#d'artagnan x reader

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Little Fall of Rain

D’Artagnan x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 2897

Summary: The youngest musketeer learns the harshness of the job when the woman he loves makes a tragic sacrifice. 

Notes: I couldn’t not make a Les Mis inspired imagine for this boy. I know they aren't from the same time period, but a British show in Paris… come on. Plus, it’s my favorite musical and I wanted to make myself sad by combining them. 

Warnings: Violence, angst (if you know the song, you know)

Find more Musketeers: HERE

-

Shoved and set aside, you’d had enough of chivalry for the day. You weren’t going to sit idly by as the village you grew up in was attacked. Woman or not, you could fight just as well as the men before you. For heaven’s sake, they were the ones to train you. 

“D’Artagnan,” you huffed. “Give me a weapon.” 

He hardly even glanced in your direction. “Stay where you’re hidden. We’ll have them overtaken soon enough.” 

You both glanced out at the swarming band of ruffians heading your way. They had guns and plenty of them. 

“D’Artagnan,” you said again, firmly in a tone he couldn’t ignore. He glanced over at you. You held out your hand. “Give. Me. A. Weapon.” 

He took a deep breath, looked again at the invading group, and nodded. The young musketeer plucked one of his pistols from his belt and handed it over to you. Though his heart ached for you to flee to safety, he knew they could use all of the hands they could get, especially ones as capable as yours. 

“Just…” He sighed. “Stay low, please?” 

“I will if you will,” you snapped back, a small teasing smile creeping onto your face despite the circumstances. D’Artagnan helped you atop the makeshift rampart. His hand lingered on your waist, holding you close to him. It made your skin alight and your breathing hitch. In a different place and different time, you would have let him hold you there until neither of you could stand anymore. 

“Get down!” Aramis shouted just before a new round of shots popped over your heads. 

Porthos growled. “How many of them could there be?” 

The musketeer’s marksmen sighed woefully. “Enough.” 

“Have we sent all of the women and children to safety?” You asked, the gunshots still ringing in your ears. 

“Almost all of them,” D’Artagnan muttered. You glared. 

“Y/N, what are you still doing here?” Aramis’s wide eyes peeked around the younger man and landed on the weapon in your hands. 

“I will not sit by while the place I grew up in is destroyed.” You held your head high and set your shoulders back. Aramis looked from you to D’Artagnan, back to you, and shrugged. 

“Try your best not to miss,” he said with a slight wink in his eye. 

“Don’t worry,” you nearly breathed a sigh of relief. “I won’t.” 

D’Artagnan glowered, but made no other protests. He did, however, keep his hand close to your arm, ready to pull you from danger. 

You took a deep breath, narrowed your sights on a quick movement behind one of the trees, took aim, and fired. The assailant slumped over, unmoving. An excited laugh puffed from your lips. 

Aramis raised an impressed brow. Even D’Artagnan couldn’t help but smile. The moment was brief, however, with another round of shots interrupting your small victory. A bullet whirled past your ear. D’Artagnan yanked you down, pulling you to his chest. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked, a hand on your cheek. 

“No, no I’m alright.” 

Porthos grinned over at you. “I guess they aren’t as good a shot as our fair lady, eh?” 

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” you breathed, popping back up to fire a newly reloaded shot into the chest of one of the attackers. As his body fell, the forms of his comrades disappeared into the trees. You turned to Athos. “Are they retreating?” 

The musketeer peered into the foliage skeptically. “Or planning a different means of attack.” 

Regardless, the break in the chaos was enough to allow the men to reload and regroup to discuss the plans going forward. The baker you grew up visiting every morning worked with the blacksmith your father once took on as an apprentice. A farmer whose daughter you treated as a sister. Every face held a memory. 

D’Artagnan followed your gaze around the village wall. Your eyes glittered with familiarity and nostalgia. He found himself unable to keep from smiling. 

“This seems like a lovely place to grow up,” he noted, drawing your attention back to him. 

You beamed. “It was. The people are kind and wonderful.” You breathed in the fresh meadow air. “It’s always quiet.” 

“Why did you leave?” D’Artagnan asked. The way he smirked at you made your heart flutter. 

“It’s always quiet,” you laughed. 

“Ah,” he chuckled, the sound lighting something in your chest. “And you’ve never been one for the quiet.” 

“A woman after my own heart,” Aramis chimed in, passing by to check everyone’s supply of powder and bullets. 

“Exactly,” D’Artagnan said. He nudged you teasingly. “Neither of you knows when to keep your mouths shut.” 

Your jaw dropped. Aramis raised a brow. You turned to the other musketeer with a false scowl of offense. 

“Permission to hit him?” 

“Permission granted.” Aramis tilted his hat and continued down the line. You slammed your hand against D’Artagnan’s chest, eliciting a quiet ‘oof’ from his lips and a look of playful betrayal from his eyes. 

“I should give you the silent treatment for a comment like that,” you huffed, still snickering. “See how you like it then.” 

He smiled. “You know I could never bear a world of your silence,” D’Artagnan said. His smile turned mischievous. “An hour or two, though…”

You smacked him again and this time, he caught your hand, bringing it to his lips. How you wished to press his lips to yours instead. What an inconvenient time to remember your feelings for the young musketeer. As if you needed reminding. 

You hastily pulled your hand away. D’Artagnan pondered your sudden change for a moment, not understanding what he’d done to make you uncomfortable. After all, the two of you often teased each other like this. Of course, on his part, it was due to the feelings he’d harbored for you for as long as you’d known each other. Perhaps the notion of his affection repulsed you. 

“Y/N?” He said. 

“We should ready ourselves.” Your jaw tensed with your now indifferent words. “They could be back at any moment.” 

He nodded, disheartened. “Good idea.” 

A silence fell over the men. The trees stood in a mocking quiet, without movement or any indication of the attackers within. Porthos stared over the clearing with narrowed eyes. 

“I don’t like this,” he muttered. “Where have they gone?” Everyone looked warily at the seemingly empty forest, but you turned and looked at the village. Buildings blocked most of your view. 

“Hold my legs and don’t let me fall,” you instructed, using D’Artagnan’s shoulder to lift yourself up onto the wall. All four musketeers reached to pull you back down.

“What are you doing?” D’Artagnan hissed. “Do you want to make it easier for them?”

“They aren’t there anymore.” You peered over the roofs of the buildings you’d known since you were a child, searching for any weakness, any spot they might be able to break through. There, at the other end of the village, was the barn beside the lake where the women and children of the village were hiding. And gliding across the water were boats that held the enemy. 

“The barn!” You shouted, jumping down. You likely would have lost your balance if D’Artagnan hadn’t caught you. “They’re going after the others!” 

One group stayed behind while the rest charged toward the barn with you right along with them. You arrived just as the group of mercenaries and thieves came to shore. Shots and swords clashing took over your world, casting everything into chaos. You lost sight of Athos first, then Aramis, but D’Artagnan never left your side. 

An attacker saw you and sneered, lifting his sword to strike while you were distracted by another. D’Artagnan ran him through in one, swift motion. 

The size of the attacking party began to dwindle. The more men died, the more others started to retreat back to their boats. Others surrendered completely. Still, a fair number fought on, crossing their swords with your waiting blade. You lost count of how many you cut down in your path to get to the barn where the woman and children of the village waited. 

Few remained now as Porthos tossed one man over his shoulder, throwing him back to the ground with enough force you heard bones crack. D’Artagnan struggled with his own opponent, almost losing his footing in the mud. Out of the corner of your eye, you just caught the flash of the barrel now aimed at the heart of the man you loved. 

“No!” 

Your hand flew out in front of you and latched onto the burning metal, yanking it back and away from its former mark.

The shot rang through the air, along with a single breathy gasp, and the dying cry of the man D’Artagnan had been engaged with as he plunged his sword into his chest. He turned to you, smiling. 

“We’ve got them,” he cheered. His moment of excitement, however, quickly faded. 

“D’Artagnan…” His name left your lips like a plea. You took a step forward and stumbled into his waiting arms. 

It started to rain. 

-

“Is he watching?”

D’Artagnan rolled his eyes. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” you smirked, “I want him to witness your defeat.” You brought your smaller sword up, clashing it with his. The motion took him by surprise long enough for you to strike again. Above you, Treville leaned on the rail outside of his office, observing the practice. 

“You don’t have to keep proving yourself, you know,” D’Artagnan said. “He already let you stay.” 

“I don’t just want to train with you,” you scoffed. “I want to become one of you, D’Artagnan, which is not a simple task for a woman.” 

“You seem to be fairing alright.” He advanced now, making several blows which you blocked expertly. 

But you were too focused on his weapon to realize he was backing you into the stairs. Instead of taking a step up, your foot caught on the wooden plank. You toppled backward and felt the heat of embarrassment rise in your cheeks. 

D’Artagnan stuck his sword into the step beside you, leaning on it with a coy smile. “Best two out of three?” 

