#the musketeers comfort imagine

[fandom-imagines-stories]

All For One

Musketeers Comfort Imagine

Words: 3525

Summary: In preparing for her trials to become a Musketeer, the reader’s anxiety begins to get the better of her. Luckily, she has the four best friends anyone could ask for. 

Notes: Another comfort imagine dealing with anxiety and burnout because *mental illness* I needed this haha. Thank you end of the semester struggles. Like my Pogues imagine, this doesn’t have any specific ships, but since Aramis and D’Artagnan are my favorites, I may or may not show a little bias. I also really wanted to capture the feeling of them riding off together at the end of the season because that’s one of my favorite parts of the show, so hopefully that came across. 

Find more Musketeers: HERE

-

They all knew something was off. Though it was early and most were still half asleep, exhausted by the night before’s activities, they saw with enough clarity to know that you were not yourself. 

You ate your breakfast swiftly- though, poking at your bread could hardly be considered eating- and in silence. You hardly responded to Aramis’s daily teasing, something that had become like a ritual for the two of you, or to Porthos’s suggestion of close combat training later in the day. Worst of all, your eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, though you kept them downcast to try and hide them. 

Once you’d hurried off, the four men at the table exchanged worried looks. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Porthos asked. 

“Nerves maybe,” D’Artagnan observed. “She’s going before Treville next week. I know I was terrified when it was my turn to prove myself.” 

“And especially difficult for her,” Aramis added. He gazed after you and shook his head. “But there’s something else. I don’t think it’s just nerves.” The way you’d looked at him just moments before, with eyes both pleading and yet… empty. It worried him. “We should do something.” 

“I don’t think that would be wise,” Athos said. He stood from the table and put on his hat. “We should let her come to us. If we try to force her, well-” he blew out a breath. “We all know how that’s gone in the past.” 

The other three nodded mournfully. 

It was odd. You were one of the more open of the group, but all of them could agree, when something was truly and deeply wrong, you always tried to keep it to yourself, though none could understand why. 

“We can’t just leave her like that,” D’Artagnan said. “There must be something we can do.”

“Just be patient,” Athos nodded. “She knows we’re here for her.” 

Does she? Aramis couldn’t help but think. While they’d made it clear that you were a part of their group and they all cared for you very deeply, he’d picked up hints that you didn’t quite believe it. Whether or not this was just your mind playing tricks on you, he was determined to show it to you. He turned to the others and a wordless understanding passed between them. They nodded, all feeling the same as he did. 

They’d make sure you knew you were one of them, even if they spent all day proving it. 

-

You started the day with close combat, asking Porthos to help as usual, since he was the very best. You hoped the physicalness of the exercise would help wake up your tired senses and give your on-edge body something to fight. Your limbs pleaded for a distraction from their tension while your head desperately tried to focus. 

How could you be so exhausted and so unstable at the same time? 

“You sure you’re ready?” Porthos asked. When he’d agreed to train, he hadn’t noticed just how tense you were. You paced in front of him like a street cat afraid of its own shadow. While he never used the full of his strength when sparring with you, he feared more than usual he might hurt you if this were to go on. 

“I’m always ready,” you said with a little more venom than you’d intended. He narrowed his eyes and you ignored the concern you could see in his gaze. “I don’t have all day, let us begin.” You ran at him before he could object. 

Porthos braced for your first hit- a punch toward his shoulder and counter-attacked with a swing at your legs. You jumped and kicked his knee while propelling yourself upward for another hit to his chest, launching away from the impact. You both fell back into the dirt but were on your feet in seconds. 

Porthos raised a brow. “Alright, love. That’s how we’re playing it.” 

You took a deep breath and went again. 

The fight was fiercer than you’d ever done before. Porthos seemed to struggle to keep up with you. He may have his strength, but your agility proved vital. At one point, you were able to climb onto his back, arm around his neck. Your body locked up and all you could focus on was the pounding of adrenaline in your head. 

“Y/N!” Athos shouted. 

The other three rushed over to the two of you and you suddenly realized that Porthos had hit his knees and was smacking at your legs to let him go. You gasped and jumped off of him. 

“Porthos, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t even realize- are you hurt?” You stammered. 

He coughed, breathing in with deep, hurried breaths to take in as much air as he could. Aramis knelt in front of him, dark eyes flicking over to you with more questions than you gave him time to ask. 

You brushed off and tried to hide the rising panic in your voice as it squeezed at your chest. “Guess I got carried away, huh?” 

“Only a little,” Porthos wheezed. 

You feigned a smile, turning to Athos. “I’ll go easier on you later, I promise.” It was meant to be a jest, but neither of you laughed. 

With your body locking up again, you got away before any of them could see the weakness threatening to overtake you. Once out of view, your fist flew, striking the wall and scraping your knuckles. 

“I wouldn’t give her a weapon,” Porthos shuddered as Aramis helped him to his feet. 

“She doesn’t seem like she’s going to take no for an answer,” Athos said. 

Aramis sighed. “This is worse than I thought.” 

“I’ll say,” Porthos grunted. 

“She needs to get out of here.” D’Artagnan stared after you with a pained expression. “All of this practice is getting to her. She’s pushed herself too far.” He swung his sword in front of him in frustration. “But how do we get her to take a break? She’s far too stubborn and worried about Treville.”

The four of them pondered this problem for a moment, eventually hearing you start up again, practicing with your sword with barely a minute’s rest. 

“I’ll talk to her,” Aramis sighed. “The three of you come up with something.” 

“And how do you propose we do that?” Athos asked. 

Aramis shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” 

-

You loaded the musket with relative ease, but he could see how your hands were shaking. Of all of the skills you had to master before facing Treville’s scrutiny, your marksmanship was by far your weakest, despite Aramis assuring you otherwise. Why else would he have suggested you practice it now, rather than after your duel with D’Artagnan and Athos? He didn’t believe you were good enough, you could feel it. 

“Take a deep breath and relax your body just like I showed you,” he instructed. 

“I know, I know,” you said. 

Aramis stood behind you as you aimed at an empty wine bottle at the other end of the field. He wasn’t used to you being so closed off to him. In truth, he’d brought you out here with the hope of helping you clear your head, but he seemed to only have made it worse. At least this way, you weren’t directly aiming a weapon at anyone. Given what happened with you and Porthos, he doubted giving you a sword would end well for anyone. 

“Alright, ready?” He stepped just enough into your line of vision. 

You ignored him and took the shot. 

The bottle remained standing, mocking you from afar. 

“Damn,” you muttered, already loading the musket again before he could say anything. 

“Y/N, perhaps-”

“I can get it.” You took aim and fired. A tree trunk several yards from the bottle splintered from the impact. A frustrated growl tore through your chest. What was wrong with you? 

You forcefully set the musket back down, readying to load it for another try. Aramis’s hand covered yours before you could. 

“Y/N, wait,” he said softly. “I think I know what’s happening.” 

“What’s happening is that I’m not ready,” you snapped, more at yourself than at him. “And I only have a few more days to get it right or else I’ll never be a musketeer and all of this would be for nothing and-” Your words caught in your throat even before he held up a hand to stop you. 

