be dead “but never that she’d been drugged”, and he believed he saw her move.

Patrick A, 60

A former factory worker and video-club owner from the Alpes-de-Haute-Provence, Patrick A admitted the charge of raping Gisèle Pelicot but said he had taken part reluctantly because he was gay and had wanted an encounter with Dominique Pelicot, not his wife.

Patrick A met Dominique Pelicot in the online chatroom and they messaged on Skype, where Pelicot told him Gisèle Pelicot was a “prudish bitch who didn’t want threesomes” and said: “I’m looking for a pervert accomplice to abuse my wife, she takes sleeping pills and I take advantage.” Patrick A had replied: “OK.”

He told the court he had wanted so much to have a gay encounter with Dominique Pelicot that he was blinded by it and brainwashed. He said he raped Gisèle Pelicot “reluctantly” to “please” Dominique Pelicot. He questioned whether he may have been drugged.

“You are homosexual but you have committed a heterosexual rape, which you admit,” said Antoine Camus, Gisèle Pelicot’s lawyer. “In this trial we have already heard of rapes committed ‘by accident’, your specificity is to plead rape committed ‘reluctantly’.”

Patrick A apologised in court. He told the court he had known he was gay from his teenage years but sought to hide it from his homophobic parents. He married a woman, had two children and after divorcing at 43 regularly met men for sex in saunas and backrooms of sex-shops in the Avignon region, and truck-drivers in motorway laybys.

Didier S, 68

A former long-distance lorry driver and divorced father of two, Didier S said he went to Dominique Pelicot’s house “exclusively for a homosexual encounter” with him. He denied the charge of raping Gisèle Pelicot on 30 January 2019. He said he had thought she was pretending to be asleep.

In court, he said he had had no intention to rape Gisèle Pelicot and was simply following her husband’s instructions. “It’s not me you should be angry with, it’s your husband,” he told Gisèle Pelicot in court, trying to catch her eye. She turned away.

He lived a 20-minute drive away, had logged on to the chatroom at 8pm one night, and two hours later went to the Pelicots’ home.

Five years earlier he underwent bladder and prostate surgery for cancer and had begun meeting men. The court heard he was raped when he was 16.

Karim S, 40

A computer expert with two university degrees, Karim S denied raping Gisèle Pelicot on 27 June 2020. He is also charged with possessing child abuse imagery found on his computer during the investigation. He denied those charges, saying he downloaded the images “inadvertently”.

He told the court of the night he went to the Pelicots’ home: “I did not go there with the aim of committing a crime and I had absolutely no idea that Mrs Pelicot was not consenting.” Messages between him and Pelicot showed them discussing Gisèle Pelicot in crude terms, referring to her not being aware of what was going on. Karim S had been told that Gisèle Pelicot would be “asleep from alcohol and a sleeping tablet” but he said he had thought it was a game.

Dominique Pelicot, who told Karim he was a doctor, invited him back in August. Karim said he feigned food poisoning as an excuse because the June encounter had been “too bizarre for me”.

He grew up in Marseille and had moved to a picturesque village half an hour’s drive from Mazan just before the Covid lockdowns of 2020.

Vincent C, 42

Vincent C, a carpenter, was convicted of domestic violence against his ex-partner in 2021 and given a six-month suspended sentence. The court heard he had had an alcohol addiction since he was a teenager.

He is accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot at her home on two occasions in October 2019 and January 2020. He denies rape. He admitted a sexual encounter but said he had had no intention of committing rape. He said he had thought Gisèle Pelicot would wake up.

He met Dominique Pelicot in the chatroom after a postcode search on the site to find people nearby. He tended to log on after his village bistro closed on a Saturday night.

“I was looking for sex,” he said, adding that he had not put much thought into it. He said he found the situation in the Pelicots’ bedroom “bizarre” but trusted the fact that he was “at a couple’s home, invited by the husband”. He said he felt no pleasure himself, but went back a second time because Dominique Pelicot had told him that he and Gisèle Pelicot had “enjoyed it”. Pelicot said Gisèle Pelicot had watched a video of his first visit and “liked it”, which for him, “closed the door on any doubt”, he said. He said he felt he had “satisfied” the Pelicots more than himself.

During his testimony, Gisèle Pelicot got up and briefly left the courtroom, appearing exasperated.

Jean-Marc L, 74

Describing himself as a former “international truck-driver between Paris and Baghdad”, the divorced grandfather is the oldest of the accused men.

He denied raping Gisèle Pelicot in May 2017. He said he had always thought that rape was “something violent … done by a madman, a brutal thing”, but that this had instead been a “sexual game”. He told the court he had only “obeyed orders” from Dominique Pelicot. He said: “She was going to wake up because it was a game.”

It was only after he left the house that he thought about whether Gisèle Pelicot had consented. He didn’t alert the police. “I should have done but it didn’t cross my mind.”

He said Dominique Pelicot, whom he had met beforehand in a supermarket car park, had told him he wanted to “punish” his wife for having had an affair in the past.

He said Pelicot asked him to come back another time “with a friend”, which he didn’t do, after mentioning it to another truck driver who said it wasn’t normal.

Jean-Marc L said he had often paid sex workers in Spain. “What truck driver hasn’t been to prostitutes?” he said in court.

Dominique D, 45

Dominique D, a lorry driver and former soldier, said he was contacted via the online chatroom in February 2015 by Dominique Pelicot, who said he was looking for a man as a “gift” for his wife “for Valentine’s Day”.

Dominique D is accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot on six different occasions. Police found video evidence of five visits to the Pelicots’ house, but he told them of one further visit.

He denied rape, saying he had not intended to rape anyone. He told the court: “I didn’t wake up one morning and say to myself hey, today I’m going to go to a couple’s house and commit a crime.”

He said that before going to the Pelicots’ home for the first time in 2015, he had asked to see Gisèle Pelicot and was sent a video of her taken without her knowledge as she left the shower. He also briefly visited the home pretending to be an electrician and saw Gisèle Pelicot reading on the sofa. He said he felt he had enough guarantees from Dominique Pelicot, adding “I just forgot one big guarantee – Madame’s consent.”

He is the youngest of 16 children and was placed in care at the age of six months.

Mohamed R, 70

Mohamed R, a former discotheque worker from La Rochelle who in 1999 was sentenced to five years in prison for raping his 17-year-old daughter, is accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot in May 2019 at the holiday cottage of the Pelicots’ daughter, Caroline, on the island of Île-de-Ré in the west of France.

Mohamed R denied raping Gisèle Pelicot. He told the court: “I couldn’t imagine for a fraction of a second that Dominique Pelicot did that without his wife knowing.” He had been in contact with Dominique Pelicot via the online chatroom.

Dominique Pelicot was asked in court why he had drugged and raped Gisèle Pelicot not just at the couple’s own home but at their daughter’s holiday home, where the Pelicots often went with their grandchildren. The couple’s daughter and grandchildren were not at the cottage at the time.

Pelicot said: “There was no symbolism, it could have happened anywhere.”

Ahmed T, 54

Ahmed T, a plumber and former champion boxer married for more than 30 years with three children, is accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot at the couple’s home in June 2019. He denied rape and told the court: “I’m not a rapist, but if I had wanted to rape I wouldn’t have chosen a 57-year-old woman, I would have chosen a pretty one.”

He was in contact with Dominique Pelicot on a chat room, saying that at the time he was having less sex with his wife and he “did not want a mistress” but thought “why not” have an encounter with a couple. He said Dominique Pelicot had referred to Gisèle Pelicot as “la bourgeoise”, saying she was away a lot in Paris and home at weekends. He said he had thought Gisèle Pelicot must have been shy, and that he had trusted her husband.

Ahmed T said he travelled to the couple’s home by car after his own wife had gone to bed.

Redouane A, 40

Redouane A, an unemployed, separated father of four who has convictions for domestic violence, burglary and death threats and has served time in prison, went to the Pelicots’ home twice in 2019.

He denied rape. He said he had asked Dominique Pelicot if it was normal that Gisèle Pelicot was snoring and had been told: “Yes, we like doing it like that.”

He described the Pelicots’ home as “a beautiful house in Provence” with a “well-kept garden”.

He said he grew up on a housing estate, began smoking cannabis at 10 and was the victim of sexual abuse at this age, by an old man he met in the park who took him to his van. He left school at 16.

The question was raised in court of a possible diagnosis of schizophrenia, with one psychiatrist saying he instead had a personality disorder.

Mahdi D, 36

Mahdi D, a transport worker and father of one from Avignon, is accused of going to the Pelicots’ home once in October 2018.

He denied rape. He placed the responsibility on Dominique Pelicot, who he said had presented himself online as part of a couple who wanted to meet single men.

Mahdi D said of Gisèle Pelicot: “One can’t imagine what she has been through, she has been destroyed and I have thoughts not only for that poor woman but her whole entourage and family.” He said it was “terrible” for him to find himself caught up in something like this.

Cyril B, 47

Cyril B, a single lorry driver who described himself as a daily consumer of cannabis, is accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot at her home in November 2018. He was recorded by Dominique Pelicot in a video called “With Cyril from Carpentras.”

He denied rape and said he had been manipulated and was not capable of committing a rape. He said he was also a victim of the situation, as he had been duped by Dominique Pelicot, whom he had met on an online chatroom.

He told the court he had previously had encounters with couples he met via websites.

Cyprien C, 43

Cyprien C, a former lorry driver and father of one, is accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot in her bed in Mazan in 2017.

He denied rape. During cross-examination, he accepted a sexual encounter had taken place and said he was sorry to Gisèle Pelicot but that he could “not say more than that”. He did not say the word rape, telling the court “I can’t say that it’s rape”, arguing that Dominique Pelicot had led him to believe that Gisèle Pelicot was playing a role in a game and “would pretend to be asleep”.

The court heard he grew up in children’s homes and foster families and later suffered from alcohol addiction as an adult.

[meetmypointlessaddiction]

December Fic Day 12 ~ Family

Summary: Logan meets your family for the first time.

Warnings: sort of mentions PTSD but not directly, mentions of fighting in a war but very very brief, joke about decapitation (?), not sure if I need to tag that but better safe than sorry

Pairings: Logan Howlett x fem!reader (I wanted to make this more generalised to any reader but found myself constantly slipping into female reader)

Enjoy and please like and comment if you do. Something as simple as an emoji literally makes my day better and reblog to share my work :)

The purr of the engine and the low hum of the radio was the only thing breaking the silence as Logan drove the pair of you down the highway, in the direction of your parents’ house. You had been talking to your mom about Logan for months and it was after her begging and pleading that you finally agreed to invite Logan to your Christmas gathering, despite the man not being particularly interested in entertaining the Christmas traditions for anyone other than you. 

“And you’re sure it’s just going to be your parents and your brother and his wife?” Logan checked, turning to look at you as he took his focus off of the road for a few seconds. “Because I’ve only prepared myself for the father and big brother speech, any more people and I’m pretty sure I’ll stab something.” 

You rolled your eyes at him exaggerating and he just smiled, kissing your hand and leaning back in his seat. “That’s what my mom has told me. My nieces are having a babysitter I think, this party thing is usually just the adults. The kids get to visit on Christmas Day when we go for dinner. You don’t have to come to that by the way if you don’t want to. I’ll tell my mom that you’re, I don’t know, you have your own family to have dinner with.” 

Logan laughed and squeezed your thigh. “Baby, I don’t mind spending Christmas with your family if that’s what you want. I’d only end up in Wade’s flat drinking and watching one of his stupid movies that he likes so I won’t be missing much if I come with you.” He reassured you and smiled, leaning against the window again. “Besides, I’m sure me and your family will get along just fine.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

Logan pulled up outside your parents drive and within five seconds the door was flung open and two little girls came sprinting towards the car. “Umm baby? Are the umm- are the kids-?” 

“Oh my god Logan I’m so sorry. My mom told me that the kids weren’t coming but-.” 

“Bub. I was a teacher, remember? I’m not gonna go feral on the kids, okay? You go take em back inside and I’ll bring the bags in.” He told you and you nodded, the girls screaming for their auntie as they stood at the edge of the garden. 

As you hugged your nieces and ushered them back inside, you saw Logan with your rucksack on his back, suitcase under his arm and the three huge bags of presents and gifts that you had brought in his other hand. “Do you want me to grab anything? Your hands look-.” 

