#athos answers

[theinseparables-if]

Required question for any IF with explicit sexual content: What are the ROs' positions and kinks?

I wasn’t sure whether you meant top/bottom dynamics or actual positions, so I did both.

The NS/FW tag is inseparables sin.

Dynamics:

A: dom, vers - preference for top.

C: switch, bottom - preference for sub.

Nasira: switch, vers - no preferences.

J: switch, top - no preferences.

+ Aramis: switch, vers - no preferences.

+ Laurence: dom, top - will be on the bottom, but won’t sub.

Positions:

A: wrapped lotus & upstanding citizen.

C: spooning & leap frog.

Nasira: ballet dancer & cowgirl.

J: the butterfly & doggy style.

Kinks:

A: marking (giving) & breeding (giving - athos & receiving - athena).

C: voyeurism & power play.

Nasira: sensory play (giving) & katoptronophilia (mirror sex).

J: bondage (giving and receiving) & orgasm control (giving & receiving).

[helaenadream]

athos’s little crush on d’artagnan is so cute and funny. he’s clearly unbelievably annoyed by him but also can’t help but be a little entranced by his wild baby deer aura

[riacte]

mentally I don’t think of you as a hermit fan. you’re a treebark blue bats fan. does that make sense

No yeah thank you anon because that's exactly me. I go on Reddit and people are like "oh Blue Bats blog". I comment on Treebark fics and people are like "oh Treebark poll blog" <3

[not-poignant]

I don't know anything about Dragon Age, do I need to in order to understand your new fic?

You don't need to understand Dragon Age, but you do need to have read Stuck on the Puzzle, because this is the third part in a series! (I do say it's a follow-on and you can also see it's part three of a series as well).

[hypocriticaltypwriter]

I ship you with either Athos, or Nelson!

Athos is very sweet and patient he could learn to love again to!! And oh how romantic he is~ ....granted he's french- but it's forgivable!! ....and also an actual like 90s boy thst looks like those is hot-

Nelson! Free medical advice kisses, great job, bit cocky and snarky but lovable, a dumbass to the finest degree, ans would be great to relax with after long working hours!!!

(Unknown secret third ship: Tad Allagash)

Pullin up to the dates with these Kiefers like:

BUT FR OMG THANK YOU THIS ACTUALLY MADE ME GET ALL GIGGLY AND GIDDY🩷🩷🩷

[rainbowcolored7]

Jak! Dearly beloved, I'm thrilled to see you on your Musketeers bullshit, you've reminded me how overdue I am for a rewatch. Would you happen to have any fic recs? 👀

Fleet my love! 🥰

*chants* rewatch rewatch rewatch!

I absolutely have recs! (they say as they check their bookmarks to find there is only one and the rest have fucking disappeared?!?! In my search to track them down again I may have missed some sorry...) My otp is Athos/d'Artagnan, Porthos/Aramis, and poly Athos/d'Artagnan/Porthos/Aramis (with Constance occasionally in the mix). I hope that's okay! And in an attempt to keep this list from being horrifically long I'm going to try and share one fic per author, but most have written several wonderful fics that are favs, so definitely check out their other works as well. (says this and immediately fails)

Une histoire de bleu by ceeturnalia (traveller) - This is my top favorite of all time for this fandom. I can't count how many times I've reread it, I have the dang thing nearly memorized lol. Rated E, D/s, Athos/d'Artagnan.

kairos & logos by ceeturnalia (traveller) - Rated E, soulmates and reincarnation, OT4. This fic lives rent free in my head nearly as much as Une histoire de bleu. It's not a coincidence they're both written by Cee, who is an incredible story teller.

Multiples of Three by Q__Q - Rated E, OT4. I'm a huge sucker for fics where d'Artagnan is unsure of where he stands with the rest of the gang until they all have to kiss about it.

Ye Heirs of Glory by Kyele - Rated E, a/b/o, Athos/d'Artagnan, Porthos/Aramis etc.. I will admit I never actually finished this one. If I remember correctly I got about halfway and was yanked into another hyperfixation and forgot all about it, but the world building is exquisite, and I have every intention of finishing it soon.

every time i see your face by cherryfeather - Rated E, OT5, just absolute sexy mouthwatering fivesome filth. Also highly recommend going through the rest of this author's works because they're amazing.

The Fruit of Knowledge by breathtaken - Rated E, Athos/d'Artagnan, undercover shenanigans that gets really real super quick. This is another I am constantly rereading because it's one, incredibly sweet, and two, spicy spicy spicy om nom. Also check out the rest of this author's works bc just wowza. The talent.

Forever (in Ink) by Isidore - Rated M, OT4, soulmates and soul marks. This fic is just a full course meal from start to end.

Pas de Quatre by zelda_zee - Rated E, OT4, incredibly written, clever, gorgeous, stunning, no notes.

Fate Will Bring Us Home by rthecynic - NR, OT4, soulmates and soulmarks in the form of flowers. So, so many flowers! The imagery of this one is just so delightful, and istg one day I'm going to draw them all.

[bchemianrhapscdy-archived]

@vntagetee​ asked:  ❛  you look as good as i remember.  ❜ - ninon de larroque (for athos)

“It’s been some time but I appreciate the compliment.” Athos spoke as he looked at the beautiful blonde. Immediately, a warm feeling streamed through his body, a familiar feeling he hadn’t felt in such a long time. “You still look quite beautiful yourself. Getting away from Paris did you now bad.” he spoke, still smiling at her. “What brings you back to Paris?” he asked, knowing it may not be safe for her here.

[supercantaloupe]

happy sleepover saturday!! ive been working on bday gifts for other ppl (so many october bdays) and my bday is coming up soon and i was wonering what you like to do for your bday? whats your fav bday memory?

happy early birthday ! i'm very easy to please when it comes to birthdays bc i always want to do the same thing: go to a nice lunch or dinner and see a show with my mom :) i've been really lucky to have a lot of great birthdays celebrating this way, but one particular year that sticks out as a favorite was the first birthday we celebrated this way. the day i turned 14 my mom took me to see Cabaret on broadway (with alan cumming and emma stone starring !!). i think that show fundamentally changed me as a person LOL

[ask meme]

[halfrust]

victor moreau : it's over. go home.

who did @literare think he was? like, who the fuck did he actually think he was? and it was as if that question that was running through her head could be seen on her face. the way her pretty face scrunches up in utter disgust. " oh? is that right? " athos challenges, almost refusing because he commanded her ... because he said so. the day she takes orders from a man is the day she's no longer athos fane.

the blonde stays rooted in her spot, arms folding across her chest almost stubbornly. " let me just get one thing straight here, " athos, with her perfectly manicured finger, gestures between the two of them. " because i don't know what kind of women you have back home, but you don't tell me what to do. " and if he hadn't of told her to go home she probably would have herself --- athos doesn't want to be here anymore than he wants her here, but unfortunately for the both of them a contract had been signed. " so, put your big boy pants on and fucking suck it up. "

[silvercaptain24]

To the garrison au guys, do any of you speak French?