Aramis laid his hand on your cheek. 

“You’ve worked yourself to the bone for weeks, darling.” He gave you a small smile. “You’re so exhausted you can hardly see straight. Am I correct?” 

There was still a part of you that wanted to fight him. To deny everything he’d said. Tired meant weakness and you couldn’t bear it if any of them saw you that way. But with his dark, caring eyes looking into yours, there was nothing you could say. 

You bit your lip to keep it from trembling. 

He pulled you into his arms. 

“There,” he sighed, running a soothing hand up and down your spine. “It’s alright. You’re just working too hard, that’s all. It’s alright.” He pulled back, kissed your forehead, and looked down at you. “Better?” 

You shrugged, wiping away tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Maybe you’re right.” 

He smirked. “I’m always right, darling.” 

With an arm slung around your shoulders, he led you back to the courtyard of the garrison where your other three friends stood next to their horses. Aramis and your horses had been saddled and awaited their riders. 

“What’s this?” You asked, Aramis handing your musket off to one of the stableboys to put away. 

“You are leaving,” D’Artagnan grinned. “Well, all of us are leaving, of course. We’ve all decided that we could all use a break from Paris. You, especially, Y/N.” 

“I can’t leave,” you scoffed. “There’s so much to do still! I need to stay and practice and…” You trailed off, as Aramis gave your hand a gentle tug toward the others. 

“Paris will still be here tomorrow,” Athos said. He watched you with a raised brow. “As will Treville and all of your training. One of the things you need to learn about being a soldier is knowing your limits, Y/N. You cannot help anyone if you can no longer help yourself. Besides-” He held up a bulging saddlebag which clinked as it moved. “I already bought the wine.” 

“I for one think it’s a magnificent idea,” Aramis beamed. “I’m jealous I hadn’t thought of it before. We could all use a day away, don’t you think, Y/N?” 

You took a deep breath. There was so much left to be done. You still needed to perfect your marksmanship, ready your fencing strategy, and work on hand-to-hand without strangling your sparring partner this time. The pressure of it all lingered in your chest as you gazed at the four wonderful men who’d helped you this far. 

But they were right. How could you possibly hope to achieve your goals if you overworked your body to the point of disaster? 

“Alright, I’ll go.” 

All four erupted in cheers. Porthos even lifted you up, tossed you over his shoulder, and spun around, eliciting a squealing laugh from your lips. When he set you down again, he kissed your cheek and gave you the biggest smile you’d ever seen. 

“It’s been far too long since I’ve heard that sound,” he said. 

The others all grinned in agreement and your group of five mounted your horses. You looked back at the garrison as the city passed by and spotted the field where you'd been practicing with the musket. The mocking bottle remained in its spot, untouched. 

Aramis followed your gaze and chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it,” he nodded. “Just not today.” Aramis reached over and put a hand on your shoulder. “And that’s perfectly fine.”

You nodded in return and urged your horse forward, away from Paris and your responsibilities and your anxieties. You let them fall away with the pounding of hooves against the road and the laughter of your friends in the air. 

-

The sweet summer air filled your lungs, banishing the lingering scent of the city. Wildflowers lined the path, the soft earth shifting under your feet as you leaned down into a starting position. 

“I thought the whole point of this was to get away from training,” D’Artagnan teased, taking the same stance beside you. Aramis stood in between, arms raised for the signal. 

“Ready?” He glanced excitedly at both of you. “Set.”

“This isn’t training, D’Artagnan,” you laughed. “This is fun!” 

“Go!” 

You flew down the path, your legs sprinting as fast as they could carry you while D’Artagnan raced next to you. He started in the lead, but as you neared the tree at the end of the lane- your predetermined finish line- you began to gain on him. Your hair whipped around your face but you kept your eyes open and focused on that tree. 

The three cheered both of you on, all favoring you for the victory. Their hollering only increased when you finally surpassed your opponent, keeping just a step ahead of him all the way to the end. 

When you turned to gloat in your victory, however, you failed to see one of the tree’s roots stretched out in front of you. Your foot caught and, in your attempt to save yourself, your hand latched onto your competitor’s arm and dragged him down with you. 

D’Artagnan tumbled, the two of you rolling down the small hill behind the tree. Grass and flower petals broke your fall and burst up into the air as you landed with you on top and D’Artagnan sprawled out beneath you, both of your cackling filling the air.

“I’m-” You snorted. “I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” Your words were hardly understandable between your snickers. 

“I’m fine, are you?” His heaving laughs lifted your head which laid on his chest. You peered up at him, taking in his sparkling eyes and bright smile. You couldn’t help but feel all of your worries from before fade away. 

After a moment, the other three appeared over you, looking down and shaking their heads. 

“I would say Y/N is the winner, but seeing as she’s also the one that caused this unfortunate spell…” Porthos started. He helped you up with a smirk and you playfully punched his arm. 

“I agree with Porthos,” D’Artagnan said, brushing himself off. 

“Clumsy or not, I’m still faster,” you fired back. 

“Perhaps a rematch is in order.” 

“You should know by now, D’Artagnan.” You stepped toward him so that you were only inches apart. “I never back down from a challenge.” 

Aramis put a hand in between you two. “Alright, I think that’s quite enough competition for the day.” His deep laugh brought more warmth to your chest. “We should make camp soon anyway before the sun sets.” 

You pointed a finger at the youngest musketeer and smirked. “This isn’t over.” 

He bowed dramatically. “I look forward to it.” D’Artagnan hurried ahead to start the fire, his laughter still ringing through the air, and you strolled alongside the other three. 

Aramis removed a leaf from your hair and tucked the strand behind your ear. He held up a hand to his ear. 

“Listen,” he said. “Do you hear that?” 

“I hear nothing,” you shrugged. 

“Exactly.” He breathed in deeply with a content smile. “Isn’t it wonderful?” 

You scoffed. “Aramis, I give us all two days before we’re begging to get back to the noise and excitement of Paris.” You poked a finger at his chest. “You especially.” 

He opened his mouth to argue but found that he couldn’t. Instead, he chuckled and held out his arm. 

“Fair enough. But it is a break well deserved nonetheless.” 

You beamed, taking his arm. “That it is.” 

You all sat around the fire, eating rabbit that Aramis had shot earlier and Porthos roasted over the flames with a bottle of wine for each of you. D’Artagnan and Aramis sat across from you while you and Porthos spent dinner discussing your technique in sparring earlier in the day. 

“I am sorry again,” you said, putting a hand on his arm. “I hope I didn’t injure you too badly.”

“Just his pride!” Aramis chimed from across the fire. 

Porthos tossed a pebble at his head. 

This, of course, prompted a small battle between the three of them, picking up various projectiles from the forest floor and trying to hit each other. In the midst of their antics, you saw Athos from his place leaning against a far tree. He motioned for you to follow him. 

Having always been a little frightened of the leader of the group, you gulped, believing to be in some kind of trouble with him. Athos’s intensity was known throughout the musketeers, along with his skill with a sword and leadership. 