“You can grab your phone out of the front, you left it.” He said with a smirk and you just smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek as he waited for you to be done, not wanting to approach the door without you. He didn’t have much choice though when your mother was there, inviting him in and kissing each of his cheeks twice. You just shot him a look that said everything and followed him into the house. 

~~~~~~~~~~

After you and Logan had dumped everything in your bedroom, you made your way back downstairs where your mother was beaming at you. “Well, aren’t you going to introduce me, love?” She pushed and you turned to Logan with a shy smile, blushing more at his teasing smirk. 

“Logan, this is my mama. Mama, Logan.” You introduced them both and Logan smiled, nodding his head in acknowledgment. 

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He said and your mother shook her head. 

“No, no, call me Janet, dear. You’re the first boy our gem’s brought home, it’s got to get you on a first name basis, right?” She joked and he nodded, smiling politely as she led the pair of you into the living room. 

“Logan, this is my husband Craig, my son, Jordan, his wife, Louise and their two girls, Emilia and Hatty.” She pointed out everyone and Logan gave a polite wave as your brother smiled at him. Your father stood from his chair, a stern look on his face and Logan could hear the way your heartbeat sped up slightly. 

“Sir.” Logan said and the man’s facade broke as his face split into a smile and he held his hand out for Logan to shake. 

“Nice to meet you, son.” The pair chuckled and you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that Logan was so much older than your father could imagine. “Gem’s told us all about you.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

Logan was kidnapped by your father and brother as they got talking about anything and everything while your sister-in-law and mother dragged you into the kitchen, shutting the door and sitting down at the kitchen table. 

“Holy shit, gem! He’s a dream.” Your sister-in-law gushed and you rolled your eyes. “I can’t believe you didn’t bring him home sooner.” 

“Yeah well family gatherings aren’t really his thing. He only came because mama invited him.” You told them and they nodded. “What happened to this being a no kid thing? Not that I’m upset to see my babies but I kinda told Logan that the kids weren’t going to be here.” 

Your mom just shrugged. “I decided that the kids are old enough now to be part of the Christmas party.” 

“Mama, they're four and seven. Me and Jordan weren’t allowed until we were eighteen!” You argued and she just rolled her eyes. 

“Oh come on, gem. They’re not bothering anyone. They’re playing in the garden and when it gets to food time, they’ll be happy as Larry while they stuff their faces. Your boyfriend’s safe from the ankle biters.” Your mother teased and you glared at her.

“Mama, I'm serious. Logan is- he… he’s been in the army and fought a lot of wars mama. Not to mention everything else that has happened in his life. Sometimes the kids can be a little overwhelming and I don’t want him to feel like he’s being squashed okay? I want this to be a good thing for him. I want him to like coming to spend time with you.” 

Your mother had an almost regretful look on her face and she frowned. “I’m sorry, love. It really was a last minute decision. I’ll warn the girls not to sneak up on him okay? And you let him know that if he’s had enough of them he’s more than welcome to disappear upstairs for a while to calm down.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

You and Logan were finally given free reign to move, done being interrogated by everyone and you both found yourselves perched on a bench in the garden. “I don’t know why you were nervous, bub. Your family is lovely.”

“They can be a little over the top sometimes, that’s all. I kinda told my mom a little white lie in that you get startled because you were in the army. Just so they know not to let the kids jump out on you or my brother to pull any stupid airhorn pranks.” 

“But I was in the army.” Logan said dumbly and you just looked at him.

“Yes, decades ago, Logan, I’m aware. The white lie is kind of that you recently served and that you don’t have metal claws that could decapitate my nieces if they spook you.” Logan simply hummed in agreement and shrugged. 

“I got used to being jumped up on in the school, I should be fine. Thanks for trying to look out for me though, baby. ‘ppreciate it.” 

“Always, Lo.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

After food had been eaten, you and Logan had tidied the dishes away and Logan went upstairs to go to the bathroom when he was ambushed. 

“Hi mister.” 

“You're auntie’s husband.” 

The girls appeared out of basically nowhere, Logan senses only just managed to pick up on them before they jumped out, preventing the decapitation you had predicted. He chose not to mention the fact that you were not married, knowing that he’d just lose the argument with the girls anyway. 

“Yeah I am. Emilia and Hatty, right? Your auntie talks a lot about the two of you.” Logan said, leaning against the handrail as he spoke to them.

“Do you wanna play princesses with us?” Hatty asked with a big grin and Logan froze. 

“I’d love to kid but I gotta finish helping your auntie put away the dishes.” 

“Then why did you run away upstairs? Gramma says it’s naughty to run away from chores.” Emilia, the oldest, pointed out, hand on her hips and she glared at Logan. 

“I’m going to the bathroom and then I’m gonna go back downstairs.” Logan shot back, already knowing that this wasn’t gonna end well for him. It was then that Emilia put on the crocodile tears. 

“B-but… but I thought auntie’s husband was gonna be fun. W-why won’t you play princesses with us? D-do you hate us?” 

“What?! No, no of course not. I got stuff to finish up downstairs kid and-.” When tears started pouring out of her eyes, Logan was quick to walk the rest of the way up the stairs, shaking his head. 

“Fine, fine. Let me go to the bathroom and then I’ll play princesses, goddamn it.” Her face broke out into a grin immediately and she wiped the tears from her cheeks. She’d played him. 

~~~~~~~~~~

It was twenty minutes later that you noticed Logan’s absence downstairs. You had assumed that your parents or brother had dragged him into the living room but when you walked in and found him not there, you became confused. “Is Logan not in here?” You asked and they all shook their heads. 

The quietness coming from upstairs was immediately alarming and you and your mother shared a quick glance, Louise also clicking on as the three of you made your way to the stairs and walked upstairs. 

You could hear Emilia giggling and Hatty talking to someone that clearly wasn’t Emilia. When you walked into the spare room, you saw Logan sat on the bed, back against the headboard, Hatty sat on his lap, painting his face in makeup, and Emilia sitting beside him painting his nails. 

“Oh my god…” Logan just looked at you, his gaze stern as both your mom and Louise were speechless. “What… you went to the bathroom? How on earth-?” 

“Uncle Logan is playing princesses auntie gem!” Hatty said, grinning and turning too quickly, almost falling off of Logan’s lap and off of the bed but his arm was quick to wrap around the top of her arm and pull her back up.

“What did I tell you about being careful?” He scolded gently and she shrugged, looking back towards you. “I was trying to come back down but someone had other ideas.” He shot a glare at Emilia and you knew what had happened. 

“She did the tears-.” You started and Logan nodded. 

“She did the tears.” He confirmed and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing as Logan stood from the bed, a pair of purple fairy wings on his back and makeup on his face, his nails painted sparkly silver. “This better wash off.” 

“Not yet! You have to let me take a picture.” You told him and he was quick to shake his head. “Oh come on, baby! Please? Pretty please? Wade has to see this. You promised you’d tell him how it went.” 

