#aramis fluff

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Trois Surprises

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 6719

Summary: Aramis and the reader are changed forever by three joyous surprises. 

Notes: I write a lot of angst for him, but dammit, this man deserves to be happy. And I wanted to write him actually being able to spend time with his kids. Also, the title is ‘Three Surprises’ in French, I just didn’t know ‘surprises’ is spelled the same way. At least that’s what translate said. Please don’t come for me. This also doesn’t follow any plots from the show,  so ignore the timeline haha. 

More Musketeers HERE

-

I 

The garrison greeted you with metal clashing and the smell of sweat. Men shouted at each other across the way with language that was far from proper.  It didn’t bother you, of course. In your time frequenting the training area, you’d grown used to its oddities and eccentricities. 

A few of the men cheered to greet you and asked how you were or what brought you to the garrison, though they already had an idea. You were here for Aramis. You were always here for Aramis. Or for shooting lessons, which the captain had approved since you lived alone and association with the musketeers often led to trouble. 

“Y/N!” A boisterous voice called. Porthos hopped up from the table he sat at and crossed the courtyard. Not one for propriety, he pulled you into a hug without a second thought. You couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “What brings you here?” 

He led you back to the table and brushed off the bench for you to sit. 

Athos tilted his hat. Unlike his companion, he enjoyed upholding some of the rules of society. “Mademoiselle Y/L/N.” 

“How many times must I tell you to call me Y/N?” You teased. 

“If I did, you wouldn’t have to tell me any more,” he smirked. “I assume you’re looking for Aramis.” 

You nodded. “I have important matters to discuss with him and Captain Treville.” 

The two exchanged a look. 

“Sounds serious,” Porthos said. “Anything we should know about?”

“All in good time, boys,” you beamed. “I promise I won’t leave you in the dark for too long.” 

D'Artagnan eyed you curiously. Perhaps your closest friend among Aramis’ companions, it was unusual for you not to share something with him. You gave him a reassuring nod and he trusted he’d find out what all this was about in due time. It didn’t stop his mind from searching the possibilities, though. 

The imploring silence only lasted a moment longer. 

“Y/N?” 

And just like that, at the sound of his voice, your knees turned soft and your heart stopped beating. Every nerve in your body seemed to bunch and twist in your belly. You turned, Aramis’s eyes sparkling at you in the morning light as a smile crept onto his face. 

“I had no idea you’d be here,” he grinned, kissing your cheek. 

“I had something I wanted to share with you before you galavanted off into danger somewhere.” The tremble in your voice made his face darken with worry. His gaze flicked to his companions and they took the hint, hurrying off to the side to give the two of you some privacy. You began to fidget with your cloak. “I hope my coming on short notice isn’t a nuisance.” 

“No, please.” He took your hands in his and brought them to his lips. “You are my favorite kind of surprise, darling.” His dark eyes looked deeply into yours. “Is something the matter?” 

“Not exactly…” You’d rehearsed the words numerous times and it was completely in vain. You might as well have been mute, standing before him with a blank, panicked expression, which of course only made him look more concerned. 

“My love, you’re starting to frighten me,” he laughed nervously and tucked a hair behind your ear. “You can tell me anything.” 

You took a deep breath, placing a hand on his chest. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Porthos whispered. The three, having been observing from afar, watched on as you stared down at the dirt and Aramis lifted your chin with his finger. 

“That’s between the two of them,” Athos said. “It’s none of our business.” However, he did not, nor did the other two, turn away.

You said something none of them could hear. Aramis’s arms fell to his sides, face turned white as a sheet. His mouth floundered open and closed, unable to say anything. 

“You don’t think she’s broken things off, do you?” D’Artagnan asked. 

After a moment of this awkward, anxious tension that even they could feel from across the courtyard, Aramis seemed to snap to his senses. He lifted you off the ground and spun around, a smile as wide as the Seine spread across his face. Your laugh rang throughout the space and when he set you down, your arms hooked around his neck, lips locking together for longer than what was probably publicly acceptable. 

Athos turned to the youngest member of their group. “I take that as a no.” 

Aramis kissed you one… two… three… more times before you said something about going to the market and left, holding his hand until the last possible moment. 

When the marksman returned, his friends stood with brows raised and curious smiles. Porthos patted him on the back. 

“What to share what that was all about?” 

Still, with a starstruck grin, Aramis gazed around in a daze. Like before, his mouth fell open and nothing came out. He was sure his heart had stopped beating. Or perhaps it wasn’t there anymore. It was with you, as it always had been. Now more than ever. 

He looked up at his companions- his friends- the men he trusted with his life and the words simply fell from his lips. 

“Y/N’s pregnant.” 

-

“I don’t know if I can wait much longer,” you whined, breathing slowly and deeply as you took a seat at the table. 

Constance smiled. “You only have, what, a month or so to go?”

“Yes, and I feel like I’m the size of Notre Dame.” You laid a hand on your bulbous belly and laughed. “I look the size of Notre Dame.” 

“Nonsense,” she chuckled along with you, setting a plate of bread and bowl of stew in front of you. Constance peeked out the door and shook her head. “They’re late. Again.” Despite the playful annoyance in her voice, there was a sparkle in her eye. One you recognized well. 

“You know… D’Artagnan has been speaking of you more and more since I became pregnant. I dare say he even sounds hopeful.”

“Don’t start,” she swallowed. She took a rag and started to wipe down the table in order to avoid your gaze. “I, in case you’ve forgotten, am married to the man who supplies your fabrics. D’Artagnan and I are merely friends.” The younger woman glanced up at you with a kind of admiration. “It isn’t like what you and Aramis have.” 

You scoffed. “I’m his mistress.”

Her eyes softened with sincerity. She put a hand on your arm. “You’re a great deal more than that.” 

You averted your eyes, feeling the hint of tears begin in them and focused on the meal before you. Despite his adoration and his devotion, you knew not to hope for more than what you were given. And you had no complaints, of course, Aramis was the light of your life and to have his child was more than you ever imagined. But he was a hero. You were a seamstress. 

As if summoned by your brief sorrow, the door to the cottage opened and you heard two pairs of thundering steps coming down the hall. While not banished completely, your doubts were pushed to the back of your mind upon the sight of Aramis’s grinning face. 

“Sorry we’re late, ladies,” he said, removing his hat with a smug flare. “Paris needed saving.” 

“When doesn’t it?” You laughed. He leaned to place a kiss on your forehead, hand falling lovingly to your belly. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispered against your skin. Aramis basked at the sight of you in the setting sun, golden rays streaming through the window. “Like an angel in heaven’s light.” 

A lovely pink color crept onto your cheeks. “You flatter me too much.” 

“My love, my words will never be enough.” Aramis brought your lips to his with passion and sweetness, despite the other two in the room. He set his weapons aside, his coat along with them, and sat next to you. Seeing the billowing sleeves of his shirt reminded you of your work earlier in the day. 

“I almost forgot, I repaired the tear in your shirt. I’ll have to go fetch it.” You started to stand- with more than a little effort- and he laid a hand on your shoulder to set you back down. 

“Please, don’t trouble yourself, darling.” He kissed you again. “I’ll get it.” As he sauntered into the other room, Constance gave you a knowing look you did your best to ignore. 

“Any news on the Red Guard?” D’Artagnan asked. You were glad of the change in subject, though Constance rolled her eyes at his abruptness. 

“Unfortunately, I don’t seem to be the favorite to stitch their uniforms ever since-” You motioned to the rather obvious reason at your middle. 

“Ah,” D’Artagnan nodded. “Right.”

Having made a reputation as having the most reliable repairs of any affordable seamstress in Paris, you’d often had members of the Red Guard come to you, as they were ‘too above’ mending anything themselves. It did, however, allow you to overhear things here and there, which you took to the musketeers. But keeping your relationship with Aramis a secret was hard enough. Now, with such a drastic change in your appearance, they’d kept their distance, though whether it was because you were unmarried or if they suspected you to be somewhat of a spy for your child’s father, you couldn’t tell. 

The two of you looked at each other for a moment before you couldn’t contain your laughter. D’Artagnan sat beside you and asked you questions of a lighter variety while you pleaded to hear of the day’s adventures. Aramis always worried he’d distress you, so you received all the juicy details from the youngest musketeer. Through your friendship with Constance, D’Artagnan had become one of your closest friends as well. 

A lull fell upon your conversation and you couldn't help but note how his eyes drifted back to your mutual companion by the fire. 

One day, you thought…

A sudden movement within you forced a gasp from your lips. Aramis returned to the room in seconds.

“Love, what is it? Did something happen?” He knelt by your side with loving, concerned eyes. 