He led you in a perimeter around the small camp you’d made without saying anything at first, which of course only increased your returning anxiety. 

“I know you believe that you don’t belong here,” he finally said. His words were so blunt, you didn’t know how to respond and he continued. “I wanted to tell you that you have nothing to worry about, which I know isn’t very helpful given how you’re feeling.” 

“Unfortunately, it isn’t,” you sighed. “Though I appreciate your encouragement.”

“It isn’t merely encouragement, Y/N.” He stopped walking to look at you with that same intensity. “I believe it. I’ve never seen someone work with as much passion as you do. With as much tenacity and willingness to learn. Half of the men in the musketeers think they already know everything about the world, but you-” An impressed laugh made his blue eyes shine. “You have done more to learn and to improve than anyone I’ve ever seen. It’s no wonder you’ve exhausted yourself so much. It’s remarkable it hasn’t happened sooner.” 

You opened your mouth to rebuke his claims, to deny your skills and deprecate the work you’d done, but he put a hand on your shoulder that silenced you. 

“I would be honored to serve alongside you.” 

“Athos I-” You blinked back tears. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“Just promise me you won’t end our practices the way you ended with Porthos and I’ll be content with that,” he teased. “Let’s get back before they cause any trouble, hm?” 

As the two of you returned to the group, you felt so overwhelmed by the feelings stirring in your chest. But this wasn’t from anxiety or overworking yourself. You were just so grateful, gazing over the crowd of your four closest friends, that you couldn’t contain it. It spilled out onto your cheeks with joyous tears. 

Aramis noticed you first and his face immediately morphed with concern. 

“What have you done, Athos?” He leaped to his feet, soon joined by the other three as they scrambled to your side. “What’s the matter, Y/N, my dear?” 

“Nothing,” you laughed through your crying. “Athos has been nothing but kind, I promise. I just…” You took a deep breath. In one hand, you took Aramis’s, intertwining your fingers, and with your other, you took Athos’s. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.” 

“You would do the same for any of us,” D’Artagnan said. “It’s the least we can do after all of the work you’ve put in.”

“Work that has not been ignored by Treville,” Athos added. “I believe he admires you even more than we do.” 

“If that’s even possible,” Aramis said with a wink. 

“Well, I can’t thank you all enough for taking care of me like this.”

Aramis glanced around the others with a mischievous twitch of his mustache. 

“All for one,” he said, twirling you around so that you landed in Porthos’s arms. 

“And one for all,” Porthos finished, lowering you into a dip. 

“You are all imbeciles. Now let me go,” you squealed merrily as they spun you around again. By the time you’d danced with all four of them, you were all dizzy enough that you collapsed beside each other in a heap of laughter.

My musketeers. You couldn’t help but think with your head on Aramis’s shoulder and your legs stretched out over D’Artagnan’s. You remembered why you were so adamant to join the regiment in the first place. To be one of them. You knew now that, no matter what happened in the coming weeks, you always would be. 

The stars twinkled over your heads as the fire died down. You let out a sigh and felt content. 

“I love you all,” you whispered into the night. “Even if you are idiots.” 

Aramis chuckled beneath you. “And we you.” He kissed the top of your head. 

D’Artagnan poked at your calf. “Even if you are stubborn.” 

“Some of us are trying to sleep,” Porthos whined, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. 

You settled again and heard Athos sit up. He placed his cloak over you as a blanket. 

“Rest well, Y/N.” 

And you did.

[thorin-is-a-cuddler]

A little convincing

A/N: I made it. Despite uni actually forbidding such things. I had to write this. It made me feel happy and I hope it will make you feel happy as well. Imagine whichever Aramis you like best. Romain Duris has my heart. Aramis x littke sister reader.

You were quietly sitting on the windowsill, overlooking the busy, dusty, loud street of Paris that led alongside the musketeer‘s corps. It was a fresh, lovely morning, the sun peeking out behind an array of clouds and the smell of spring whispering promises about the upcoming summer. The sun light reflected in the tin rain gutters on the Parisian roofs blinded you, so you looked behind you, eyes fixing on your brother putting on his jewelry in front of his mirror. Yes, it was HIS mirror. Neither Athos, nor Porthos ever spent any time in front of it. He did that sufficiently for the three of them. He was humming softly, fixing his moustache the way he liked best and trying not to make a tangled mess of his twelve different necklaces. No one in Paris walked about as extravagantly as he did. It made you feel proud of your brother. He was carrying about a security of self that was charming and good-natured, never rude and rarely arrogant. When someone mocked him, he just smiled. When someone tried to outdo him, he just laughed. Aramis‘ face only ever darkened when you or his brothers were in trouble. He could be terrifying then, even to you. His dark side was just as dark as his bright sight was shiny.

While tending to his appearance that very morning, he seemed particularly shiny. You couldn‘t help but smile, when he noticed your attention and moved his head around in a swift motion, granting you a waggle of his eyebrows. You tried not to show it, but a sadness was wearing you down. He would be gone for an entire week and despite the fact that Treville and Constance never allowed you a quiet moment in the reoccurring absence of your brother and his friends to keep you from worrying, you were always on the brink of dropping into the terrible imagination of losing him. He must have noticed a weakness in your smile - he always did - because he suddenly altered his voice, talking in the most comedic American/English accent and getting to his feet dramatically.

„MISSUS!!“ He exclaimed and you felt your lips twitch. „Is that a saaad little twaankle I see in your moonyshiny eyeess?“

With a huff, you started shaking your head at him. „You‘re such an idiot!“

He gasped, so overdramatically offended, he almost threw himself off his feet. „MADAMMME, do you have the faintliest idea who ya talkin to??“

You tried to glare at him to keep from laughing or grinning, but he merely mimicked your expression and hunched over in a most concerningly predatory way.

„Oh, I see,“ he growled, back to his normal voice, sending a feeling of fearful anticipation through your stomach.

„Aramis!“ You warned, tenseley sitting up straight on the sill.

„That laughter needs a little more convincing, huh?“ He continued to growl, slowly advancing in your direction. You were getting really bouncy there, extending your hands defensively in front of you and slowly backing away from the window. A nervous smile slipped on your features.

„No, thank you, I think it‘s not available today!“

He laughed softly at that, his eyes glittering. There was a silent consent shared between you: in the way you didn‘t really try to get away, in the way he blinked slowly and knowingly, reassuringly. It was your game and you would play it the way you wanted to.

„I think I can coax it out of you!“ He grinned fondly and suddenly the backs of your knees hit his bed. Your eyes widened and he was too freaking fast. With a squeal you tried to avoid his arms coming for your middle by throwing yourself on the sheets. You quickly robbed backwards on your back, hysterical sounds leaving your throat in a melody of your own design. He was right there with you, trying to get a hold of your arms and cackling at the way you kicked him in the ribs.

„Ooooh, feisty!!“

You shrieked in panic, when his hand managed to hold on to your leg and quickly tried to pull yourself away from him, but he pulled you right back into the middle of the bed and caged your body with his arms.