“Wade will not be seeing it. The bastard won’t let me live it down.” You gave him your best pouty look and he groaned, shooting you a look before turning to your mother. “Your daughter is evil. Completely and utterly evil.” 

~~~~~~~~~~ “OH. MY. GODD!! Peanut you look absolutely stunning! Oh my god, you have to introduce me to these children. Oh please, please, please, sugar lips.” Wade begged as he looked at your phone. “Invite them over for easter. I’ll be such a good host I swear! We can have makeovers and everything.” Wade squealed and you caught Logan’s eye. The man looked defeated. Wade was definitely NOT going to let him live this down.

This was way longer than intended but it just kept writing itself and I couldn't stop 😂 Hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment, let's chat!

Dividers: @coolcatsgraphics

I'm also on A03 :)

Requests are also open if there is anything that people want me to write 💛

[barbwritesstuff]

Thicker Than December Update

The update link:

Thicker Than Free Demo

Update info:

As of the 26th of December 2023

Finished Chapter Six

Started work on Chapter Seven (currently incomplete)

Added explicit scene with Freya in Chapter Four

Several bug and spelling fixes

Additional Words: 27,104 (excluding commands)

Total Word Count: 175,440 (excluding commands )

Other links:

Supporting me on KoFi helps ensures my ongoing survival, which I really do appreciate.

You can email me at barbara truelove writes at g mail dot com.

I have a website that I spent actual money on. I'm not sure why, but it's pretty.

If you like the way I write vampires maybe consider checking on the first story in this series, Blood Moon, which is about werewolves and is polished and pretty in a way this very much isn't.

Other free games can be found on my itch.io page.

My ramblings:

Merry Christmas and happy full moon. I really hope, wherever you are in the world, you’re having a great day. I won’t be able to see the moon tonight thanks to a circling storm cloud, but I’m hoping it’ll clear up tomorrow and I can do some stargazing.

I’ve managed to get quite a few words down this month, so I’m really happy about that. Chapter Six is finished, and I’ve started work on Chapter Seven. Chapter Seven is still in the early stages. Depending on your previous choices, it may not even exist yet on certain playthroughs. I’m sorry about that. It’s going to take some time to fill in all the different routes and bring them all together again.

I’ve also gone back to Chapter Four and added some more content in for Freya because several people told me they weren’t really vibing with her romance arc. I’m really glad I did that because I think speeding up her romance route makes a lot of sense and it flows better overall.

I’ve also done a lot of little edits scattered throughout. Nothing super major, but I hope it improves the flow of certain scenes.

On a more technical note: I’ve been having a weird issue with the automatic Choicescript tests in CSIDE. The random_test has been slowing to a crawl and/or freezing. It doesn’t spit out any errors, and the quick_test has been working fine, so I’m really not sure why this has started to happen. It may mean there is an infinite loop error somewhere in Chapter 6 or 7. If so, I haven’t been able to find it. If anyone encounters a page that loads forever but doesn’t show any text, please let me know. The game won’t be able to be submitted to Hosted Games if it can’t pass a random_test, so I really want to sort this out sooner rather than later.

If you spot any other errors, large or small, I’d be really grateful if you could let me know. Thicker Than is big enough now that it’s a little unwieldy to navigate, and hard to edit. I’m really grateful to the people who’ve taken the time to send me things which don’t look quite right. It’s so insanely helpful and really encouraging knowing you’re rooting for Thicker Than to succeed.

💙

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Daughter’s First Snowfall » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

December 6th

Pairings: Husband/Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Mom!Reader with baby daughter Annie

Summary: Bucky’s and Y/N’s daughter experiences snow for the first time.

Warnings: Fluff, language, nothing but cuteness, hugs and kisses, cuddling, nicknames for daughter (princess, baby girl), pet names for Y/N (doll)

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

“Bucky, look! It’s snowing!” You say excitedly, pointing at the window.

“I see that, doll.” Bucky says, pulling you closer to him to keep you warm.

“We should take Annie outside so she can play in it!” You suggested.

You felt Bucky’s body tense up and his grip tighten on you.

“Are you ok, Buck?” You asked, tilting your head back to look up at him.

“I don’t think taking her outside in the snow is a good idea.” Bucky says.

You could sense that there was something more than that.

“Why not?” You asked.

“What if she gets cold and sick?” He says.

“She has a bunch of warm clothes and if she gets sick, we’ll take care of her.” You say.

“I know, but what if…” Bucky stops himself and sighs. “What if she gets hurt?” He says.

“Does this have something to do with HYDRA?” You asked.

“No.” He says, trying to avoid eye contact with you.

“Bucky…” You cupped his stubbly cheeks. “Tell me.” You say softly.

“No it’s not HYDRA. I just don’t want her to get hurt.” He says.

“She won’t get hurt, Buck. We’ll be with her the whole time. Plus she needs to experience stuff like this.” You says.

“Ok, fine. Annie can play in the snow, but only if I can hold her.” He says.

“Of course you can hold her.” You smiled.

You gave Bucky a quick kiss on his lips before going upstairs to yours and Bucky’s 7 month old daughter’s nursery to see her sitting up in her crib.

“Hi baby girl!” You cooed, picking her up. “We’re going to do something fun!” You say with excitement.

You walked into her closet to pick out something warm for her to wear outside.

“Which one do you like more? The red one or the green one?” You asked her.

Annie let out a squeal and did grabby hands at her red outfit.

“Good choice!” You smiled.

You took it off the hanger and gently laid Annie on her changing table and changed her diaper before put her warm clothes along with a pair of mittens and a beanie on her.

“You look so warm and adorable.” You say and kissed her chubby cheek.

You went back downstairs and Bucky already had his jacket on.

“There’s dada!” You say, pointing at Bucky.

Annie squealed and did grabby hands to her daddy.

“There’s daddy’s little princess!” Bucky cooed, taking her out of your arms.

Annie immediately reached for Bucky’s dog tags and shook them around making Bucky smile while you put on your jacket and boots.

“Are you ready to play in the snow for the first time, baby girl?” You asked, cooing at Annie.

She let out a squeal of excitement and clapped her small hands together. You opened the door, feeling the cold breeze of New York air. Bucky held Annie close to him and slowly stepped outside. Annie was intrigued by the snowflakes floating in the air. She babbled as she reached for the snowflakes, catching them in her mittens.

“Those are snowflakes, Annie.” You tell her. “Do you want to stand in the snow?” You asked.

She squirmed in Bucky’s arms, letting him know that she wants down. Bucky tightened his grip on her so she didn’t fall.

“She wants to stand in the snow, Bucky.” You say.

“I don’t know, doll.” Bucky says.

“Babe, the snow isn’t going to hurt her. She wants to have fun in it.” You say.

Bucky hesitated for a moment before gently putting her feet in the snow and held her small hands in his bigger ones so she could try to walk in it. Annie was so intrigued by the snow that she stomped her feet around in the spot where she’s standing, making little foot prints in the snow. She let go of one Bucky’s hands and bent down to pick up some snow. She stared at it for a moment before throwing it across the yard and started laughing uncontrollably. You took her from Bucky’s hand and crouched down with her holding on to your knees. You picked up some snow and rolled it into a ball and handed it to Annie. She just stared at it.

“It’s a snowball, Annie.” You tell her. “Throw it at daddy.” You whispered with a grin.

Annie understood what you said perfectly cause the next thing Bucky knows was a snowball hitting his leg causing you and Annie to burst out laughing.

“Which one of you did that?” Bucky asks, looking down at the two of you and playfully squinting his eyes.

You bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing. On the other hand, Annie was giggling. Bucky grins and crouched down in front of Annie.

“Do you want to see something funny, princess?” Bucky asks Annie.

Annie nods her head and squeals. Bucky picked up some snow and rolled it into a ball with a grin on his face.

“You better not—” Bucky threw the snowball at you, hitting you in the face. “James Buchanan Barnes!” You gasped.

“You’re the one who started this war. I just finished it.” Bucky says.

You opened your mouth to say something when you two heard a little sneeze. You guys looked down at Annie to see her with a red nose and rosy cheeks.

“Let’s get you inside and warmed up, baby girl.” You say.

You and Bucky took Annie inside and changed her into warm and dry clothes. You guys got settled on the couch with Annie on Bucky’s chest and put on a Christmas movie.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, Buck?” You say.

“You were right, doll. I had nothing to worry about.” Bucky says, kissing your lips.

Your little girl let out a squeal, wanting attention from her mommy and daddy. You two smiled at her cuteness and gave her kisses all over her face which made her burst into a fit of giggles.

❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

-Bucky’s Doll

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Were Danton and Camille really as close as almost every biography/novel/movie, etc. makes them out to be? For a long time I believed they were best friends, but I realize that I don't know much about what really happened (only that Camille mentioned him as a friend several times in his letters).

Sorry if a similar question has already been asked, and thank you for all your wonderful posts. I read each one with great interest.

Thank you! I’m throwing in their wives too for good measure.

As popular as the idea of Danton and Desmoulins being friends already before the revolution is among novelists (A Place of Greater Safety (1992) by Hilary Mantel, The Gods Are Thirsty (1996) by Tanith Lee) and even biographers (Danton (2012) by David Lawday, Georges-Jacques Danton (1987) by Frank Dwyer) I have not been able to discover any evidence indicating this to actually have been the case. The very first connection I’ve found between the two dates to December 12 1789, when Desmoulins for the very first time mentions Danton’s name in his recently founded journal Révolutions de France et de Brabant:

As I do not have the advantage of being from the illustrious Cordeliers District, I am addressing this motion [to make it forbidden to use the term Queen of the French in public acts] to it through this journal. I beg its worthy President M. d'Anton to propose it to the honorable members, to discuss it in their wisdom and address it to the fifty-nine others; I leave my motion on their desks, and I sign it... A Frenchman.

The second time Camille mentions Danton’s name in Révolutions de France et de Brabant is eleven numbers later (March 1 1790). In the number, Camille describes how he on February 24 for the very first time enters the Cordeliers district and enrolls himself as a member. The very same session, he, alongside Danton, Fabre d’Eglantine, Paré and Dufourny de Villiers are named commissioners for the editing of a report by the club requesting the construction of a building ”worthy the National Assembly” on the place of the destroyed Bastille. This is the earliest confirmed meeting between Danton and Desmoulins that I’ve been able to find.

By the end of the same month, in number 17 (March 20) and number 18 (March 29) of Révolutions de France et de Brabant, Camille loudly protests against the fact Danton (”this lustrous president of the Cordeliers district”) has been decreed under arrest by le Châtelet de Paris, accused of having threatened to ring the tocsin in order to mobilize the Faubourg Saint−Antoine for the defense of his district when the National Guard came by:

If you put on trial a citizen who has put forward an extravagant opinion in his district, you will therefore also have to put on trial, with much more reason, the judge who, in his company, has opined in an extravagant manner; it will therefore be necessary to hang the judge who will have sentenced to death an accused whom the majority will have absolved, since this judge will have approved the death of an innocent person, which is much worse than making an extravagant motion in a district.

Desmoulins brings up Danton in Révolutions de France et de Brabant a few more times throughout the rest of 1790, calling him both ”the lustrous Danton” (number 31, June 28, number 35, July 26) as well as the more bombastic ”the most robust athlete of the patriots, the only tribune of the people who could have been heard in the Champ-de-Mars, and with his voice rally the patriots around the tribune, the only man whose veto the aristocracy had to fear, and in whom it could have found both the Gracchi brothers and a Marius.” (number 44, September 27). When Danton in the fall is appointed judge at Saint-Germain, Camille celebrates (number 47, October 18):

The Philoctetes of Hercules, d’Anton, is also appointed judge at Saint-Germain. He is well worthy of sitting next to M. Le Grand de Laleu. Honor to the city of Saint-Germain! Based on these two choices we can only augur well for the others. I would be tempted to believe that our patriarch Robe did so many readings of his poem on the revolution there, that he inflamed all the voters with a patriotism which dictated to them these excellent choices. The Parisians, ungrateful, forgot in the elections Danton, and Abbé Fauchet, and Brissot, and Carra, and Manuel; but it seems that the surrounding districts were responsible for the recognition.

On December 27 1790 Danton, alongside twelve other well known ”patriots,” signed the Desmoulins couple’s wedding contract. He was however not present for the actual wedding ceremony two days later, something which I suppose could be read as implying he and Desmoulins were not that close yet. On the other hand, the way Desmoulins does describe his wedding witnesses in a letter to his father written five days later (”Péthion [sic] and Robespierre, the elite of the National Assembly, M. de Sillery who wanted to be there, and my two colleagues Brissot de Warville and Mercier, the elite among the journalists”), it almost sounds like he’s chosen them less out of friendship and more out of prestige, so maybe this doesn’t have to mean that much either… After the wedding, Camille and Lucile moved to Rue du Théâtre 1 (today Rue de l’Odeon 28) roughly a ten minute walk from the Dantons’ apartment on 20 cour du Commerce-Saint-André (today destroyed). The ease with which they would come and go between these two apartments will be seen through Lucile’s diary 1792-1793.

In number 63 (February 7 1791) of Révolutions de France et de Brabant, Camille celebrates the fact that ”the excellent patriot Danton” has become a member of the department of Paris — ”If there is only one patriot of this caliber in the 83 departments, all the projects of our enemies from within and without will fail against his firmness, his ascendancy, his vigilance and his incorruptibility.” In a letter to La Marck dated March 10 1791, Mirabeau claimed to ”have evidence Danton was behind (a fait faire) the latest number of Camille-Desmoulins,” which, regardless of whether the charge was true, suggests a certain closeness between the two at this point. In number 72 (April 11) Camille exclaims: ”how the true jacobin Danton made blush the adulators that his excellency had already found.” Two numbers after that (April 25), he celebrates Danton’s actions the 18th the same month, the day the royal family tried to leave for Saint-Cloud but was stopped by a mob. In the number, Camille writes that Danton told him how he on the day in question had found himself at the Department when Bailly and La Fayette came there to demand permission to proclaim martial law and order the National Guards to fire on the crowd surrounding the royal family if necessary. Danton had successfully intervened and reduced them to silence. Camille praises this move in the number:

Courage, dear Danton! how much the patriotic writers must congratulate themselves today, who fought with obstinacy to praise you, and constantly nominated you for the votes of the people. By the parallel of your tribunitian eloquence, of your incorruptibility, of your masculine courage, with the academic and lachrymatory sentences of the courtier Bailly and his telescope which would have made us fall into the well with the astronomer in a scarf, continue to cover with shame all the citizens who gave him votes due to your patriotism.

In the same number, Camille also attributed to Danton and Kersaint an address placing the blame on what had happened on the 18th not on the people, but on the king: ”The same day the department of Paris presented the king with an address, the first, perhaps, which was written in the style of a free people. Also, it had been written by Danton and Kersaint: [transcription of the address].” According to Danton (1978) by Normann Hampson, Camille is however mistaken here, as the address had actually been written by Talleyrand and Pastoret…

In the next number (May 2 1791) Camille writes the following, which I’m not sure how to interpret, but which Hervé Leuwers reads as assassins having been after both Camille, Danton and Fréron when the three were walking home a week earlier: ”I have learned that four assassins waited for me Tuesday evening (April 26), until midnight. Me, D’anton [sic] and the Orator of the People (Fréron).” In number 81 (June 18 1791) he lifts Danton, Garran de Coulon and Manuel as ”the candidates whom I would most strongly recommend to the 83 departments, for the next legislature.”

In number 82 (June 27 1791), Camille writes that, eleven o’clock in the evening of June 20, ”I was walking home from the Jacobins together with Danton and other patriots. We only saw but one patrol the whole way. Paris seemed so abandoned to me that night that I could not help but remark on it. One of us (Fréron according to Leuwers) who had in his pocket a letter which I will speak about, which warned him that the King had to leave that night, wanted to observe the castle, he saw M. Lafayette enter it at 11 o'clock.” The next morning, Paris woke up to the discovery that the royal family had indeed left the capital during the night. The very same day, Camille goes to the Jacobin club and arrives in the middle of Robespierre holding a speech about the current situation which moves him deeply. After him, Danton mounts the rostrum, and about the same time Lafayette enters the club. Danton delivers a speech blaming him for the king’s flight and asking he explains himself that Camille records in the journal. At the end of the speech, Alexandre Lameth rises to support Lafayette, recalling that he has always thought Lafayette would fall at the head of the patriots in case of a counter-revolution.

Danton came back to sit down next to me. Is it possible? I said to him. Yes, [he answered], and rising up, he confirmed that M. Alexandre Lameth had always said this to him about M. La Fayette. My blood boiled. I was tempted to cry out to Alexandre Lameth: you used very different language with me; and I declare that almost everything I wrote at La Fayette, I wrote, if not under your dictation, at least under your guarantee. But Danton held me back.