“Y/N! D’Artagnan!” Treville called from overhead. You raised your eyes to meet him, more shame burning on your face. He smiled. “Try not to wear each other out.” The captain chuckled and gave you an approving nod. “I’m afraid you might be too much for him to handle.” 

D’Artagnan’s jaw dropped in mock offense and Treville went back into his quarters. 

“I think he was watching a different duel,” D’Artagnan huffed, though you could see a smile on his lips. He held out his hand.

“Or he just knows talent when he sees it.” 

You let him pull you to your feet, pulling you close to his chest. Your faces were inches apart and, for a moment, you thought he might kiss you. For a moment, you wanted him to. 

D’Artagnan had been the first to welcome you into their group of noble, if not raucous, soldiers. He’d swiftly become your best friend and had just as quickly made his way into your heart. 

Unbeknownst to you, his heart was just as enraptured. Every waking moment, he wanted to spend by your side. You consumed every thought when you weren’t with him and you set every nerve on fire when you were near. 

D’Artagnan leaned, wanting nothing more than to confess his feelings for you at that moment by pressing his lips to yours… but stopped himself. 

“Treville is right,” he said. “We should call it a night.” And just like that, he pulled away, leaving a cold, empty space between you. 

-

He tried to cover it, to stop the red seeping from your shirt, but it was everywhere. He pressed his hand to the wound and felt the hot crimson against his palm. You cried out from the sharp pressure and he tried to soothe you with his other hand on your cheek. 

“You’re okay,” he said, panic lacing his voice. He looked up, the man who’d shot you stood over him with his blade ready to strike. 

An expert shot took him before he could bring the weapon down on D’Artagnan’s skull. 

The youngest musketeer searched the field.

“Aramis!” He cried. “Help me!” 

“It’s okay,” you muttered weakly. You somehow managed a smile. “It doesn’t hurt.” 

“Aramis, do something!” His scream rang through the now-empty battlefield as his friend rushed to your side. 

“Are-” You sucked in a breath as Aramis replaced D’Artagnan’s hands with his own. “Are the women and children alright? Did any of those brutes make it inside?”

Aramis shook his head, giving you a reassuring smile. “They’re all fine, thanks to you. If you hadn’t caught them as soon as you did, I’m sure there would have been more casualties. You saved lives today.” 

“Then it’s all worth it.” 

D’Artagnan took your hand. “Don’t talk like that.” He cast a desperate look at his friend. 

Aramis shook his head with a heavy heart and sorrow in his eyes. D’Artagnan reached over you, grabbing him by the lapel. 

“There must be something you can do,” he pleaded. 

“You have no idea how much I wish there was.” Aramis felt your heart weaken beneath his hands. He leaned over and kissed your forehead, muttering a prayer against your lips. Aramis lifted his eyes back to D’Artagnan. “Tell her.” 

D’Artagnan paled. “What?” 

Aramis stared daggers at him, not in anger, but in desperation. “This is your last chance, D’Artagnan.” He laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, keeping one holding yours. He brought the two of your hands together and, though slicked with your blood, it sent sparks through your fingertips. “You will regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t.” 

He gave you a final, affectionate smile, though the look in his eyes was nothing short of mournful. Porthos and Athos stood to the side with the same looks upon their faces. 

“Look, D’Artagnan,” you said, holding out a weak hand to the moisture in the air. “Isn’t the rain lovely?” 

“Yes, it is,” He winced as though it pained him to speak. He still pressed against your wound in a vain attempt to stop the blood pouring out of your chest. He expected you to cry out from the pressure, to jerk away or beg him to stop, but you merely looked up at the sky with a glossy kind of wonder. 

“I am glad,” you breathed, “to have felt it one last time.” 

D’Artagnan held back a sob. 

“Please don’t go.” He pulled you closer to him. Aramis was right. He had to say it. “I love you.”

Your eyes found his again, though they were fading quickly. 

“And I you,” you smiled. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he cried. “I love you. If I could close your wound with these words, I would. I love you. Please.” He held you so closely now it should have hurt. It didn’t. It was wonderful. 

Your hand slipped from your side and landed amongst the grass and the budding plants. A wildflower had begun to bloom. 

“The rain, D’Artagnan…” With the last of your strength, you plucked the flower from its root and brought it to him. “The rain makes flowers grow.” 

Your hand, and the blossom, fell for the final time. 

“...Y/N?” D’Artagnan held your face and searched your eyes for something. Anything. But their blank, lifelessness reflected only the darkened sky. “Please, God, no.” 

He couldn’t tell where the rain ended and his tears began. 

“I love you.” He repeated it again and again as if the chant could breathe into your lungs and force your heart to beat again. 

No one knew how long he knelt there with you pulled tight against his chest, his tears wetting your already rain-soaked hair. But eventually, the clouds parted and the sun returned. The final drops from the sky landed on your lips and he kissed you goodbye. 

-

The entire village came to pay their respects at your grave. Aramis, Porthos, and Athos all worked on preparing the burial before sundown. Words of thanks and sorrow filled the air between the villagers and the four men. They came and went, many having to repair the damages to their homes that the thieves have caused. 

D’Artagnan stayed by your side, even after you were placed and covered with earth. He remained after the others prepared the horses, though none moved to rush him. He moved only once to a small grove of white and yellow blossoms. 

He picked a small but lovely bouquet and set it upon the mound of dirt where you took your final rest. 

Then, he turned to the three men waiting for him. Aramis stepped forward first, taking him in his arms with a brotherly embrace, his own grief clear on his face. The others joined, putting their arms around D’Artagnan’s shoulders to remind him they were there and they always would be. 

The four men left the village, but it remained in their hearts and minds for the rest of their lives. D’Artagnan thought of you often and, eventually, it gladdened his heart to be reminded of you- your smile, your persistence, your beautiful, loving heart- every time spring rains brought a new, colorful wave of flowers.

[dreamerinthesun]

Song I associate with musketeers x reader (+ Anne, Captain Treville and Louis)

D'artagnan - Favourite crime

Aramis - Middle of the Night

Porthos - Line without a hook

Athos - War of Hearts

Captain Treville - So this is Love (from "Cinderella")

King Louis - Bubblegum Bitch

Queen Anne - Dandelions

[chiaraanatra]

Expecting the Worst (D'Artagnan)

Request: Hey can you do another D'Artagnan Imagine where the female reader and him are married and she figures out she’s pregnant but when she goes to tell him she sees him with Constance, and she runs away right into milady and the cardinal, and you can decide the ending. - Anon

Warnings: Kidnapping, pregnant reader, angst, series-appropriate violence, guns, swords, fluffy ending.

Word Count: 3k

AN: This was a LOT longer than I anticipated. I don’t know what came over me and I’m not sorry about it! Thank you for the request! I am not sure if this was what you were looking for, but I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you enjoy it!

《  m.list  ||  ao3  》

Porthos knew something was off about you. He took notice of the number of times you would run into the hotel of the Garrison to “freshen up” and the change in your eating habits, detesting what were once your favorite foods, only to replace them with odd concoctions. God did not intend for fish and raspberry jam to mix. After observing your odd behaviors for a few days, he decided to confront you.

 He decided today was as good a time as any, D'Artagnan was out with the other two famed musketeers. He walked to the hotel you shared with your husband within the garrison’s walls. He gently knocked on the door frame so as to not surprise you. When he heard nothing in return, he decided to invite himself in, only to find you hunched over the sink holding a damp rag to your face. “Hey. Are you alright?” There was concern in his voice as he walked across the room to where you stood.

 You jumped ever so slightly when you heard the familiar voice of Porthos. “I’m fine,” you dismissed. You turned to face him, but your gaze did not meet his own.

 “I’ve known you for a long time Y/N, you are like a sister to me. I can tell when something is off.” He placed his large hand gently on your shoulder trying to get a read on your face, “so are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

You wanted to dismiss the curly-haired man in front of you, however, before you could stop yourself the words came rushing out. “I... I’m Pregnant! I’ve known for about a week, and I haven’t told D'Artagnan yet. I’ve wanted to tell everyone bu-” your ramblings were cut off by the tall man hugging you tightly, being cautious of your stomach which still wasn’t showing any signs of the life growing inside it. When he finally broke the hug, you could see the wide smile that had formed on his bronzed face, you couldn’t help the small smile that formed on your lips.

Porthos had gotten so caught up in his excitement that your words had only just registered. “You haven’t told D'Artagnan yet?” He looked at you with curiosity. No doubt the child was D’Artagnan’s, anyone with eyes could see how devoted you were to your husband. However, Porthos couldn’t rack his brain for a reason as to why you had yet to tell your loving husband.

 “I’ve only known for about a week… I’ve wanted to tell him; I want to tell everyone but…” You could feel a small lump form in your throat. You knew what it meant to marry into this ‘family,’ what it meant to marry a Musketeer. But soon it would no longer be only you who had to fear that one day your husband would not return home. You could feel the sting of tears prickle your eyes. The last thing you wanted was to get emotional, but the thought of losing not only your husband but the father of your child arose so much fear within you.