“Yes,” you beamed, placing a hand where the movement was. You looked into his beautiful gaze and felt yourself overtaken by the excitement. “I believe he just kicked.” Gently, you took his hand and guided it to where you’d felt it. 

“He?” Aramis awed, raising a brow. 

You shrugged. “Just a feeling.”

Another motion fluttered against Aramis’s hand, this one stronger and almost more aggressive than the last. Aramis chuckled. 

“I think she may disagree with your feeling.” 

“Oh, a girl then, is it?” You smirked. 

He shrugged, mocking you affectionately. “Just a feeling.” 

-

II

He’d come as soon as he heard. All of them had. The four musketeers stood in the lobby of your shop, none of them able to sit down. Athos leaned against the wall, he and Porthos watching the windows as if for some dastardly foe. D’Artagnan tried to distract himself by sharpening his sword. Aramis paced at the foot of the stairs leading up to your rooms. 

The midwife wouldn’t allow him to be with you, despite his protests. Only Constance was permitted to accompany her in tending to you. It took all three men to hold him back when your screaming began. 

Hours of this hell passed. He paced until he was sure the soles of his boots would scuff clean off. 

“Can I ask you something?” Porthos asked. He hoped to distract his friend from his pain but, in truth, it was something they’d all been wondering for months. Aramis stopped his hurried steps and turned with a nod. Porthos swallowed. “Why haven’t you married her?” 

“Porthos now is hardly the occasion,” Athos scolded. 

“We have to talk about something, else we’ll all go mad with her up there.” 

Aramis held up a hand to silence them both. The three waited with bated breath as he looked up, wishing to float through the ceiling and be by your side. 

“Because she doubts me,” he said with an unexpected sadness in his voice. He looked back at them. “She doesn’t believe that my love for her is genuine. I can feel it when her smile falters or when her hand falls from mine.” He turned away. “To ask her for her hand because of the child… it would only prove what she believes.” Aramis clenched his fist at his side, then relaxed it again. This idleness would destroy him if this was not soon over. “I could not force her to marry a man that she doubts.” 

The others nodded in understanding, though none of them truly understood, especially D’Artagnan.

 He’d never seen two people who loved each other more than you and Aramis. He wanted to scream at both of them until his throat was sore if he thought it would help. Seeing the two of you so clouded with your own doubts hurt him more than he could say. The younger man just couldn’t fathom it. He’d give anything to have the opportunity to marry the woman he loved.

The matter of your reputation, of course, had already been discussed. You told anyone who discovered your condition that you’d married while away in Gascony and that your husband was a merchant who traveled often and you always met with him back in Gascony. Most people didn’t care enough to gossip about an orphaned woman with little prospects to begin with. It’d been your idea to lie and Aramis accepted it as you being as unsure of him as you thought he was of you. 

What killed him the most, despite his charming demeanor and always knowing the right words for the right people, was that he had no idea how to convey to you how he truly felt. He reminded you of his love every moment he had with you, and yet he knew you didn’t fully believe it. What else could he do but keep trying? 

Another aching shriek echoed through the chamber, followed by a silence, and then… cries. An infant’s wailing filled the house. 

Aramis raced up the stairs before the others could stop him. 

The door to your bedroom opened and Constance stepped out, quickly closing it behind her. She had a bundle in her arms. The auburn-haired woman beamed at him. 

“Would you like to meet your son?” 

Suddenly, he couldn’t move. He just stared at Constance, stunned, as the baby continued to cry. It was as if he’d forgotten how to use his limbs, everything numb with a strange mix of disbelief and utter joy. 

A son. 

He stepped forward and spoke with a shaking voice. “Y-yes.” He felt like a child himself, standing before her with arms outstretched. 

Constance, still grinning, gently placed the wriggling bundle into his awaiting embrace. 

He couldn’t believe how small he was. His son. A tiny fist reached out. Aramis gave him his pinky to grasp onto, his little fingers not even able to wrap all the way around the digit. He rocked the baby in his arms, cooing slightly. The boy stopped crying. 

“I have a son,” he gasped. He turned to the stairs, where his three friends had gathered at the bottom. His tone raised to a cheer. “I have a son!” 

A chorus of joyous hollers and applause filled the stairwell. 

The celebration, however, was cut short as another round of your screaming cries The boy in his arms began wailing again. He held him a little closer to soothe him, but Aramis had gone white. 

“What’s happening?” He asked. 

Constance shook her head. “I-I don’t know. I thought everything was fine.” 

A guttural grunt. Another scream. 

Aramis passed his son back to Constance and started toward your door. The three men had already climbed the stairs with worried expressions.

“You aren’t supposed to-” Constance started, but she stopped as soon as she saw Aramis’s look of absolute panic. 

He burst through the door.  

“What’s happening? What’s wrong?” Aramis rushed to your side, brushing a sweat-soaked strand of hair away from your cheek. 

“Aramis?” You muttered, almost dreamily. 

“You shouldn’t be in here monsieur,” the midwife scolded. 

Your knees were pulled up before her. He tried not to look, for the bed sheets were slick with blood and it only made him panic even more. He, instead, looked into your eyes and you looked into his, the comfort of those dark brown irises grounding you through the pain. 

“Something’s… happening…” You took heaving breaths in between your words. His hand found yours and you held onto it with a near-crushing grip. 

“There’s another,” the midwife said. 

Both of your heads snapped up to look at her and you spoke at the same time. 

“What?!” 

She peered up at you, cast a disapproving look at the father, but decided it was too late to force him out of the room. 

“Just as we did before,” she instructed. “Ready? Three… two…” 

-

For the first time, there was quiet. 

The midwife had gone, having gathered the soiled blankets and bowls of water. Aramis sat beside you, one arm around your shoulders, your son blinking up at both of you from your embrace. With the other arm, he held your daughter. 

“I doubt I’ll ever understand what I’ve done in my life,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, “to deserve all of this.” 

You turned your head to kiss his lips lightly, reaching a hand to caress your daughter’s soft cheek. 

“It seems impossible for two things so perfect to come into my life at once,” you mused, bringing your hand up to his face. “And you… to have you for as long as I have. I can’t imagine what I’ve done to be so blessed.” 

Aramis leaned into your touch, the hair of his beard tickling your palm as he nuzzled your skin. Those near-ebony eyes looked into yours with a love more powerful than he’d ever felt before. He wanted, right there, to ask you to marry him. 

A knock at the door was followed by Constance peeking her head into the room with an excited, but exasperated expression. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can hold them off,” she laughed. “I haven’t told them anything, like you asked, other than that everything is alright, but I don’t think they’ll believe me until they see you.” 

Aramis chuckled, the vibration rumbling against you. Your daughter stirred against his chest, stretching her tiny arms toward him. He leaned to kiss her forehead. 

You beamed. “Let them in.” 

Constance nodded, smile growing, and turned back to the door.

“Be quiet, all of you,” she ordered. “I don’t want you scaring them.”

D’Artagnan’s brows drew together as he stepped in first. 

“Them?”  

As the two others piled in behind him, all halted abruptly, their eyes darting between you and Aramis and the not one, but two infants in your arms. Confusion turned to shock and finally to unbridled excitement. 

“Twins!” Athos exclaimed with one of the first real smiles you’d ever seen on his face. 

Porthos was still glancing between the two. “Twins?” 

It was D’Artagnan who stepped forward first and placed a hand gently on your shoulder, his joy for you clear in his dark eyes. 

“It’s incredible,” he said. He glanced up at Aramis with the same warm kinship. “I can’t begin to say how happy I am. For both of you.” 

The other two gathered on Aramis’s side of the bed and shared similar congratulations. 

“Have you thought of names?” Porthos asked. 

“Actually, we thought we’d get your thoughts,” Aramis said, glancing over at you with a smirk. He touched a finger to your daughter’s nose. “For her, we were thinking of Christine.” She swatted at his finger lightly, making her father laugh again. “She’s quite the fighter already, hm?” 

“I wonder where she gets that from,” Porthos smiled and patted him on the back. 

“For our son,” you took a deep breath and looked up at your friend beside you. “We thought Charles would be fitting.” 

D’Artagnan’s mouth fell open and his eyes filled with even more admiration and feeling than before, which didn’t seem possible. 

“C-Charles?” He asked, as if he’d heard you wrong. 

Aramis nodded. “Charles.” 

“But only if you’ll allow it,” you said, reaching for his hand. “You’ve just been such a good friend to me- to us- and I hoped you would be his godfather as well, but if-”

He took your hand and brought it to his lips. “I would be honored.” His voice was heavy with emotion, tears of joy welling in his eyes. 

“We’ve already asked Constance to be godmother to them both,” Aramis said. He turned to his best friend. “I was hoping, Porthos, that-”

“Do you even have to ask?” Porthos chuckled. He leaned over your daughter and made a face. 

She started to cry. 