While all of this was going down, Lucile Desmoulins and Gabrielle Danton was staying at the apartment of the latter, something which we know through a letter Lucile wrote her mother on either June 24 or June 25, when the royal family had been captured and was on their way back to Paris. Unfortunately I have not been able to transcribe it in its entirety, but these are all the places mentioning Gabrielle that I could find:

…Ever since papa came with [warnings?] to us madame Danton and I have not left each other. I would have [gone crazy?] had I remained alone. These three days we have left [her place?] only at 9 o’clock [in the evening?] Sometimes people came to tell us that we were lost, and when we were told good news, madame Danton, her eyes filled with tears, threw herself around my neck. I’ve supped at her place during this time and [with?] all the patriots. […] Oh God o God, I’m going to send your beautiful  [p..?] to madame Danton.

On July 15 the Jacobins entrusted Brissot with writing a petition asking for the abdication of Louis XVI. The session was closed at midnight. Afterwards, Camille, Danton, Brune and La Poype all went over to Danton’s house to further discuss the petition (this was revealed by Brune in an interrogation held August 12 1791, published in number 34 (August 26) of the journal Gazette des nouveaux tribunaux). Two days later, the two were there once again, this time together with Fréron, Fabre, Santerre, Brune, Duplain, Momoro and Sergent-Marceau, and discussing the lynching of two men at the Champ-de-Mars the same morning, when, at nine o’clock, Legendre arrived and told the group that two men had come home to him and said: We are charged with warning you to get out of Paris, bring Danton, Camille and Fréron, let them not be seen in the city all day, it is Alexandre Lameth who engages this. Camille, Danton and Fréron follow this advice and leave, and were therefore most likely not present for the demonstration and shootings on Champ-de-Mars the very same day (this information was given more than forty years after the fact by Sergent-Marceau in volume 5 of the journal Revue rétrospective, ou Bibliothèque historique : contenant des mémoires et documens authentiques, inédits et originaux, pour servir à l'histoire proprement dite, à la biographie, à l'histoire de la littérature et des arts (1834)).

In the aftermath of the massacre on Champ de Mars, arrest warrants were issued against people deemed guilty for them. On July 22, the Moniteur reports that the journalists Suleau and Verrières have been arrested, and that the authorities have also fruitlessly gone looking for Fréron, Legendre, Desmoulins and Danton, the latter three, the journal assures, having already left Paris. Camille hid out at Lucile’s parents’ country house in Bourg-la-Reine together with Fréron, while Danton went to Arcis-sur-Aube, where he was sheltered by his friend Courtois, and then to Troyes (it’s also commonly stated he went to England during this period, but Hampson expresses some doubt over it). If Camille’s fellow journalist Louis Marie Prudhomme’s Histoire générale et impartiale des erreurs, des fautes et des crimes commis pendant la Révolution (1797) is to be believed, on August 14, Danton told Camille and Fabre d’Églantine: the ”b.... won't have me; rather they will all be exterminated first.”

The rather flimsy charges against Danton and Camille — Danton was accused of having cheered on a crowd demanding Lafayette’s head on June 21, Camille of having made incendiary remarks at Café Procope café, saying that it was necessary to shoot the national guards — were however dropped after about six weeks, and in September 1791 they were both back in Paris to stand for election to the Legislative Assembly. Neither did however get in. Camille had also had to resign as journalist in the aftermath of the massacre on Champ-de-Mars.

In Histoire des Montagnards (1847) Alphonse Esquiros writes that Albertine Marat had told him that her brother, Danton and Desmoulins ”liked to come together, from time to time, to rest their souls in the sweet serenity of nature”:

In this contrast of the noise of revolutions with the silence, with the serious serenity of a sunset, under the trees, at the water's edge, a league from Paris, the three friends then had before their eyes the two faces eternal aspects of the world, history and nature, God in movement and God at rest. Danton, this eloquent thunderbolt, this large head of a genius on which smallpox had left big marks, Danton ordered dinner. Whatever efforts one agreed to make during the frugal meal, to keep irritating subjects out of the conversation, one was obliged to go there at dessert; because the company was too preoccupied with the dangers of the State not to mix public affairs with their most personal conversations.

When the question of war in December 1791 became the main topic of discussion, both Danton and Desmoulins joined the minority that cautioned against it. Already on December 16, right after Brissot had held his very first speech in favour of the idea, Danton, while praising the speaker as an excellent patriot, objected to the thought of a war right at the moment — ”I want us to have war; it is essential. We must have war. But above all, we have to exhaust the means that could save us from it.” Ten days later, December 26, Desmoulins did him too deliver a speech against war. Four days after that, after Brissot had just finished his second speech on the subject, Danton and Robespierre both demanded a change be made to a passage when it got printed. Following this moment, it would however appear Danton abandons the question. Camille on the other hand released the pamphlet Jean Pierre Brissot démasqué in February 1792, mocking Brissot and painting him as a fool. Danton’s name got mentioned three times throughout, Camille calling him and Robespierre ”the best citizens.” Danton also got mentioned a total of eight times in the journal La Tribune des Patriots Camille and Fréron published from April to June the very same year, but not in any way that could give us more insight into their relationship.

In her memoirs, Manon Roland claims that Danton and Fabre d’Églantine in the summer of 1792 often came home to her. At one point Fabre told her that “We have a newspaper project which we will call Compte rendu au Peuple souverain, and which will present the picture of the last revolution. Camille Desmoulins, Robert, etc, work on it.” Manon suggested they bring it to her husband for him to subsidise it, something which the two apparently never did, and there was no more talk of the journal again.

On June 23 1792 Lucile starts keeping a diary. The first time any of the Dantons show up in it is already on Wednesday June 27 — ”Madame D(anton) came, we played music.” A few days later Lucile gives this rather odd account: ”My head is spinning. I was madame D(anton) after dinner.” The day after that, July 6, she gives birth to her first child, and a week later, Camille writes to tell his father that said child ”was immediately sent to a wetnurse in Isle-Adam, with the little Danton” (François-Georges, born February 2 1792). If Camille and Lucile made a conscious choice of sending their son to the same wetnurse as Georges and Gabrielle’s (perhaps on the suggestion of their friends) one can only speculate in.

A week after Camille wrote his letter, Lucile traveled to her parents’ country house in Bourg-la-Reine. On July 25 Camille writes to tell her that ”I was brought to Chaville this morning by Panis, together with Danton, Fréron, Brune, at Santerre’s” (letter cited within Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un rêve de république). Lucile returned to Paris on August 8. In a diary entry written four months later she reveals that she, in the afternoon of August 9, together with others went over to the Dantons. ”Her mother was crying, she was sad, her father looked dazed. D(anton) was resolute. As for me, I was laughing like a madwoman! They feared that the affair [the insurrection of August 10] would not take place; although I was not at all sure, I told them, as if I knew it well, that it would take place. “But can we laugh too?” mde D(anton) said to me. ”Alas, I said to her, that presages to me that I will perhaps shed a lot of tears this evening!” At the end of the day, Lucile, Gabrielle (and others?) go home to Gabrielle’s mother to go for a walk and eventually sit down next to a cafe with her. When groups of sans-culottes and troops on horseback pass by, Lucile gets scared and tells Gabrielle that they should go. ”She laughed at my fear, but by dint of telling her, she too became scared and we left. I say to her mother: ”Farewell! You will soon hear the toscin sound!” The two go back to Gabrielle’s apartment, where a scared Lucile eventually admits to Camille she doesn’t want him to get involved in the dangerous insurrection — ”He reassured me by telling me that he would not leave D(anton).” Lucile and Gabrielle are soon left alone in the apartment with Louise de Kéralio-Robert, but after only a little while Danton returns home and goes to bed. This eventually upsets Louise who tells Lucile that if her husband dies in the insurrection she will stick a knife in Danton. ”From that moment on I never left her. What did I know what could happen? To know what she was capable of…” Some additional time later Camille returns to the apartment and falls asleep on Lucile’s shoulder. Louise tells her that “I can’t stay here any longer! Madame D(anton) is unbearable to me, she seems to be calm, her husband does not want to expose himself!” Lucile therefore suggests she come with her and Camille to their apartment to get some rest. When they around noon go back to the Dantons’ place again ”Madame D(anton) ran up to us to see how we were, she was soon informed when she saw the silence of one and the tears of the other. We waited long enough without knowing anything. Finally they came to tell us that we were victorious.” In a letter to her mother penned down the very same day, Lucile, similarly to how she described them during the Flight to Varennes, writes: ”Mme Danton and I do not leave each other, when I would have liked to flee it would have been impossible, the women are kept from going out.” The following night Camille and Lucile sleep over at the Roberts. When Lucile returns home on the 12th she learns that Danton has been appointed minister of justice. ”These news gave me great pleasure, especially when C(amille) came to tell me that he was secretary.” One day later Camille writes a letter revealing the very same news to his father:

My friend Danton has become minister thanks to the canon. This bloody day could only end, for the two of us especially, in being raised or hoisted together. He said to the national assembly: If I had been defeated, I would have been a criminal. The cause of liberty has triumphed, and Danton has associated me to his triumph.

According to Prudhomme’s Histoire générale et impartiale… (1797), it was Camille and Fabre themselves who three o’clock in the morning announced to Danton that he had been named minister of justice, after which they demanded he make them his secretaries:

”But, are you sure that I am appointed minister?” [said Danton].  “Yes,” replied the two midshipmen; and we will not leave you until we have your word for these two places.” ”Right on time,” said Danton. And everything was arranged according to the wishes of the two revolutionary patriots; but all this does not praise their disinterestedness.

After Camille and Danton had gotten their new occupations, both families briefly went to live at Hôtel de Bourvallais. Lucile writes:

I really liked it there, but only one thing bothered me, it was Fréron. Every day I saw new progress and didn’t know what to do about it. I consulted Maman, she approved of my plan to banter and joke about it, and that was the wisest thing to do. Because what to do? Forbid him to come? He and C(amille) dealt with each other every day, we would meet. To tell him to be more circumspect was to confess that I knew everything and that I did not disapprove of him; an explanation would have been needed. I therefore thought myself very prudent to receive him with friendship and reserve as usual, and I see now that I have done well. Soon he left to go on a mission. I was very happy with it, I thought it would change him. But many other cares to be taken… I realized that D(anton)… Oh, of that one, I was suspicious! I had to fear the eyes of his wife with whom I did not want to be hurt. I did so well that one did not know that I had noticed it, and the other that it might be. We spent three months like this quite cheerfully. At the end of this time C(amille) was appointed deputy and we returned to our first home.

Somewhere during Camille and Danton’s time in the ministry we find the following undated letter ”from the minister of justice to citizen Desmoulins, national commissioner in Vervins” (Camille’s father). Charles Vellay, who published the letter in 1792, did however find it more likely for the author of the letter, unlike what the header leads you to believe, was Camille, seeing as it is in a secretary’s handwriting and the letter was found among his and not Danton’s papers:

I am pleased to learn, Citizen, that yielding to the wishes of your compatriots, you have accepted the position of Natal Commissioner at the Vervins District Tribunal. You could undoubtedly desire some rest after the long fatigues you have had and the feeling which invited you to retire was very legitimate; but it was worthy of your good citizenship to still make the sacrifice for your country, and I am convinced that it was not in the midst of the agitations which precede the most beautiful of centuries that you would have left without regret a career where you you still have services to render to public affairs for a long time to come. It is not fair, however, to forget that the more you redouble your efforts, the more it is in your fellow citizens' interest to prescribe reasonable limits for yourself, and it is also your duty to moderate your zeal and not to forbid you these considerations which can be reconciled with public service and the care of your health. Your colleagues will themselves urge you to give nature the moments of relaxation it needs; a few temporary absences can be infinitely useful to you, and certainly they will not harm the interests of business if some attention is given to the circumstances and replacement measures. I will approve the first of wise precautions which I feel the necessity of and sure of my attachment to your duties I will rely with confidence on your respect for this moral responsibility as sacred as the will of the laws to true republicans.

Danton would however not remain minister of justice for a long time, already on August 26 Camille reported to his father that:

It seems that several departments will nominate me and especially Danton [to the National Convention], and he will not hesitate for a moment to leave the ministry to be representative of the people. You can imagine that I would follow an example that I would have given him, if I were in his place. Danton is from Paris no more than I am, and it is a remarkable thing that among all the principal authors of the revolution and among all of our friends, we perhaps do not know a single one who was born in Paris.

However, before the opening of the National Convention, the so called September Massacres took place. In l’Histoire générale et impartiale des erreurs… (1797) Prudhomme attributed big responsibility for the prison killings to both Danton and Desmoulins, portraying them as aware of what was going to happen already on September 2, the day before they began:

September 2, at midday, I go, hearing the noise of the tocsin and the cannon of alarm, to my section de l'Unité.  People came to announce that the barriers had been closed. A general consternation was painted on all faces. At the news of the arrival of the Prussians in Paris, as well as of a conspiracy of the prisoners against the patriots (a vague rumor had been circulating about it for fifteen days), a number of citizens questioned me on this subject.  ”Your profession as a journalist should enable you to know something,” one said to me.  ”I know nothing,” I responded, ”but I’m going to visit someone who could tell me.” As I knew Camille Desmoulins since a long time back, I thought it a good idea to go to his house. I didn’t find him anywhere, one assured me that he was at Danton’s, minister of justice. It was about half past two in the afternoon, I went home to the minister, and told him: ”I have come, in the quality of pure patriotism and in my own name, to ask you what this canon of alarm, this toscin and the arrival of the Prussians to Paris.”  ”Calm down, old friend of liberty,” Danton responded, ”it’s the toscin of victory.”  ”But,” I told him, ”people talk about slitting throats.”  ”Yes,” he told me, ”we were all about to have our throats cut this night, starting with the most patriotic. All those arisocrat rascals, who are in the prisons, had been provided with firearms and daggers. At a specified time next night, the gates were to be opened to them; they would have spread in different quarters to cut the throats of the wives and children of the patriots who will leave to march against the Prussians. We addressed ourselves principally, above all, to those who had demonstrated the principles of freedom.” ”All this comes off as a bit made up to me,” I responded, ”but what means are to be employed to prevent the execution of such a plot?” ”What means?” he said. ”The People, irritated and instructed in time, want to do justice themselves to all the bad subjects inside the prisons.” At these words I was seized with horror; I told him that such a measure appeared to me unworthy of a people who claimed to be free. At this moment, Camille Desmoulins entered.  ”Hello there!” Danton said to him. ”Prudhomme just asked me what is to be done.  ”Yes,” I said, ”and I am heartbroken after what I have just heard. ”So you (tu) didn’t tell him that one won’t mix up the innocent with the guilty? Camille said to Danton. ”All those who will be claimed by their sections will be returned.”  ”Seems to me that we could take a less violent measure,” I responded. ”Spilling blood is an abominable act of which those who govern are responsible. The people will one day make those who make them commit this crime pay dearly. Let Paris march en masse against the Prussians. Send the wives and children of those who are to march at the enemy out of Paris to avoid them getting massacred by the prisoners, let us lock them up in fortified castles.”  ”Any kind of moderate measure is useless,” Danton said. ”The anger of the people is at its height, there would even be danger in stopping it.” His first anger assuaged, one could make him listen to reason.  ”But,” I say, ”if the Legislative body and the constituted authorities spread themselves through Paris, and harangued the people?” ”No, no,” replied Camille, ”that would be too dangerous; for the people, in their first wrath, might make victims in the person of their dearest friends.” I withdrew filled with pain. 

Exiting Danton’s house, Prudhomme adds:

As I passed through the dining room, I saw the wives of Camille, Danton, Robert, etc, Fabre-d'Eglantine, and other guests. I did not know what to think of the tranquility that reigned at the house of the Minister of Justice; everything led me to believe that it was indeed impossible to stop the resentment of the People, at the news of a conspiracy hatched by the nobles and priests. 

The next day, Prudhomme also claims that Théophile Mandar went over to Danton’s place, where he saw ”all ministers, with the exception of Roland, Lacroix, president [of the Assembly], Pétion, mayor of Paris, Robespierre, Camille-Desmoulins, Fabre d’Églantine, Manuel and several members of the so-called Commune of August 10. The presidents and commanders from each of the 48 sections had come as well.” Half past seven in the evening everyone sat down in Danton’s salon to discuss the means to save Paris, Danton staying firm in his conviction of what had just happened and was still happening as necessary.