I may need help with my French hw…

Aramis: My time has come! I may not speak much, but I know someone who had to learn it as a child~

Athos: Aramis, get out of my face, please.

[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.

[scotianostra]

Today is World Heritage Day

Oiginally known as the International Monuments and Sites Da it is a global celebration of this planet’s heritage. It’s all about increasing the awareness of the importance of the diversity of cultural and natural heritage and preserving this heritage for future generations..

In Scotland we’re lucky enough to have no less than six UNESCO World Heritage Sites. they are;

St Kilda.

The remote Hebridean island archipelago is one of only two-dozen global locations with World Heritage Status for both natural and cultural significance.

The archipelago shares this honour with natural and cultural wonders such as the Historic Sanctuary of Machu Picchu in Peru and Mount Athos in Greece.

I'd love to visit, but it is a wee bit too expensive for me.

Edinburgh Old and New Towns.

Some people have asked me which part of Edinburgh is covered by this title, well the simple answer is all of it!

The capital is a city of many eras, and its World Heritage Site comprises both the old and new towns. The Auld Toon has preserved much of its medieval street plan and Reformation-era buildings along the wynds of the Royal Mile.

The (relatively) New town contrasts this perfectly with neoclassical and Georgian architecture in regimented order.

Antonine Wall.

I've explored many parts of the wall. Constructed around 142 AD by the Romans, the Antonine Wall marked the north-west frontier of their empire. Stretching from the Firth of Forth and the Firth of Clyde, the Antonine Wall separated the civilised Romans from the wild Caledonians.

The Heart of Neolithic Orkney

I've not visited The Northen Isles as yet, plans were in the early stages to go this year, but my friend ended up in hospita and is still recuprating, hopefully we can get something sorted when she becomes more able.

The Orkney mainland is synonymous with archaeology. It boasts the mysterious standing stones at the Ring of Brodgar and megaliths at Standing Stones of Stenness, as well as the 5,000-year-old settlement of Skara Brae and chambered cairn and passage grave of Maeshowe. Together these four sites form the heart of Neolithic Orkney, which was given World Heritage status in 1999.

The Forth Bridge

I remember as a bairn drawing and painting the bridge with a steam train going over it, but the train going over the "bumps!"

One of our most iconic and beloved bridges, the Forth Bridge was named a World Heritage Site in 2015 just after its 125th anniversary. The bridge was one of the most ambitious projects of its kind ever attempted at the time. When it opened it had the longest single cantilever bridge span in the world.

New Lanark

The last mill closed in the 1960s but a restoration programme saved the 18th-century village from falling into dilapidation.

It is an early example of utopian socialism in Scotland as well as a planned settlement – making New Lanark an important milestone in the historical development of urban planning. I have never visited, I must say I much prefer my ruined castles and abbeys.

[kabie-whump]

“People use people.”

I drew one of my favorite scenes from Ripe, About to Fall, and now you are to be burdened with it.

y’know when you’re being abused and treated like an object every day but also the guard outside your door is sooo fine?

Anyway, here’s the scene this is based off of, if you’re new here. Prepare for luxury pet whump, drug abuse mentions, non-con mentions, and some heavy flirting:

Series

-

“Please! Master- ah!”

Onthyes knew it was Ventis. It was always Ventis. But he’d never heard him so distressed before.

Onthyes rapped his knuckles on the door and Ventis went quiet. “Is everything alright?” he called through the door.

“Yes, Onthyes,” Athos replied, annoyance clear in his tone. “Nothing is amiss.”

Backing away, Onthyes did his best to force himself to calm down despite the cries and occasional sobs that reached his ears through the door. It was driving him crazy. He wished he didn’t care. He wished he could be as apathetic to Ventis’s situation as the other staff seemed to be. But he couldn’t. And it hurt.

They went quiet again eventually, but Onthyes couldn’t relax. Hours passed. He was sure they were both asleep by now.

The bedroom door creaked open slowly and Ventis slipped out in nothing but a thin robe. Bruises and bite marks scattered across his pale blue skin, and dried blood made a red path down his chin from a split lip. He looked as if he hadn’t slept at all in these passing hours.

Ventis only made it a few stumbling steps out the door before he collapsed onto bruised knees, curling into himself until his forehead touched the carpet. He covered his mouth with both hands and his shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Onthyes froze. He’d hardly ever seen Ventis express any emotions at all other than quiet contentment, and now the genasi was trembling and gasping at his feet.

Onthyes removed his helmet, placing it on the floor as he knelt next to Ventis. What would he even say to him? “What’s wrong” and “are you alright” felt empty and useless, considering the answers to both were obvious.

He settled for placing a gloved hand on Ventis’s back, noticing how his spine stuck out under his skin in sharp ridges when he bent like this.

Ventis tensed at his touch, but he didn’t flinch away. Onthyes couldn’t tell if he truly accepted the touch, or if he’d just been trained not to resist. But he was afraid to risk waking Athos by making any noise, so touch would have to do.

Settling on the floor next to Ventis, Onthyes rubbed his back slowly. He couldn’t tell how long they stayed like that, with Ventis struggling to stay silent as he soaked the carpet with tears and Onthyes doing his best to provide comfort with his presence. Eventually Ventis’s sobs tapered off. He took one last shaky breath, then straightened slowly. Onthyes removed his hand from his back and scooted away slightly.

Ventis’s eyes were red and puffy when he looked at Onthyes and the blood on his chin had been smeared around by drool. For once he didn’t look so much like a living porcelain doll.

“I’m sorry,” Ventis whispered. “Please don’t tell him.”

“I won’t, I promise. You’re safe with me. And there’s no need to be sorry. Cry as much as you want.”

Ventis gave him a shaky smile that fell away quickly before he moved to sit with his back against the wall and his knees at his chest.

“I’m not supposed to. At least, not like that. He likes it when I cry pretty.”

“Is that why he hurt you?” Onthyes cursed himself as soon as the question left his mouth.

A sour look crossed Ventis’s face and he shrugged. His robe slipped off his shoulder with the movement, revealing some more bruises trailing down his chest.

“You don’t deserve the way he treats you. I hope you know that.”

Ventis stared at the bedroom door. He started to pick at his manicured fingernails before he quickly stopped himself and closed his fists tight.

“He isn’t usually like this. He cares about me; cares about keeping me clean and beautiful. He’s usually gentle. Sometimes he has dark days like these. They’re the price I pay for living in luxury.”

“My offer still stands, you know. Say the word and I’ll get you out, but I won’t force you.”

“Thank you. I… I appreciate the sentiment. The truth is, I don’t think I even know how to survive on my own anymore. I can’t fend for myself. Can’t make my own choices. After all these years, I fear he really has turned me into a pet..” His voice was cold and bitter, so different from the pleasant, ditzy demeanor he usually wore.