“Congratulations,” Aramis sighed. “You’ve already frightened off your goddaughter.” 

Porthos made another face and she stopped. He raised a brow at Aramis, beaming. You snickered at their antics. 

“They are beautiful children,” Athos said, leaning against the dresser. “I can’t say enough how happy I am for the two of you.” 

“Oh don’t feel left out, Athos,” Porthos teased. “I’m sure you can be godfather to the next one.” 

You snorted. “I think he may have to wait a while for that.” Everyone in the room laughed. D’Artagnan gazed down at your son, still trying to hold back tears. 

“Would you like to hold him?” 

He gulped. “Can I?” 

You smiled and carefully handed your son to his namesake. Aramis did the same with your daughter, slowly putting her in Porthos’s arms. And just like that, you watched the two grown men turn to puppies, all wide eyes and cooing smiles. 

A happy tear rolled down your cheek. Aramis pulled you closed and kissed it away. You knew, more than anything in the world, that your children would be safe. And they would be loved. 

III

He rocked the child in his arms with the whispers of a lullaby on his lips. 

“Lullay, thou little tiny child,” he sang softly, “bye, bye, lully, lullay. Thou little tiny child, bye, bye, lully, lullay…” Aramis smiled and kissed his sleeping son’s forehead before laying him gently in his crib. Charles’s nose twitched and he stretched his tiny arms but didn’t stir. 

Aramis watched him in wonder. Ten months and he still couldn’t quite believe all of this was real. His heart ached from being so full. 

A small clattering sound drew his attention away and he felt his heart stop in a panic. Aramis rushed across the nursery and plucked his daughter from the floor before she could pull another one of his swords off of the table where he’d placed them. 

“Christine d’Herblay, how many times must I tell you to leave Papa’s things alone?” He scolded, nuzzling her cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do if you hurt yourself, darling.” 

She leaned into his embrace, looking up at him with those big eyes with a perfectly innocent expression. Quite cunning, he thought, for a toddler. Of course, he melted instantly and began bouncing her up and down. Her bell-like laughter filled the room, as well as his chest. 

The door to the nursery opened and you stepped in with messy hair stuck down by sweat from your exhaustive day and a harrowed expression. Your eyes fell upon the sheathed weapon on the floor. 

“I tell her to leave them,” Aramis said. “But she doesn’t listen to me.” He tickled her side, earning more laughter. “Just like your mother, aren’t you?” 

You didn’t laugh. Instead, you sighed and stooped to pick up his sword from the ground. From there, you began picking up everything you could find, tidying up the room in a flustered hurry. Aramis placed Christine in her crib beside Charles’s and took your hands in his to stop your anxious movements. 

“What’s happened?” 

You bowed your head. “Nothing.” 

“Y/N…” He sighed, laying a hand on your cheek. You pulled away. 

“It’s this Rocheforte.” You ran your fingers through your hair, more aware than ever of their lack of ring. “He isn’t like the cardinal- which I thought would be a good thing- but he’s somehow worse. He’s suspicious and- and cunning, and his men are asking more and more questions when I’m called there to repair uniforms.” Your rambling caught in your throat, paired with tired tears. 

“What can I do?” Aramis asked. “You know it pains me to see you in distress. Just say the word, and I’ll have the heads of half of the Red Guard by sundown.” 

“It isn’t just them.” You shook your head. “I’m just… so tired of lying, Aramis.” 

Christine made a cooing sound. Charles yawned. 

Aramis stepped toward you. “Then let us make it the truth.” 

You paused, making sure you’d heard him correctly. Aramis continued. 

“Marry me and none of this will matter. You can stop spying for Treville and the Red Guards will have the whole of the musketeers to face if they bother you again.” 

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, but you wiped them hastily away. At first, he thought they were tears of joy, but the closer Aramis looked, he knew he was wrong. 

“I will handle Rochefortes prying myself. He’s likely figured out you are the true father and is just trying to frighten me into admitting it.” 

“Y/N, I don’t understand. The solution for this is simple-”

“I will not doom you to a life you don’t want simply because it is the simplest answer!” you said, louder than you’d meant to. Charles awoke with shrieking cries. 

“A life I don’t want?” Aramis scoffed, trying to hide his hurt. “What are you talking about?”

“My answer is no, Aramis.” You moved to pick up your screaming son. “Marrying is clearly something you’ve never wanted and I’m not going to allow you to sacrifice anything for me when the children and I have done just fine in the current situation.”

Aramis reached for both of you. 

Christine started to cry as well. 

“Y/N-”

“I think you should leave.” You didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, you focused on your children in order to hide your sorrow from their father. “I’ll watch them now.” 

Aramis didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to kick himself for his insensitivity. He’d known of your doubts for so long and yet he sprung marriage on you as if it were nothing more than a way to fix a problem. 

“If that is what you wish,” he sighed and left, closing the door behind him while the children’s crying followed him out. 

He knew how he felt. He just needed to prove it to you.  

-

You saw no one else for the remainder of the evening. Only your children kept you company, and even they seemed more interested in empty spools rolling around on the floor. Not that you minded. With them so distracted, you found it easier to let yourself cry. 

He asked you to marry him. 

How many times had you dreamt of Aramis saying those words and yet now they felt like musket shots to your heart. He saw you as a burden. A duty to fulfill. You could never live like that, even if it meant being free of the jeers of the Red Guard. 

You only wished you could regret ever involving yourself with the musketeer, but your heart forbade it. Whether or not he felt the same, your love for Aramis had given you the world. The proof sat before you with their carefree laughter. Your son and daughter with their smiles just like their father’s. The time you’d gotten with them, with him, was worth all of the heartache. 

It was late when you finally got them both to go to sleep. One was always waking the other, but eventually, Charles and Christine laid in their cribs and soundly drifted off. 

You tried to finish up some work on a dress order at the table in the nursery,, but found your eyes unable to stay open. You must have fallen asleep as well, for the next time you opened them, the morning sun greeted you.

And the children were gone. 

You were awake in an instant, tearing through your small apartment, but finding nothing. It wasn’t until you could hear Charles’ laughter that you hurried down the stairs, finding your son in the lap of his namesake and Christine grasping at a flower that Athos held over her playfully. 

“Morning,” Porthos greeted. 

You smacked the back of his head. “Don’t do that,” you exasperated, “I thought they’d been taken by miscreants or something.” 

“We just didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” D’Artagnan smiled. 

“What are you talking about?”

“It seems we are replacing you, for the day,” Athos explained, picking up Christine to give her to you. “The three of us are to deliver your finished orders.” 

“While the four of us spend this beautiful day out, as a family,” Aramis said, having appeared in the doorway with a basket in hand and dressed in a casual tunic rather than his uniform. 

Your heart fluttered at the thought, but your mind refused to give in so easily. After all, it was only the night before that you’d nearly cried yourself to sleep over the discussion you’d had with the man before you. But the charming smile on his face and the look in his eye made it awfully difficult to argue. 

“I don’t know.” You made a point not to look at him. “I have so much still to do and-”

D’Artagnan stood, picking up your son and raising his brow at you. “Take the day, Y/N,” he said. “You deserve to rest.” 

“Plus, he’s been going mad all night, which has driven all of us mad, as well,” Porthos muttered, motioning to his nervous friend in the doorway. “Go on,” he encouraged. “What trouble could we get into delivering a bunch of dresses and coats?” 

“I don’t really like to think about it,” you frowned. 

“I will make sure that everything gets to its proper place,” Athos assured you, making you feel a little bit better. 

Aramis stepped inside, taking Charles from D’Artagnan and giving you a pleading glance. 

“It’s a beautiful day, my love,” he said. “Let us spend it as a family.” 

Any lingering frustration you’d felt from the night before was no match for his soft, wanting tone. And beneath his charisma, you knew that there was something else. Something far more serious. Whatever it was, you knew it was better to talk now than dance around it while the two of you buried yourselves in your work. 

“I suppose I can spare one day,” you said. 

Porthos and D’Artagnan cheered but were silenced by a look of annoyance from Athos. Aramis just lit up, kissing your cheek. 

“You won’t regret it,” he whispered against your skin. But when he turned back to the door, son in his arms and his two girls behind him, he muttered to himself, “I hope.”

-

It was the first moment of peace you’d experienced in months. The only sound- other than the occasional cheer or coo from one of the children- was the slight breeze through the meadow flowers. The morning passed like dandelion seeds floating through the air. 

Charles and Christine crawled around and explored the small plot of grass you’d found for them. Christine chased a butterfly and Charles plucked a light blue flower from its stem and brought it back to your lap. 

“I see he’s inherited your charm,” you said, taking in the blossom’s sweet scent. 