„Well, well, looks like you‘re in trouble,“ he huffed with his deep voice, smirking as his eyes locked with yours. You were already smiling wider and brighter than the tin roof gutters of Paris, feeling the love for your brother flush out all the anxiety for the moment. In an attempt at self-defense, you shoved your hands under his arms and tickled the mostly unprotected armpits, making him recoil and break out into a short flow of laughter, before he got a hold of your wrists and pinned them above your head.

„You little snake,“ he mused, humming happily when you started to shout out breathless, giggly „No“s, all pinned down and delivered.

„No, no, no?“ He teased, delighted at the way you already tried to protect your neck by shaking your head quickly from left to right. „You still think I cannot convince that laughter to come out?“

You cursed yourself for the breathless giggles that were already shaking you, despite him not having even come near to tickling you. With a deep breath you put your head back and looked at your brother smiling softly at you. In a last attempt at defying him, you stuck out your tongue and said: „Actually it‘s harder NOT to laugh at you in general, but somehow the boys and I manage i- NOOO!!!“

You squealed with laughter when he dipped his head down and blew a raspberry under your ear, his beard bristeling against your skin ticklishly.

„Dohohohohon‘t,“ you got out half-suffocated, before a second and third raspberry sent you into more delirious waves of laughter.

„Are you laughing at me right now??“ He asked fake incredulously when he moved his head back up to look at you shaking with mirth. You could barely breathe as you shook your head from left to right, pulling at your pinned wrists.

„Nohohoho, I swear!!“

He chuckled and dipped his head down anew, meeting a particularly mean spot on your neck. You bucked your body up and tried to throw him over, but he simply repeated to blow on the same spot several times, succeeding in making your laughter explode too much to still have any strength for that manoeuver.

„Plehehehease stop,“ you giggled when he‘d moved his head up again, smirking triumphantly.

„Oh, come on, I have to make up for an entire week here.“ He chuckled, but the mentioning of his absence quickly changed the mood.

Your smile vanished and your eyes grew less bright than before.

„Hmmm,“ he made, letting go of your wrists as a sadness tinged his carefree expression a shade less happy. „Little sister doesn‘t like me going.“

„No, she hates that really.“ You answered, pulling your arms down and starting to play with one of his necklaces hanging a little lower than the rest.

He put his head up on one of his palms, the other arm still keeping you from getting away. The kindness in his eyes never vanished, a huge amount of sympathy weighing you down like a warm blanket.

„I would take you with us, if I could.“

„Would you?“ You asked, using the crucifix pendant of his necklace to draw the lines of his chin.

„Mhmmm,“ he answered, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. „I would keep you in a saddle bag the entire time to make sure you don‘t get lost, but yes I would!“ He chuckled when you gently punched him in the chest for that, but quickly turned more serious again when he saw how worried you really were.

„You know, (Y/N), when I‘m gone, I know exactly what and who I come back for and that creates a power you can hardly imagine. I would slice, slash, burn and kick my way back to you, always. Even if I‘m hurt, even if I‘m dying, I will always come back here to you. The last time you see me will never be when I leave.“

Your eyes started to burn as you looked into the honey brown eyes of your brother during his little speech. His words made you sad, but all the more they reassured you and made you want to cling to him for as long as you could.

Your arms were thrown around his neck in one swift motion and he caught and held you against him with one arm, nuzzling your hair and breathing you in.

„I love you so much,“ you whispered, allowing one single tear to drop onto his shirt.

„Oh, if you knew how much I love you, if you only knew how powerful that makes me.“ He answered gently, smiling against your ear and holding you even tighter than before.

„Powerful enough to crush me apparently,“ you wheezed, laughing when he dropped you back on the sheets all of a sudden. The mischievous sparkle was back in his eyes.

„Right, where were we actually? Wasn‘t I very busy doing something funny right there?“

„Oh no no no,“ you protested, giggling with a new wave of nervous laughter, your hands quickly coming up to push against his face, to keep that beard away from your neck.

He chuckled softly, not even seeming bothered when he used one hand to brush your own away and pin them on your side now, using his body to keep them stuck between you two. You were already wiggling around hysterically, twisting and turning but never escaping. And soon his ticklish beard on your neck and his skilled fingers raking over your ribs had you shaking with laughter again. Until Athos and Porthos entered the room and Aramis was off of you in milliseconds. They were always on your side. And he was painfully aware of that.

A similar cornering situation like the one between you and your brother took place and Athos and Porthos had your brother down in seconds, making him burst with adorable giggles in the most practiced manner, cutting off his access to his sides and tickling him there until they could have made him promise anything in the entire world.

You loved watching them play, feeling good about yourself and the morning spent with your brother. Seeing the fondness in the eyes of his friends reassurred you further that Aramis was well protected by the eagle eyes of the two of them. They would never let anything happen to each other if they had a say in it.

You couldn‘t wait to hear him laugh like that again.

[sleepy-wyvern]

The Three Musketeers!

Episode 2: The one where Bunny shows Kat SPN

A/N: So this is just a cute little sitcom collab idea me and @strangelysupernatural had between our reader oc’s and Eddie and Steve! I’ll make a master list later that’ll list both of our contributions! 🥰

Summary: Steve and Eddie walk in on their girlfriends watching SPN together {modern AU}

CW: None! Straight up fluffy one shot just for fun!

Word count: ~600

“Shhhhh!” Kat and Bunny said in unison.

Kat held her finger up to Eddie as he entered Kat and Steve’s apartment, closing the door behind him.

“What- I didn’t say anything!” Eddie put his hands up defensively.

“I said SHHHHH!” Kat put her finger up, waving it at him as she watched the screen.

Carefully as if to not disturb a sleeping bear, Eddie moved closer to see what was playing on the tv screen.

“Oh no,” Eddie sighed, running his hands along his face in disappointment.

Steve, as if on cue, entered the living room looking around confused.

“Don’t say anything they’ll yell,” he whispered at him with annoyed brown eyes.

Steve blinked, making an explosion motion with his hands. Somehow this communicated to Eddie that he already knew, perhaps having learned the hard way.

Thankfully, the episode ended and Bunny paused the show.

Eddie opened his mouth to speak as Steve looked at him in utter fear, shaking his head no.

“So can I speak now?” He asked.

Steve ran his fingers through his hair frustrated, as if Eddie had detonated the bomb.

“Yes,” Bunny replied, “I was just showing Kat supernatural.”

“And I love it!” She declared.

Eddie sighed moving to Steve before patting his hand against his back.

“What?” Steve asked, holding his hand out confused.

“Prepare for weeks, months if not years of obsessions,” he said matter of factly. “There’s new competition for ya big boy. That’s Jared’s girl now.”

“What- how could you say that,” he looked at Kat who was giggling about something on her phone to Bunny. “Wait, who's Jared?”

Eddie moved to the counter, grabbing some cereal and eating it from the box.

“Dude, that’s my honeycombs! Do I even live here anymore, is this your house?” Steve ran his hands along his face.

“Eddie,” Buns sighed, her curly brown hair bobbing with her, “don’t eat the man’s cereal. He’s already depressed; he has to compete with the hunk that’s Jared.”