On September 8, two days after the end of the massacres, the time had come for Camille to be elected to the National Convention. He did at first come under question for his friendship with the royalist journalist François Suleau, killed in the Insurrection of August 10. The journal Gazette nationale de France does however report that Camille after this ”was defended with a lot of energy and eloquence by M. Danton and his election was almost unanimous.” With that, Desmoulins became the sixth elected deputy representing Paris (Danton was the second).

In December 1792, Lucile returns to keeping a diary. On the 22nd she writes: ”I went to supper with little Brune at mde D(anton’s). How detestable she is!” It’s hard to tell if it’s Gabrielle or madame Brune she designates as detestable, and even harder to know what she had done in order to get called that… Two days later, December 24, Lucile documents the following:

We had dinner at mde D(anton's), mde R(obert), B(rune) and B(oyer) were there. After dinner the men asked themselves if they should go to the Jacobins. They said yes. We were asked if we would go. We say no. Madame D(anton) said to me: ”do you (vous) want to spend the evening with me?,” I said yes, but soon I did not know what to do. Brune suggested I go to the theater! It was very embarrassing. Madame Brune said aloud: “I have never been to the Jacobins, I would be very happy to go there.” "Well, I'm going with you," I tell her. Finally, here we are, all ready to leave, when I see Mme Brune and Boyer whispering in each other’s ears. I, like a fool, go to ask them what they’re saying to each other. Mde R(obert) told me that she was very embarrassed, that she would like to go with us to the Jacobins. I was very kind, I said a few words to her that meant nothing, then I went into the antechamber. She came there soon and told me to wait for her, that she was going to follow me, she came back near madame D(anton). Brune came and told me “let’s go”. I followed her saying: ”but mde R(obert) who wants to come?” Finally, we are hardly in the middle of the staircase when we hear someone who says “here they are, here they are!”, then we descend with astonishing speed, and when we are in the street we run even harder. We took a fairly long detour. God knows how we laughed! Nothing, too, was more comical.

Throughout the first two halves of January, Lucile goes to the Convention to follow the trial of Louis XVI every single day. If Gabrielle went with her to these sessions is not confirmed, but not disproven either. Danton was absent on a mission in Belgium for most of the trial, but on January 14 he returned to Paris and two days later he voted for death, just like Camille. One day after the execution of the king, January 22 1793, Lucile writes: ”I went to Robert’s. Danton came there. His jokes are as boorish as he is. Despite this, he is a good devil. Madame Ro(bert) seemed jealous of how he teased me…” Two days later she witnesses the funeral procession of the recently assassinated Michel Peletier from the window of Jeanne-Justine Boyer, an event which moves her deeply. Once all her guests have left for the evening ”I felt that I could not be alone and bear the horrible thoughts that were going to besiege me. I ran to D(anton’s). He was moved to see me still pale and defeated. We drank tea, I supped there.” A week later, January 29, Lucile reports that ”we had dinner at D(anton's), where I just laughed, because I was preventing Brune from eating by saying "poa, poa, poa". D(anton) too couldn't keep himself from laughing.” Four days after that, February 3, Lucile writes ”I went to see madame Danton. Sick.” Three days later, she goes back to see her friend — ”I went to see madame Danton… She is very ill.” Yet another three days later Lucile writes ”Madame Danton is ill. She has given birth to a girl.” and at last, the day after that: ”I had dinner with Maman. Madame Danton is dead.” Two days after the death of her friend, Lucile goes to visit Gabrielle’s mother together with madame Brune and Robert. Shortly after that, she and Camille do however leave for Essonne, the latter having been apointed to a mission there, while Georges returned to Paris after another mission in Belgium to receive the sad news. Lucile did however not forget about him, in a letter to her mother Annette dated February 16 she asks her to ”give us news regarding Danton.” Apropos of Annette eventually joining them in Essonne Lucile adds: ”I forgot to mention a facility that could be of use for you, it’s Danton’s carriage. No doubt he could still have it.”

On March 26 1793, Desmoulins and Danton were both elected for the so called Commission of Public Safety, alongside 23 others. The commission, which consisted of both fervent montagnards and fervent girondins, was however off to a rocky start, and already on April 6 it was put to death and replaced by the Committee of Public Safety. A little more than a month later, May 17, Desmoulins announced the release of his new pamphlet l’Histoire des Brissotins to the Jacobins. Danton’s name gets mentioned eleven times in it, but only one can be used to really say something about their relationship, and it’s when Camille on page 54 writes: ”Jérôme Pétion told Danton in confidence that ”what makes poor Roland saddest is the fact people will discover his domestic sorrows and how bitter being a cuckold is to the old man, troubling the serenity of that great soul.” This implies Danton went and shared Roland’s secret with Camille after Pétion had confided it to him. Two weeks later, on June 7, a ”member” is recorded to have voiced suspicion on Danton’s current sentiments — ”This deputy isn’t as revolutionary as he used to. He doesn’t come to the Jacobins anymore. He left me the other day to approach a general.” In response, Camille is recorded to have ”advocated Danton’s good citizenship.” In Lettre de Camille Desmoulins, député de Paris à la Convention, au général Dillon en prison aux Madelonettes released a few months later, Camille calls Robert Lindet, Robespierre and Danton ”the best citizens of the Convention.”

On October 30, 22 girondins were sentenced to death. In Les mysterès de la mère de Dieu dévoilès (1794) Joachim Vilate described a dramatic reaction from Camille’s part upon hearing the final verdict: ”hearing the juror's declaration, he suddenly threw himself into my arms, agitated, tormenting himself:”ah my god, my god, it's me who kills them: my Brissot dévoilé [sic], ah my god, it’s that which kills them.” If Dominique-Joseph Garat’s Memoirs of the revolution; or, an apology for my conduct, in the public employments which I have held (1795) are to be believed, Danton too was deeply moved by the fate of the girondins, to the extent it motivated him to, on October 12, ask for a leave of absence to go to Arcis-sur-Aube in order to recruit his health:

I could not convince myself that among all those who, since May 31, had retained great popularity, there was not one who did not still retain a little humanity, and I went to Danton. He was ill, it only took me two minutes to see that his illness was above all a deep pain and a great dismay at everything that was coming. ”I won't be able to save them (the girondins)”, were the first words out of his mouth, and, as he uttered them, all the strength of this man, who has been compared to an athlete, was defeated, big tears strolled down his face, whose shapes could have been used to represent that of Tartarus. […] When the fate reserved for the twenty-two [girondins] seemed inevitable, Danton already heard, so to speak, his death sentence in theirs. All the strength of this triumphant athlete of democracy succumbed under the feeling of the crimes of democracy and its disorders. He could only talk about the countryside, he was suffocating, he needed to escape from men in order to be able to breathe.

Danton’s absence did not go unnoticed. In a letter from Toulon written October 18, Fréron tells Lucile that ”I have been really worried about Danton. The public papers announce that he is ill. Let me know if he has recovered. Give him 1000 friendships from my part.” Through the next letter Fréron writes Lucile, dated December 11, we learn that Danton had a nickname within this inner circle of friends — ”I would like to have news of Patagon (Brune), Saturne (Duplain) and Marius (Danton).” It can be observed that Camille, as seen above, had likened Danton to Marius in Révolutions de France et de Brabant already in 1790.

Danton was however back in Paris again on November 22, when he is recorded to have spoken of ”the relief to be granted to abdicated priests” at the Convention. Two weeks later, December 3, he was accused of ”moderatism” by Coupé d’Oise for having opposed the suggestion of sending a group with a portable guillotine to Seine-Inférieure in order to deal with rebels fleeing the Vendée. Robespierre did however rise to defend Danton, saying that he had always seen him serve his homeland with zeal and ending by asking that everyone says what he sincerely thinks about Danton. Aside from Merlin de Thionville, who hailed Danton as the saviour of the republic, no one said anything, and Momoro therefore concluded this meant no one had anything to accuse Danton of. The discussion therefore ended with Danton embracing the president of the club amidst loud applause. Just two days later, the first number of Camille’s new journal, the Vieux Cordelier, was released. In the number, Desmoulins designates the session at the Jacobins on the 5th as the event that caused him to return to the journalistic pen: 

Victory is with us because, amid the ruins of so many colossal civic reputations, Robespierre’s in unassailed; because he lent a hand to his competitor in patriotism, our perpetual President of the “Old Cordeliers,” our Horatius Cocles, who alone held the bridge against Lafayette and his four thousand Parisians besieging Marat, who now seemed overwhelmed by the foreign party. Already having gained stronger ground during the illness and absence of Danton, this party, domineering insolent in society, in the midst of the most sensitive places, the most compelling justification, in the tribunes, jeering, and in the middle of the meeting, shaking its head and smiling with pity, as in the speech of a man condemned by every vote. We have won, however, because after the crushing speeches of Robespierre, in which it seems that talent grows in pace with the dangers of the Republic, and the profound impression he has left in souls, it was impossible to venture to raise a voice against Danton without giving, so to speak, a public quittance of guineas of Pitt. […] I learned some things yesterday. I saw how many enemies we have. Their multitude tears me from the Hotel des Invalides and returns me to combat. I must write. 

If Danton had a bigger role in the Vieux Cordelier than simply being part of the event that caused Camille to start writing it is debated. When Robespierre a little more than three months later was working out the dantonists’ indictment, he claimed that Danton had been the ”president” of the Vieux Cordelier, whose prints he had corrected and made changes to, and that Camille had been his and Fabre’s ”dupe.” In Memoirs of the revolution; or, an apology for my conduct… (1795) Garat claimed that Danton during his stay in Arcis-sur-Aube had been cooking up a ”conspiracy” with a goal to ”restore for the benefit of all the reign of justice and of the laws, and to extend clemency to his enemies,” and to which ”all of his friends,” including Desmoulins, entered into. In Histoire générale et impartiale des erreurs… (1797) Prudhomme claimed that Danton, Lacroix, Camille-Desmoulins and Fabre-d'Églantine made up a secret party wishing to overthrow the Committee of Public Safety, and that Camille, as part of this plan, got charged with a ”moral attack,” leading to the creation of the Vieux Cordelier. Danton’s friend Edme-Bonaventure Courtois wrote in Notes et souvenirs de Courtois de l’Aube, député à la Convention nationale (cited in La Révolution française: revue d’histoire moderne et contemporaine (1887), that ”it was in these painful moments that [Desmoulins] put to paper (in his Vieux Cordelier) the reflections that his indignation could no longer contain, and whose acrimony Danton, through his advice, softened in many places.” Finally, in  his Camille Desmoulins And His Wife: Passages From The History Of The Dantonists (1876), Jules Claretie included the following passage:

I know, through information given to me by M. Labat the elder, that one evening in that mournful summer of 1793, Danton and Camille Desmoulins had walked to the Cour du Commerce, along the Seine, by the quay des Lunettes, and, thinking of that 31st of May, which was to end in the events of the 31st of October, Danton pointed out to Camille the great river in which the rays of the sun, setting behind the hill of Passy, were reflected so vividly that the river looked like blood. ”Look,” said Danton — and, like Garat, Camille saw the tribune's eyes fill with tears — ”see, how much blood! The Seine runs blood! Ah! too much blood has been spilt! Come, pick up your pen again; write and demand clemency, I will support you!”

However, considering Robespierre’s notes had an interest in wanting to paint the ”dantonists” as a unified grupp (and perhaps also to absolve Desmoulins of some responsibility), while all the other testimonies were reported after the fact, its hard to be sure of anything. 

Danton went unmentioned in the rest of number 1, as well as number 2 (released December 10) of the Vieux Cordelier. When Camille on December 14 passed through the Jacobins ongoing scrutiny test, he regrettingly admitted that ”a well marked fatality willed that, among the sixty [sic] people who signed my wedding contract, I only have two friends left — Danton and Robespierre. All the others have emigrated or been guillotined.” In the Vieux Cordelier’s third number (released December 18), he wrote the following about Danton, apropos of underlining he was not asking for moderation:

In this duel between liberty and servitude, and in the cruel alternative of a defeat a thousand times more bloody than our victory, overruling the revolution therefore had less danger and was even better than remaining behind it, as Danton said, and it is necessary, above all, for the republic to secure the battlefield. […] Despite so many guineas (guinées) said Danton, name for me a single man strongly pronounced in the revolution, and in favor of the republic, who has been condemned to death by the revolutionary tribunal?

Danton went unmentioned again in number 4 (December 21), but in number 5 Camille brings him up seven times, writing that ”I said with Danton, that to outrage the revolution was less dangerous and even better than to remain within it; that, on the course taken by the vessel, it was better to approach the rock of exaggeration, than the sandbar of moderation,” insisting he has never ceased to ”conspire against the tyrants with Danton and Robespierre,” denouncing Hébert for having attacked him, Danton and nine other deputies and claiming to have heard Danton say that ”[Hébert’s] pipe resembles the trumpet of Jericho, when he has smoked three times around a reputation, it must fall of itself.” At one point he also accuses Barère of having discussed the arrest of Danton on June 2.

On January 7, Camille and Robespierre got into a fight at the Jacobin club after the latter had denounced the fifth number of Vieux Cordelier as counter-revolutionary, but insisting that its author had been ”led astray by bad company,” and therefore proposing that the Society forgive him and ”just” burn the latest numbers of the Vieux Cordelier. When Camille refused that ultimatum, exclaiming that ”burning isn’t answering,” the fight worsened until Danton stepped in to act as meditator between the two:

Danton: Camille mustn’t be frightened by the rather severe lessons Robespierre’s friendship has just given him. Citizens, let justice and cold-headedness always preside over our decisions. In judging Camille, be careful to not strike a deadly blow against the liberty of the press.

In a letter to Fréron dated January 13, Lucile regretfully reports that ”Marius is not listened to anymore, he loses courage and vigour.” Around the same time, her father was arrested and locked up in the Carmes prison due to a few objects decorated with fleurs-de-lys having been found in his home. On January 24 Camille protested against his arrest at the Jacobins, gaining the support of Bourdon d’Oise who asked that the Committee of General Security make a report about the case in three days. Danton did however object to this, but did make the more vague suggestion that ”the Convention consider ways to do justice to all the victims of arbitrary measures and arrests, without harming the action of the revolutionary government”:

I oppose the kind of distinction of privilege which would seem to be granted to Desmoulins' father-in-law. I want the Convention to deal only with general affairs. If we want a report for this citizen, we also need one for all the others. […] My colleague's complaint is fair in itself, but it would give rise to a decree unworthy of us. If we were to give priority, it would belong to citizens who do not find in their fortune and in their acquaintance with members of the Convention hopes and resources in the midst of their misfortune: it must be to the unfortunate, to the needy, that you should first hold out your hands. I ask that the Convention consider ways to do justice to all the victims of arbitrary measures and arrests, without harming the action of the revolutionary government. I would be careful not to prescribe the means here. I request the referral of this question to the consideration of the Committee of General Safety, which will consult with the Committee of Public Safety; that a report be made to the Convention, and that it be followed by a broad and in-depth discussion; because all the discussions of the Convention have resulted in the triumph of reason and liberty.

When Robespierre about two months later was preparing the dantonists’ indictment, he wrote that ”during this last visit [to my place], [Danton] spoke of Desmoulins with contempt. He attributed his deviances to a vice that is private and shameful, but absolutely foreign to the crimes of the conspirators to the Revolution. Laignelot was witness.” Robespierre used this as evidence Danton had ”an ungrateful and dark soul,” as he previously had ”highly recommended the last productions of Desmoulins.”

Both Danton and Camille were arrested in the night between March 30 and March 31. They were taken to the Luxembourg prison and placed in solitary confinement. On April 1, in his very last written letter, Camille regrettingly tells Lucile: 

How to believe that a few jokes in my writings, against colleagues that had provoked me, have erased the memory of my services! I do not disguise the fact that I die as a victim of these jokes and my friendship with Danton. I thank my assassins for letting me die with him and Philippeaux. And since my colleagues have been cowardly enough to abandon us and listen to calumnies that I don’t know, but must be the most vulgar, I can say that we die as victims of our courage to denounce traitors, and of our love for the truth. We can well carry this testimony with us, that we die as the last republicans.

It would however appear Lucile wanted to do something about the situation. We have the following anecdote published in Histoire de la Révolution française (1850) by Nicolas Villiaumé, which, as far as I’m aware, is the only known connection we have between the Desmoulins couple and Danton’s second wife Louise-Sébastienne Gély (married June 14 1793):