“And she your spirit,” Aramis pointed out, gesturing to the feisty toddler who was nearing the edge of the grass. He rolled onto his side and caught her in his arms before she could get too far. She whined, but only for a moment, before settling against his chest. 

Despite the wonder of the morning, there was the crawling under your skin, whispers of your doubts reminding you of the hopes you’d felt had been dashed by your own fear. The fear that all of this would be gone in an instant. That he would finally tire of you and the life you’ve built and he would galavant off into the arms of another woman, into another battle, another fight he could not win. 

You understood, then, looking at him under the swaying shadows of the willow tree above you, perhaps that was why you allowed your doubts to persist. Though you cared so deeply for him, you kept him at arm's length because the idea of him leaving of his own will was easier to take than a musket ball piercing his heart or a dagger across his throat.

The realization brought tears to your eyes. You bit your lip to hide the trembling, but Aramis knew in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, my love,” he sighed. He set Christine beside her brother, both of whom had fallen asleep on the blanket. Aramis laid a hand on your cheek. “I fear I’ve made a grave mistake in the years we’ve spent together.” 

You sucked in a breath and bowed your head, preparing for his regrets, his change of heart, and his announcement he was going to leave. He hooked a finger under your chin and lifted your face back to his. 

“I have known you believe me to be with you out of a sense of duty. I have allowed you to believe that you are little more than a distraction grown into an obligation.” Taking your hands in his, his voice softened due to the overwhelming emotion in his tone. Now it was him trying to hide his tears. “I have wished my words of devotion were enough to convince you, but my actions last night have done just the opposite and for that, I deeply apologize.”

“Aramis-” You started, but he stopped you with a squeeze of your hand. 

“I love you,” he said. He kissed the inside of your wrist, dark eyes watching you, so full of adoration and care that you held back a sob. Aramis held your palm to his cheek. “Every breath of every day belongs to you. Every beat of my heart is devoted to our family. Not out of any sense of duty. In fact, you’ve tangled my senses all together.” He chuckled, the lovely sound vibrating up your arm. “I can’t tell sunset from sunrise because you are my new sun. I don’t know which way is south because you are my north star.”

You found yourself leaning into him until you were but a few shallow breaths apart. Aramis turned his gaze to the sleeping children beside you. 

“You have made me a father,” he beamed. “A dream I’d forgotten I had. You have made me a better man. Better than I thought I was capable of being. You are not an obligation, Y/N.” His eyes returned to yours and he drew even closer to you. “You are everything.”

His fingers laced into your hair and pulled your lips to his, silencing any of your cries. You kissed him with a passion like no other, but mostly you kissed him with belief. 

When you parted, you both smiled tearfully. 

Aramis continued. 

“Which is why-” He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, but it was no use. You left him completely breathless. “I ask you once more, to do me the honor of making me your husband.” He kissed the trail of tears on your cheek. “Y/N, will you marry me?” 

“Aramis, I-” Your mind searched your heart for a reason to say no. It warned of loss and heartbreak. But you found that, no matter what, your guarded feelings would only be in vain. Your heart could not be protected by you alone because it did not belong to you. You pressed your lips to Aramis’s and whispered against them. “Yes. My answer is yes.” 

-

You spent the rest of the day taking Christine and Charles around the city, proudly walking side by side. A few people whispered as you went by and several Red Guards glared, but quickly looked away with one deadly glance from your fiance. 

The sun began to dip in the sky by the time you returned to the shop. 

To your surprise- and much to your relief- the other men managed to get through a day without destroying anything, which was a fair accomplishment for them. Any conversation between them ceased when the four of you entered. 

“Welcome back,” Athos said. 

Three pairs of eyes stared expectantly. 

“So…” D’Artagnan needn’t voice his question. He could tell from the light in your eyes what the answer would be. 

You merely gave them all a simple nod and they practically leapt with joy. 

With the children placed in their chairs, Porthos pulled Aramis into a crushing hug, D’Artagnan kissed your cheek, and Athos smiled brightly at you both, all voicing their congratulations. 

“I take it the final part of the plan is still in motion?” Porthos asked with a wink. 

“What final part?” You asked. 

Aramis ran a hand through his hair, nerves returning. 

“Well, now that everything is settled and you haven’t decided that you’ve had enough of me,” he said. “These fine gentlemen have agreed to watch Christine and Charles while you and I partake in a romantic evening together.”

“The picnic in the meadow wasn’t romantic enough for you?” You snickered. “I don’t want to take any more of their time.” 

“It’s no trouble, at all,” D’Artagnan said. “Constance will be joining us as well.” 

You gave him a suggestive smile. “I see.”

He rolled his eyes. “I think you’d better just find out what your last surprise is for today and let us take care of everything else.” 

“We’ll take very good care of them,” Athos promised. “And I’ll make sure these two don’t get into any trouble while you’re gone.” 

“As if you’re one to talk.” Porthos slapped him on the back. He quirked a brow at the couple before him. “Go enjoy your evening. We’ll drop them off in the morning.”

“But I still don’t understand.” You looked in between the four of them. “You all speak as if we have somewhere else to go. Unless you’re suggesting the garrison…”

Aramis reached for your hand with a smirk. “Just follow me.” 

You kissed the children goodnight and thanked the men one more time before allowing Armis to lead you back down the street in the direction of the garrison. He stopped, however, at a building he’d made a point to admire earlier in the day. 

“As much as I find the apartment above your shop charming, I thought this may be better suited to fit a family,” he said. 

It was a small structure, but there was a cozy feeling to its appearance as well. The potential to become a home. 

“It’s the perfect distance between the shop and the garrison, so neither of us would have to travel very far. I know it isn’t much, but Treville gave me an advance on my commission and the others chipped in as well. And I figured I could spend time fixing it up for us in between missions. I think, given some time and effort, it could be-”

You stopped him with a kiss. 

“I love it,” you smiled. “And I love you.” 

Aramis’s face split with a grin and he scooped you into his arms, kissing you deeply, despite the people passing you by. 

“Wait,” you said, putting a hand on his chest. You raised a brow in amusement. “You bought this before you asked me to marry you. What if…” 

He chuckled. “I was just really hoping you’d say yes.” 

You pulled him into another kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair. With your hearts full and the first evening you’d had to yourselves since the children were born, he wasted little time carrying you inside and kicking the door shut behind you. 

[backtothefanfiction]

Just some quick Aramis fluffy angst…

A/N- just a little sword fighting teaching, a bit of sass and a bit of lip locking.

“What am I going to do with you?” He asked, placing his hat back atop his head with a small shake.

“What?!” You cried out indignantly, turning your head back towards him. “What did I do wrong now?!”

“Everything.” He said, staring you down.

You frowned. You hadn’t thought you were doing that badly. When you had asked him to give you some sword fighting lessons, you had never imagined it would be this hard.

This was your third lesson now and apparently you were still doing everything wrong.

“Drop into your stance again.” He said, stepping forward to you as you spread your feet apart, one set slightly in front of the other, your body at an angle. You held up your left arm for balance, whilst the right with his sword in your hand, rose up behind you.

“Of course when you’re not moving you stand perfectly.” He sighed, lifting the front of his hat up and wiping the sweat from his brow, exasperatedly. “Okay, now move into your second position- and no.” He immediately said as you swiped your arm forward through the air, the tip of the sword now tickling the tops of the long grass of the meadow.

“You’ve let your arms go all floppy.” He sighed, “And look at the way your body is now angled.” You rolled your eyes. “You wanted me to teach you, didn’t you?” He questioned, eyebrows raised, as he caught your sass filled gaze.

“I just didn’t think it was gonna be this hard.” You whined.

“You want me to teach you how to defend yourself properly or not?” He huffed, arms folding across his chest as you relaxed your stance.

“Yes.” You said, looking to the ground and shuffling your feet across the dirt. “But, isn’t there a quicker and easier way-“

“If you don’t want me to teach you-“ he cut you off, his hands lifting, shoulders raising, as he began to turn away.

“No. NO!” You said, stopping him and he slowly turned back to you. He lifted his eyebrows at you expectantly. “Fine, fine. I’m sorry. Please teach me.” You said, eating humble pie.

He smiled. “Okay. But only because I am so merciful. And because I can never deny a pretty woman of knowing how to defend herself.”

Your eyes narrowed, “You think I’m pretty.” You teased.

“Oh, shut up.” He said. “Back to your first position.” He instructed. But as his fingers brushed against yours, his body pressing flush to your back as he guided your body in how it should move, his breath tickling the exposed skin of your neck, you couldn’t deny- that if this is what it took to get him to touch you, you’d pretend to be bad at sword fighting everyday.

THREE WEEKS LATER

“You sure you’ve got this?” He asked as you circled each other.

“Oh, I know I’ve got this.” You challenged.