Kat held her hand over her mouth as she giggled.

“What- WHOSE JARED!” Steve sighed.

Kat laughed out loud, approaching him with a hug “don’t worry honey. You don’t have to compete with anyone.”

Eddie sat next to Bunny on the couch, huddled over Bunny’s tiktok now.

“Damn right he doesn’t, he already lost.” Eddie shook his head at the screen.

Steve sighed, shaking his head as he hugged Kat back “I’m right here, man.”

“Just accept your fate as I have. I have lost to the form of ideal beauty that is Jensen Ackles.” Eddie shook his head as he watched the screen.

Bunny giggled at the screen while Eddie tilted his head, his expression a mixture of shock, awe and amusement.

“Jensen?” Steve asked, confused while Eddie just nodded.

“Yep,” he said but he didn’t sound defeated. “The things the man can do with a belt and one hand.”

Bunny kissed Eddie’s cheek sweetly, “don’t worry Ed’s, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Wait- what kind of show is this?!” Steve asked and Kat shrugged.

“Hunting supernatural shit.” She said nonchalantly.

“Wait until he hears about Pedro Pascal,” Eddie says to Bunny while she laughs.

Kat started walking back to the couch, interest piqued as Steve reached for her concerned “Pedro?! Whose Pedro? KAT!”

Pedro’s voice played from Bunny’s phone, “how would you like to ride home on a REAL cowboy?”

===

Thanks for sticking with me through our crazy shenanigans

-Wyv

💙💙💙💙

[asdfghjklmals]

TO BE PRESENT✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, angst. hurt and comfort. WORD COUNT: 4.6k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. boyfriend!gojo. stsg break up.

SYNOPSIS: suguru geto is sentenced to death by the jujutsu society, and oc gojo girlfriend is left to pick up the broken pieces of satoru gojo's heart, but will she be enough? AUTHOR'S NOTE: lots of dialogue from the actual anime/manga. i tried to shorten the dialogue and add lots of emotion and descriptions. in the manga, gojo actually finds megumi and tsumiki after suguru leaves, but in this au, we found the kids first. the vibe is the song ‘no good’ by dvsn. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

suguru geto was the balance to satoru gojo. the yin to his yang. they were vital to each other, mutually complementing each other, needing each other to coexist. there was the calm and rational suguru, and there was the bold and rash satoru. their bond so strong that together, they were known as the strongest.

when you joined the school less than a year ago, it was always 'sashisu'. satoru gojo, shoko ieri, and suguru geto were the three musketeers. they were inseparable. they welcomed you into their little trio with loving arms (it took awhile for satoru, but we're here now).

when you first met suguru, you thought he was the nicest human being you had ever met. you questioned how such a gentle and caring man could be bestfriends with someone like the insolent satoru gojo.

suguru had been acting strange a couple weeks after the incident with toji fushiguro. he looked tired, worn out. almost dissatisfied with how things were going. he questioned himself as if he was going to be left behind in terms of strength and growth as a sorcerer. satoru’s powers were increasing by the day, and if satoru was getting stronger, so were the curses that they had to exorcise. this was draining for suguru, absorbing curses wasn't the most appetizing thing, and it was tiresome to him.

the day that yaga-sensei had brought satoru into his office for a chat was the day you and shoko eavesdropped from outside his office to find out more information about your absent friend. suguru geto had gone missing after his mission in a small village outside of tokyo. the jujutsu society had sent their team to investigate.

“what?” satoru gasped. he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“don’t make me repeat myself, satoru… suguru fled after killing everyone in the village.” yaga-sensei buried his face in his hands. he started to massage his temple.

“i heard you, sensei.” satoru sighed in disbelief. there was no way suguru would do that, he knew his bestfriend. at least, he thought he did.

“his parents’ home is vacant as well. however, from the blood stains and residuals… it seems like he might have killed his family.”

yaga-sensei and satoru had no idea what to think. they were also at a loss for words.

**************************************

suguru’s vile act alone would deem him as a curse user and a death sentence was the punishment from the jujutsu society. he was now the enemy. satoru couldn’t believe it, he didn't want to. he slammed his dorm room door shut after he heard the news, leaving you and shoko alone to deal with the aftermath. you had never seen satoru like this since you joined jujutsu high. (a/n: it’s actually a death sentence that’s the punishment, oops!)

“shoko, i—” you were going to start word vomiting out of nervousness.

“(y/n), it’s okay. you don’t have to say anything.” the medical student put her hand on your shoulder. you pulled her in for a hug. you could hear her sigh. she was the bridge between satoru and suguru.

throughout the years of being their friend, shoko ieri was the middle ground, the center, the happy medium. whenever satoru and suguru fought, she was the mediator. whenever they experienced the best of times together, she got to bare witness and experience it with them too. you could say that shoko ieri was the glue to satoru gojo and suguru geto.

“i know where to find suguru. let’s go meet him.” shoko motioned quietly to you.

“should we let satoru know?” you questioned her. you worried about your boyfriend, would he be okay being left alone? should you go to his side to comfort him instead?

“no, let him brood for a bit. he might bite you if you try to open his door.” she teased.

shinjuku, japan

“how did you know he would be here in shinjuku?” you asked shoko, you both watched as suguru walked towards you both. she just smiled before calling out to him.

“need a light?” she asked the banished sorcerer, holding up her lighter.

“hey you two,” he greeted the both of you as if he didn’t commit mass murder two days ago.

“well, well, well, if it isn’t the culprit himself. are all the accusations about you true?” she interrogated him nonchalantly while lighting a cigarette for him.

“i’m afraid they are. shoko, (y/n), i'm going to create a world of only jujutsu sorcerers. and i don’t need everyone to understand that.”

“sulking because no one understands you… sounds childish if you ask me.” shoko took out her phone and dialed a number, “hey, gojo? geto’s here. yeah, me and (y/n) are in shinjuku.” she hung up the phone and turned to you.

“come on, (y/n), we don’t want to get caught in this crossfire.” she took your hand and started to lead you away from suguru.

“hold on,” you let go of her hand and turned to walk back to suguru.

his face full of surprise, “(y/n), what’s on your mind? i’m surprised you’re not with satoru right now.”

he scratched the back of his head with a smile. he knew that satoru relied on you for comfort and solace. you and satoru we’re always with each other. if satoru wasn’t with suguru, he was most likely with you.

“uhm, i—” you stumbled over your words, “i wanted to thank you, uh, for being so nice to me when i joined jujutsu high. you always had my back during our missions together, and you made sure i was okay... you even defended me when satoru was being a jerk to me when i first started at the school. thank you for being his bestfriend. i’m sorry things turned out this way, suguru.” you reached towards him to hug him. this would most likely be the last time you would see him.

suguru hugged you back. you two were still friends after all. you felt a strong, but familiar cursed energy, it gave you the chills. you let go of suguru and patted his chest, giving him a soft smile. you turned to walk away as you saw the face of your distraught boyfriend looking at you.

you looked into his eyes, he wasn’t wearing his typical circular black sunglasses. his eyes were solemn and dull, the opposite from his standard blazing bright blue. his white hair wisped just below his lashes. he didn’t say a word to you, even though you could feel his all emotions wanting to explode from him. you reached for satoru’s hand and gave him a soft, encouraging squeeze. he swallowed as you patted his shoulder and you walked away with shoko. you knew that this was between satoru and suguru, and no one else.