Porthos opened his arms, welcoming you into a comforting embrace. “You have to tell him,” he says in a low but comforting tone as he rests his chin on the top of your head.

“I know…” you let out a soft sigh. “I’ll tell him when he returns tonight.” You took a step back from the taller man’s embrace, giving him a soft smile.

 Porthos gave you a wide grin before spouting off about how he’s always wanted to be an uncle and all of the things he wanted to teach your child.

Meanwhile, at the palace, two individuals were plotting against the King…

 “I must say this is quite a brilliant plan, your Eminence. However, how do you plan on dealing with the Musketeers during all of this?” Milady de Winter waltzed around the Cardinal’s chambers, her fluid movements adding to her graceful yet deadly demeanor.

“We simply distract them using something of great importance.” The Cardinal’s lips turned upward into a cruel grin. Though her expression was unwavering, and she would never admit it out loud, the Cardinal was a terrifying man.

“Something tells me you have an object in mind, your Eminence.”

“Indeed, I do.” With that the Cardinal divulged his plan to the Milady, setting in motion a scheme to attempt once again to take the King’s thrown.

The sun was just beginning to set, and you knew D’Artagnan, and the others would be returning soon. After your discussion with Porthos, you could feel yourself growing excited to divulge the happy news to your husband.

You heard the commotion of the men’s return. You walked out of your hotel only to be met with the sight of all but D'Artagnan. You hurried into the courtyard, feeling a small pit grow in your stomach. You saw Athos just as he was dismounting his horse. You approached him with a concerned look. A smirk came across his face, “you can calm your worried look, he’s fine. He got stopped outside the gate. He should be in shortly.” You could feel your worries melt away at the man’s words and you walked out towards the gates of the Garrison.

As you walked out onto the quiet street you looked around for your beloved. Just as you turned the corner you saw the tall brunette; however, he was not alone. Standing next to him you saw the beautiful red hair of Constance Bonacieux. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the familiar sting of tears once again. You couldn’t help but mentally beat yourself up. You loved Constance, she was a great friend to you and the others, she stood by you at your wedding for Christ’s sake. However, your emotions were running ramped, and you couldn’t bare the sight of seeing your beloved so close to another woman. You turned on your heels deciding you needed a walk to steady your emotions. You turned the corner before feeling arms around you and a cloth over your mouth and nose. Before you could do anything to defend yourself or cry out for help, everything went black.

Porthos saw D'Artagnan walk through the gates of the Garrison with a smile on his face. The larger man quickly walked over to his returning comrade. “Congratulations!” Porthos’ deep voice rang out as he gave D'Artagnan a brotherly embrace. He looked around, only to notice that you were not standing beside the fourth Musketeer, “where is Y/N?”

“Congratulations? What are you talking about? And I was about to go see her,” He pointed towards the hotel that the two of you shared, a confused look falling on his face.

“You mean she didn’t greet you outside the gate?” Porthos looked over his friend’s shoulder.

“No, I think I would have noticed,” D'Artagnan shifted his view to the gate and then back to Porthos, noticing the worried look on the man’s face. “Porthos, what’s going on?”

When you awoke your head reeled and the stone floor was cool against your skin. As you came to you tried to pull yourself up, only to notice that your hands and feet were bound. You successfully maneuvered yourself into a sitting position. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you attempted to make out your surroundings. What happened? Where am I?

“Awake now, are we?” You looked at the unknown man before you. He looked like he had never bathed before in his life and had a menacing look on his face.

“What do you want from me? If it’s money you should look for another woma-.” Before you could finish, he had risen from the crate he had been sitting on. He was leaning over you, one of his hands was placed roughly on your chin, positioning you so that you were looking up at him. He smelled of alcohol

A wicked grin had revealed itself, “I’m afraid you are involved in a much bigger game than you realize.”

You attempted to shake off his hand, but his grip remained solid, “I’m not frightened of you.”

“Your uncommonly brave for a woman.” His tone felt sarcastic, but you remained surprisingly steady.

“Untie these ropes and I’ll show you what a woman can do.

“Know something?” he crouched down getting his face even closer to your own. “I am going to thoroughly enjoy killing you in a few short hours. Let’s see who’s brave then.”

You watched as the man turned away. You noticed a young girl swaying as she stood, with a half-empty bottle of wine in her hand. She couldn’t have been older the 16, and she already looked inebriated. “Don’t take your eyes off her!” The girl smiled lazily, kissing the man’s cheek before watching him walk out the door.

Tears once more threatened to fall against your soft cheeks; however, you refused to let them fall. No, we will be having none of that, you commanded to yourself. You had lived in the Garrison long enough to learn that the world was a dangerous place, it was because of that danger that you were adamant that the boys teach you how to defend yourself. Some were more supportive than others but after much persuasion, they had given in. Because of your advocacy for yourself D’Artagnan taught you how to shoot, Athos taught you your way around a sword, Porthos taught you how to handle yourself in hand-to-hand combat, and Aramis taught you medical skills that would help both you and your boys.

Nothing in the room stood out to you, all you could make out in the dim candlelight was a door and a few old glass bottles contained within wooden crates.

You once again took in your surroundings. You did not know who was behind your kidnapping, nor did you understand his motives, just how truthful his threats were, or when they would be back.

“A respectable woman doesn’t disappear in broad daylight!” Porthos’ anger was covering the worry he truly felt. He and Aramis sat around a table in Tréville’s hotel. Athos and D’Artagnan had gone out to see if he could gather any information.

“No, but the wife of a musketeer might…” Aramis said with a furrowed brow.

The door to the office flew open revealing an angered D’Artagnan next to an only slightly calmer Athos. “It’s Milady and the Cardinal. We’re not sure why they have Y/N, but we have a feeling it’s to distract us from a much larger plan.”

“We have to find her, Athos.” The three men could see that D’Artagnan was barely holding it together. He couldn’t imagine what he would do if anything happened to you. His mind couldn’t help but fall to the idea that you may be hurt, and it was all because of him.

Aramis stood up and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “We’ll find her.” Porthos remained seated, a pit forming in his stomach as he kept his mouth shut. The men devised a plan that they hoped would stop Milady and the Cardinal, while also returning you home safely.

The four men had Milady cornered. Athos had his pistol pulled, aiming for the dark-haired woman’s heart. She couldn’t help but smile, “shoot me and D’Artagnan will never see his precious wife again.”

D’Artagnan began walking quickly towards her, “where is she? If you hurt her, I’ll kill you!” Before he could get too close Aramis and Porthos had pulled him back.

Oh, the love of a newlywed husband. Remember when that was us?” She glanced at Athos, his stare and pistol were unwavering. “I warned you, Athos. I will have my final reckoning.”

She began to step away from the four, “I will be waiting with her in the Rue Saint Jacques in one hour. I will expect only the four of you to show.” She turned back towards Athos, “this is your doing Athos and when she dies, her blood will be on your hands.”

The girl in front of you was passed out on the cold floor. Left with few options, you figured now was as good a time as any to attempt an escape. You began to work on the knots that bound your feet together, slowly getting up once your legs were successfully untied. You walked towards the sleeping girl. You crouched down close to her, holding your breath as you slowly removed the key that was held around her neck. She stirred slightly but remained asleep. You carefully walked towards the door, the key resting in your bound hands.

Before you had a chance to open the door it flew open revealing the flawless face of Milady de Winter. Taken aback by your presents at the door he hit you, causing you to stumble backward into the wall. “God, I swear, Sarazin. Must I do everything myself?” She sent a cold stare down to you. “Get her up and watch her closely. I will not have you messing this up for me.”

With that, the man you now knew to be Sarazin was now pointing his pistol at your head. “Time to get going, love.” Your head pounded and you felt disoriented for lack of food and water. At this point you felt it was best to do as Milady and Sarazin told you, hoping that it would ensure your safety and that of your unborn child.

You were led to the Rue Saint Jacques. Sarazin’s pistol was held close to your back. He pushed you back, so you were looking at Milady. “Soon they will come for you, and this will all be over.” A devious smile graced her face as she spoke.

You stood firm, not showing an ounce of fear, “musketeers don’t die easily. If I were you, Milady, I would run now.” You were quickly dragged away by Sarazin.

The man dragged you into an open corridor of Rue Saint Jacques. “Don’t move,” he spat, digging his pistol into your back. “You move you die.”

You took in the setting that surrounded you. You saw as men lined the rooftops with loaded muskets and others hid behind buildings with pistols and swords, reading to take on and kill anything that came through. The church bells tolled as you were left standing in the middle of what was sure to become a warzone.

Saw two horses pulling a covered cart. You took a sharp inhale before hearing several shots firing

“Y/N! Get down now!” You heard the familiar voice of your husband shout

You moved your hands to cover your ears but refused to move for fear that Sarazin would shoot you.