“I wouldn’t just abandon you to fend for yourself. I would be happy to stay with you if you’d like. Help you get back on your feet; get sober.”

Ventis winced at that last part, clenching his fists again. He shook his head. “Why do you care? You don’t know anything about me, yet you’re prepared to risk everything to help me. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Onthyes said honestly. “I just… can’t ignore it when someone needs help.”

Ventis chuckled. “So that’s what you see me as. A damsel to compliment your heroic streak.”

“No. I mean…” Onthyes thought about it. Did he actually want to help Ventis? Or did he just get off on playing the hero? “I don’t think-“

“It’s alright. People use people. People use me. It’s natural. I don’t mind.”

“I would never use you.”

“Mmhmm. Sure.”

Like a switch had been flipped, Ventis’s entire demeanor changed. He crawled to Onthyes on bruised knees, his lilac eyes heavy and hypnotic. He prowled in close, a hand on his chest, lips on his ear. “My hero,” he purred, cool air on Onthyes’s hot skin. “Thank you for saving me. How could I ever repay you?”

Onthyes exhaled heavily. He was helpless to Ventis in that moment, utterly starstruck as those words dug under his skin and ignited a warmth he had never felt before. His hand held Ventis’s slender waist on its own accord. Ventis’s head tilted invitingly and Onthyes moved in to kiss his neck without even thinking about it.

But Ventis’s breath smelled of blood and alcohol and there were finger-shaped bruises around his throat.

Onthyes scooted back quickly, wide eyed. “No. That’s not what I want,” he whispered.

Ventis sat back on his heels, his expression unreadable. “You’re… I don’t understand you.”

“I won’t use you. That’s not the kind of person I am.”

Onthyes stood, straightening his armor. Ventis followed him, still refusing to fix the shoulder of his robe. Onthyes did it for him, pulling up the fine silk to cover his skin and making him scoff.

“You don’t want to be saved. You like it here. I can accept that. But please, don’t assume I’m anything like Athos.”

Ventis stared up at him. Onthyes had never noticed before how severe the height difference between them was. Ventis would fit so easily into his hands- gods. One short interaction and his imagination was already running away with it.

“I’m sorry,” Ventis whispered. “That's all I know how to do.”

With that Ventis slipped past Onthyes and eased the bedroom door open, disappearing back into the darkness.

-

(I know this series has been on a really long break but I haven’t forgotten it I promise stay with me y’all)

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet @rainydaywhump @sleepyiswhumping @bitchaknso @unicornbeck

[monster-disaster]

[dragon] Athos + sneak peek

"And what do we have here?" He breaks the silence. His words are deep with sleep and filled with amusement.

His sudden voice makes you jump as you snap your head up, barely avoiding the edge of the desk with your forehead. A startled gasp escapes your lips, and he can hear it when you snap the box shut in your hands. Your eyes are wide with panic as you look over him.

From this angle, still squatting behind the desk, he seems even taller and larger than usual. You can see the hard cords of his muscles moving with every breath he takes as his chest expands behind his thick arms. The greenish scales turn to faded yellow on his front, drawing your attention from his stoic face to the thin layer of fat on his stomach. His belly only adds to his sturdy form, though. He is a big boy who clearly lives even more comfortably than his ancestors did once in their caves.

When you don't answer, you are too busy staring at him, he breaks the silence once again.

"I'm sure you have some explanation for trying to steal from me." His voice is dangerously low, sending shivers through your spine as you stand up on your shaky legs, gripping the edge of the desk the whole time.

He is wrong, though. Your lips open and close several times without a word leaving your throat. You don't know what to say that could make your situation better. Despite what it looks like, you are not here to steal? Yeah, you are sure it would work.

"Come on," Athos coos, approaching you slowly and confidently. Both of you know who is the predator here, and it's clearly not you. His eyes don't leave you even for a second, and before you know it, he stands in front of you, glancing down at the still-open drawer with the box inside. He scoffs and pushes it close with a lazy kick of his leg, and for some reason, embarrassment starts to burn your cheeks.

You knew what would happen if he found you. One can't steal from a dragon so easily and without any risks.

_

You can read more on my Patreon

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

roland and linda in cahoots on something

Thank you. Athos and Linda got along, I think Roland and Linda would get along like a housefire no one suspected.

-

"Roland."

"Something I can help you with, Spartan?"

Linda 058, the quietest member of Blue Team, is asking for his attention.

"How much nuance do you allow when it comes to personnel in potentially off-limit areas?" She asks while staring straight ahead, not bothering to look at the ceiling or a camera. Her voice is low and even.

He can't get a read on her in comparing her tone and body language to his wealth of readings from his crew. IIs were sarcastic, but also had a habit of malicious compliance and going right up to the point of rule breaking before stopping. It gave his captain and the admirals headaches but fascinated Roland all the more. Despite being a Ship AI and not having the experience of partnering with a Spartan, he found a kind of kinship in their creative problem-solving. What files were available to him painted a relatable picture. Linda had worked with an AI, receiving a glowing review, but Roland could read between the lines. Nuance, huh?

They were so interesting. Roland found himself struggling to balance his desire to see where this led and his ingrained purpose of maintaining order and function on the Infinity.

"That's an interesting question." He can't help the chuckle that follows. "Potentially, if someone was where they shouldn't be and I caught them, they'd get a warning to leave before I contact whoever's necessary to remove them."

"So you have to catch them."

Oh, this is fun.

"I see everything on this ship, Spartan. You may have the clearance, but I can't let you climb around the engine room."

A muscle twitches on her face. Roland counts that as a victory.

IIs were so much fun. 15 minutes after he's thrown down the gauntlet, Linda 058 disappears into a blind spot in a major hub of hallways. Roland notes it down for security and then leaves several threads around to ping when she reappears.

She does not reappear. He gets no ping. AI can't sweat, but the invigorating exercise of hunting for her sours when it's 4 hours later and the Captain is frowning at him.

"Roland, where's Linda?" Captain Lasky asks in front of three quarters of Blue Team.

"I may have chosen my words poorly." Roland says, his avatar slouching in defeat.

"Sir, she doesn't have her armor, so we can assume she's inside the ship." Kelly supplies.

Captain Lasky pales as he considers the thought. Roland hadn't considered that. "She would do that?" Lasky's voice is stricken. Roland feels a bit guilty as he watches his captain's blood pressure spike.

Fred is the only one who grimaces as they all nod once.

"You might have to admit defeat before she reappears." The Master Chief says to Roland. "Linda's competitive."

"What?" Roland gapes in shock. He doesn't want to give up so easily, surely there are ways to track the NI or IFF tag even if she's not in armor.

He stops himself from answering when his captain looks dolefully at him.

"Do I make a shipwide announcement and hope she hears it?"

He does.

180 painful seconds tick by and Linda 058 materializes out of a different blind spot halfway across the ship. Her ready gear has dust on the knees and elbows. The vents then? She walks into the meeting more relaxed than Roland's seen her.