**************************************

“suguru. explain yourself.” satoru called out to his bestfriend.

“you already heard, didn’t you? that’s all there is to it.” suguru said in a very cordial manner.

“that’s all you needed to convince yourself to kill non-sorcerers and your parents?!” satoru couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn't fathom what was coming out of suguru’s mouth.

“it wouldn’t be fair if i made an exception for my parents. besides, my family now consists of more than just them.” suguru had thought about the twin girls he had saved from the village. they were the ones he wanted to protect now.

“that’s not what i’m talking about. you were the one who said pointless killing is useless.” satoru was losing his cool. what had happen to his reasonable bestfriend?

“killing all non-sorcerers to make a world of only sorcerers is impossible.” satoru argued.

“you could do it, satoru. you’re trying to convince me that it’s impossible when you yourself could do it if you wanted to.” suguru believed that his goal of making a world of only jujutsu sorcerers was something he could make happen, which is why he was willing to give up everything to do it.

satoru’s eyes widened. what in the world was suguru talking about?

“are you the strongest because you’re satoru gojo? or are you satoru gojo because you’re the strongest?”

“what the hell are you trying to say?!” satoru shouted in frustration. he still wasn't understanding.

“if i could be you, wouldn’t my impossible ideals become possible? this is the life i’ve chosen, all i can do now is give it all i’ve got. if you want to kill me, kill me. there would be meaning in that too.” suguru turned away to start his journey, without satoru by his side.

and that’s where satoru gojo had to make the decision between killing his bestfriend or letting the curse user walk freely. satoru held out his right hand, slowly connecting his thumb and his middle finger. he’d never successfully used this cursed technique before, it was one of the strongest moves in the gojo clan that only a few clan members knew about. hollow purple.

he couldn’t bring himself to do it. he curled his fist and retreated his hand in defeat as he watched as suguru walked away from him in pursuit of his own goals in life. even if that meant that they wouldn’t be present in each other’s anymore.

tokyo jujutsu high

again, you and shoko stood behind the school's front entrance where satoru and yaga-sensei were talking, listening in on their conversation after satoru had returned from shinjuku.

“why did you let him go?” yaga-sensei asked as satoru grumbled on the cold concrete steps of tokyo jujutsu high school.

“are you really asking me that?” satoru couldn’t tell him that he didn't have the guts to kill his bestfriend.

“no, you’re right. i’m sorry.” he apologized. he knew it would be hard for satoru to cope. suguru was his bestfriend after all, his one and only.

“sensei... i’m strong, right?” he asked his teacher.

“yes, you are. in the impudence department too.” yaga-sensei bantered with him.

“it seems like just me being strong isn’t enough. i can only save those who want to be saved.” satoru said while looking out into the distance. he was tired of being the one who had to do all the saving. he wished he could ask for help. he didn't want to be alone anymore.

later that night

you made sure that megumi and tsumiki were sleeping soundly before you left your dorm room to return to satoru's. it had been three months since satoru brought them home to you, and two weeks since suguru had left the school.

things between you and satoru had felt strained due to the lack of communication. however, he never failed to show you affection in a hug or a kiss, or even just by holding hands. you felt the tension climbing, distance between you both growing. even though you slept next to him in his bed every night, it still felt cold. the warmth from the love you two shared had started to die down.

you understood that suguru meant the world to satoru. he was important to him, he loved him. one of your very first conversations as a couple was about the people he cared about in his life, he mentioned shoko and suguru's name. that was also the night he told you that you were one of them too. someone that he cared about.

"can't sleep?" satoru softly asked. your tossing and turning must have kept him awake.

"i'm worried about you." you knew he was going to deflect in 3... 2... 1—

"well, you don't have to worry about me, babe. i'm fine." satoru downplayed his emotions and you hated it.

"you are not fine, satoru." you argued as you stared at the popcorn ceiling above you.

you could feel his eyes studying you, he shifted his body to face you. "whoa, what's with the government name and attitude?" he joked.

"now's not the time for jokes. i'm being serious. we need to talk." you sat up in his bed abruptly.

he could hear in your tone that something was upsetting you. "what's wrong, (y/n)?"

"everything…” you whispered quietly.

tears started to form in your eyes. satoru sat up in his bed, the tone of your voice alarmed him. his heart started to race as he felt an uncertain feeling in his chest. was this fear he was feeling?

"you aren't okay and you won't admit it. it's distracting you from being present. you missed tsumiki's dance recital at school, you forgot to pick up the kids two days ago, and you aren't all there when we spar at jujutsu practice. i've never been able to land any of my cursed techniques on you before, and you got hurt because of that."

satoru had been so absentminded and distracted that you caught him off guard with his infinity off, your ice shard grazed his arm during the spar. you had to heal him with your reversed cursed energy that day.

"and what hurts the most is that i can feel you shutting me out every time i try to talk to you. i'm supposed to be your partner in life, satoru. i don't want you to push me away. if you’re not okay, i’m not okay.” you expressed as tears streamed down your face.

satoru didn't have any words to say, no excuses to come up with. he acknowledged that you tried to talk to him multiple times since suguru had left, but he didn't want to add more to your plate. you were taking care of the kids, taking on missions alone, all while trying to keep up with your studies to make sure you made it to graduation. he didn't want to burden you any more with his ridiculous bestfriend drama.

"i'm not allowed to be sad or weak. i have to be strong, (y/n). i don't have time to be caught up in my emotions." satoru said. you swear you heard his voice waver even though he was trying to 'be strong'.

"just because people call you the strongest, you think you can’t be sad or weak? satoru, that doesn't mean you can't confide in me. i promised you that i would be there for you. for whatever you need." you wiped your tears.

"satoru..."

"yeah, baby?"

"do you love me?"

"of course i do. i love you so much." satoru replied quietly.

"then can you just tell me what you're feeling right now?" you asked through your quivering voice.

and for the first time in 18 years, satoru gojo did not have any words to say. not a joke. no innappropriate comment. not a speck of sarcasm. nothing. he couldn't tell you how he felt, as much as he wanted to scream and shout and tell you how he was hurting and that he didn't want to be alone. the little voice in the back of his head told him not to, that he didn't deserve to.

you have had enough tonight. you got up from your side of the bed and put on your jujutsu high robe, "i think i should go check up on the kids." tears still streaming down your cheek as you quickly brushed them away. satoru couldn't even watch you leave his room. he knew that once you left his room tonight, you wouldn’t be coming back to it. the door shut behind you and he felt his heart breaking more.

**************************************

you opened the door to your room quietly, trying not wake up the kids, but megumi was a light sleeper. he woke up instantly and looked at you. tsumiki was a heavy sleeper and nothing could wake her up. you sniffled and collected yourself. you didn’t want him to know you were crying.