“Okay then.” He smirked, as he made the first move; charging forward at you, his sword cutting through the air towards you.

You quickly blocked it with you own and when he lifted it for a second sharp blow, you narrowly dodged it, letting it swing wide.

“Is that all you got.” You teased, as you continued to dance around him.

“Oh, you want more, I’ll give you more.”

He charged at you again. You met him blow for blow, ducking and twisting around, stepping side step, after side step. Although he had more experience, you had lightness and agility on your side from years of dance practice. You toyed with him like a cat would with a mouse, batting back and forth, circling around and around until he was dizzy. Until you were able to hook under his arm, your leg tripping his as you knelt at his feet and he fell flat on his back in the dirt. You seized the moment of his surprise to disarm him with a quick flick of your sword, before pinning his body under your own, your sword held teasingly to his neck.

He chuckled and smiled. “I do believe the student had become the master…. Almost.” Although you were agile, he had more muscle to throw around than you. He quickly rolled you both over, his hand jabbing at your bicep and you reflexively released the sword in your hand for him to take.

He loomed over you, a devilish and teasing look in his eyes and in his smirk. You rolled your eyes in defeat, but were caught off guard by the sound of the sword hitting the dirt beside your head and his lips smashing against your own. “Always such sass.” He said when he pulled away.

“Well, when it gets a reaction like that from you…” you teased and he merely smiled and let out a small breathy chuckle that seemed to say ‘touché’, before he once against fixed his lips to yours.

[writesick-lover]

Please don't leave

D'Artagnan x fem!reader

⤞ My masterlist ⤝

A/N: Hiii, so yeah, this is basically my first post of a one-shot I wrote like a year ago but I am still proud of it to this day. At first it was written based on D'Artagnan from the movie The Three Musketeers but later on I realised that it works perfectly with the one from the series as well so you got both of them here haha. I also decided to leave this in a 3rd pov despite reader's involvement in this story. Anyway, please enjoy and let me know how you like it ;D

Warning: none it's just fluff

Summary: D'Artagnan and his wife wake up to another morning in their bed until they realise the daunting truth of what is to come.

♦️ ♦️ ♦️ ♦️

Another cold morning had hit the residents of Paris. The early busy streets were haunted by a mysterious fog and the warm breaths of people talking with each other in hopes of buying something for what little they had. Amongst the civilians, a bunch of feathered hats moved around. The musketeers, the pride and joy of the King's army, were up early and ready to protect their country and their King. All of them but one.

She pulled her bedsheets up, trying to hide from the merciless cold that had crept into her usually warm bedroom. She could use the feeling of his body to fight the cold but found no strength to search for his touch as her place in the bed was partially warmed up by her. As if her thoughts called him, his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to his chest. It felt just like the usual morning they were to spend together. Except it wasn't. 

The reality hit her like a wild horse and broke all of her dreams of a lovely morning into pieces. "Charles," she croaked. There was no response but she knew he was up, he was a light sleeper, his profession made him to be one. "Charles," she tried again. A sound returned to her voice and finally hit his ears as he snuggled closer to the crook of her neck. 

"Oui, mon ange?" he mumbled against her skin, placing a small kiss. It was prickling like a needle as she slowly realized it might have been one of the last kisses she was to receive from him. 

"You have to go," her voice shook and she gulped, to swallow the lump in her throat caused by the urge to cry. 

He groaned, realizing the truth as well, but choosing to ignore it in favor of more cuddles. "No, we still have time."

She sighed as she glanced at the clock, "No, we don't, the musketeers will be here any minute." She started wiggling, trying to break free from his grip that only tightened, making her break a smile whilst she kept on trying. "I have to prepare you a bath. And get your clothes," 

"No, you don't, I can do it later," he muttered sleepily, pulling her as close as physically possible. 

"I do, or you'll have to go through the embarrassment of being dragged out of the bed naked by one of your brothers in arms," she giggled, hitting his hand which had proven to be the right method to make him let go. 

"Please don't leave," he begged, setting off a tear down her cheek. However, it quickly dried as she gasped when the freezing air hit her skin, biting into every inch of her naked body. 

She quickly dressed herself, and he, unbeknownst to her, was watching her with adoration. All of her motions, the way she tied her hair into a ponytail with a black tie, creating a small bowtie at the top. How she quickly put on her underwear to fight of the spreading goosebumps on her skin, small almost inaudible gasps escaping her lips with each movement. The way she perfectly slipped into the black dress he gave her last winter, the one she wore every time he had to leave her. And after all those times, he learned to despise the dress, wishing he never had given it to her. Wishing she never had to put it on, on another of those mornings.

As she left the room, it was as if a symphony he didn't even realise was enveloping his entire world came to a halt. But then her voice rang across the house and he found himself fighting the cold outside their bed just to get to her. As he washed, she made sure everything was ready for him. She always did. She didn't even forget the small package of food for the way, no matter how many times he had told her that Porthos would bring something. And every time, he made sure to eat everything she packed for him instead of what Porthos had brought. 

He was drying himself up when he noticed the unusual silence coming from his significant other. "Why so silent, amour?"  

"Just a lot of thoughts," she shrugged, forcing a smile onto her lips, even though her eyes glistened with tears. 

His posture softened under her teary gaze, but it didn't stop him from his usual habits. "You don't have to mourn, you know I will be back," he grinned arrogantly, letting out his boyish attitude to reduce her worries. But it was very like him to laugh in the face of Death and then escape, no matter how carelessly he threads the line between life and death. She smiled honestly this time, a small giggle escaping her lips and he wished he could trap it in a jar and take it with him. She opened her mouth to retort back but was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. 

"D'Artagnan, you better not be sleeping or I will break this door down and drag your ass out whether it's naked or not! Athos is already waiting for us on the academy grounds." Aramis' voice roared from the outside. Her eyebrow lifted, glancing at D'Artagnan who was half naked with a towel in his hands. "I suppose you are at the risk of a major embarrassment." 

"I'm not if my love makes sure to hold them up for me," he smirked devilishly as she rolled her eyes, already heading for the door.  "Sometimes I wish to not do as you say and witness the actual threat getting fulfilled, I think I'd find it more than hilarious," she yelled at him in the middle of her tracks, a mischievous smile, he could see in his mind, painting her lips. "You wouldn't do me that dirty, you love me too much for something like that," he managed to answer while frantically trying to put on his pants.

"Do I really?" she teased, grabbing the door knob and twisting it.

"Hello, gentlemen," she smiled brightly at the two musketeers in front of her. They bowed their heads while holding their hats in an elegant matter, both smiling at her, Aramis appearing to be more joyful than any other time. "My lady." 

"Definitely not yours!" D'Artagnan's voice thundered from the other room. 

"She will be if you don't come out ready this instant!" Aramis snapped back, throwing a bold wink at the lady of the house. She could only roll her eyes at the cheesy gesture as she leaned on the door frame, preventing the two men from entering any further. She smiled politely. "You will have to forgive me, but I oppose to that idea, unfortunately," 

Aramis grabbed her hand and placed his lips on top of it. "Oh, what a shame, my gorgeous lady,"  he sighed after holding it for longer than appropriate, only making her chuckle. 

"Fortunately!" Charles yelled out again. 

"Mon amour, I cannot hold them much longer. Aramis is gonna be all over me if you don't get here soon," a smirk on her face met Aramis' similair one in front of her as Charles D'Artagnan appeared from behind her, accompanied by a loud crash. 

He puffed out his chest after his 'graceful' entrance. "Weren't you the one who taught me not to profane the lady?" he send daggers Aramis' way, towering over the two of his friends, "And here you are, dragging my wife into whatever is going on in that head of yours. I think this matter cannot be resolved any other way than a proper fight upon our return," her eyes widened upon the words of her husband as she noticed the challenging sparks in the musketeers' eyes.

"In no way are you fighting after your return. I will be more than thankful to have you come in one piece after those few weeks so don't you even think about getting yourself killed the very next day," she turned around to fix his shirt and coat that was visibly put on in a hurry. However, she did not fail to handle his clothes with rough tugs, a heat rising in his chest from the warning fire in her eyes. "And you better not let him do anything stupid, I know he will try anyways," she turned around again, eyeing the other musketeers who bowed again under the urging flames.

"At your service, my lady," they smirked in Charles' face and set off running  when he gave chase and chased them all the way to the front yard and to where the horses were already prepared to set off. She followed them, walking to the front yard slowly with a soft laugh but quieted the second she saw them by the horses. D'Artagnan was still with his feet on the ground and waiting for her with a glint in his eyes. Oh, how she was going to miss his dark loving eyes only ever laid on her and the warmth of his body on all of those winter mornings. Oh, how he was going to miss the sweet, sweet smile of hers and the way her voice sounded between the walls of their house. How he was never looking forward to the deafening silence around him without her presence, despite Porthos' mouth never shutting up during the missions. It was a list of unspoken vows they never told to each other out loud but they could always feel it, the way the world stopped at that very moment. 