[After the arrest of Danton and Desmoulins] Lucile ran to Madame Danton to suggest that she come with her to go find Robespierre, ask him for an explanation, and recall the feelings of friendship which had attached him to their husbands. Madame Danton refused, saying that she wanted nothing from a man who had showed himself to be the enemy of her husband. (I obtained this particularity from Madame Danton herself, who was then pregnant. She gave birth fifteen days after Danton's death, but her child did not live.)

On April 2, Danton, Desmoulins and seven other deputies were brought from the Luxembourg to the Conciergerie prison. If Mémoires d’un detenu pour servir à l’histoire de la tyrannie de Robespierre(1795) by Honoré Riouffe are to be believed, the accused were kept in seperate cells here as well. He writes:

Danton, placed in a cell next to Westermann, didn’t stop talking, less to be heard by Westermann than by us. […] Here are some phrases I retained: […] ”What proves Robespierre is a Nero, is that he never spoke as kindly to Desmoulins as on the day before his arrest.”

Their trial began the very same day. For three days, the accused defended themselves (or at least tried to) against the charges of ”complicity with d'Orléans and Dumourier, with Fabre d'Eglantine and the enemies of the Republic, of having been involved in the conspiracy tending to re-establish the monarchy, to destroy the national representation and the republican government” side by side. It did however not go that well, and on April 5, Danton, Desmoulins and thirteen others were sentenced to death. The execution took place the very same afternoon. Contrary to the myth of Danton and Camille sitting next to each other in the same tumbril as they were driven to Place de la Révolution, number 561(April 6 1794) of Suite du Journal de Perlet reports that ”they were in three tumbrils: in the first was Danton, next to Delacroix; Fabre near the executioner; Hérault opposite Chabot. In the second, Phelippeaux [sic], Westermann, Camille Desmoulins, Basire and Launai d’Angers [sic]. […] Danton […]seemed to pay little attention to the crowd around him: he was chatting with Lacroix and Fabre. […]Desmoulins spoke almost continually to the people; the courage he affected seemed like a painful effort, he was an actor who was studying to play his last part well.”

After the death of Camille and, eight days later, Lucile, their son Horace was taken in by his maternal grandparents and aunt, who then permanently retired to their country house in Bourg-la-Reine. Danton’s sons Antoine and François-Georges were they too adopted by their maternal grandfather and uncles. In 1805, the two moved from Paris to Arcis-sur-Aube where they instead got looked after by their paternal grandmother. I have not been able to find anything indicating the families stayed in touch to process the grief or let the children come together, something which we on the other hand know Lucile’s mother did with Philippeaux’s widow.

[myokk]

1, 13, 16, 20 any and/or all for Eloise 😇

Hi!!!🫶🫶🫶

(sorry I’m so late to this bahahahahahahhahaah…December is a CRAZY month😆) I’ll put the answers under the cut bc I am a yapper🤭 AND THERE IS *A LOT* OF ART & WIPS & TALKING🤭🫶

1) What was the original thought that led to the creation of this character?

This is a good question😭 I think of Eloise as separate from the girl I played in the game, AND separate from the MC in general bc I completely changed ancient magic & the whole storyline to something more interesting to me. As I was playing the game, though, I was SO INTENSELY CURIOUS about what their backstory could be - why were they starting 5th year? Were they a squib? What about their family?

I honestly LOVE that the game is so open-ended about this, because it allowed me to find a way to place Eloise in with canon lore (her mom is actually mentioned by Sirius in the books🤭) AND (this hasn’t been revealed yet) give a conceivable reason as to why the Babbits are not in the Sacred 28 when the list is created.

I’m also FASCINATED by thinking of pureblood society & the Black family in general (Sirius/Bellatrix are my favorite characters & BOTH heavily influence how I think of Eloise) & I have so much fun MAKING ALL OF THIS UP !!!!!!!!!! I LOVE thinking of different traditions/ways that old pagan traditions can be corrupted by the purebloods trying to hold onto their legacy…how the purebloods navigate society and the world in VERY subtle interactions etc etc ETC !!!!! I could literally make a whole post on all of these headcanons I’ve made up about the universe my fic takes place in😆😆😆

13) Do you have a voice claim for the character? What do you imagine the character sounds like?

Honestly NO😭 I think of her voice as very sweet but honestly it just kind of sounds like mine since I go into her mind so much as I write🤔 if anyone has any voice claims or ideas LMK !!!!

16) Is there any memes or running jokes associated with the character, both in- and out of universe?

ELOISE HATES WEARING PANTS AND SHE HATES QUIDDITCH😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤 she HATE WATCHES every single quidditch match just to make sure Sebastian doesn’t get hurt…BUT she drags Ominis with her and tells him to let her know if anything happens bc she can’t bear to watch🤔 Sebastian is always getting himself hurt on purpose in Crossed Wands & even quidditch in the hopes that Eloise will come over🤭 bc she always insists on the muggle way…(everyone thinks they’re weird)

Another thing that I think is HILARIOUS is that as a design choice I just gave her a braid bc a) I think it’s cute & b) it’s a way to tame her crazy crazy crazy hair & c) so I don’t have to draw her hair down. BUT every time we talk about mc interactions everyone wants Eloise to show them how to braid their hair…SHE has to demonstrate though bc there is no way anyone that isn’t her could tame her own hair😫

20) Bonus question: share any additional thoughts, art, favorite scenes, anything you’ve been waiting for a chance to ramble about.

DAMN DANI YOU WANTED TO UNLEASH MY INNER YAPPER…🤭🤭🤭

I REALLY want to talk about everything I’m working towards in my fic but🤐 I can’t spoil things for my 2 readers…SO…

Here’s a wip of my 70s au…the strangest crossover ever bc Sebastian and Sirius are getting high AF🤭😶‍🌫️ I haven’t decided if eloise is going to hate Sebastian, or if they’re going to be making out within 30 min of meeting🤔😇 now you can all see my terrible sketches…that turn into messy art😆

[akookminsupporter]

Hey! A couple of questions for you 😊

AYS, to me, was never going to “confirm” jikook. It was just unrealistic considering society and that they’re serving now. That being said, did AYS reaffirm for you jikook might be real? And do you think if it was your first bts content would you also think that there might be going something on (ie watching with no bias). For me, it showed how incredibly close they are and several moments of intimacy that goes beyond most friendships.

The second one is now 6 weeks out from the car convo, has your opinion on it or its relation to jikook changed? For me still, that car convo didn’t show they broke up or disprove that they may be dating.

One of my pet theories, even before Face and long before knowing buddy existed, was wondering if they took a step back in prep for military service - a let’s focus on solo careers and work on not being as tied together cause we have service a head of us. A practice run if you will. Not breaking up, more let’s try long distance.

More so now, and what I haven’t seen people talk about, is I was thinking about how for the other guys and jikooks prior relationships, they would know how hard dating as an idol would be. I’m sure Tae and Jennie had a lot to contend w being so busy as idols and on differing schedules. Same thing for dating a non famous, dealing w the insane hours and workload, rarely being in Seoul. And that was never a reality jikook faced - for a period they would’ve both lived and worked together. They were in the same schedule, the same places. And that would’ve been for a majority of their relationship. So no wonder post October 2022 was an adjustment, when they truly did not have any schedules as bts. And they’re both human, and Jimin has said both he and jk get lost in their work (from that colouring live). Sometimes we aren’t the best and prioritizing work and relationships, especially when it gets busy. You hear stories about loving couples going thru phases where they’re just roommates before making the effort to not just be living together. It seems like Jimin got incredibly busy and focused with Face and Muse. And jk is allowed to have feelings about that. Doesn’t mean them not being able to see each other to hang out is any deeper than that. Doesn’t show that they broke up or couldn’t be dating. I also wonder, since we may never get the background on it, if that period of time solidified the decision to enlist together. Where before it was a ok well enlist it will suck, became after that period of time nah we’re not doing 18+ months apart.

Ahhhh sorry for the long post, a couple questions and a couple thoughts for you haha

Hey anon, sorry for taking a bit to post your ASK.

“Did AYS reaffirm for you that jikook might be real?”

Yeah, definitely.

“Do you think if it was your first BTS content, would you also think that there might be something going on (i.e. watching with no bias)?”

Oh, absolutely. I think if I'd seen AYS without much context, I’d be sure they’re a couple, no doubt about it.

“The second one is now six weeks out from the car convo; has your opinion on it or its relation to jikook changed?”

Are you talking about Jungkook complaining that Jimin never reached out? Honestly, no, I still hold the same opinion I had initially.

I think one of the reasons why that time they talked is confusing for us is that we don’t have the context for a lot of things. For example, when did they decide to enlist together? I think that decision shaped many of their choices, like focusing on their work and perhaps on other friendships, because their relationship wouldn’t just pause dramatically come December 2023.

Honestly, I think that period in their relationship solidified whatever they have and made them want to be together, which is why they ended up enlisting together through a system that guaranteed they'd be together. Even if Jimin and Jungkook took a break—assuming they really have a romantic relationship—the fact that they decided to film a show together and enlist together in the army shows they’ve overcome whatever was separating them or that they’ve just realised they want to be together.

So, I think it’s a bit tiring and unnecessary to speculate about what might have happened during that time in their relationship because, first of all, we have no context, and second, they’re still together. The fact that they enlisted together through the buddy system is the biggest “proof” they can give that their relationship is solid, whatever that may be.

[gothsoyl]

┊┊┊⁺ ⁺ DECEMBER CHALLENGE

"A treatment" +18

lenny busker x reader

word count: 1,3k

summary: you're in a mental hospital because of your anxiety and panic attacks. she's your... you don't know how to call her. maybe she's your buddy here since she was the first who offered you some kind of comfort. she lets you take her dessert and listen to music in her headphones.

to be honest, you didn't see any point in going to a psychiatric hospital. you were just a little anxious... just a couple of panic attacks a month. that's not a cause for concern, is it? for a while, you really thought that's what most people face.

it wasn't until things got worse that you finally listened to your psychiatrist's persuasions. he said it would be better this way. he said they'd help you there. and you agreed.

but did you have any other choice? your anxiety didn't really allow you to work, and you were afraid to go outside for fear of another panic attack. not to mention that you were also afraid to be at home, because if you had a panic attack, you would be left alone.

everything was strange in the psychiatric hospital – there were strange people here, even those who were treated here laughed at. and you felt sorry for them, even though you couldn't help them.

one of the first days, you were sitting in the cafeteria for lunch. a man in a wheelchair is sitting in front of you, viscous saliva is flowing from his mouth, and no matter how disgusting this sight might be, you couldn't bring yourself to tear your eyes away and start eating.

and, let’s just say, you didn't have much appetite after that.

“oh my God.”

you flinch when you suddenly hear a woman's voice next to you. you didn't even notice how she sat next to you.

“what do you think he ate that makes his saliva so viscous?”

you swallow nervously and look first at the man and then at the woman next to you. she's tapping out a strange rhythm with her fingers on the cassette player and looking at you with a strange twinkle in her eyes, and everything inside you is sinking with panic.

and what should you tell her? you don't want to seem weird or anything... but is it weird at all to try to look normal in a psychiatric hospital? 

“I don't know...” you finally shrug and look at the cherry pie on the table. for some reason, you feel strangely embarrassed next to her, and the man opposite has long since left your thoughts.

“are you going to finish eating, or should I continue talking about his saliva?” the girl puts her hand on the table and supports her cheek with it, looking at you at the same time so attentively and so indifferently.

you're about to nod, but you glance at her headphones and cassette player.

“if you let me listen to music,” a slight smile touches your lips and the girl opposite laughs loudly and pretentiously, and you already think that you have said too much. but the she finally calms down and takes off her headphones, putting them on the table along with the player. you chuckle and slide her a plate with a piece of pie, concluding your agreement.

***

lenny busker.

you learned her name after a couple of weeks of your communication. for some reason, every time you asked what her name was, she changed the subject, or told you to call her whatever you wanted. 

It pissed you off, but you didn't really argue. you loved her company after all.

she was funny and constantly calmed you down when you had a panic attack – she just sat next to you and when you felt a little better, she gave you her headphones and turned on some old song that you hadn't heard in a hundred years.

you felt better with her. It's like everything was really okay with you, even if you're both not quite “normal.”

***

one night you woke up to the creaking of your own bed. you immediately tensed up, feeling a sudden wave of anxiety, and tried to get up to see what was going on, but immediately felt someone's hand on your shoulder and a quiet, familiar whisper, “shh... it's just me.”

you immediately freeze, not knowing what to do or how to behave.

“what are you doing here?” you ask quietly as she did and want to look at her, but she squeezes your shoulder harder, not allowing you to turn around. your throat gets dry and you don't even know what's going on. so many bad thoughts fill your head, but you try to get rid of them, telling yourself that lenny would never hurt you.

you lick your lower lip when her free hand wraps around your waist and pulls you closer to her. her hot body is pressed against your back and she leans so close that you can feel her breath on your skin.

“I just decided to check if you were okay,” her voice is saturated with playfulness and she gently bites your earlobe, making you shudder unconsciously. 

“I'm fine,” you say, and your whole face starts to burn red with shame and excitement. you're not entirely sure that your psychiatrist was talking about it when he sent you to a mental institution.

“I see,” lenny hums, and her lips slowly slide over your neck, leaving wet kisses, “just relax and we'll start the treatment.”

you can feel your body slowly starting to relax under lenny's gentle and assertive touches, even if your brain is still sounding the alarm. you're used to it – your brain is always on alert and afraid of everything, even if it's something minor or something you've done a hundred times before. It pisses you off. you're tired, so you don't resist.

you'd be lying if you said you'd never thought about what it would be like to kiss lenny. you're lying if you say you don't want her at a time when you can literally feel her heartbeat.

you close your eyes and try to push away the annoying thoughts. a sigh escapes your lips when lenny's fingers get under your t-shirt, scratching the delicate skin with her nails and squeezing your breast until it aches pleasantly. her lips are still exploring your neck, leaving barely noticeable hickeys and biting in some places only to run her tongue later.

your body shudders as she slowly pulls off your panties and the cool air touches your bare skin. lenny just grunts and nuzzles your hair at the back of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“I could do this for days on end...”

she laughs low, her fingers moving between your folds, collecting all the moisture, and you just bite your lip, trying not to moan at her every touch. you'd like to answer her, but you're afraid it might be louder than you planned. and the last thing you want is for the paramedics to come running at the noise and find you like this.

“come on...” you squeeze out such weak words, but it's enough for lenny, who slowly begins to insert her fingers into you, teasing and not letting you fully feel her. you move your hips, trying to speed up the process, but she doesn't let you – she presses you to the bed with her free hand and continues to tease. her movements are slow and measured, and you're one second away from begging her. 

“please, lenny...” you whimper, burying your face in the pillow, your own fingers grab the blanket out of desperation, and only then do you begin to feel the brutal thrusts. lenny whispers something in your ear, but you can't make out what it is.

you feel too good at this moment and you don't have a single thought in your head. just lenny's fingers, stretching you from the inside out, forcing you to grab the pillow with your teeth just to keep from moaning.

the bed starts to creak even more, and you move your hips towards it, before your walls contract for the last time, hugging lenny's fingers and your body begins to tremble from orgasm. you're breathing fast and hard, and your legs are still shaking from everything that happened, even after lenny pulls his fingers out of you with a wet sound.

she doesn't press you to the bed anymore, but even so, you can't turn to her – the treatment went so well that you no longer have the strength.

only for the second session.

[milk-tea-sakura]

𝐵𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎- 𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒦𝓎𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓈𝑒. 𝐻𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓌𝓈 𝓊𝓅 𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓂𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝑔𝒾𝒻𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓃𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓉.

𝒞𝓌: 𝐹𝓁𝓊𝒻𝒻, 𝐵𝒾𝑔 𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

Your husband, Kyle Garrick, had been gone for months, working undercover on some top-secret mission for the military. You had worried about him every day, but he couldn't contact you to let you know what was happening.  

One cold December night, as you sat alone in your living room, the doorbell rang. Startled, you got up to answer it, hoping against hope that it was him.  

When you opened the door, however, you didn't know what to say. Standing on your doorstep was Kyle, looking a little older and wearier than you remembered him.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, your heart skipping a beat. "Kyle?" you managed to choke out, your voice filled with shock.  

He smiled at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Hey, love," he said, his voice soft and familiar. "Surprise."