“(y/n), did you and gojo-sensei fight?” megumi rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand to wake himself up. he shifted his body over to make room for you on your king sized bed.

"that obvious, huh?" you scoffed.

you thanked god that megumi and tsumiki were still tiny and that three people could fit on your bed or you'd be sleeping with shoko right now. you laid down next to megumi and got under the covers. he was the most observant 5 year old ever. megumi was intelligent, calculated, and strong. gojo had a blast training with him. you both knew he was going to be an amazing sorcerer when he grows up.

“there are just some things that we aren’t agreeing on right now, megumi.” you patted his head, his blue hair slipping through your fingers.

“i think he just needs some time alone to think. he's been busy.” the child spoke on behalf of satoru.

“busy enough that he forgot to pick you guys up from school?” you were so angry with him for that. it was his job to pick them up that day because you were on a mission.

“it’s okay, we just called nanami to pick us up.” megumi tried defending him with his own little peculiar statement. you never thought you’d see the day megumi would be defending satoru.

“it’s not okay, megumi. i want him to be there for you and tsumiki. like we promised. i want him to be present.”

the next morning

the next morning was awkward and the air was still filled with tension. satoru always accompanied you to get the kids ready for school. he knocked on your dorm door to find you doing tsumiki’s hair while megumi was sitting patiently, waiting for you two to finish.

“oh… you guys got started already.” he said, trying to hide the hurt. he felt a little betrayed as this was supposed to be your morning routine together.

“here, you finish putting the clips in her hair.” you gave him the jar full of different colored butterfly clips and got up to retreat to your bathroom so you could finish getting ready.

satoru sighed and looked at tsumiki and megumi. they were awfully quiet this morning, their usual selves would be chirping back and forth at each other. laughter was always present in your morning routine, but not today.

“she’s still mad at me, huh?” satoru asked the children.

tsumiki smiled awkwardly at him and nodded while megumi snapped at him, “just tell her how you feel, idiot.”

“whoa, what’s with the attitude, megumi?” satoru asked, he was surprised with the 5 year old’s tone.

“i just don’t like seeing (y/n) cry.” satoru knew that you were megumi's favorite guardian, in fact, everyone knew.

“yeah? me either, kiddo.” satoru frowned. he attached two pink butterfly clips in tsumiki’s hair. he heard you shuffling through your bathroom drawers, afraid to turn around to face you once you exited the bathroom.

he took a deep breath and looked over at you. he could see through your makeup that your eyes were still swollen from crying last night, skin glowing from the flushed cheeks. god, how could you still look so beautiful after crying?

“ready for breakfast?” you asked your unconventional family. tsumiki smiled and nodded, trying her best to brighten up the room. megumi grabbed your hand to hold (and comfort) as he led the way to the dining hall. satoru felt envious that it wasn’t him holding your hand instead. but what could he do?

later that afternoon

after you dropped the kids off at school, you and satoru walked back through the jujutsu high courtyard. the cobblestone walkway felt cold and the surrounding trees felt like they were about to swallow the both of you into a dark abyss. the only thing you could hear was the wind and your soft footsteps.

you and satoru didn’t hold hands. you didn’t even link your arm through his like you usually did. and he sure felt the bitterness from you today. you walked side by side together. the silence was deafening until you broke it.

“satoru… i’m going to take megumi and tsumiki back with me to my clan’s estate for the semester break… and i don’t think i want you to come with us. i’ll tell touya you’re going to see your family instead.” you held back your tears. satoru stopped in his tracks, you were two steps ahead of him.

“but baby, i—” he began to say.

you turned around to face him, “ever since suguru left, you’ve changed. you’ve been distant, you avoid every conversation i try to have with you. and you’re the type of person who always tries to talk things out right away… even though you know i'm usually the one that needs time. so now, i’m giving you the time you need so you can decide what you want to do with your life and where your priorities lie…”

“that’s not fair, (y/n).” satoru snapped at you. how could you take the kids and leave him alone?

“what’s not fair to you?!” you lashed back at him. you saw the defeated and distraught look in his face and it crushed you. it was the same expression he had when he spoke with suguru in shinjuku.

“just—don’t. don’t start crying again.” he mumbled. it was always game over for him when you started crying. seeing you cry was one of the worst feelings next to his favorite kikufuku stand running out of his favorite flavor. it was too late, the tears started to flow again.

satoru took a step closer towards you, testing out the waters on if you would let him approach you or if you would push him away. once he didn’t sense any resistance from you, he pulled you into his arms, hugging you so tightly you couldn’t breathe. he didn't want to let go. everyone knew that you couldn’t be without each other, so why was he feeling like you were leaving him behind, just like suguru did?

when he finally loosened his arms around you, you gently caressed his cheek with your left hand. satoru had finally felt your warmth again. he melted into your hand and closed his eyes. you could see a layer of tears forming on his white lashes.

you kissed his cheek and softly said, “take the time you need to figure things out during the semester break. me and the kids will be here when you get back. i promise.”

two weeks later

satoru had spent two weeks with his own clan during the semester break. it was refreshing for him to speak with his clan elders to get a little insight on what he could work on next, he spent time perfecting his techniques, and just finally relaxed for once. during this time to himself, he was able to combine blue and red to perform a successful hollow purple. he even mastered his long distance teleportation. there was one person who he couldn't wait to tell about his success, it was you.

although he was busy training and enjoying the time with his own clan, he spent a lot of time thinking about suguru's betrayal and how to be present for the kids like you had asked him to. but there was one thing person that wouldn’t leave his mind, it was you.

after a couple days of brooding, satoru came to the conclusion that he would never get over suguru's actions, but he knew that he wanted to be better than suguru. he was going to become a teacher at jujutsu high as soon as his third year was over, and he was going to raise strong and intelligent allies. with no hesitation, he knew who his first ally would be, it was you.

satoru still felt like he was missing something someone in his life, even though he was surrounded by his clan. you, megumi, and tsumiki were 6 hours away in osaka with your clan, but satoru still felt like his heart was 247 miles away (the distance between osaka and tokyo). he knew what his heart was missing, it was you.

satoru gojo didn’t care for many things in life. he kept his circle small, his family was very prominent but low key, and he was pretty private about his own life. he didn’t care about protecting anyone until he met you, (y/n) from the osaka (l/n) clan. the most beautiful water and ice cursed technique user he had ever laid his pretty blue eyes on. satoru was never shy at telling you he loved you, but today was the day he realized just how much he did. satoru called out to his grandparents before he teleported to your clan's estate, "gramps, grams, i'm heading out to (y/n)'s. we'll see you at the next semester break. and we'll bring tsumiki and megumi to meet everyone too!"

satoru gojo knew who he wanted to see, and it was you.

osaka, japan

"(y/n)!" tsumiki cried out for you frantically.

you rushed out of your family's minka to see what the 6 year old was shrieking about. your heart skipped a beat to see a white-haired, blue-eyed sorcerer holding her in his arms as she was hugging him tightly. tsumiki had the biggest smile on her face. she had missed her partner in crime these past two weeks... you and her both.