And without any wait, when she was within his reach, he pulled her into a bittersweet kiss, sending thousands of painful but sweet needles down their lips as both of them knew this may be their last. It was long, full of longing and pain, but mesmerising enough to deafen Aramis' scoff in the back. "Please don't leave," she begged after their lips finally parted, her forehead resting on his. She begged again after he hopped on his horse and she again right before they departed. "You know I will come back," he reassured her. And yet, she kept on begging in silence, hoping that he would keep true to his word again just as he did up until now.

♦️ ♦️ ♦️ ♦️

[silvercaptain24]

@onceuponaladye

IT'S LIKE.

98% FLUFF

HOW

[theblondeone-029]

[thorin-is-a-cuddler]

A/N: The movie isn‘t even out yet in my country and my Aramis feels return already with a force. I wrote a self-indulgent little sister drabble. No plot, just fluff. Imagine the Aramis you like best. ☺️ (an ordure is a sort of nuisance in human form ^^)

The level of stealth you were currently demonstrating made you wish to congratulate yourself. Up here, on the small balcony none of the musketeers ever seemed to use, you had found a hiding place of uncompared genius. Here, you could point the harmless old musket of your brother at all the heads of the guards who had sent you funny looks throughout the week. It was a very meditative passe-temps. It also saved you from the tasks random musketeers‘ wives tended to give you, simply because you were a woman passing by, a woman who didn‘t seem like she was occupied enough. But no, thank you, you were not entirely interested in stuffing any stinky socks. No no, you had weapons to clean and secret letters to carry around and a brother to tease. Why didn‘t these men stuff their socks themselves?

You were about to fake head-shot a man named Gerard who was telling nasty jokes by the fountain of the corps, when someone suddenly dropped down on the small space remaining next to you, like a lazy cat who‘d happened to find its way over to you. You hit your nose hard on the cold metal of the heavy weapon in your hand and let out a pain struck groan.

„Whatever did Gerard do to you?“ Your brother asked in his most nonchalant of ways, his left elbow meeting your right one as he settled down, mimicking your position. He was holding an apple in his hand.

You spent a moment grieving the peace and quiet and the integrity of your nose, before you retook your aim, glaring at Gerard over the tip of the musket.

„He‘s an ordure.“

Aramis chuckled, taking a noisy bite from the apple, before offering it to you. You wanted to ignore him to keep from messing up your aim, but the rumbling in your stomach betrayed you. You took the apple from Aramis and peeked a glance in his direction. He was already looking at you with that bemused quizzical look in his eyes, the one that was so individually him that it tended to make you emotional. Therefore, you quickly put on an unbothered expression and avoided his eyes.

„Are you enjoying or hiding yourself up here?“ He asked, putting his chin up on his hand.

„Why are these mutually exclusive choices?“ Your sour mood fit perfectly to the taste of the apple he had handed you. „Maybe I’m brooding… Did you give this apple to me because it tastes like it‘s poisoned?“

„Obviously.“ Aramis responded, smirking when you moved to hit his shoulder with your fist. „I‘m afraid I might be doing you a favor with it.“

The slight concern mixing into his voice made your eyes wander back to his face. His eyes were always gentle and bright when they looked upon you. They made you wish to curl up again his chest to be held and rocked and protected for a while. He was probably here to find out if you were in need of any of that.

You simply extended the apple with a raised brow, a daring look on your face, before looking back at the group of musketeers around Gerard. The aim wasn‘t perfect but you did manage to hit the leadspeaker of the nutbrains against the arm.

Aramis quickly covered his mouth with his hand to hide the snort that threatened to break out when Gerard started turning around himself in an infuriated attempt to find his offenser. You had to chuckle at your brother‘s reaction and soon your conjoined mirth got increasingly harder to suppress. Tears were showing in your brother‘s eyes, from the laughter he tried to silence with his palms and you could feel your own cheeks starting to hurt from smiling widely along to his shaking shoulders. All the while a wild Gerard was running in circles like a little chicken, pulling his rapier and wielding it around.

Aramis bent over and hid his smily face at your shoulder, bursting with quiet laughter when Gerard fell over a chair.

Your fingers held him close by his arm and you realized that you were sad and that you missed him and your feelings crashed inside your chest like a wave against a rock. He was the best brother any young woman could wish for. But he was getting more and more involved in politics and it started to feel like the two of you were drifting apart a little. Missed were the nights you‘d spent drinking and laughing with the three of them - your brother and the chosen brothers. You missed making fun of Aramis with Porthos‘ help, missed the way your brother always managed to get Athos to smile when he wanted it the least, missed seeing him scribble poems on napkins by the light of a candle while Porthos advanced as quietly as possible to steal it from him. You missed the easiness of the less politically active days.

After he‘d managed to calm down, Aramis took a deep breath and put his head against yours. It was the weight of hin that made you feel comforted in a way. You listened to him breathe for a while before wrapping your arms around his neck. As if he was surprised but moved by your sudden affectionate impluse, he cooed gently and put his arm over your back to pull you close. But due to your position being slightly inconvenient, he wasn‘t quite able to physically deal with your need for cuddles, which led to him falling on his back and you tumbling right on top of him.

The mixed emotions in your chest made you break out laughing instantly. Grinning, he looked at you, your fists on his stomach and your chin coming down to his chest. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, his hat making his eyes look like little sparkly lights in the shadow it threw over his face. You couldn‘t stop laughing - he wouldn‘t allow it anyway, riling you on with his cheeky smirk - so you threateningly held up your finger in his face. He raised a brow and made you laugh even more with the funny faces he pulled.

„Stop it!!“ You wheezed.

He gasped. „I‘m not even doing anything!“

With a yelp he jolted when you dug your fingers in his sides, but he quickly got a hold of your wrists. Chuckling softly he managed to prevent any further tickle attacks from your part, wrestling with your weak attempts of breaking out of his hold. Your laughter was making you weak - under any other circumstances, you would have obviously won against him.

Eventually you got too weak for wrestling and for laughing and you merely lay down, your cheek on his chest. He was a lovely person so he started rubbing your back which was so calming you could have easily fallen asleep. Instead, you started moving, inching up higher until your head was on his shoulder, his arm holding you close.

„Bonjour,“ he welcomed you, making you smile slightly, „how about you tell your big brother how you‘re doing now?“

You shook your head gently and closed your eyes, feeling the slight breeze of the summer wind on your face and the warm arm of your brother around you.

„Right now, I am perfectly fine.“

You could feel the muscles under your ear tense hesitantly, but he seemed to accept your silence nontheless, for now, indulging you with the quiet of the afternoon, merely broken by a few musketeers‘ voices from the courtyard.

For a few minutes, the politics of France didn‘t play any part in your life. And you could sense that your brother was just as pleased with that as you were.

[spaghetti-man99]

Gifts

A poly!musketeers fic 

Description: Athos is very fond of spoiling his partners, especially after being apart. 

A/N: Can you tell how much I love soft Musketeers? These guys deserve some fluff.

Athos wanted to go home. He’d been stuck in the rain and mud for five days, and he missed the comforts that home brought. He wished that one of the others had been able to come with to make the experience a bit less miserable, but d'Artagnan had been sick and Aramis offered to stay and take care of him, and Captain Trevill needed Porthos for some secret mission or another, so Athos had been given a few other musketeers and told to stakeout next to this godforsaken town for five days as security for some high ranking noble the King was fond of. 

At first, Athos was glad to have something to do, ready to do anything he needed for the mission. Now, however, on their fifth day of travel, he just wanted to get home to his partners. That night, covered in mud and grime, Athos and the other musketeers gladly began the trek back to Paris. They had to pass through town to get to their road, and though Athos could hear the townspeople laughing when he turned his back, he was too tired to care. Then, as Athos was about to confront the laughing people, he saw something that caught his eye. In a small, tucked away shop window, there sat a small stuffed dragon, red and squat on its perch, illuminated by soft lamplight from behind. Athos stopped and stared, remembering how much d’Artagnan loved to talk about dragons, especially red fire breathers like this looked to be. He hesitated for just a moment before turning back, telling the other musketeers he would catch up and riding over towards the shop. 

Upon walking in, he was greeted by a smell of books and lavender that was so strong, he was nearly knocked back by it. An old man sat behind the desk, and when Athos asked about the dragon he nodded and smiled wide. He pulled the dragon from its perch and handed it to Athos, telling him how important it was that the stuffed animal find a good, safe place to stay that was warm and dry. Athos just nodded, imagining the look in d’Artagnan’s eyes when he would hand him the dragon. Then, the man asked him to wait. 