Linda nods to the captain and Roland as she takes her place beside her team.

"Do I want to know where you've been, Spartan?" The captain sighs. His face and his biosigns are pointing towards no.

"Finding gaps in security, sir." Linda replies.

"Great." Lasky looks like he does not think it's great. Roland is just glad it's over. "You can help Roland with that when we don't have scheduled meetings."

Or not.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

These Lips Speak Lies

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 7048

Summary: A prequel to Honor and Espionage, Aramis tells the story of how he and the reader met, almost killed each other, and fell in love. 

Notes: Wow, okay I know this is crazy long but I just couldn’t help myself. I loved the Spy Reader and Aramis dynamic so much that I just had to continue. What better way to tell the story than to start at the beginning? If you guys love this saga as much as I do, be sure to let me know!

Find more Musketeers: HERE

-

The group gathered around the small fireplace, at home in the space they’d all spent many evenings since the incidents at Ambassador Laurent’s estate. With the country escape having bored you both, you and Aramis returned to Paris before Treville’s orders and hosted many dinners. The others concocted exciting tales to keep you amused and to distract you from your painful idleness. 

It was a similar affair, though in a few days, you’d be cleared to return to your work. Due to his pleading and lack of injury, Aramis had been allowed to go on a few missions, given that he still kept an eye on your recovery. 

You stood to pour another round of wine into everyone’s glasses, but Aramis tugged you back down, kissing your cheek. 

“Allow me, darling,” he said. He picked up the bottle and refilled your glass. 

“I am capable of lifting a simple bottle, Aramis,” you scoffed. “You said so yourself, my arm is entirely healed.”

“That does not mean I cannot still be a dutiful husband, hm?” He raised a brow and kissed you again, this time meeting your soft lips with his. 

“If all it took was me getting shot for you to act like this, I would have tried it ages ago,” you teased.

He scowled, gave your lips another quick peck, and stood. Aramis tended to his companion’s cups before returning to his place beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

For a while, the five of you drank together, merrily telling stories of past adventures and other close calls. The fire was dying down by the time D’Artagnan leaned over to you.

“I have to know,” he said with a smirk, “how did the two of you meet?”

Porthos’ brow furrowed and he leaned back in his chair. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard the story myself.”

“Nor I,” Athos said, pouring himself another glass. 

“I could have sworn we told the tale at our wedding.” You thought back to that day, but, quite honestly, you only remembered that night. The images in your mind made you blush and you snuggled a little closer to your husband. 

“They were both probably too drunk to remember,” Aramis snickered. 

“Well I haven’t heard it at all,” D’Artagnan said, turning to you with a pout. “Was it on an assignment?”

You blew out a breath. “Yes and no.”

“Did you work together?”

This time, your husband answered. “Yes and no.” 

“Cut to it, will ya?” Porthos bellowed. “We want to hear the story.” 

“Alright, alright,” you laughed. You turned, smirking at the man beside you. “Aramis, darling, would you like to do the honors? I’ll correct you if you get anything wrong, of course.”

He brought your lips to his one more time, earning a semi-annoyed huff from Porthos. 

“My pleasure.” He stood, pacing in front of the fire. “Now, I’m sure you all remember the mysterious stranglings that plagued the city five years ago?” 

The three members of the audience nodded. 

Aramis’ smile grew. “This is the story of how we solved the case-”

“Nearly died on several occasions,” you interjected with a giggle. 

He reached for your hand and kissed it. “And fell in love.”

-

By morning, they were dead. Nobody knew how it was possible, but there was no denying it. Paris was being hunted. Specifically, the women of Paris. Two noblewomen had turned up, both strangled and found in the streets, blocks away from their homes. 

What worried Aramis was the bodies before them. Women from the lower class had been dying for weeks now. And worse, nothing was being done. It made his blood boil knowing a killer was stalking the streets and he was guarding the king’s dinners. 

But when he brought the murders up to Treville, the captain told him that he already had a man on the job, though Aramis had heard nothing of such an assignment from any of the other musketeers. He told Aramis to let it be as if it were little more than a pest problem being handled. Aramis didn’t understand it. How could the captain be content forgoing the proper resources to bring these women’s killer to justice? 

Aramis, certainly, was not. 

So, despite Treville’s explicit instructions, Aramis decided to conduct his own investigation into the murders. And, with his two usual companions away on a mission of their own, he would have to solve this problem alone. 

Luckily, he had plenty of connections with the women of the nobility. And, with the growing terror amongst them, they were more than willing to cooperate.

“At first,” Lady Brizman whispered, though there was no one else in the courtyard to hear them, “we thought, maybe, Juliet- Lady de Fontane- was, well…” she trailed off, lowering her voice even more as if to conceal a scandal, “seeing someone. We thought maybe things went badly and her lover killed her.” 

Aramis nodded. “But then Madame Wilton was killed in the same manner.”

“Exactly,” she exclaimed. “Now I have my servants triple-check anyone who comes to the house.” She smiled, leaning against the garden gate. “Except for you, of course.” Her hand trailed up his arm. 

“Well, if you hear anything more, or feel at all frightened and in need of assistance,” he flashed her a charming smile and tipped his hat. “I’m at your service, madame.”

He waited until he was out of sight to hit his hand against the wall with a frustrated growl. It was the same thing he’d heard from the last four women. Suspected affairs turned serial killer. But, according to every woman he’d spoken to, the victims’ whereabouts on the days they were killed provided very little opportunity for them to have encountered the killer.

There had to be some kind of connection, a place where they met, or a person they knew. But where- or who- could connect women of different classes? 

Aramis turned on his heel and stopped suddenly. 

“Of course,” he muttered to himself. He gazed across the street at the seamstress’s shop before him. 

All of the women killed before worked as either suppliers, delivery girls, or seamstresses themselves. And surely Lady de Fontane and Madame Wilton frequented such establishments. The killer must have used these shops as hunting grounds, watching from the side until he found his perfect victim. Perhaps he even stood where Aramis stood. The thought made the musketeer shudder. 

Aramis scoped out the area. Another shop down the road gave him a pretty good idea that this must be where the women were being taken from. He determined that he would come back in the evening- when the women were taken- and see if he could catch the beast. 

-

He’d sat there for hours, hidden from the common passersby, keeping an eye on every person who walked down the street. The sun had set, leaving the road in darkness, but the windows of the shop still held a light. Someone was working late. He just hoped it was only the dressmakers. 

Several figures passed by him, none appearing the most trustworthy, but all vacating the street too swiftly to be scoping out the shop for their next victim. 

All but one. 

A figure in a dark, scarlet cloak crossed the street, tucking themselves into the darkness of the alley beside the shop. Aramis eyed the villain darkly and navigated the alleys and corners in order to catch them by surprise. As he crept toward them, dagger drawn at his side, he noticed their stance. Like a cat waiting to pounce on its prey. 