You were at a loss for words, a mix of confusion, relief, and anger all swirling around inside of you. You wanted to yell at him, to berate him for vanishing without a word, but you were just so happy to see him again. Without thinking, you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his middle and burying your face in his chest.

He stumbled back a step, but soon caught his balance and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the scent of you. "I missed you," he murmured, his voice muffled by your hair.  

For a moment, you both stood there in silence, holding onto each other as if letting go would cause the other to disappear.

After a few long moments, he pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands and looking at you closely. "I'm sorry I went radio silence on you," he said, his voice tinged with remorse. "It wasn't my choice, and it killed me not to be able to talk to you."  

He moved one hand, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb. "Are you angry with me?"

You met his gaze, your emotions churning inside of you. "Yes," you replied, your voice catching in your throat. "I was worried sick about you. I didn't know if you were dead or alive, or if I'd ever see you again."  

You took a shuddering breath, trying to keep yourself from bursting into tears.

He winced at your words, his expression pained. "I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice remorseful. "I was assigned a top-secret mission, and I couldn't break protocol. Trust me, it was killing me not being able to talk to you."  

He pulled you back into his arms, his grip tight and protective. "I'm here now, though," he said. "And I'm not going anywhere."

You sank into his embrace, your anger slowly fading as you felt his warmth and solid form against you. "I should stay mad at you," you muttered into his chest, your voice still thick with emotion. "You scared the crap out of me."

He chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through his chest. "I know," he said, rubbing soothing circles on your back with his hand. "And you have every right to be mad at me. I know I would be if the roles were reversed."  

He pulled back again, looking down at you with a sheepish expression. "But... I have something that might make you forgive me faster."

You looked up at him, your eyebrows raised in curiosity. "What is it?" you asked, your voice still a bit hoarse from the emotional turmoil you'd been through.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, rectangular box. It was wrapped in silver paper and tied with a gold ribbon. He held it out to you, a hopeful expression on his face.  

"This is for you," he said, his voice soft and earnest. "It's a late Christmas present."

You took the box from him, your fingers trembling slightly with trepidation. You slowly untied the ribbon, your heart pounding as you unwrapped the present.  

Once you'd removed all the wrapping paper, you found a simple, black jewelry box. You looked back up at him, your heart racing.

"Go on," he encouraged, his eyes watching you intently. "Open it."  

You slowly opened the lid of the jewelry box, your breath catching in your throat at what you saw inside.  

Lying on a bed of black velvet was a beautiful, gold locket. It was delicate and ornate, the surface of the gold etched with swirling patterns.

You lifted the locket from its box, running your fingers over the cool, smooth surface. It was exquisite, and you could tell it must have cost a small fortune.  

"It's beautiful," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

"I saw it and thought of you," he said, his fingers running gently over the chain of the locket. "Turn it over."  

You followed his instructions, your curiosity piqued. On the back of the locket, you saw a small, engraved inscription.

Your heart skipped another beat as you read the words etched into the gold: "I'll always find my way back to you."  

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you looked up at him, your emotions overwhelming you.

"I thought it was appropriate, considering the circumstances," he said, his voice soft and sincere. "And it's true. I'll always find my way back to you, no matter what."  

He gently took the locket from you, unhooking the clasp and fastening it around your neck. The locket settled against your chest, feeling weighty and yet comforting.

You reached up, touching the locket gently, feeling the warmth of the gold now that it was against your skin. "It's perfect," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.  

He smiled, his eyes soft as they looked at you. "And hopefully, it helps you forgive me a little bit?"

You nodded, your fingers still touching the locket. "It definitely helps," you said, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.  

He wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you close and pressing his lips to the top of your head. "I love you," he murmured, his voice filled with tenderness.

You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest. "I love you too," you said softly, your heart swelling with love and forgiveness.  

You stayed like that for a few minutes, just reveling in each other's presence and the knowledge that you were together again. Finally, you pulled back slightly, looking up at him.  

"Promise me you won't disappear like that again," you said, your voice firm.

"Leave me a note or something at least" you continue.

He chuckled softly, his hand gently tracing your jawline. "I promise," he said, his voice sincere. "I'll always find some way to let you know where I am and that I'm okay, even if I can't contact you directly."  

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Trust me, love. I have no intention of disappearing like that again. It was torture not being able to talk to you."

You nodded, a small sigh escaping your lips. "Good," you said, your voice a bit weary. The emotional rollercoaster of the past few months was finally catching up to you, and you could feel exhaustion seeping into your bones.  

He must have noticed, because he gently pushed you to sit on the sofa next to the Christmas tree. "You look exhausted," he said, his voice filled with concern.

"Not as much as you do"

He chuckled again, rubbing a hand over his face. "Fair enough," he admitted, his features looking haggard and wearied. "This mission was pretty intense."  

He sat down next to you on the couch, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

You relaxed against him, the exhaustion of the day and the rush of emotions finally catching up to you. "Can you tell me about it?" you asked, your voice a bit drowsy. "Or is it classified?"

He was quiet for a moment, his fingers absentmindedly toying with a strand of your hair. "I can tell you a little," he said, his voice low and cautious. "But not everything. Just know that it was a rough few months, and I missed you like crazy the whole time."  

He leaned back against the couch, pulling you with him so you were lying half on top of him, your head resting on his chest.

You hummed in acknowledgement, your body growing heavier as exhaustion washed over you. The feel of his strong form beneath you and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear were soothing, and you felt your eyelids drooping.

Kyle noticed you were starting to doze off, and he let out a soft chuckle. "Go to sleep," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're exhausted."  

You made a weak protesting sound, not wanting to fall asleep and miss a moment being with him. But your body had other ideas, and you could feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness.

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 44: Season's Greetings

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

December 24, 1925

Liverpool Docks

“Ready, Ada?”

Ada wraps her fox fur coat around her shoulders to combat the cold wind. “Are you? It’s been a whole year since you’ve seen Tommy.”

We climb inside the Bently waiting for us. There’s so many nerves bottled up inside I feel like I’m about to burst. My broers’ last words still have me wondering if I’m making the right choice.

“I pray these months haven’t changed him too much.” 

“I’m staying with Polly. Would you like to drive with me to John’s to drop off some presents? I’m checking in on Arthur too.”

I stare through the window at the wandering people. “Actually I’m going straight to the office to settle some questions I have. You can go on ahead. I’ll visit John later.”

Throughout the whole drive to Birmingham Ada and I go back and forth discussing last-minute details from the Boston docks. However, my mind cannot stop drifting to think about seeing Thomas again. Last time I was so close. So close to telling him everything. I know expecting him to wait is completely ridiculous. Maybe that’s why the excitement of coming back is stained by the fear that my absence will have caused him to be forgetful of me.

The car stops outside a new building I’ve never seen before. 

“This must be the new office,” Ada says. “Are you still going to the Christmas party?”

“Yes. I’ll tell John I’ll be there.” 

I grab my trunk and step out into the muddy streets. December in England is so much more wet than in Brooklyn. Where’s the snow? I walk into the first room and spot Lizzie behind a desk. When she sees me her eyes flash the familiar look of hatred.

“Season’s greetings, Lizzie. What should I expect?”

She gives a small huff and returns to checking the records. “He’s isolated himself from the family. ‘S just been him and Charlie.” I walk past her to a staircase and she speaks up again. “Oh, by the way, the only love he’s received is from whores. Thought you should know.”

Sure. She can think I’ll believe that. As much as my heart might fall for Thomas there is still a part of me that dreads to know that he still takes physical pleasures from other women. My only guess is that I have to become as corrupt and defiled as the rest for him to consider me. May might be right. I’m too pure for this.

Michael walks through a door and sees me climbing up. “Oh! Tommy didn’t say you were coming.”

My face brightens. “Michael! I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you all were pardoned-”

He holds a hand up to stop me and offers to help me with my trunk. “It’s alright, Verena. You’ve helped keep the business flowing smoothly. All’s well in Boston, I hope?”

“Business is booming. How’s Polly?”

Michael’s smile drops. “Not as good. She’s addicted to tablets from the prison. Going off her rocker, to tell you the truth.”

Oh God. That poor woman… Why didn’t Thomas tell me things had gotten this worse? 

“You thought she was religious before,” Micheal says. “Now she claims she sees spirits.”

I’m almost afraid to ask. “Did all of you… change?”

He bites his lip, contemplating if he wants to go any further. “Yes.”

“How bad?”

“You can see for yourself at John’s party.”

Right. The party. “Will the children be there?”

Michael checks his watch and starts walking. “Yes. Arthur’s been excited for you to meet little Billy.”

“My instructions from Thomas have stopped,” I call after him. “Any reason why?”

Michael turns to face me with his mouth pressed in a thin line. “He’s detaching himself from work.” That doesn’t sound like Thomas. “I’ll have more instructions for you after the holidays.”

No. I’m not waiting any longer. I’m going straight to the source. “Is he here?”

Michael points down the hall. “Right through that magical door. He just got done with a meeting.”

I start walking to it. “Please tell Polly I’ll visit as soon as I can. Wish her a ‘Merry Christmas’ for me.”

I push the door open and walk into a dimly lit room. Inside is a long wooden business table. A portrait of the company’s stemma hangs on the wall. At the end of the room Thomas sits at the table, smoking as usual. The thing that sets him apart from last time are the round spectacles on his grimly-carved face. Through the thick smoke I can’t tell if he's just as happy to see me.

“Ah, there are those braids. Did you come over with Ada?”

I don’t know how to respond to this greeting. Commenting my hair braids? Not even a simple hello? 

“Yes,” I answer slowly. “Merry Christmas to you, too. Ada's gone to visit your brothers, then she’s coming to see you.”

He doesn’t seem interested. Instead Thomas gets up and walks closer to look at me. “You’ve changed. Your letters stress more on business instead of pleasure. But you’re still full of spirit.”

So he does read my letters. He just doesn’t bother to respond. Full of spirit, am I? Maybe it’s because I was so desperate to hear from him. Such a contrast to his unaffectionate personality.

“Vader recovered quite well. When he was able to walk I spent the summer helping my brother Eoin and his wife with their four kids so they could take a vacation. You’d change too if you had to learn to wrangle those little schavuits.” 

I walk closer too, dawning a deciphering face that tells him I cannot be so heartless. “In fact… You look different as well. Those glasses…” Is it just me or does Thomas look more tense than before? “I like it. Makes you look… sophisticated. Just like the man everyone in Boston thinks you are.”

Thomas catches on to my cold tone and tries to ignore it. “I see you’re wearing the gift I sent you.”

“Yes I am, thank you very much,” I say gratefully and finger the pendant around my neck. “I love it. I’m surprised you remembered.”

A quaint smile crosses his face. “‘S not every day a girl turns 23.”

True. But what’s happening right now is not about me. I need to redirect him back to the subject at hand.

“You wrote that you wanted me back. Thomas, I’m serious, I am here to help reconnect your family. What plans do you and Charlie have for Christmas?”

Why is he looking at me like that? It’s like he wants to avoid me, glare at me, or hug me. I thought I was conflicted about this visit but I think he beats me. 

“We’re spending Christmas at Arrow House,” Thomas says. “I got him his own horse. A thoroughbred.”

My eyes close and I have to keep from frowning. “Thomas. That’s very sweet, but a horse cannot replace family.”

He takes a puff on his cigarette. “Polly’s seeing spirits. Michael needs cocaine to stay awake. Linda and Esme want to carve my eyes out. Gathering for Christmas is not going to fix this, Verena. Also, Ada tells me you’ve been advertising whiskey on the side.”

I shrug. “Your clients like to drink, my vader makes whiskey. It’s been profitable. Is that so wrong?” He’d be a hypocrite if he disagrees.

Thomas shakes his head and walks over to pour a glass of his own whiskey. “I heard Lizzie mention my recent routines with ladies of the night. Thought you’d have something to say to that, eh? Religious reminders or what not.”

That is it! I’ve had enough!

I clench my fists and make for the door before I punch him in his smug face. “I came here to help your family! Whoever you fuck is not my concern, Thomas. I know I can’t change your mind about it. All you Shelbys ever do is screw around.”

Behind me I hear him hum in surprise. “Still so innocent.”

I spin around and face him with a glare moeder would be proud of. “‘Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under ‘t.’ Beware women, Thomas. Their sweet smiles can turn into venomous bites when their motive is strong.” I am not so different.

Thomas raises a brow. “So I shouldn’t trust you either, eh?

I grunt frustratedly and grip my head. “I’m telling you this so you can trust me. Everywhere you send me I’ve seen strong-willed men come undone at a woman’s smile.” My eyes narrow with determination. “I am stronger than that. When a handsome man tries to sway my opinion I know exactly how to correct him.”

Thomas can’t ignore the mention of another man. “And how is that, might I ask?”

I smirk. “A loaded pistol used for a little persuasion never hurts. At least at first.”

Thomas mirrors my grin and raises his glass. “Remind me never to make you mad.”

“You have before. Was I that pleasant?”

His eyes darken. “No.”

I put my hands on my hips. “That’s what I thought.”

Thomas glances at my trunk. “Are you staying in town?”

I grimace at the thought of Ada having to stay with Polly. “I’m stopping by John’s to say hello before the party. I’m planning on going back to Watery Lane so I don’t intrude. People are going to hate me too, Thomas.”

I feel him grab my small hand with his callused one. “Stay at Arrow House for Christmas. There’s more than enough room. Charlie will be happy to see you.”

We’re not getting anywhere. “That’s why I’m here, Thomas. For you and your family. Are you still not going to John’s party?”

Thomas’ blue eyes dart all over my face. “They don’t want anything to do with me. I find myself blessed enough to have you back. I’m not bringing them back into this if they don’t want to.”

And I can’t force him into this because he’s too scared to face them. I’ve got my work cut out. Maybe there can be a Christmas miracle.

“Okay, Thomas. I can stay at Arrow House. But you need to promise me that you will at least make an effort to wish them a ‘Merry Christmas.’”

My acceptance of his offer brings a slight smile to Thomas’ face. “Before you go to John’s there’s something I’d like to show you.”

Of all places to find surprises I would not expect a normal-looking warehouse with no one guarding it. I’m led inside and take in the view of a giant room stocked to the brim with bottles of gin. His own distillery! This kind of progress is just what Thomas needs! A hobby that’s not trying to kill him.

“Goodness! When did this happen?”

Thomas brings out a case of bottles. “Your father’s drink inspired me. Now I use dad’s old recipe to make my own. We’ll still buy your brand, of course.”

I’m still gawking in wonder at the place. “Thomas, this is amazing!”

“Try some?” He holds out a sample glass. “Be honest.”

I take a sip and take in the new flavor. Nothing like vader’s but I give him credit. My taste is very specific. “It’s good. Quite impressive. Do you export?”

Thomas nods proudly. “Yeah. Some I send off to Boston. Your lot drink it up like water.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want to steal your dad’s business.” Is Thomas Shelby being modest? “Soon enough we’ll produce 200 gallons a week.”

Time to test the waters. “Maybe I can bring some to John? I’m sure he’d like to try some.”

Thomas’ smile fades. “Knowing Esme she’ll spit it on you. You’re really going to play peacemaker, Verena?”

I step closer and feel the same energy from before I left. When I felt like I was where I belonged in the world. He needs to know he’s not traveling this beaten path alone.

“You say I am innocent. Perhaps God is calling me here to spread my positive spirit during this festive season. Your family has seen numerous tragedies, Thomas. You can’t be broken apart. You need to be mended together. That’s why I am here.”

That, and because I love you. Do I go further?

Thomas keeps looking at me as if I’m a mirage. “I can never understand how you still believe we are so righteous and can be saved. That I can be saved. Do you ever want something for yourself?”

Yes. So selfishly yes. But it’s someone I want so selfishly. There are many ways I can answer that.

I spot a clock on the wall. Patience, Steenstra. This cannot be summed up in a few minutes.

“How about we continue this when I get back from John’s tonight? We can catch up properly without any interruptions.”

Thomas wants to keep me here but he knows better than to argue. “We’ll be waiting.”

@meadows5

[mamirhodessxox]

Hey there, would it be possible to get a cody fic? Length and type of writing is up to you but the prompt is "Cody meets your mom for the first time and is a bit nervous"

(Don't ask me why that came to mind I just imagine him super cute and nervous XD)

Nervous

Black Hair!Cody Rhodes x Fem!Reader

S/N= Sisters Name

M/N= Mothers Name

L/N= Last Name

Y/N= Your Name

Desc: Cody is meeting Y/N’s mother for the first time since their relationship bloomed & he’s feeling just a little bit nervous & is soon reassured.