“Get over here!” You felt Sarazin grab you, shoving his pistol against your ribs. You let out a sharp gasp as he dragged you behind a building for some semblance of shelter. Gunfire and explosions continued to rain around you only to be followed by swords clashing together. Sarazin moved you both away from the shelter. His pistol was steadied in the crook of your neck. You saw you D’Artagnan move closer to where Sarazin had you held. The pistol that was resting on your shoulder was now pointed at your head as Sarazin used your body as cover.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as your husband pointed his pistol at you. Your breath caught in your throat. Before you could register exactly what was happening Sarazin’s grip on you was released as he griped his arm in pain. “Y/N! Run!”

Without thinking twice, you ran from the corridor. As you made your way through you were greeted by the shining pistol of Milady pointed straight at you.

As the gunfire secedes, you heard the footsteps of the four Musketeers. Milady’s arm gripped you and tightened as she pointed her pistol at your head. The four men stopped in their tracks as they laid their eyes on the two of you. “One more step and she dies.”

“Stop this, Anne.” Athos walked slowly towards you and Milady. “You’ve hurt enough people.

You could feel her hands waver as the man approached. She quickly shifted her pistol to point at Athos. “You dare talk to me about hurt?” You could feel the arm that was holding you begin to tremble. This would be your only chance.

You pushed up on the arm that held her pistol forward before ducking and running to your husband. His arms held you tightly as you ran your fingers through his silky brunette locks. “I’m so sorry...”

“You have no reason to be sorry.” He held your face in his hands, gently thumbing away the tears that fell onto your rosy cheeks.

You looked into his eyes and guilt made its home in your chest. “I’m pregnant…”

“What...” His brow furrowed slightly in confusion

I should have told you, but I didn’t know how. And I was going to tell you when you returned but then I saw you talking with Constance, and I don’t know what came over me and I just I’m sor-“ your ramblings were quickly cut off by D’Artagnan’s soft lips on yours. You could feel a smile forming on his lips. He broke away ever so slightly.

“I’m going to be a father?” you nodded, giving him a small smile. He pulled you impossibly close to him, raising you gently off the ground. He could not fathom how overjoyed he was at the thought of you baring his child, you the true love of his life.

The men had decided to let Milady go, banishing her from Paris for, what you all hoped would be, for good.

The five of you walked back towards the Garrison, with you and your husband leading as the other three trailed behind. D’Artagnan’s arm was snacked around your waist as the two of you discussed your unborn child.

Porthos let out a soft sigh, a smile plastered on his face. Aramis took note of this. “You knew, didn’t you?” He leaned slightly closer to Porthos. “I thought you were being rather quiet upon our return.” The larger of the two men couldn’t help but let out a deep laugh as the five continued on their venture home.

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

[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.

♦️ ♦️ ♦️ ♦️

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Lazy Sunday morning

Pairing | Boyfriend!Robert Downey Jr. x Girlfriend!Fem!Reader

Word count | 1K

Summary | Sunday mornings with your boyfriend and two cats are always something you look forward to after a long, hard week at work. From lots of cuddles to a delicious breakfast, Robert always makes you feel special, and you happily relax and allow yourself to be pampered by all three.

Rating | Teen (T)

Warning(s) | Established relationship ~ boyfriend/girlfriend, use of nickname ~ Gorgeous, unspecified age gap.

A/n | I want to thank @ccbsrmsf1 for bringing the fact that Robert owns two of the most adorable cats to my attention; it has only made me love him more, in all honesty! I hope you will enjoy my post-midnight thoughts and ramblings, and I cannot thank you enough for proofreading this! Você é um anjo e eu te amo 🩵

Banners: @vase-of-lilies | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: @ccbsrmsf1

Main Masterlist | Robert Downey Jr. Masterlist | Read on AO3

You look forward to Sunday mornings every week because being a lawyer representing celebrities during all sorts of cases is challenging. It's not that you don't love it, because you do, but you also need some time to yourself, and you have each Sunday entirely to yourself, and you often spend it with your boyfriend, Robert.

The two of you recently moved in together, and it's good that both of your cats - Montgomery and D'Artagnan - also get along. Montgomery has been with you since he was a little kitten, and D'Artagnan was adopted by Robert later in life.

Ever since you started to spend more and more time at Robert's house, your cat has come with you each time, slowly adjusting to his new house. Robert has fallen head over heels in love with your little black devil, and you haven't left since.

However, your first matter on Sunday morning is not your cats but your alone time with your boyfriend. These moments alone are more and more spread out lately, so you exchange many small kisses, soft touches, and sweet words.

''Mornin' Gorgeous,'' Roberts says with his gravelly morning voice against your neck as he gently pulls you against his chest. You two are only separated by the shirt you're wearing, which is three or four sizes too big, seeing that it's Robert's shirt.

''Good morning,'' you say with a soft giggle as Roberts's long fingers softly massage your belly, and you enjoy the soft kisses on your neck, along with the scruff tickling where he places them.

''I can never get enough of waking up next to you on these glorious Sunday mornings. They're the highlight of my week, you know that?'' he asks you, and you confirm that you feel the same way.

''Same; I honestly don't think I want to leave the bed today,'' you tell him before turning around in his hold, now facing him. You kiss his nose before he captures your lips, molding them with yours and ultimately taking your breath away.

Your hand glides over his chest, enjoying his chest hair, and as you slide lower with your nails, you feel every ridge of his muscle flex at the feeling of your touch.

''Hey, stop tickling me, or you won't be making it out of bed today,'' he jokes, and after one more kiss, he lets his hand wander from your thigh under the back of his shirt, cupping one of your butt cheeks and squeezing playfully.

Your hand eventually finds it’s home in his hair, letting your fingers glide through the strands as you look into each other's eyes.

''I can't wait to call you my wife one day, Gorgeous. You will make a beautiful bride and a gorgeous wife as well. And not to mention, when you're pregnant and carrying my baby, you'll be the hottest baby mama this earth has ever seen!'' he tells you with a big smile. Starting a family has always been one of his biggest dreams, and ever since he met you, he has been dreaming of doing just that.

''I want that too, Robert. Growing old with you, our boys, and future kids? There's nothing else I could ever wish for,'' you tell him, and even though he's quite a few years older than you are, this has never been an issue for either of you. You love each other, and being with him is like a dream.

The two of you stay like this for thirty minutes, whispering sweet words, letting your hands wander and your lips touch every inch of skin you can reach. Until one of your boys finally wants some attention, he isn't afraid to let you know.

After a fourth loud meow from Montgomery, Robert gets up, and you can't help but sneak a peek at your boyfriend as he walks over to the bedroom door. His light grey, tight sweatpants are hanging low on his hips, the curves of his butt and bulge perfectly visible, and his happy trail, muscled abs, and broad chest and shoulders are on full display.

''I can feel you staring, Gorgeous. I would say you should stop, but you know I like it too much when you look at me like that,'' he jokes before opening the door, a deep blush covering your cheeks as you've been caught ogling him.

When the bedroom door swings open, your cats sprint into the room and onto the bed, ready for attention and cuddling. Montgomery is curled up on your belly, enjoying his head scratches while purring loudly in contentment. D'Artagnan is stretched on your side, enjoying your company, while Robert finds his place on your other side, making the cuddle fest complete.

''I don't think I will ever get enough of this,'' you tell him, and Robert wholeheartedly agrees. His arm is draped over you to scratch D'Artagnan, too, giving everyone as much physical attention as possible.

It isn't until your stomach starts to rumble loudly that you finally decide to move out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen, where the cats enjoy their breakfast while you're enjoying looking at Robert as he prepares pancakes.

The muscles on his back flex and relax now and again, and you can't get enough of looking at his broad shoulders, wanting to do nothing more than scratch them as he makes you fall apart, but for now, you'll happily settle for waiting on breakfast.

''Here you go, Gorgeous; when these are gone, we can spend the entire day on the couch. How does that sound?''

''Like the perfect Sunday,'' you tell him, and after one last kiss, you eat your pancakes, savoring every last bite. You will never forget moments like these, and you secretly let your mind wander to what it would be like with a little one or two running around, too.

''A penny for your thoughts?'' Robert asks as he sits beside you, and you smile at him as he looks at you expectantly. Little does he know what you're thinking of, though, at the same time, you don't have a single clue he is about to go on the hunt for the perfect engagement ring, wanting to savor these moments for the rest of his life.

''I love you, Robert.'' ''And I love you more, Gorgeous.''

[bullet-prooflove]

War: Athos x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @incorrect-mcdanno @fandomhype @sherberrrt @sekretwindow @@sweetpeaswife @keyweegirlie @@anele-anomis  @caffeinatedwoman @thebejeweledwatercat @jessevans @swanfan17 @burningpeachpuppy @@lit-swallow aisling1985 duck2005 missflutterlhamaa littleone65 grlmac sassyscottishchick @whistlesdowns

Companion piece to: Old Wives' Tale & Lavender

You follow Athos to war, the same way you did your first husband Phillipe. Athos has never intended that for you. Marrying you was a romantic notion, the idiocy of a man so passionately in love that he thought the world could not touch him. Now he’s a captain, commanding his men into battle and you’re practising field surgery well into the night.