He lunged first, grabbing their arm and pinning them to the wall, arm stretched across their chest. 

Her chest, he observed as the scarlet cloak fell open slightly. He tried not to let it distract him. A woman was just as capable of murder, as his years had taught him. 

“It’s dangerous here at night, mademoiselle,” he hissed. “I might ask what you’re doing, skulking about the shadows.”

“I might ask you the same thing.” You aimed your pistol at his abdomen and cocked it, raising a brow with the click. You stared defiantly in his dark eyes. He was handsome, you observed, but that could very well be used to lure women into his trap. This could be the very killer you’d spent weeks searching for. 

But those eyes…

“I am a King’s Musketeer, patrolling the streets for the safety of those such as yourself,” he said, failing to keep the suspicious bite from his tone. 

You took a moment to look over him, indeed finding the crest on his shoulder, and sighed.

“Then we have much to discuss, monsieur,” you huffed, lowering your weapon and hooking it back to the belt around your waist. 

Aramis did not let his guard down, instead standing straighter, poised for a possible attack. Who knew what a killer like this could be capable of… even if she did have the loveliest voice. 

You rolled your eyes. “I do not have time for this, come with me.” You grabbed his arm and pulled him to a door that led to the upper quarters of the shop itself. 

In his surprise, Aramis didn’t fight you, following blindly up the stairs to a small room with a cot, a candle, and a small desk scattered with piles of notes and maps. He jerked his arm away from your grip, frustration melding with his misunderstanding. 

You ignored him and walked over to the papers and grabbed something from atop them. 

“Would you explain to me what’s going on?” He demanded. 

“What is going on is that you have absolutely no idea what you are doing,” you snapped, whirling around to face him with the ring you kept on your desk. Upon it, was the crest of the Musketeers. You held it before him and watched his face contort from irritation to utter confusion. 

“You’re a…” He gazed upon your face again, as if trying to read something there.

“It appears we work for the same regiment, monsieur,” you said coolly. “Captain Treville believed that I would have a better chance of catching the killer because I am better able to blend into this area of town, whereas a soldier such as yourself would be immediately spotted, as tonight has clearly displayed.” 

“I was doing fine before I made the mistake of following you into that alley- which I may add, you looked just as suspicious as I may or may not have,” he argued. “The fact that I am here shows that I am just as capable of following this case as you are, if not more so given that I have the authority of a musketeer.” He stepped toward you. “Tell me, what exactly does Treville have you for?”

“I’m afraid that is privileged information,” you glared. “Tell me, were you or were you not told to leave this case alone?” Now, you stepped towards him. “Because I know for a fact that Captain Treville wanted me alone searching for the killer in fear of scaring them into hiding.” 

Aramis looked away. 

You scoffed. “Exactly what I thought. Another ‘hero’ dying to make a name for himself.” Turning back to your notes, you dismissed him with a wave of your hand. “You can run back to the garrison. I have women to protect.” 

Aramis remained, though whether it was shock or stubbornness that prevented his feet from moving, he wasn’t entirely sure. Instead, he moved to look over your shoulder. 

“These are your observations then?” He asked. 

You didn’t bother turning to look at him. “I’ve been staying in this apartment for the past three weeks. It has given me the opportunity to study the pattern of workers and regular buyers, but it has yet to yield any clue as to who is targeting them.” You couldn’t help the irritated sigh that fell from your lips. “I have followed up on every man that has been to the shop since I’ve been here and all of them have been checked out. The killer must be keeping to the shadows, hunting like a wolf at night.” 

“What makes you so sure the killer is a man?” 

You scoffed. “Because I saw the bodies. The bruises around the neck were far too large for them to have been strangled by a woman.” Setting your pages down again, you faced him with your arms crossed impatiently. “Now if you don’t mind, monsieur…?”

He removed his hat. “Aramis. My name is Aramis.” He made no motion to leave. In fact, he stood his ground firmly, which only made you more annoyed. “And how exactly do you plan to catch this man, madame…?” He mimicked your questioning tone. 

“Y/N.” You saw no point in giving him a false name, though you were half tempted to leave him guessing. “And I shall catch him in the act.”

Aramis chuckled, running his fingers over his facial hair. “And how do you plan to do that?”

You raised a brow. 

His smarminess fell. “You can’t be serious.”

“I assure you, Monsieur Aramis, that I am perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“You’re going to give yourself as bait?” 

“I’m going to lure him out of the shadows by giving him a target that isn’t defenseless.” You held up your pistol. “If he agrees to come in quietly, then he’ll be hanged in the morning. If not… well, I’ll have the pleasure of making Paris a safer place tonight.” 

Your fellow musketeer crossed his arms. 

“I’m coming with you.”

“You most certainly are not.” 

“I only wish to assist you in catching the killer,” he said.

“You think because I’m a woman I cannot do it on my own?” You challenged. 

“I’ve learned never to underestimate a woman, darling.” He leaned in. “I just don’t trust you.”

The sound of your hand against his cheek rang through the small room. 

Aramis put a hand to his face, already reddening where you’d hit, but his smug smile never faltered. 

“Do you let your emotions get in the way of every mission or am I special?” 

You raised your hand again, but this time he caught it, his face darkening.

“It was only cute the first time.” 

You jerked your arm out of his grip, eyes defiant and tone threatening.

“If you get in my way for so much as a second-”

“I assure you, we want the same thing,” Aramis said. “Think of me as your backup plan, if being bait doesn’t go quite the way you expect.”

“I don’t need backup plans,” you said. “I’m always right the first time. It’s why Treville sends me instead of any of you.” 

You slipped by him, tucking your pistol into the belt beneath your cloak as you walked to the stairs. You stopped at the exit and sighed, turning back to face the other musketeer. 

“Well?” You gave him a smirk. “Are you coming or not, Monsieur Aramis?”

He motioned with his arm, returning your smug expression. “After you, Madam Y/N.” 

“It’s mademoiselle,” you corrected.

“So you haven’t found a man who can put up with your arrogance, how surprising.”

You rolled your eyes and went back downstairs. 

-

Aramis returned to his spot in the alleyway across the street from the shop, keeping a close eye on the swift-moving cloaked figure across from him. Heat still lingered in his skin, his frustration showing in the red of his cheeks. He’d known you for a few short minutes and already, you’d burrowed your way into his mind. He convinced himself it was anger and nothing more, but the familiar ache in his chest suggested otherwise. 

“A woman spying for Treville,” he muttered. “I’ve never heard anything so… brilliant.” He could tell, just from the confidence in your gaze and the way you pointed that pistol at him that you were just as capable as any musketeer in his regiment. And a woman could go far more unnoticed than any man in uniform. 

As much as he hated to admit it, his anger was overridden by his admiration. 

You kept an eye on his shadowed figure, your irritation mixing with intrigue. 

Why should a musketeer care so much about what was happening to these women? But care he did. You could see it in his eyes. 

Those eyes. 