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41

Contents: Fluff, Cussing, Y/N’s mom showing off embarrassing childhood pictures, Cody being a sweetheart <3

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

Cody was rarely ever nervous for anything, but once you two began dating he became nervous to meet your mother especially since that was the only parental figure within your life. Your mother was someone who was never easily impressed, she knew if certain friends were good enough to be your friends or not simply by the vibe they bring to her home. He only spoke with her briefly over a face-time you were having with her over the summer and she seemed like a nice lady but now that the holidays were rolling by she had brought it upon herself to have you two stay over for Christmas and Christmas eve. At first he was more than happy to accept the invitation and even cleared his entire schedule.

But then the months rolled by faster and faster & boom, December 23rd hit and because she lived across town you two decided to take a road trip to her house. The entire car was filled with silence beside his shaking breath and hefty mumbled of “fuck..” at first it was fine but when you had tried taking a nap it became slightly irritating “sweetheart what’s wrong?” Cody turned his head with a flushed red look on his face “I’m fucking terrified to meet your mother doll.” A chuckle rolled from your tongue as he finally confessed as to why he had been freaking out “Cody babe you’ll be fine. You met her before” He shook his head “No I had a brief interaction with her over a screen that’s different baby, She’s making me rethink me choices in life like this tattoo & choice in career and she hasn’t even said anything yet. I’ve heard your stories Y/N.” She laughed shaking her head and run her fingers through his black hair “Baby you’re overthinking it she doesn’t judge off of tattoos relax.”

Cody sighed as he realized they had just pulled into her driveway and pinched the bridge of his nose after tugging the keys out of the ignition and staring down at his lap “Baby if she hates me I’m so sorry.” You laughed and took off your seatbelt “Baby she won’t hate you relax.” Cody sighed opening the trunk after he got out of the car while you went up to her mothers door knocking on it while he grabbed their suitcases & bags of gifts for Your cousins & nieces since her sisters had become parents a few years ago. Your mother opened the door & smiled widely hugging her youngest child “Babygirl! I missed you so much I was almost convinced you forgot about me!” You smiled brightly and hugged her mom as Cody just made it to the porch and wiped off his clammy hands and took a deep breath holding out his hand

“You must be who swiped up my daughter.” She spoke in a serious tone which even had you concerned and probably cause Cody to shit bricks. “Oh I’m just joking baby come here! Give me a hug.” She smiled widely and pulled Cody into a big hug while he smiled and sighed out in relief before wrapping his arms around her “It’s wonderful to meet you Mrs L/N.” Her mother smiled patting his back before guiding him inside while he carried in the suitcases “I hope you don’t mind pizza tonight I was quite unprepared and all of the food being made will be for christmas.”

You shook your head “Mama don’t worry it’s fine, Cody & I can go to the store tomorrow and whip something up for Christmas eve don’t worry.” Her mother smiled cupping your face in her hands “You’re too sweet dear, Cody sweetheart you & Y/N will be sleeping in her old room okay? It’s down the hall the last door to your right.” He smiled nervously and hustled upstairs with the luggage while your mother took you to the Christmas tree to put away all the presents you & Cody had brought during the trip over to the house. “He’s a sweet boy Y/N i can tell he has love for you.” You smiled from ear to ear while pushing strands of your own hair out of your face as you thought of your boyfriend “He is the best isn’t he mama?”

Cody came downstairs & nervously sat on the couch while your Sister had just walked into the house making your mother get up and help her get settled in. Cody smiled over in your direction as you got up and stood between his legs as his arms wrapped around your waist “One direction?” He teased at your bedroom that was filled with boy band posters & teen magazines you owned when you were in middle school and high school “Shutup.”

You laughed out as he pressed a soft kiss against your collarbone, Cody got up as S/N made her way into the living room while her husband put away their suitcases while the kids scampered around hugging your leg “Auntie Y/N!!” You grinned widely fixing your attention onto the little ones while S/N & Cody introduced themselves to each other “You must be Cody! It’s nice to meet you finally!” Cody smiled shaking her hand “It’s amazing to meet you too S/N! I hear a lot about you & the kids.” S/N grinned as her husband shook Cody’s hands while they all got to know each other.

For the remainder of the night they all munched down on pizza & laughed about their old family memories, “Mrs L/N Is it alright if I get a drink from the kitchen.” Cody questioned while your mother smiled “Of course Cody! My home is your home you welcome yourself to anything you’d like sweetheart and don’t call me L/N I feel old! Call me M/N!” He smiled nodding his head “Yes Ma’am.” He got up & went into the kitchen seeing you bake Christmas cookies with the girls while he got himself a drink. He watched as you interacted with the kids & helped wash their hands while he pointed out your failed attempt of a santa clause cookie “What happened here?” You sighed jokingly “I ruined Santa.” He snorted looking over at you while the kids ran off as he hummed wrapping his hands in your hair while you admired his black hair before kissing him “Thank you for being so good to me Doll.” You smiled before kissing his cheek “No thank you, this means more than a lot to me Codes.” He smiled and kissed you once more before you two called it a night & went to bed.

The next morning it was finally Christmas Eve you noticed Cody wasn’t in bed with you & then you heard muffled chuckling from downstairs followed with your Mom telling some sort of story so you made your way downstairs and saw Cody sitting next to your mother on the couch while the kids were playing & running around & immediately saw the old photo book your mother owned and knew she was showing off your childhood photos up to your high-school graduation “She was such a talented girl.” Your mother sighed while Cody smiled nodding in agreement before turning his head looking over at you

“Goodmorning baby, I didn’t wanna wake you so I let you sleep in for a little bit.” You smile groggily and shook your head before getting on the couch and lying your head down in his lap “Don’t worry it’s fine.” Your mother smiled as she looked at you two & showed you one of the photos they were looking at which was your first month of college sitting in a dorm with your roommates pre gaming for some sort of party “Y/N was a major party girl when she went to college” Cody raised a brow “You? Partying? This is news to me.” You smacked his chest lightly while he laughed it off.

For the remainder of your stay at the house you both help make dinner for Christmas & mainly watch as he bonded with your mother & nieces & cousins, If you didn’t know then that he was your soulmate for the rest of your life well now you knew. <3

xtripleiiix’s Masterlist

[goldenpinof]

curious about your perspective – what do you think is the primary reason for the current comeback, and for the large scale of it (daily videos, new heavily marketed merch, etc)? are they trying to make up some monetary loss? is it true revitalized passion? the influence of the new management? lead-up to a major project/announcement? i'm guessing there's an element of at least the first three, but interested in your opinion as a noted non-cynical cynic (compliment btw)

under the cut because that's a lot. and it's not even all of my thoughts, unfortunately.

no one is gonna read it. but if you are, i'm sorry in advance.

ahaha. about merch. did you notice how they just continue to promote the calendar and the catboy sweater even though the initial release and promo had a deadline aka till December 1st? this is a fishy marketing right there. and i would love to know: why they did what they did (i'd assume they printed more calendars than people ordered by Dec 1st, but that's not our problem as customers. we shouldn't have been put into a framework in the 1st place if there was a chance for this shit to go south. this theory goes against the "pre-order" with a start of shipping in 2-3 weeks); why their managers allowed it (from a legal perspective); and why dnp didn't say anything. anyways.

i do think that Dan is trying to compensate for wad losses. and i know that he was "joking" about not making money or making negative money on tour. but i saw ticket sales a day before each show (only public information, not the inside official data from venues), it's still on my blog. and the sales didn't look good. so, how much of it was a joke? and compensating by making content that we and they enjoy isn't a bad thing, btw! i also think that he feels guilty for leaving us and the dnp brand behind for so long without actually giving us anything in return. thus so many comments on this 5-year hiatus and potential future ones. blame youtube originals, i know. not really his fault, but his choice of (the lack of) communication is his fault. and again, i always come back to wad. something fucking clicked in his head when he saw not as many people as he hoped for (or expected), how dedicated were some of those who still supported him during wad, and also he realised that without stronger managers he was not gonna make it solo. and he dragged Phil along because they do everything together and only then it works the best, and also dnpg's return in full force needed new energy for the amount of sponsorships they decided to do (i think, it's mainly Phil's pushing, because he is pro-sponsorships, they just need to be more careful with it on dnpg because Dan (hopefully) has principles when it comes to this. which is amazing. you go, girl!)

i'm very suspicious of dnp's new management right now. so idk. i think, again, most of it comes from Phil, because Phil thrives on their gaming channel, and that's basically the only easy way to survive on youtube and make money right now (for him). i'm glad dnp separated dnpg from their solo careers at least on the management and content levels. it gives Phil the room to use dnpg as a brand to pitch and fund his ideas/projects if it's ever needed. and now, after we survived the hiatus, they can pause dnpg for a couple of months to focus on their solo projects without losing the majority of the audience because technically we would know the reason and also we grew a thicker skin.

i do think that Dan is using dnpg to later help himself with a stand-up special or tour or some sort of series (danisnotokay). i also think he will use it to promote wad dvd (which is good. i will be disappointed if he doesn't use dnpg. like, bitch, why are we even here then? those who went through wad with him, i mean). i wonder if Inter Talent (i'm separating their name intentionally at his point because they piss me off) was smart enough to announce Dan and Phil's signings 2 weeks after UTA announced Dan to just make us pay attention to Dan's solo career again. as a hint of something coming our way. you know what i mean? i wonder if it was intentional. like UTA made a huge announcement, Dan retweeted it and posted it on instagram stories. it was a big deal. meanwhile, dnpg began thriving again and our eyes were on Dan anyway, so of course we noticed that solo career was on the maps again. Inter Talent was basically silent as another representative of Dan (and Phil), despite having them on the website for at least a month. and now 2 weeks after UTA's announcement (which was on November 22, 2023) Inter Talent was like, "hello? do you remember we signed Dan? and also Phil, and their joint channel?" Dan said wad dvd is almost cooked. wouldn't it be genius to stir our interest up step by step? (a part of me still thinks that Inter Talent's social media managers are just slow as fuck though. also they don't even care to check facts about their clients. UTA didn't fuck the announcement up like that, btw. and i doubt Inter Talent realises how nosy dnp's audience is, and that we are very likely gonna notice and spread even this stupid announcement. maybe they are dumb and it's me who is a fucking genius planning steps to present wad dvd to the masses, ugh. when will Dan pay me, like for real.)

i'm surprised you don't think it's heavily connected to new projects. i would bet my kidney it does. Dan will fuck off the moment he needs to focus on danisnotokay or someone offers to sponsor another tour (which, please, someone do. i need to see him for professional reasons). the question is, fuck off for how long and if it's gonna be communicated thoroughly or not. i'm not saying he will leave for 6 months without giving us something in return to balance things out. no, no, no. i don't think he would dare. but 3-4 weeks, maybe 2 months? sure.

is it true revitalized passion? well. *nervous laughter* i'm gonna defend Phil like i'm a phillie, even tho i'm not. he wanted it just as much as we did. so i believe it's a true revitalized passion at least on his part. i hope he fights for it if it's necessary, i hope he asks us for help if needed. i hope he threatens Dan with an actual divorce and forever home if needed. like, bitch, if there's a chance to keep dnpg alive without Dan actually losing his will to live, we should use that chance. Dan's stubbornness and delulus are not the reason to kill the most fun and profitable thing they ever created aka dnp brand. let it exist, even if alongside solo projects, even if it's 2-3 videos a month. damn, even 1 video (i don't mean during pauses made specifically for the peaks of solo projects). i do think Dan enjoys the attention, money, and possibilities their returned audience can give him. he also enjoys working with Phil. he certainly does not enjoy promoting their videos. and he is lucky he has Phil for that. is it a true passion for the gaming channel and joint branding solemnly? i genuinely don't think so. now, this dnp brand puts Dan into a framework, unfortunately. and i understand his desire to grow as a "strong independent Dan", and i wish him the best. i will root for him no matter how much of a floppy-ding-dong it can potentially be. i want him to fulfill his dreams and have a team that will fight for his interests. and i hope to god, UTA and Inter Talent are the ones. don't fucking tempt me with your unprofessionalism. but do i think Dan's head and heart belong to dnpg or dnp brand? no. i'm happy that he is at least trying. a part of me doesn't even care about the reason. i'm curious, but in hindsight, it wouldn't matter or change anything.

other thoughts, because apparently i decided to vomit on a keyboard tonight:

i'm glad dnp took back a bit of control over the editing on dnpg. i hope they will try to edit more themselves when gamingmas is over. or they will teach their editors better. because man, we need to slow down with these cuts.

i do think that dnp brand will expand, and dnpg and merch aren't the only things we should expect. (twitch, podcast or liveshows, onlyfans or its equivalent, vlogging series not limited by ditl, and other things that i forgot). reaction videos are already a thing and it's very funny because it's what youtube wants, so Dan must feel amazing right now falling for it :)) it's good thought because it's fun and torture for all parties involved.

i think by these reaction videos they are trying to rewrite their internet history a little bit for those who are new. it's not gonna work with us but at least dnp can control the narrative in new people's heads (i wonder for how long though).

with new people, the phandom will become more generic and dnp will love that. it can actually help Dan with new projects i think. Phil as well, but we don't know shit about it right now.

i wonder if Dan returns to working with charities.

if they involve more phannies, not only artists, it's gonna be interesting.

in case i'm wrong, don't step on my neck, i don't know anything for a fact. half of it is alleged, the other half is wishful thinking <3

[dayseternal-blog]

Rouge naruhina please?(sorry of it sounds rude!!)

Sure! Well, I hope these are what you mean by rogue NaruHina, like NaruHina not following orders, breaking the rules, going against Konoha, etc.:

well, first, there's the one you recommended to me

“Naruto: The Mating” by SeventhShinobi - Rated E, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Now, Naruto has discovered the an ability called “The Mating.” Come see what he’ll do with his new found power

and then there's also

“My Favorite Night” by @peppercornpress - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Hinata harbors deeper feelings for Naruto after three years of being his roommate. Facing hostile relations from her old clan, another odd phenomenon with the moon, and Naruto still hopelessly pining after Sakura; Hinata makes the painful choice to end their sham of a relationship and try her luck in another hidden village. Unbeknownst to her, this move kickstarts a series of events that forces her and Naruto to confront their past, present, and future.

“Distorted Minds” by Cheating Death - Rated E for graphic violence, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Her lavender eyes slowly opened, her vision blurry and distorted for a few moments as she tried to look around. It was then that she realized that she was suspended a few inches off the ground, her wrists cuffed in cold, metal shackles that hung from the ceiling

“White Dog Night” by Nate Grey - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Kiba gives his life to save Hinata, and she and Akamaru must unite to save each other. But with the biggest threat to their lives being her own clan, the only safe place for a shy girl and her little white dog may be outside Konoha’s gates…

“November - Crime AU” from “Still Falling For You” by @chloelapomme - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. When Hinata arrives next to Naruto, she looks for Pain. However it seems Konoha’s enemy is gone. She then turns towards its hero, expecting to see a smile. But she only sees darkness in his sky blue eyes and she doesn’t know where it comes from.

Chapter 1 from "Between the Trees" by @utsus - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. Prompt: I'd break a sacred oath to see you.

“Justice” series by autumnsolstice9 - Rated G (?? I think it should be T), Canon-Divergent, 15-parts of related one-shots, Complete. Hiashi wants to give Hinata the caged bird seal. Hinata wants justice.

“Two Lonely Children” by hinatasgreatestfan - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Naruto finds Hinata on the streets during a rainy night. What changes will this seemingly innocuous event lead to?

“A Hyuga’s Honor” by funkychicken67 - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Hinata Hyuga has been gone for 7 years. Naruto and all thought she was dead until one night when she returned more powerful than ever.

"Lost Souls" from "NaruHina Month December 2022" by @sessakag - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. They set off on a journey that’d one day bring them back to their place of birth, and on that day, they’d enact the plan that had given them a sense of purpose.

"A Woman's Heart" by Ookami88 - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. Naruto lies in hospital in coma. Sasuke is locked in prison for his crimes. Hinata comes up with a plan that will ensure her beloved man’s happiness, no matter how much it’ll cost her.

That's all I could think of! If anyone knows others, feel free to add on!