He had begged you not to come when he’d received his orders but you are a woman of duty, to her country, to her husband. That is why he loves you, that is why he hates himself.

He is in pain when he returns to the tent the two of you share, overwrought and emotionally encumbered. It’s the perk of being an officer, he has shelter while his men sleep on bedrolls underneath the stars. He’s wise enough not to trust that you can be left untended at night, war does horrific things to men, it twists them into unrecognisable creatures. If he cannot be here D'Artagnan or Porthos makes their presence known, it’s enough to scare off any man who shows too much of an interest.

You see how ruined he is when he closes the flap of the tent behind him, he sees it in you too. Day after day you comfort soldiers crying out for their mothers, you attempt to heal their wounds, sooth away their fears and every day you lose. He’s so tired, he can barely stand, barely undress but he shoos you away when you try to help because he doesn’t want the horrors of war to stain you anymore than it already has.

“I did not want this for you.” He whispers against your lips as he lays beside you in bed, his thumb chasing over the apple of your cheek. “I did not want any of this for you.”

Love Athos? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[randomfandomimagine]

Hello friend! I recently finished reading your series Love Above All, which was amazing 🤩 and I was wondering if you would be interested still in writing for the Musketeers? If so, could I have a prompt for D’Artagnan with #9 “Close your eyes” and #14 “We have to be quiet” w/ fluffy reader insert goodness? Thank youuu!! And if you’re just not feelin it, don’t worry abt it :) just wanted to ask anyway, and I hope you’re having a lovely day 💗

Omg, hi!! I’m so happy that you liked Love Above All, I feel like that series is not getting much attention because TMITIM is not a popular fandom. Anyway, thank you so much! I’m still willing to write for the Musketeers, but I preferred to do this with BBC Musketeers if you don’t mind (since they are much older in the movie). Hope you enjoy it!!

D’Artagnan x Gender Neutral Reader

_

You were calmly walking around when you felt a hand tugging at your wrist. When you turned around you saw him, and the alarm and concern gave room to the relief and amusement. He appeared out of nowhere, with the wind in his air.

“D’Artagnan!” You exclaimed in surprise, still allowing him to take you with him away from the crowd.

“Shh...” He put a finger against his lips, which were curled up in a smile. “I’m a wanted man”

“I feared as much” You went along with his joke, causing him to smile even wider as you chuckled. “Porthos was looking for you”

“You’ve run into him, have you?” With a nod of your head, his playfulness was replaced by a mild exhaustion. “They are training non-stop”

“I thought you loved training” You teased, smirking and leaning on him in an attempt to cheer him up. 

“Yes, but I love you even more” Taking your hand in his, he brought it to his lips and left a gentle kiss against your knuckles that nearly made you swoon. “Close your eyes”

“What?” You laughed, surprised by his sudden petition.

“Close your eyes” He impatiently repeated, although his smile returned. “I’d like to give you something” 

With a feigned exasperated sigh, you did as he asked. D’Artagnan took your hand and turned it so your palm faced up. Once it was, something was placed on it. Something small and light.

“This is for you” He lovingly whispered, which you took as an invitation to open your eyes. “I want you to have it, to remind you of me” 

“Aw” You cooed as soon as you saw the ring in your palm, that he didn’t lose a second to delicately put around your finger. “As if I needed something to make me think of you”

That was enough to encourage him. Bearing a mischievous grin, he wrapped his arms around your waist and gently pushed you against the closest wall. You giggled as he attacked your lips, claiming those kisses that he had been dying to give you.

“We have to be quiet” He reminded you, speaking against your mouth. “You’ll discover me, and if they find me...”

You clumsily kissed back as you fought to keep your laughter at bay. He nuzzled your cheek, letting you hold on to him as his hands squeezed your hips and brought you closer to him.

“You started it, you scoundrel” To reinforce your teasing tone, you kissed him in the cheek. “It is not polite to-”

“There he is!” Aramis’ voice echoed around the streets. “With Y/N!”

“It is my doom” He grinned as he looked over his shoulder to his friends. “I must go”

The three musketeers pointed and shouted at him, but D’Artagnan made to escape their oh so terribly training away from you once more. You laughed as he kissed you in the cheek one last time before vanishing as quickly as he had appeared.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn / @suenami3 // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[multi-fandom-daddies]

Can you do D and A from naughty and G and W from wise for D'artagnan? Please and thank you!!

W: Wedding Night (Consummating the marriage)

It almost seemed like it was never going to happen. What with the Musketeers and their daring adventures. D’artagnan had almost missed the ceremony. But he made it last minute, scraped and bruised but he was there. He couldn’t have looked more handsome in his uniform and beautiful eyes full of love for you.

After the celebrations, D’artagnan had pulled you to your room. Your room. Yours and D’artagnan. It was still so strange to think that what was his was yours, and what was yours was his. As soon as that door closed, D’artagnan lay you down on the bed, covering you with kisses as he slowly undid your wedding dress. Every inch of your skin that was revealed would be worshipped by him. D’artagnan would want you to know you meant the world to him. That he loved you more than anything.

He would make love to you all through the night. He couldn’t get enough of you. As you would come together, D’artagnan would link your fingers, wanting to be as close as possible to you. To always be connected to you. When it was finally daylight, D’artagnan and you would curl up, ready for sleep and ready to enjoy the rest of your married life together.

G: Gentle (Describe gentle/loving mid-sex gestures)

D’artagnan always makes sure you’re comfortable, no matter if you’re participating in some rough sex. He’ll stop mid-way through, cupping your face and making sure that you are still okay. He wants you to know that you are safe with him, and that he’d never be angry if all you wanted was to stop and cuddle instead. He’ll run his fingers through your hair and pepper your jaw with kisses, tickling your sides until you’re giggling with him.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Afterwards, he’ll make sure to get you all cleaned up. He’d have some water heating up by the fire and would wash you. When you were all comfortable, he would bring you into his arms, whispering how much he loved you, how perfect and beautiful you are. How you were the only one for him and that he was so lucky to have you. When you were falling asleep, D’artagnan would trace patterns on your skin before kissing you sweetly and falling to sleep himself.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I’m not sure if this is much a secret, but D’artagnan loves his partner to take control. When they’re on top and pinning him down, using him for their own pleasure. He can’t get enough of it.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Only Natural

Fandom: BBC Musketeers

Pairing: D’Artagnan x Reader

Warning: Miscommunication, tiny bit of angst

Writer: @imaginesofeveryfandom aka @thequeenofthehobbits

Summary/Request: Requested by anon:  Hello! If you have the time, could I please request a reader x D'Artagnan where the reader works for the Musketeers and has grown up with d'artagnan and loves him. But she started to distance herself because she thinks he loves Constance and one day D'artagnan confronts her about it. Thank youuu 💙

Note: This is the second attempt because tumblr managed to mess up and the first attempt ended up getting deleted thanks to technical errors. 

It was only natural that when D’Artagnan started spending more time with Constance you assumed he was in love with her. It was only natural for someone to fall in love with such a lovely person and it was only natural that you would push your feelings aside in order to allow him and Constance the opportunity to fall in love and be together...you cared about the both. 

That, however, didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt to watch the man you’d loved since adolescence slowly fall in love (or what you perceived to be falling in love) with another person. But he was your friend first and if Constance made him happy then you’d simply watch and let it happen without intervening. 

The truth was that the assumptions you made were rather wrong and your decision to take a step back and see D’Artagnan less and less didn’t go unnoticed. He noticed, of course he noticed. You both had been friends since childhood, came to Paris together, always saw each other when you could and so he noticed when you weren’t around, he noticed that you seemed to spend more time with other people and give him a quick hello here and there. It was only natural that he’d seek you out and demand answers. 

He found your at your house or rather it was a room you paid to rent above the living area of another family. It wasn’t much but it was what you could afford and it was home, small and a little ramshackle but home nonetheless. 

“Y/N...” You looked up from your sewing, a hole in one of your outfits that needed mending before it got worse. Necessity was the best teacher you’d always found. 

You didn’t expect to see D’Artagnan perhaps because you thought he’d be with Constance, but before all this it was normal for him to show up at your house unannounced. “D’Artagnan? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you...I need a reason to do that now?” You could easily tell that he wasn’t happy, that he was upset with you. You hadn’t realised just how much you’d distanced yourself and could feel guilt welling in the pit of your stomach.  

“No! Of course not, I just thought...” You put your sewing down on the table and stood, walking around and closer to him. After such distance it was so strange to be close to him.

“Thought what?” 