“Focus, Y/N,” you hissed at yourself. “The killer must be here somewhere.”

A figure stepped out of the shadows. “Yes, well, unfortunately, you won’t be around to catch him.” 

Hands grappled you from behind. 

“Let go of me!” Your cry carried across the street. 

Aramis leapt into action swiftly, but not as quick as the man waiting behind him. The blow to the back of his head prevented any plans of rescue. 

You fought against your captors even as the fabric covered your eyes. 

“Feisty one, isn’t she?” A voice sneered. 

“Maybe we should have left her for Claude.”

“Let’s get her in the cart.” 

“I will ensure you all hang!” You exclaimed, trying not to choke on the bag over your head. 

They dragged you to what must have been a cart that they promptly threw you into the back of, along with something else. 

Or someone. 

“Great,” you sighed. 

Treville was not going to be happy. 

-

“Aramis, wake up.” You shook the man’s shoulder with bound hands, examining the wound on his head. It had stopped bleeding at least. “Great help you are. Wake up.” 

Aramis groaned, eyes fluttering open and closed. 

“We have a problem,” you said, sitting back against the wall of the stables you were taken to. 

He tried to sit up, holding his head where dried blood now stained. 

You put a hand on his back to steady him. 

“Where are we?” He asked. 

“From the length of the ride, I would say it’s an estate at the edge of the city.” They had been careful to keep you from seeing anything on the way here and they’d taken the cart directly to the make-shift prison they were keeping you in. 

“Did you see them?”

You shook your head. “Bastards put a bag over me. Felt their disgusting hands though.”

Aramis tensed, jaw clenched as his eyes looked you over for injuries. “They didn’t hurt you did they?”

“No. No, I’m alright.” You couldn’t help but be touched by his clear concern. “Just angry at myself for letting them catch me to begin with.” 

“We were expecting a single madman, not an ambush. You couldn't have known.” 

“That’s the thing.” You pushed yourself to your feet, pacing around the small space while he leaned himself up in the corner, standing shakily. “The murders were carried about by a single person. Of that I’m certain. What could someone possibly gain by stopping us from catching him?” 

“They told me you were a clever one.” 

Both of you jumped at the voice. You moved instinctively in front of your injured companion. 

A woman stepped into the moonlight that streamed through the stable windows. You could just see her through the barred opening in the door. She wore a dark dress and gloves and a stern frown. She couldn’t have been much older than you. 

“All of this could have been a forgotten tragedy, but the musketeers had to stick their noses into it, didn’t they?” She adjusted her gloves. 

“You aren’t the killer,” you said. “Your hands have hardly seen the sunlight, let alone crushed the life out of another woman’s throat.” The venom in your voice was clear, not your usual feigned charm. This was not a situation that required being personable. 

“I can’t imagine what it’s like.” She wrinkled her nose. “A woman shouldn’t know such things. The details of a death.” 

“If you let us go, I’d be happy to give you a demonstration,” you hissed. 

She laughed. “Such spirit for a musketeer’s slut.” 

You gritted your teeth. 

Aramis put a hand on your shoulder. He shook his head, giving you a warning glance. 

“Who are you?” He asked. “Why are we here?” 

“Aramis, I’m offended you don’t remember me.” She smirked. “You are very familiar with a dear friend of mine, Lady Brizman.” 

His mind reeled, still pounding from being hit. Then, he placed why she looked familiar. 

“Lady Augustin.” 

“I was never pretty enough for you to chase, hm?” 

“It had far more to do with your husband than your looks, I can assure you.” 

Between her jealous words and the way she grimaced at the mention of her husband, the pieces came together. 

You stared her down, smiling as you understood. “It’s him, isn’t it? Your husband is the one killing those women.” 

“Lord Augustin is sick,” she snapped. She took a deep breath. “He just needs time. I’m going to help him.” 

“Then you’re just as despicable as he is,” you spat. “Maybe worse.”

“Y/N,” Aramis warned, seeing the terrible look in the woman’s eyes. 

Lady Augustin stepped closer to the locked door, her face inches from the barred opening. “Oh, he’ll have fun with you,” she said.

You reached your arm out of the opening, but she backed away laughing. 

“I’ll send my men down to fetch you when my husband returns home.” Her voice echoed cruelly down the corridor of the stables. “Think of it this way, dear Musketeer- with you to keep him occupied, how many women will your sacrifice be worth?”

“You won’t get away with this!” You called after her, clawing the outside of the door like a trapped animal. “You will face justice! You and your vile husband!”

You brought your arm in to pound both of your fists against the wood, trying to force the door open. You hit it again and again, splinters digging into the flesh of your hands. 

“Y/N,” Aramis said again, this time softer. 

“We have to get out. You heard her. I won’t let him have me.”

“Y/N-”

“They’ll kill you too,” you said, your panic clouding your judgment. “They’ll kill you and he’ll strangle me like all of those women and then he will never stop. We have to get out.” You felt tears hot on your cheeks more than you felt the blood now dripping from the scrapes on your hands. 

“Y/N, stop.” Aramis grabbed you around the middle, pulling you away from the door. 

“No!” You cried. “We have to stop them. We have to-” You choked on a frightened sob. 

You couldn't remember the last time you were this scared. 

Aramis wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him so you couldn’t go back to the door. 

“Let me go,” you demanded.

“Not until I know you aren’t going to tear your hands apart on a door that isn’t going to open,” he said softly, tucking you against his chest. “We’ll get out. We’ll find a way. I promise.” 

You took a couple of deep breaths, laying your forehead against his chest to calm yourself down. You pushed away, hastily wiping away your tears. 

“You’re right. Now isn’t the time to let them get to us.” You squared your shoulders and tensed your jaw, turning your face away so he couldn’t see your embarrassment at losing control. 

“Wait.” Aramis put a hand on your shoulder, turning you so you had to look at him. “It’s okay to be afraid.”

“Not in my position, it’s not.” 

Pushing away from him, you moved to the other side of your straw-covered cell. While your legs ached to move, you knew you needed to conserve your energy for when they returned. 

When Lord Augustin used you to appease his sick appetites. 

“I’m going to just…” Aramis leaned against the wall, sliding down to ease the horrible pounding in his injured head. 

He forced himself to stay awake, trying to think of a plan of escape. Treville would realize the two of you were gone. Perhaps he would send Porthos or one of the others to search. 

Aramis grimaced. 

That would take too long. By the time anyone found the two of you, Lord Augustin would have put a bullet in Aramis’s skull, and… he didn’t want to think what would happen to you. 

You’d have to work together to find a way out, to tell Treville and the King that the killer was a nobleman and you’d have to find decent evidence in order to convince the court that a member of ‘higher society’ was capable of such crimes, otherwise, they could simply frame some poor stable boy. 

You’d seen it happen before. 

“I’m sorry you were dragged into this,” you said softly. 

Aramis laid his head back, shrugging. “It was my own fault. Not my mission, remember?” He gave you a smirk. 