He scuttled off into the back room, and when he came back he held two boxes: a long, gold box and a square brown box. When Athos opened the gold one, he was shocked to see a beautiful pair of bracers, leather with golden designs that spiraled and swirled endlessly on the sides, perfect for Porthos. He paused before opening the other box, which ended up holding what seemed to be a small music box that played London Bridge while a small figure danced on top with a sword. Aramis would love it.

 Athos was silent for a moment, dumbfounded by the objects in front of him, before he shook his head and frowned in suspicion. How had the old man known what to give him, the perfect things for his lovers back home? He was about to say something, but the old man held up his hand and shook his head, and Athos could tell that his questions would be futile. So, after a moment’s hesitation, Athos caved and bought the trinkets. He paid much less than what he believed they were worth, though he thought it was an intentional mark down by the man and not a mistake, so he didn’t comment on it. After he was back on his horse and with the musketeers, Athos allowed himself a small smile, looking forward to when he would see his partners again. 

When he finally got home, the first thing he did was rush to d’Artagnan’s room where he found not just d’Artagnan, but Athos and Porthos too. His lovers tackled him with hugs, drowning him in their affection and love. d’Artagnan, however, was still too sick to leave his bed, and so expressed his happiness from where he lay. Athos pushed forward and sat by the younger man’s bed, grabbing his hand and kissing it gently. Then, he reached into his pouch and pulled out the dragon, and d’Artagnan’s eyes lit up with joy. He grabbed the stuffed dragon, expressing his thanks through weak hugs and kisses that Aramis warned might be infectious, but Athos was too tired and happy to care. Slowly he pulled away from the bed and walked to the other two, handing them their gifts and reveling in their happiness.

[sstan-hoe]

NAVIGATION

⍣ ೋ TAGS | BLOGS | WEBSITE | AO3 | WATTPAD | CHRISTMAS CHALLENGE

⍣ ೋ TAGLIST | KINKTOBER | VALENTINE'S DAY EVENT | WIP's | MASTERLIST NO. 2 | IDEA DUMP

you are responsible for the kind and amount of media you consume, therefore it is not my problem if you find something you don't like. While I appreciate if you are at least 16, I advice the majority of this blog as 18+

you do not have permission to copy, translate or post my writing on any other website/ app or anything— I do not own the rights to the character = this is for entertainment purposes only! which also means I write when I feel like it.

I'm currently not writing for c.e. characters!!!!

the rest of my characters and series are on masterlist no. 2!

-> s.stan masterlist

Bucky Barnes

𝖧𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖡𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒 ☆ - Today's your birthday and your handsome husband invited his best friend over to gift you a special present.

-> husbands!best friend!bucky | one-shot | smut | ft. andy barber

𝖨'𝗆 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝖠𝗇𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 ☆ - Bucky and you had a secret relationship that ended months ago, but there was an unspoken tension between you.

-> brothers best friend!bucky | one-shot | smut

Gift for You

-> normal!bucky | drabble | fluff | valentine's day event

Wine and Take Out

-> mob!bucky | drabble | fluff | valentine's day event

Take My Breath Away ☆ - it's your wedding day, you are marrying the man you love...or are you? he says he loves you, so why is he letting you marry the man he claims is not right for you?

-> stepdad!bucky | one-shot | smut | angst | fluff | moodboard

Angel to Love for Eternity - you're his angel and he will love you for eternity, he does everything for you...it's time to return the favour.

-> vampire!bucky | one-shot | smut | event

The Storm He Calms – with a hot-headed wife like you, Bucky's life was never boring. Add to that, his daughter. Seven years, cute as a button with the temper of her mother.

-> teacher!bucky | one-shot | fluff | smut | moodboard

Steve Kemp

𝖲𝗍𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗁𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝖲𝗒𝗇𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝖲𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖤𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗌 ☆ - steve gives you stockholm syndrome and well let's just say; you gotta make sure you're his only one....

-> steve kemp | one-shot | smut | dark

Nick Fowler

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖱𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝖢𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖼 ☆ - nick promised you'd go shopping after you had to punish him for missing yet another date of yours and in a certain store he can't control himself anymore.

-> mob!nick | one-shot | smut | fluff

-> c.evans masterlist

Andy Barber

𝖧𝖾 𝖲𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖧𝖾𝗋 ☆ - he is defending a girl who is charged for murder on three man; she is a criminal, and he is her lawyer who can’t stay away from her knowing what she is.

-> criminal!reader | one-shot | dark

𝖯𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝖡𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗌𝗇'𝗍 ☆ - you catch Laurie cheating on her husband, but what she didn't realize is that payback is indeed a bitch.

-> normal!andy | one-shot | smut

𝖲𝖾𝗑 𝖮𝗇 𝖫𝖾𝗀𝗌 - Andy and you fuck and almost get caught

-> boyfriends dad!andy | drabble | smut

𝖧𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖡𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒 ☆ – today's your birthday and your handsome husband invited his best friend over to gift you a special present

-> husband!andy | one-shot | smut | fluff | ft. bucky barnes

New Louboutins – Andy bought you new shoes and you love them, you wear them everywhere at any chance you get. The only downside is that after a little while they get uncomfortable…

-> husband!andy | one-shot | smut | fluff

Lloyd Hansen

𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖢𝗂𝗍𝗒 ☆ - he loved you that night, you didn’t want that night to end but it had to after all he was your mission and you had to finish it…right?

-> normal!lloyd | one-shot | fluff | smut

𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖲𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾 ☆ - you get into a fight with Lloyd because once again he got too overprotective/jealous which ends up in you ignoring him, but he try everything, and I mean everything to get you to talk to him — Aramis the Cat (moodboard)

-> sofft!lloyd | one-shot | fluff | smut

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗉 - you have to go on a work trip and leave Lloyd alone with your cat; Aramis

-> soft!lloyd | drabble | fluff

𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖬𝖾 𝖥𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 - lloyd comforting you and some other stuff

-> soft!lloyd | one-shot | angst

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖧𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖮𝗇 𝖬𝖾 - Lloyd also has a gentle side and only if the reader is near him. Lloyd wants to kill/hurr a man in front of a child. The reader tells him that he should not do it - and what the reader says is law.

-> sub!lloyd | one-shot | smut | darkish-fluff

𝖫𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖲𝗅𝗎𝗍 ☆ - you hate him, he hates you, maybe you don't, you fuck each other for money

-> pornstar!lloyd | drabble | smut

𝖬𝗒 𝖡𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖣𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖮𝗇𝖾 ☆ - a short little drabble on your secret relationship with your bestfriends dad or more like daddy ;)

-> best friends dad!lloyd | one-shot | fluff | smut

Ransom Drysdale

𝖡𝗂𝗀 𝖮𝗅𝖾' 𝖲𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗂𝖾 - Ransom can get really soft when he didn’t see Y/N for days 【♥︎】

-> normal!ransom | drabble | fluff

𝖬𝗒 𝖣𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖡𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖱𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗆 - You loved Ransom and would do anything to keep him, but he didn’t love you as much however sooner or later he will find his way back...

-> normal!ransom | one-shot | dark | event

Ari Levinson

𝖦𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖲𝗁𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 ☆ - You and Ari are at the grocery store getting your weekly things. You hear a group of girls staring at Ari and whispering as he walks down the islands

-> normal!ari | drabble | fluff

𝖯𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗁

-> normal!ari | drabble | smut

Steve Rogers

Give You A Ride – you had your eyes on him for a long time...finally something happens but you have to follow one rule; the cowboy rule...

-> cowboy!steve | one-shot | smut | little fluff

[theinseparables-if]

can we please have some fluff facts for everyone plssss 🥺 (im rlly excited on ur IF ) and also have a nice day too!

Thank you so much! I hope you also have a nice day <3

Fluff facts -

A:

-> Huge dog parent! Could be in the worse state of their life and they’d drag themselves home just for Luce (a Great Pyrenees) and Marianne (a Beauceron).

-> Would really enjoy taking d’Artagnan on walks through the markets or through the palace gardens (which they have permission from Louis and Anne to do) with their arms linked as they talk and make each other laugh.

C:

-> C and Anne became very fast friends and often make up ridiculous stories for the nobles that attend the balls.

-> Has a really sweet laugh in public, but often snorts and straight up cackles when laughing with d’Artagnan.

Nasira:

-> Would love to get a matching tattoo with d’Artagnan.

-> Spends a lot of time making friends with stray cats and dogs.

J:

-> Would buy you a present, then get embarrassed that they’d done so just as they’re giving it to you, so they make up that it’s from someone else but they agreed to give it to you. Does this every time and fools no one.

-> Cries at tragic romance novels.

+

Aramis:

-> Extremely loyal to his friends, and would do anything to protect those he loves.

-> Has a lovely singing voice and would sing to d’Artagnan should you wish him too (and sometimes when you don’t).