“I just thought that you would want to spend more time with Constance. You’re my best friend...I know how you feel about her.” It seemed so clear to you that he was interested in courting her, they spent so much time together and she made him smile so much. 

You didn’t expect for him to start laughing. “What? What’s so funny?” You were utterly and completely confused and it was incredibly frustrating to watch him laugh at you for seemingly no reason. 

“You think I have feelings for Constance?” You nod, utterly confused as to where he’s going. “She’s my friend. Y/N, after over a decade if you can’t see that i’m hopelessly in love with you then when will you ever?” 

It takes you a few moments to process what he is saying. He’s grinning as the realisation fills your face and the shyness comes over you because you’re starting to understand that what you thought was only natural was completely not what was happening and that every assumption you’d made was completely and utterly wrong. That the feelings you’d held since adolescence were returned. 

“You love me?”

“I do.” You stand there for a few moments, fiddling with your fingers, unsure what you should say. 

“I love you too...” 

D’Artagnan smiles at you, a smile that’s so awfully familiar, before drawing you into an embrace. It’s a familiar one as well and you realise that it was only natural for you both to end where you have when everything with him is so natural, so normal, so familiar.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

En Garde

D’Artagnan x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 949

Summary: A simple day of training with the man who’s stolen your heart.

Notes: I just thought the scenes where D’Artagnan trains Constance are so damn cute and I really wanted to write something with it because I’m obsessed with this show. I have longer pieces in the works, so I hope you guys enjoy! 

More Musketeer Imagines coming soon: HERE

-

His hands steadied you, holding you at the waist and keeping your position balanced. Warm breath tingled your ear. His lips couldn’t have been a whisper away from your lips. In any other situation, it would have detracted your focus. Here, though, it helped to clear your mind and keep your eye on the target before you. 

“Now fire,” D’Artagnan whispered. 

You pulled the trigger of the pistol and your arm jerked back. The glass bottle in front of you shattered, its clattering demolition accompanying the ring of your weapon and your squeal of excitement. 

“I did it!” You cheered, throwing your arms around your handsome teacher. 

“Careful, love,” he said, removing the pistol from your hand so you were no longer accidentally pointing it at the back of his leg. “I can’t help you practice if you blow my ankle off.” 

Your smile turned sheepish, but even that couldn’t curb your enthusiasm. D’Artagnan smiled proudly and pulled you back into his arms. Despite the protests that might be made regarding him spending so much time with an unmarried woman- and teaching her fighting skills at that- it was worth any odd look just to see you beaming like you were. 

“Perhaps we should call it a day,” D’Artagnan noted, looking up at the sky where the sun hovered just above the horizon. 

“But you’ve been gone for days and you promised to help me practice my riposte,” you whined. Before he could make any objection to the late hour, you tugged slightly on the collar of his leather coat and pouted your lips just so. 

“Now that’s just not fair,” he said and covered your lips with his own in a kiss that signaled he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Should anyone else in Paris discover the Musketeer’s trainee had taken you on as a pupil of his own, there would be a terrific scandal. Should anyone in Paris also find out about your activities apart from the sword and pistol and you would be ruined. 

And yet, in his arms with his lips fervently pecking across your neck, you didn’t care in the slightest if the king himself objected to your actions. D’Artagnan smirked against your skin and his hands found your waist again, only this time it was to urge you toward the door. 

“Shall we take this inside?” He inquired, his words rumbling seductively along your collarbone. You ran a hand through his mane of dark hair, gently pulling his face upward. 

“Not until you’ve helped me practice, sir,” you smirked. 

Now it was his turn to pout. You gave him a definitive shake of the head and went to fetch your rapiers. 

“I propose a wager,” you began, your smirk growing into a mischievous smile. “If I disarm you, you must help me with my offensive tactics for the rest of the evening.” You tossed him his sword. 

D’Artagnan’s lips teased a grin and took a sweeping step forward, lifting his weapon at the ready. “And if I disarm you?” 

You brought up your sword level with his. “Then I suppose we can cut training short.”

“Deal,” he beamed. 

You lunged forward, striking his weapon with your own. The sharp clang rang through the field. Metal upon metal rapidly filled your head as you tried to focus on his movements. He was skilled, trained by the finest men in the king’s regiment, all of whom were aware of your involvement. Athos was hesitant at first, but upon seeing your promise, he didn’t see the harm in your learning. Porthos congratulated your spirit. And Aramis had been the one to encourage it, of course, always one to follow his heart himself. 

D’Artagnan advanced, the flurry of his blows pushing you back. He landed a hit, sliding the blade across yours and inching his face closer to yours. 

“There is no harm in surrender, darling.” 

“I was going to tell you the same thing.” You shoved him back and returned to your own series of attacks. 

This continued for a few more minutes, filled with D’Artagnan’s teasing cheers and your frustrated groans as he maintained the upper hand. Finally, D’Artagnan twisted his wrist, making your weapon jerk in your hand. 

“W-wait,” you whimpered, holding your wrist with a pained expression. 

D’Artagnan’s smugness morphed into guilt and worry. 

“I’m sorry, my love,” he fussed, moving to examine your arm. “I must have gotten carried away. Are you hurt?” 

With your hand still clutching your rapier, you elbowed him in the chest and dove for his weapon. He guffawed and the moment of surprise gave you enough time to swipe his sword out of his hand. 

You turned swiftly, pointing both blades at your stupefied lover. 

D’Artagnan frowned. “That’s cheating.” 

“It’s not my fault you fell for it,” you giggled. Despite your victory, his upset puppy-dog eyes sent a pang through your heart. 

“I thought I hurt you,” he muttered, holding out his hand for his sword. 

“You’re too sweet for your own good.” You returned the weapon to its owner and kissed his cheek. “But I’m sorry for worrying you.” He turned his head and pressed his lips to yours to say you were forgiven. You pulled back with a sparkle in your eyes. “How about this; we practice for one more hour, and then…” You trailed off. 

“That,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, “wasn’t our deal, darling.” 

You pecked him on the lips once more before pulling away and returning to a fighting stance. 

“I’m a gracious winner,” you shrugged. 

“Very well.” He matched your position with a raised brow. This time, he was the first to move. A wide grin spread across his face. “Begin.” 

[dreamerinthesun]

Honey & Sore throat

A/N: husband!Jean Treville x reader (well you'll get the idea)

for @rose-edith sorry it took me so long😭 i hope you'll like it

if you have any request feel free to send them in! i will try my best to write them!

"Ugh!" From the moment you woke up, you realised this was going to be a tough day, if even not one of the worst. Your head was pouding awfully and it wasn't enough, you could barely feel your throat! Maybe dancing and singing all night yesterday was a bad idea, but in your defense, you had to celebrate the good news of D'Artagnan's earned comission somehow! What didn't helped at all was the open window which was one of your husband's habits after waking up early in the morning. You understood why he did that, fresh air in the morning was always a great idea but this morning you only wanted to scold the Captain of Musketeers for being so inconsiderate of your well-being. Your body was telling you to go make yourself a cup of hot tea from the dried herbs you kept in the kitchen but your mind was refusing to get out of the bed and loose its warmth. "Well, look who's awake. Good morning my dear" You were so caught up in your own thoughts about what your next move would be that you didn't noticed your dear husband standing in the doorway to your shared room. By his facial expression you could read in his face that he was a bit amused at your state which you didn't found happy and cute at all. "Mhm..." The hum of your response made Jean only chuckle under his breath as he joined you on your side of bed, taking in how you looked. Despite your hair being a slight mess and your nose looking a pinker than usual he still thought you were absolutely breathtaking and couldn't believe his eyes. "How are you feeling?" "How do you think I'm feeling? I'm feeling great " 'Ah, that's the sarcasm I'm used to' , thought Jean to himself. Whether he admitted it or not he found you even more feisty and snarky self when you were feeling sick bit adorable. As almost everything about you. "I will bring you some tea, you look a little pale. Please stay in bed or you'll catch something worse", he spoke in a soft yet demanding tone. He really wasn't fan of idea you walking and taking care of everything around when you were obviously sick. "I'm fine. I'll just drink tea and everything will get better" "We both know that's not true..." "Fine, I will stay in bed" It sounded like you didn't even wanted to stay in bed but on the other hand you knew Jean Treville was one stubborn man when it came to taking care of you. "But close the window" "Yeah, I will..." Pressing a single kiss onto your forehead he stood up walking over to the window closing it and making sure no one piece of wind went through he then walked out of the door to make you the tea you were promised.