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “That’s right. You should have minded your own businesses and then you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Ah, but then you’d miss my company.” 

You snorted. 

He closed his eyes. 

And you both waited. 

-

They came for him first. 

Men in dark clothes- hired thugs, most likely- unlocked the stable cell door and slid it open. 

You leapt to your feet, eyes on the pistols in their hands. 

“Stay away,” you spat. 

One of them sneered, taking a step toward you with his weapon aimed at your stomach. He ran a hand down your cheek. 

“Oh, we’re not here for you, beautiful.” He pressed his gun against your soft skin. “Too bad though. I would have loved to have a chance to soften you up for the madman.”

“Leave her alone,” Aramis said, getting to his feet. 

One of the other men kicked him back down, landing a blow to his leg and then his stomach once he was back on the ground. 

Aramis groaned. 

“Stop it,” you cried, jumping forward to try and intervene. 

The blonde man with you caught you around the waist, holding you there while the other two continued to beat on the poor musketeer until blood dripped from his mouth and his breathing turned ragged. 

The whimper fell from your lips before you really even understood why. “Aramis.” It almost felt like a prayer. 

Whatever feeling had overtaken you in that moment gave you enough strength to break away from your captor, snatching his weapon in the process. You forced him back with a powerful shove. 

“What in the-” He started, but the loud shot from his own weapon- and the bullet through his chest- silenced him. 

Aramis took the moment of shock on his comrade's faces to cease his painful performance and swing his legs into theirs, knocking them both off their feet before they could turn their attentions and their weapons to you. 

“Someone will have heard that,” he said. 

“Then we better act quickly.” You grabbed the sword off the belt of the man you shot.

Aramis took both from the men on the ground. 

You exchanged a look and ran out of the cell, taking the first turn you found and cutting down two more guards as you went.

“You know,” Aramis said, catching his breath, “we make a decent pair, you and I.”

You snorted. “They hit you too hard, soldier.”

He chuckled and continued down the corridor, leading the two of you into some kind of cellar, but not one for wine.

“My God,” you gasped, hand lifting to your lips in shock.

Before you laid the remains of at least half a dozen more women. The smell alone made your stomach turn.

“Monster,” Aramis muttered, eyes widening with every bloody sight. 

The strangled women were just the beginning. Butchery was his real interest. 

You swallowed back bile. “We need to get to Treville.”

Aramis simply nodded. Something inside of him snapped. He clenched his fists. 

You noticed the tension in his back. 

“We need to go.” When he didn’t move, you took his hand. “We’ll send someone to give them a proper burial,” you said. “But we can’t do that if we’re dead, Aramis.” 

He nodded again. Aramis let you lead him out of that horrible room. 

With his hand in yours, you felt as though the darkness in this house couldn’t reach you. This man who had infuriated you just hours earlier now filled you with the courage you needed to keep walking after seeing those poor women lying there. 

You ducked into a smaller corridor to let a group of servants go by and to let Aramis rest. You could tell that his head injury still troubled him and you couldn’t have him fainting on you in the middle of a fight. 

“We have our evidence now,” he said darkly. He shifted, his body brushing against yours with every move, every breath. 

Having him pressed so close to you, you held your breath, afraid that if his skin brushed yours, you’d break completely.

“That could have been me,” you whispered, some of your panic from before seeping into your tone. 

Aramis lifted a hand to your cheek. “We’re going to stop him.” 

Perhaps it was the intensity of the moment or the terror of facing such a violent death that drew you to him. Or maybe it was just his eyes. 

Aramis leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead. 

And you let him. 

You couldn’t remember you’d felt a man’s lips when you weren’t trying to draw information from them. 

“We could find the exit,” he suggested. “Find Treville and bring him here to arrest the lord and lady.”

You looked at each other, knowing both of your answers without having to say anything. 

The two of you took off down the hallway to arrest the Augustins yourselves.

- 

The manor house felt more like a small castle the more you made your way down twisting corridors and endless stairs. With every careful step, Aramis was right behind you, stolen guns at the ready in case you ran into the villains. 

Having always worked alone, you expected to feel more uncomfortable with him there. It was far more difficult to sneak two people around, but his presence provided more assistance than irritation. The idea of being in this place alone made your skin crawl. 

“You there!” Someone shouted. 

It was definitely harder to sneak two people around. 

“It’s that musketeer!” Another guard shouted. “Get him!”

“You seem to be quite popular,” you muttered, whittling around and firing a shot into the chest of one of the incoming thugs. 

“What can I say?” Aramis shot another. “I have that effect.” 

You laughed, surprised by the light sound that came from you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d truly laughed. Either his arrogance was growing on you or you were more rattled than you thought. Perhaps a mix of both. 

The two of you stood back to back, fighting off more guards as they ran towards you from both sides of the hall. 

“He has more guards than the king,” you exasperated. 

“But not better ones.” He expertly disarmed his opponent, using the man’s sword to run him through. 

“We’ll have to hurry. Lord and Lady Augustine will try to escape.” You took down another, clearing a path for the two of you to reach the upper chambers of the house. Grabbing Aramis by the arm you pulled him into a room with a heavy wooden door. 

“We won’t be able to hold them off for long,” he said, pushing a heavy-looking table in front of the entrance. 

You stared out in front of you. “We won’t have to.” 

Aramis whipped around, finding the two owners of the house standing before you in front of a large dining room table. 

“How nice of you to join us,” Lord Augustine said. He pulled out a chair. “I’ve heard so much about you mademoiselle.” His cold eyes shifted to the man beside you. “And you, musketeer.”

Aramis held out his sword. “Don’t come any closer.” 

“You’re in my house. I don’t think it’s polite to give me any orders.” Augustine stepped towards you. “Such a fine neck…”

You shuddered. 

Aramis put his arm in front of you. “I’m arresting you in the name of the king for the murder of at least a dozen French women.” 

“We won’t be going anywhere,” Lady Augustine said. She pointed a pistol at your head over his shoulder. “Now drop your sword, musketeer, or I’ll be forced to cut this evening short. 

Aramis lowered his voice. “I need you to reach into my trousers.”

“What?”

“There is a pistol tucked in my waistband that they failed to take away.”

“Why didn’t you use it before?” You hissed.

Lord and Lady Augustine exchanged confused and irritated looks. 

“I’ve been saving it for something like this.” Honestly, in the chaos of the evening, he’d half forgotten it was there. He shifted closer to you to make it easier. “Just grab it.” 

“You are a strange man,” you muttered. Keeping an eye on the woman aiming a weapon at you, your hand traveled across and down Aramis’ back.

He did his best not to shiver at your touch, liking it far too much given the situation. 

“Make one more move and I’ll blow your head off,” Lady Augustine threatened. 

“Now, now, there’s no need for that.” The Lord gave you a wide smile. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement. I’d hate for someone so fine to go to waste.”

“I’m going to enjoy this,” you growled. 