Porthos:

-> Will give d’Artagnan piggy back rides without hesitation, even if you’re as tall as him.

-> Supportive king!! Will always be there if d’Artagnan needs to talk about anything.

Milady:

-> Honestly, Laurence is the exact opposite of fluffy 😭 she’d hug you just to stab you in the back.

-> She’s ‘let women be evil!!!’ and feminine rage personified.

[backtothefanfiction]

Two Can Play At That Game | Aramis Imagine

Warnings: typical musketeer shinanigans, guns, fighting, jokes and fluff, Aramis trying to be suave, flirty, teasing

Word Count: it’s another quick couple hundred (written in app, not keeping track

A/N: okay, so I’m doing it. Aramis as a character has meant so much to me for years and the three musketeers story as a whole is a very important one for my soul history. anyway, I saw this prompt on Pinterest and it just fit and I had to write it.

You were tired. It had been another long and trying day full of the usual drama and shinanigans that came hand in hand with the King’s favourite Musketeers. And if it wasn’t for the risks and near death experiences that always seemed to follow them, you would have been more than happy to have spent your time with them.

“I promise, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Aramis had said as he pulled you down behind a stack of barrels to take cover. “I thank the Lord that they’re a terrible shot.” He sighs, lifting the cross tied around his neck to his lips and placing a kiss on it for luck.

You had flinched as one of the musket balls hit the top of the barrel closest to your head, wood splintering around you as Aramis leaned over to cover you with his body.

“You know next time you four come knocking I’m just going to pretend I’m not at home.” You jested and you felt him let out a breathy chuckle. Your face was dangerously close to his chest, the deep v of his shirt falling open slightly as his body flexed around you. You closed your eyes and forced away your temptations. Now was not the time.

Your eyes scrunched up tightly, your body growing taught again as another round of shots were fired.

“Come on Porthos.” You heard Aramis mutter to himself.

There was a loud thundering of hooves on the ground as Porthos charged in with a cry. There was a loud wail as one of the men who had been shooting, was knocked down by the momentum of Porthos’ horse.

“Hya!!” Porthos shouted, before making clicky noises with his mouth to wrangle not just his but also Aramis’ horse, who’s reigns were clutched tightly in his grasp.

“Come on, quick.” Aramis said, wringing his sword, holding it out in front of him with one hand, his other hand reaching for yours as he pulled you up and began to lead you to Porthos and the horses.

“Get on.” Aramis commanded as he began to cut down one of the men.

Porthos tossed you the reigns and tucking the leather tightly into the curl of your fingers, you slotted your left foot into the stirrup in front of you and hauled yourself up onto the horse. With his hand now free, Porthos pulled out his sword and began slashing at the two other men about to lunge at Aramis.

“Get on,” you held your hand out to him and he swung up onto the back of the horse behind you, his arms wrapping around you as you handed the reigns off to him.

“Yah!” He called out as his ankles kicked at the sides of the horse, encouraging it into a gallop, Porthos made a similar action and followed closely behind.

**

When you had gotten back to the safety of the garrison you started to breathe easier.

“You okay?” Aramis asked as he helped you down from the horse.

“Yes.” You nodded as he handed the reigns off to Porthos to take the two horses to the stable.

“Still thinking of pretending to not be home next time we call?”

“No.” You smirked. You knew you could never say no to an adventure with him. “I love you.” You said as you leaned into him, breathing heavily, relishing in the feeling of still being alive and with him.

“I love me too,” he grinned.

“I- wait, what?” You said your face falling into mock shock as you processed his words.

“I didn’t want this to be some cliché moment, so I thought I’d just shake things up a bit,” he said as you began to pull away from him, “Just know that I love both me and you- where are you going?” He continued, throwing his hands up in the air as you dramatically walked away from him.

“To rethink my life choices.” You call back to him with a smirk.

“Does that mean not to call on you the next time there’s another daring adventure?”

You smile to yourself as you continue to walk through the gates of the garrison, willing yourself to hold your resolve as he calls out your name in ever increasing volumes of desperation, the further you get away. Aramis may think his tongue is his best weapon, but you know holding your own is yours.

[chiaraanatra]

✧⋆˙ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝑢𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑚.𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ๋࣭ ⭑

"Love is the most selfish of all the passions." - The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas

《 navi 》 《 rules 》 《 inbox 》 《 ao3 》 《 tag list 》

∘₊✧────✧₊∘ ! 18+ MINORS DNI ! ∘₊✧───✧₊∘

── 🤍- Fluff  | 🖤- Angst  | 💜- Smut | ✧- Request ──

✧⋆˙ Athos ๋࣭ ⭑

Musketeers Don’t Die Easily🤍🖤

✧⋆˙ Porthos ๋࣭ ⭑

Wine & Small Talk 🤍

✧⋆˙ Aramis ๋࣭ ⭑

Tend to Your Wounds 🤍

✧⋆˙ D'Artagnan ๋࣭ ⭑

Pistols & Wine 🤍 Expecting the Worst🤍🖤✧

∘₊✧ ────── updated 3·7·24 ────── ✧₊∘

──💜𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒💜──

DISCLAIMER: 1) My blog may contain explicit content that some may find sensitive! Your media consumption is your responsibility! Minors please DNI!! 2) My works are not to be copied, reposted, translated, or used without my permission. AO3 & Tumblr are the only platforms I post on, under the username ChiaraAnatra. If you see my works anywhere else, please let me know!

[silvercaptain24]

IT'S FINALLY HERE

@onceuponaladye @ajscico

[general-du-vallon]

Recs list

I've been reading a few fics about our favourite absolute love of a musketeer Porthos :) Here are some I've loved a lot!

Wonders by Anonymous

Porthos gets a letter from Samara.

Either I've read this before or I read another one where he gets a letter from Samara that I loved, I believe the first but either way it's warm and fun and a lot of things in a small space. It's really lovely little rumination, and gives Porthos something good about his heritage as well as all the sadness in the show.

Holding On by Stk (Silasthekitty)

d'Artagnan getting to know the others in modern AU having many panic about Porthos's lovely grabby hands, so much fun! I love the relationship between them all and how d'Artagnan is seduced. It's also very funny.

Fever by Swashbuckling

Gen fic where Aramis (eventually) takes care of Porthos who is a bit ridiculous and of course very lovely. a little hurt/comfort slice of fluff. They're nicely characterful and I like the way they talk and things. Also they take good care of Porthos which is BEST.

Porthos Paper Doll by Irusu

Not a fic, just a glorious art, it is what it says on the tin - a paper doll design with some little outfits how great!

EDIT: add any gay Porthos centric fics if you have recs pleassseee your own too I want MORE.

[fischerfrey]

wip tag game

thank you for the tags @hphmmatthewluther and @usernoneexistent!

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

i suffer from a chronic "never finish anything i start" disease so i have several lol

harry potter;

1705

art coffee shop au

autumn of 1995

christmas with finn and aramis

daughter of the rain and snow

dawncey ficlets

edith

founders' era elian and theo

grimmcrest

helian ficlets

it was march

modern art

olyvar and feen adventures

roe's story

rottie fluff

save the undone years

summer camp au

the five club

the five club hunger games au

this was how it began

verna malinda and the cursed vaults revamp

verula ficlets

the lord of the rings online;

so mighty a woman

malthalín drabbles

life and times of ecthreldan of nargothrond

og;

gryffieverse

[obvious-captain-rogers]

“It seems he’ll live,” Aramis teased and leaned forward to press a smacking kiss against the side of d’Artagnan’s ribs. d’Artagnan huffed a laugh before shoving Aramis’s head away playfully. “Best to leave it uncovered, let the air do its work and heal it.” He eased away from d’Artagnan and got to his feet again, moving back over to his glass to take a drink. d’Artagnan nodded sincerely but then he caught Athos’s gaze, which was fixed firmly at level with the shot that marred his skin. Athos’s eyes were so intent that d’Artagnan felt like his skin was burning under the intensity. “Athos?” d’Artagnan asked and ducked his head down in an attempt to catch Athos’s gaze.

Someone on ao3 requested some fluff and tlc for the lads after Musketeers Don't Die Easily, so here it is :)

[teatitty]

Title/Link: Amigas Rating: Gen Fandom: X-Men Warning: Canon Typical Mutant Issues Pairing: Kendall & Raba & Arami Additional Tags: Fluff and Feels, Kendall Has Issues, Kendall Feelings, Female Friendship, Biracial Characters (Kendall and Raba) Word Count: 3.4K

Summary/Preview: Most people assume that having superhero parents is a blessing in disguise. Kendall’s first-hand experience proves the contrary.

A/N: This ended up nowhere near what I planned it to be but I'm still happy enough with it to post it! Big thank you to Neb for helping with Raba's name I love you