Once the hot mug filled with water, herbs and some honey was in the man's hand he was slowly walking over to the room you were staying in, careful to not spill any of the tea either on him or on the ground because ending up with burn hand himself wasn't any of the close plans on Jean's mind. Grabbing you also your favorite book on the way to the room he was secretly hoping this was all enough for you to keep you inside the room for the day. "One tea with honey coming!" He called out to you when he walked past the doors smiling at the sight of you. The duvet covered up your whole body while you were under there, enjoying the warmth which was provided by the bed. "Here's your tea with honey, but careful, it's hot so leave it there for a few minutes to cool. And here's book to keep you company. Or would you prefer Aramis's presence instead?" With all honesty, Jean wasn't very much happy with the idea of Aramis spending the day in your room. Not that he was afraid of Aramis hitting on you, he was pretty aware of how close you two were, but he would prefer for his musketeer to focus on his job rather than fooling around and doing nothing. So he was quite satisfied with the shook of head you gave him as he smiled, his moustache lifting up slightly. "The honey should help you with the sore throat and do no tell me you don't have it because I heard you singing previous night!" He remarked with small laugh, memories of the celebration running through his head before he made sure you had everything. "If you would want anything else, call out to me, I will be in my office anyway" He spoke up again, mentally groaning at the idea of much paperwork as he didn't notice you were silent the whole time, watching him. When he finally did and he turned his head to look at you, he took notice of the mischief shining in your eyes as you sneaked your arm around his waist. You didn't even had to say anything and he knew it was your plan to get him spend the day with you. "I have to go darling, the paperwork won't do it itself" Jean remarked quickly jumping up from the bed and almost running to his office. The scene caused you to laugh as you just shook your head, getting comfortable under the duvets again while you continued to come up with plan how to get your husband to cuddle in bed with you for the rest of the day.

[shooting-stars-library]

So how dead is the Musketeers fandom...

and would anyone be interested if I started writing for the show?

I’m gonna write about it anyway because I need more Athos Musketeers content but I’m curious to see if anyone else would be interested.

Edit: I am very glad to see y'all aren't dead 😃

Edit 2: Just so y'all know I really only write x reader fics because my writing is very self-indulgent sooooo yeah

[cas-kingdom]

Bells

A/N: As discussed with @eleniel221b​, I’ve switched the reader to my OC, Annabelle, who you can read more about on my ff.net account. This is set around season 1-2, obviously during Christmas. (I don’t think Christmas trees were a thing in the 1600s, but let’s pretend for the sake of this fic that they were! XD)

Title: Bells

Summary: The musketeers, with help from their little sister, decorate the Garrison in time for Christmas.

Words: 887

“Mon dieu…” Aramis’s hand went to his chin as soon as he walked into the Garrison’s courtyard, amazed eyes slowly scanning the place and trying to make sense of the many new attributions. There were glittered pinecones hanging from Treville’s balcony, twine adorning the fences, tiny bells attached to walls and ringing in the light breeze, and… he blinked, eyes growing wide, at the huge tree standing tall by the stable, completely dripping with bright decorations. He didn’t quite wish to know how that had gotten there.

“Aramis!” Aramis turned at the excited voice of his younger sister, raising a brow as she gestured to the tree. “Do you like it?”

He nodded slowly, trying to make his face a little less… surprised. “I… yes! Yes. I like it.” He reached his arms out towards it, trying to find more words, but fell swiftly short. “What is it?” he eventually asked, propping a hand on his hip.

Annabelle rolled her eyes. “It’s a Christmas tree.”

The musketeer pursed his lips in thought. “It’s a very… questionable tree.”

It was at this moment that d’Artagnan, a handful of mistletoe in his arms, walked past, muttering a quiet, “just go with it, Aramis,” as he did so.

“Would you stop ringing those damn bells?” All heads in the courtyard – which Aramis had really only just realised were attached to bodies completely and utterly fixed on decorating the Garrison (as if it wasn’t decorated enough) – turned upwards at the sleep-deprived voice of Athos, who was standing outside his door, hair a mess and eyes narrowed in exhaustion.

Annabelle was undeterred, well used to Athos’s tired hollers, and everyone else seemed to be the same as they all turned back to their previous activities. She grinned widely. “Good morning to you too, Athos!”

He readied to respond, but leaned forward at the last minute, apparently clearing his vision enough to see what had been occurring all morning. “What have you done to the Garrison?” he asked, exhaustion laced in his tone, and Annabelle bounced on her toes.

“Decorated it!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s Christmas!”

Athos’s eyes slowly widened, and he stared at the girl, tilting his head slightly. “Is it?” The question came out a little panicked, and Aramis, moving to sit on the table, chuckled, shaking his head.

“Not today,” she called up, and Porthos bellowed out a laugh as he walked past, clapping the girl’s shoulder.

“Ah, come on, Athos!” he said. “You have to admit it all puts you in better spirits!”

Athos continued to stare for a while, standing stone still, before nonchalantly waving a hand and turning around. “I’m going back to bed.”

The sound of the door slamming caused an eruption of giggles as Annabelle moved to work again on her tree. Aramis watched, a fond smile on his face, and poured a warm drink from the jug Serge had left out. He reached for his hat, which he strangely noticed had been left on the table he was sat on, and placed it on his head, the sound of bells ringing in his ears yet again. It was nice to see his sister so invested in something. There she was, telling d’Artagnan where to hang the mistletoe – “over there, so Treville has to kiss anyone he calls to meet him!” – and running from Porthos when she threw a pinecone at his head, that childishness returning to him as it did everyone during Christmas.

He turned his head, frowning lightly at the bells in his ears again, and called Annabelle’s name, suggesting she put some in d’Artagnan and Constance’s room, too. Then the giggles had started again, and he’d grinned crazily and shaken his head, and the ringing had sounded in his ears, and he’d growled something incoherent, taken off the hat, and seen tiny bells attached to it.

“Annabelle,” he called, somewhat hesitant, and when Annabelle spun around, he lifted the hat and rose an eyebrow. The corners of her lips pulled coyly upwards and he rolled his eyes to the heavens before leaping off the table and rushing at her, lifting her, squealing, into his arms and digging his fingers into her sides.

“Aramis!” she laughed, batting at his hands. “Stohop it, bell-head!”

Her brother snorted, stopping his tickling in favour of bending over himself in laughter. “Did you attach bells to my hat for the pure intention of calling me that name?”

Annabelle, still residually laughing, tilted her head to stare up at him. “It was Porthos’s idea.”

And Porthos, who’d been half-lifting a cadet so he could somehow put a paper star at the top of the deformed tree, frowned darkly and pointed a finger at her, almost dropping the cadet in the process. “Say that again and I’ll come over and finish what he started!” he threatened, and Annabelle readied to retort back before a shout echoed throughout the courtyard.

“Why are there bells attached to my hat?”

Aramis lifted a brow, turning his expectant gaze down to his wide-eyed sister. “You didn’t do the same to Athos,” he said, posing it as a hopeful statement with the hint of an almost-anxious question.

The only response was a faint smirk, and Aramis rolled his eyes, pushing her away from him as the sound of heavy footsteps sounded from above. “I’d run.”

Musketeers Masterpost

December Writing Challenge Masterpost

[sweetsdeservedbetterthandis]

imagine all the musketeers being infatuated by you 

who are you gonna choose?

[bwemph]

When Now Gets Here

Pairing: Aramis x Reader

Summary: It’s been four years since you said goobye to Aramis, and moving on has been difficult. In the midst of a fast-paced and busy time at the orphanage, you meet again.

Word count: 2,200

Warnings: Fluff, implied smut

A/N: This is a fic from my old blog Purpleocity. All future fics will be posted here at bwemph :)

You smoothed the wool blanket you had just set in the bottom of your basket, smiling as Constance came around the corner with some vegetables and a small container of flour.

You breathed a sigh of relief, running a hand through your hair. “Thank you, Constance. You have no idea how much of a struggle it’s been to handle all the newcomers in the orphanage. And practically all the children are coming down with a sore throat and a cough. It’s been a nightmare.”

“It’s not the whooping cough, is it?” she asked, concern furrowing her brow. You shook your head, making Constance relax a little. “No, thankfully. Just a cold.” You held out the basket as she set in a few more things. She turned to a cupboard and retrieved a small jar.

“Here, take some honey to soothe their throats. Mix it with some peppermint tea and it works wonders.”

You smiled, closing and setting the basket aside for a moment. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” Constance shrugged with a humbled smile. You absentmindedly rubbed your forearm. “Any word from D’Artagnan?”

She shook her head. “I received a letter from him last week, but nothing since.” She waved the matter off. “What about you? Have you caught the eye of any dashing young men?”

You gave a breathless laugh. “Not yet. Well, actually–” You pursed your lips with a sigh, looking over Constance’s shoulder for a moment. “That’s a lie. A few have made advances, but,” you broke eye contact again, casting a glance at your feet, “I still haven’t really let go, you know?”

“I can imagine.” With an empathetic frown, Constance reached out and rubbed your arm, a comforting gesture.

You smiled a little, picking up your basket. “Don’t worry about it. Someone will show up sooner or later. Besides, with all the new children I’d hardly have any time to worry about a man.” You looked down at the basket which had been packed full of goods. “Thank you again, Constance. I wouldn’t be able to manage if it weren’t for you. Thank you so much.”

She gave your hand a little squeeze. “You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I will.”