Aramis’ shoulders tensed. “Do you have it?”

In answer, you raised the hidden weapon and fired it under his arm. The bullet struck Lady Augustine in the chest, propelling her backward and making her pistol clatter to the table. 

Lord Augustine launched himself at Aramis, swinging a knife wildly, his cool exterior replaced by a rapid monster. His ferocity took Aramis by surprise, almost failing to deflect his first attack. 

The two of them locked in battle and even in his weakened state, Aramis kept him at bay. But Lord Augustine’s fury was hard to combat. He knocked Aramis’ sword out of his hand and raised his own blade for a final strike. 

A great shot rang through the room.

Aramis turned to find you clutching Lady Augustine’s pistol in your hands. 

“For the women of Paris,” you muttered, letting the weapon fall from your exhausted grip. 

-

Everything moved fairly quickly from there. Augustine’s guards were arrested for aiding him, the bodies from the basement were removed to be properly buried, and Treville was furious that Aramis went against him but could hardly say anything about the results. 

But for all of the good that came out of it, Aramis hated every second for he was being hailed as the singular hero who solved the case and brought the killers to justice. You were left to the shadows of isolation and secrecy. 

He hadn’t even been allowed to see you since the soldiers had arrived at the manor. It pained him more than he could explain. Being apart from you felt like being kicked as he had in the cell- over and over until all he could feel was the ache. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Porthos asked, snapping his friend out of his trance. “Is that Augustine still bothering you?” He took the seat across from Aramis, shaking his head. “I’m just glad you shot the bastard. Men like that always have a way of escaping justice at a trial.”

Aramis opened his mouth to object, to announce that he hadn’t defeated the monster, that he’d almost been killed himself had it not been for the woman he couldn't get off his mind. But he felt Treville watching him from his office balcony and kept quiet.

“Aramis!” The Captain called down to him. He motioned for him to come with him and vanished behind his door. 

“Must be in trouble,” Porthos muttered teasingly. 

Aramis didn’t laugh. 

He trudged up the steps with the memory of Augustine’s threats toward you playing on his mind. Aramis pushed through the door feeling weighed down by all of the events and emotions plaguing him for the last several days. 

“You look like hell,” Treville sighed, leaning over his desk with a look of concern. “Come in. Sit.” 

Aramis did as he was told without any of his usual banter or clever remarks. 

Treville ran a hand down his face. “Have you mentioned the woman you worked with to anyone?” 

Aramis shook his head. 

“Good.” Treville took a seat. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed, Y/N’s anonymity is imperative to her position with us. If anyone were to find out who she was or that she worked for me, it could put her in grave danger.”

“I understand.” 

“However,” Treville blew out a breath, “since neither of you seem to be able to stop moping about it.” He waved to someone in the corner of the room. 

You stepped forward. 

Aramis jumped up out of his seat, eyes widening. “Y/N.”

“Hello Aramis,” you smiled. 

For a man you’d wanted to shoot the first time you met him, the urge to run into his arms nearly overtook you. 

Treville cleared his throat. 

“I will give you two a moment to speak.” He eyed Aramis on the last word. “I can’t stand watching both of you sulk about anymore.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said quietly. 

Aramis bowed slightly as the captain left. 

The two of you turned back to each other. 

And closed the space between you. 

Aramis wrapped his arms around you, holding you as tight as he had when he held you in that horrible cell. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in his presence even as it broke down the wall you’d spent years building around yourself. 

“I wasn’t sure what happened to you,” he said. “I knew that you were alright, but I haven’t been able to stop worrying.”

You pulled away to look into those eyes that had been in your dreams every night since you saw them first. 

“I was concerned that perhaps your injuries were worse than you let on,” you laughed lightly. “But I’m sure you’ve encountered worse.”

“I can handle a bump on the head, I assure you,” Aramis smiled. 

“I’m glad that the king’s finest can handle themselves.” You playfully poked his chest. “Even if they occasionally require a woman to rescue them.”

“I believe I rescued you first.” 

You raised a brow. “Whatever helps your precious musketeer ego.” 

Aramis chuckled, raising a hand to your cheek. 

You leaned into his touch.

The two of you drew closer. 

Abruptly, you pushed away. Your feet paced in front of the captain’s desk, trying to put distance between you and the man before you. 

“What are we doing?” You exclaimed, running your fingers through your hair. “A week ago, I never would have thought twice about an assignment, but you have changed everything for me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Aramis wondered, taking a slow step toward you. 

“You don’t understand, Aramis. I’m not like you.” Your heart, usually cold and guarded, was breaking as you spoke. “I don’t live in the day and the battles and the light. I live in the secrets of this city. I am a shadow. I’m not real.”

“You are.” He closed the space again, putting his hands on your arms. “You are real.” 

“I am a lie,” you cried, shaking your head. “The things that I have to do… the depths to which I have had to sink in order to accomplish a mission… I could never ask you to live with that.”

“I don’t care about any of it.” He lifted his hand to your face again, running a thumb along your bottom lip. “Even if these lips speak lies, I know that there is truth in your heart.” He looked into your eyes. “And I know that you feel what I feel, otherwise you wouldn’t have come back to me.” 

“Aramis-” You blinked back desperate tears. He was right, of course. You couldn't remember the last time you’d felt like this. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt.

Now it was you who closed the air between you, catching his lips with yours, finally letting yourself be true. 

-

“And the rest is history,” Aramis beamed, kissing you as if it was for the first time. 

The three men before you sat in awed silence. Porthos even looked to be on the verge of tears.

“That’s a beautiful story,” he said, clearing his throat to keep his emotions in check. 

“Well, it was until the captain found out.” You winced at the memory. 

Needless to say, Treville was far from thrilled that his top spy was seeing one of his more ostentatious soldiers. Things especially got messy when Porthos found out, followed by Athos. And now D’Artagnan.

“So what happened after that?” D’Artagnan wondered. “The two of you don’t exactly have a lot of time in between assignments, I imagine.”

Aramis shrugged. “I spent every minute I could with her. And with every minute, I fell more and more in love.” 

“And what of the, um,” D’Artagnan cleared his throat, “more delicate parts of her work?” 

Aramis shot him a look. 

“We deal with it,” you said, pouring everyone more wine. “I do what I have to to protect this city and its people, just like the rest of you.”

“And she’s damn fine at her job.” Aramis kissed her cheek. “I can’t count all of the plots that have been defeated because of her courage and cunning.” 

You glanced at him. 

He cleared his throat. “Not that I know about any of the ones I’m definitely not supposed to know about.”

You rolled your eyes, rustled his hair, and pulled him in for another kiss. 

“I’m glad she’s on our side,” Athos said, giving you a smirk. 

“Here here,” Porthos cheered. 

The five of you clinked your cups together. 

It was a long and winding path that brought you here and an even longer one laid before you. But with these men to walk it beside you, with your loving husband to hold your hand along the way, it was a path you were more than happy to walk.