“I mean anything, Y/n. I’m here for you.”

You nodded, your lips curling graciously. “I’ll probably turn up again soon.” “I look forward to it.” You hurried back to the orphanage before the sun had set, as it was already sinking on the horizon and you did not want to be caught on the streets alone at night. You opened and closed the orphanage door quietly in the event that any little ones were sleeping already. You glanced around in search of Catherine, the woman you ran the orphanage with and your closest friend, but you furrowed your brow when your comrade was nowhere to be found.

“Catherine?” you called out, setting the basket on a countertop.

A curly haired child came bouncing up, a smile lighting up her eyes. She clutched a small plush creature with long, carefully stitched ears that flopped to and fro as she approached you.

“What have you got, Marie?” you asked. You crouched down to the child’s eye level as she showed off her new toy.

“It’s a rabbit! The nuns came to visit and brought us toys!” She examined the rag doll and smiled brightly before hugging it close.

You smiled. “That was very kind of them. Did you say thank you?”

She nodded with a shy grin. “Yes.”

You ruffled the child’s hair. “Good girl. Does your rabbit have a name?”

She shook her head.

“He doesn’t have a name? Well he must have a name!” you exclaimed with a gentle surprise. You settled on the ground in the midst of a few scattered figurines and spinning tops, which were at rest now.

Marie shrugged. “I don’t know what to call him.” She examined the bunny again, smoothing its ear as she sat next to you.

You hummed. “Well, what are your favorite things about him?” Marie thought for a bit, giving the toy a gentle squeeze. “He’s nice, and he’s soft…and he’s fluffy.”

“What if you name him Fluffy?”

Marie thought long and hard about the title, nodding with approval as a grin grew on her face. “Okay!”

You gently shook the rabbit’s paw. “Hello, Monsieur Fluffy.”

Marie smiled brightly, hugging Fluffy close to her chest. A set of footsteps descended down the stairs. You glanced up as Catherine smiled at Marie, who was now introducing her rabbit to a wooden horse figurine.

“There you are,” you said, “I was beginning to wonder where you’d gone off to.” Catherine shrugged. “Just upstairs.” She seemed to fight back a smile. “Have you seen that book?”

“Which book?”

Catherine cleared her throat. “The one I lent you the other night.”

You thought for a moment, your mind running back through the week. You nodded when you recalled which book you had borrowed from your friend. “Oh, yes, it’s up in my room.”

“Would you mind getting it for me?”

You furrowed your brow and tilted your head a little. “Can’t you?”

Catherine hesitated, scooping up Antoine, the nearest child who was small enough to pick up. “Don’t you see I have my hands full at the moment?” Antoine looked about as confused as you did. “Catherine,” you stood, “what’s going on?”

“Just go upstairs, Y/n. I promise you won’t regret it.” Catherine winked, setting Antoine down. He scurried over to play with the spinning top.

Hesitantly, you ascended the stairs, glancing over your shoulder at Catherine, who grinned brightly. The staircase creaked as you reached the top. There was a moment of hesitation where you listened to a similar groan of the floorboards in your room before you opened the door. You were startled first, but utterly confused at the man sitting on the chest at the foot of your bed.

He flipped through a book, the one Catherine had lent you, in fact. He looked up at you and set it aside, standing and removing his hat. He lingered at the foot of your bed almost nervously.

“Aramis,” you breathed, first taking a few hesitant steps forward, then running up and throwing your arms around him.

He laughed. “Hello, darling.”

You squeezed him tightly and buried your face in his shoulder and breathed in the familiar smell of his leather coat. He wrapped his arms around your waist and embraced you. Silence hung in the air, but it was a sweet silence. Content filled both your hearts, joy radiating from either of your faces. He pulled away, but his hands remained on your waist as not to let you stray too far.

“What are you doing here?” You ran your hand down his arm and back up, a smile forming on your lips.

“The monk life didn’t suit me.”  

You laughed softly, mirroring his chuckle. “I can see that.” You hugged him tightly again in an effort to assure yourself that he was truly here. “You look better in leather anyway.” You felt his arms firm around your waist and his warm breath against your ear as he chuckled.

“I missed you,” he murmured with a soft peck to your cheek.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “I missed you too.”

He pulled back, his hand on the side of your face and his thumb gently stroking your cheek. He leaned in slowly, almost cautiously. You didn’t hesitate to close the remaining space between you. You sealed your lips enthusiastically to his, hands on either side of his face.

A familiar shot of adrenaline made your heart flutter at having Aramis so close. You practically melted into the kiss as he pressed himself to you in order to bring you closer if possible.

You broke away from each other, your hands wrapped in Aramis’s. You smiled brightly.

“Are you here to stay?”

He smiled. “I believe so.”

“Good.” You hugged him again, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. “I’d hate to see you leave again.”

He kissed your temple. “I won’t.” He rested his chin on top of your head. “I promise.”

You soaked up his embrace, taking his hand. “I wasn’t the only one who missed you. The children asked about you all the time after you left.”

“Aw, I’m flattered.” He winked. “I saw Marie. She’s grown so much,” Aramis observed with a fond look in his eye. He caressed your cheek.

You nodded. “She probably doesn’t even remember you,” you laughed. He smirked. “What a shame, I’m usually so memorable.”

You giggled, curling your fingers into the collar of his shirt and tugging him forward. You stopped just short of his lips. “I’ll say.”

“I do have a sort of charisma about me, don’t I?” he coaxed, eyes flickering to your lips. He eyed them hungrily.

You bit your lower lip, almost as if you were trying to further entice him. “Show me.” Next thing you knew, you were collapsed on the bed with Aramis hovering above you as you exchanged insatiate and sloppy kisses. Clothing was gone somewhere in between locking the door, crawling under the bedsheets and the fervency of your lips being sealed together impatiently.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he murmured between kisses, “I may be a bit rusty after four years.”

You laughed softly. “I doubt it.”

He kissed you again. The world melted away and all you felt were each other. A mixture of emotions and sensations rushed over the pair of you while things slowly escalated. The next moments, although fleeting, were worth the long wait, and wouldn’t soon be forgotten.

You rested your head on Aramis’s chest, your eyelids drooping slightly. He ran his fingertips along your arm, leaving tingles in their wake. You shifted a little, listening to his steady heartbeat.

“Well, you haven’t lost your touch.” You sighed, tracing one of the many scars on his chest.

He sighed as well, letting his hand rest at your shoulder, gripping it gently. “Neither have you, my dear,” he purred. You felt butterflies in your stomach as you let your eyes droop shut.

You synced your breathing with Aramis’s, but opened your eyes and pursed your lips as a feeling of subtle anxiety hit you. “What now?”

“‘What now’?” He hummed shortly as he thought. “We’re together again. We’ll figure out ‘what now’ when now gets here.”

Despite his comforting words, you still felt an unease rising in your chest. “No, I mean it’s been four years, Aramis.” You stopped tracing the scar for a moment, your finger still pressed gingerly to his chest. “Something has to have changed.”

He folded his arm under his head, his other hand remained on your shoulder. “Well I’ve spent those four years in a monastery with only children and old men, so hopefully that tells you how much change I’ve encountered.” He chuckled softly at himself, but something in him shifted. “Unless you’re saying something’s changed for you.” He evaded your eyes. “You moved on, didn’t you?”

“No,” you were quick to respond as you propped yourself up on an elbow to look him in the eye, “no, Aramis, how could I?” You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you. I love you so much. I didn’t think I would be able to let go.” You pressed another soft kiss to his lips, your hand going to his cheek. Hope sparked behind his eyes, a small smile forming on his lips. “Well then nothing’s changed, and it doesn’t have to.”

You bit your lip. “So we’ll just pick up where we left off?”

Aramis shrugged. “We’ll consider the last four years a detour.”

You smiled, kissing him yet again. “Deal.” You settled next to him, rolling on your side to face him. He mirrored your example. You noted his drooping eyelids and caressed his cheek, moving aside some stray hairs in the same movement. “You look tired.”

He closed his eyes and gave a small nod. “I am. It’s been a hell of a day.”

You ran your hand down his arm to lace your fingers with his. “Rest.”

He cracked an eye open, smiling a little. “Only if you do.” He pulled you closer with a peck to your forehead.

You sighed. “I have to go help get the children ready for bed,” you said as you began to push yourself from the bed.

His hand went to your waist in an instant. He locked eyes with you and grinned a little. “Catherine said you’d say that.” Aramis tugged you to move close to him again. “She also said to tell you she’s got it handled.”

You smiled at Catherine’s thoughtfulness. You snuggled up to Aramis’s chest, and he draped his arm over you. “I owe her one.”

He nuzzled your forehead. “Worry about it later.” He ran his hand slowly up and down your back. A pleasant silence lingered for a moment. “I love you.”

You smiled. “I love you too.”

“So, so much,” he finished for you.

A drowsy giggle slipped past your lips, your eyes closing again. “Yes.”