"(y/n), it's gojo-sensei! he came to see us!" she waved towards you, signaling that satoru was there and for you to come over quickly. satoru was actually here. he was present.

your brother looked at you and smiled, "it looks like someone missed you, sis." he patted your shoulder before standing up from the steps of the minka, "i'll have the housekeepers get a spare room ready for him."

you smiled at your brother as he left your side. you stood on the steps of your family estate. your hand perched on your hip, a laugh breaking through to show your pearly whites, hiding your eyes with your cheeky smile. it had been awhile since satoru saw the smile that he loved so much.

you gave up your solid front and started walking towards satoru. he put tsumiki down and did the same. soft footsteps started to turn into a brisk walk, the brisk walk started to turn into a sprint, the sprint towards each other turned into a colliding embrace.

"what are you doing here, satoru?" you mumbled in his chest as you tried to catch your breath from your sprinting.

"i missed you, (y/n)." satoru said with his eyes closed, inhaling your scent. he missed your nectarine and honey blossom perfume that always lingered around him too.

"i missed you too."

satoru leaned down to kiss your forehead. you smiled softly as his lips trailed down to your temple and then to your cheek. you held his face with your hands and pulled him in for a kiss on his soft pink lips. he broke your kiss to look down at you. he had something he wanted to say.

"babe, the past two weeks i took a lot of time for myself to think. the one common denominator that always came to my mind was you. i'm sorry for the way i acted. i'm going to try my best to communicate with you from now on. i won't leave you in the dark anymore." satoru pledged with his heart.

"thank you, satoru." you whispered. you held him a bit tighter.

"you pinky promise?" megumi asked out of the nowhere. you and satoru looked down at the blue haired child with tsumiki by his side. you both started laughing as your intimate moment was interrupted by your adopted children. (read ‘pinky promises’ here)

satoru flashed his signature grin at megumi, "yeah, i pinky promise, kiddo."

megumi and tsumiki approached you both to join in on the family group hug. you and satoru crouched down to embrace them as you kissed the top of their heads.

satoru softly said to the kids, "from now on, i promise to be present."

© 2023 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

TANGERINE MASTERLIST.

<- back to navi

last updated: may 13, 2024

KEY:

☾ -> fluff/ comfort

★ -> smut

✧ -> angst

blank -> miscellaneous

type “tangerine” “tangerine x reader” or “tangerine headcanon” in my search to find asks that ive responded to — lots of random thoughts & hc’s to check out

hotel room - changing plans midway through a mission in Tokyo- you, tangerine and lemon decide to stay in a hotel instead of taking the bullet train ★

home is where the heart is - you and tangerine have a free day, deciding that you want to spend the cold day at home doing cozy domestic activities ☾

“you’re more like me than you think” - tangerine hasn’t been completely honest with you and you find out something you were supposed to. already feeling frustrated with your relationship, you don’t take the news lightly ★✧

imagines/ headcanons ☾

date night - tangerine has been away on a mission for the last week and is back in time for date night. missing each other like crazy, you decide to have a not-so-quiet night at home ★

when the trains a-rocking don’t come a-knocking - taking a job in japan collecting a briefcase from a train sounds easy, right? but not when you meet a pair of brother assassins from your past ★

one year later - one year ago today, you and tangerine celebrated the birth of your daughter, mandarin - mandy for short. this special day also marks the anniversary of when you unintentionally saved his life - calling him home from his mission in tokyo ☾

brainrot ★

thought ☾

REQUESTS:

ARCHIVED POSTS FROM JAN ‘23 -APR ‘23

taste ★

period comfort ☾

wait til later -> ★/suggestive

can’t be quiet ★

paper break ★

leave ✧

birthday ☾

the three musketeers ☾

uncle lemon’s brother ☾

withhold ☾/✧?

easy like sunday morning ★

assassin in training ✧?

intruders ✧

reassurance ☾

distance ✧?

one writer, one reader ☾

expecting ☾

reverse comfort ☾

shared sickness ☾

homemade ☾

subtle envy ✧?

love to hate (1 year bullet train anniversary)

consummate the marriage ★

melatonin ☾

assassin reader hc’s

forgive and forget ★

quip ☾

baby driver

sneaky findings

pregnancy hc’s ☾

safe and quiet ☾

the first time ★

three idiots in the kitchen ☾

ace hc’s ☾

short gf spooning tan hc’s ☾

how he would be/ act with a crush ☾

wouldn’t do that ☾

text conversations ☾

thots of him eating you out ★

take a break ☾

stay ☾

cinema date ★

make time ★

sfw alphabet ☾

vulnerability ☾

meet in the middle ★

helping hand ★

meet again

barside meet

village date ☾

gifts ☾

money where his mouth is ★

missed calls ✧

healer ✧

in vein ☾

baby fever ☾

up his game

silent supporter ☾

day at home ☾

two am wake-up call

back up ☾

country lanes ☾

both hands full ★

rose-tinted view ☾

ice ☾

take a break ☾

bows and braids ☾

outta your mind ★

new addition ☾

handle with love ★

another ache ★

two in a bed ☾

bribery ☾

sloshed — suggestive

brown paper bag ✧

speedbump ★

sweet wife, sweet life ☾

a surprise ✧ coming soon

‘t’ for timeout ☾ coming soon

© little-miss-dilf-lover // all work is my own. please do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[minarixx]

𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐍𝐨 ✯ 𝐊.𝐓𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚

"𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙'𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙. 𝙄 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙬𝙝𝙮"

PAIRING. Tsukishima Kei x f!Reader

CONTENT. Angst, Cheating Tsukishima

Y/N and Tsukishima, a couple engaged to be married, until a shocking revelation of Tsukishima's infidelity rocks Y/N's world on the eve of their wedding.

WC. 3.4k

A/N. Writers block rn. I really liked the symbolism and metaphor and writing I used in this one so I hope you enjoyed it as well. I might rewrite my older and short ones cause I hate them so much. Anyways, Inspired by My Best Friend's Wedding (1997)

Not edited

Masterlink - Songs Unwritten

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city skylines where Y/N and Tsukishima's love story began. It was a place filled with memories and promises, but today, the air was heavy with uncertainty. Tomorrow was meant to be the day when Y/N would become Tsukishima's wife, the day they had eagerly awaited and planned for. Yet, fate had a cruel twist in store.

Y/N had always been a girl of hope and dreams. Growing up, she had always believed in love and soulmates. Her engagement to Tsukishima was supposed to be a fairy tale come true.  

When she first met Tsukishima, Y/N couldn't help but be intrigued by his stoic and reserved demeanor on the volleyball court. It was a chilly autumn afternoon, and they were both participating in a local volleyball tournament. Y/N had always been drawn to the sport, and she eagerly observed the players, seeking to learn from their techniques and tactics.

As she watched the matches unfold, her attention was drawn to a tall and lanky tall young man in the middle position. Tsukishima's movements were precise and calculated, and he displayed a level of skill that impressed even the most seasoned players. However, what caught Y/N's attention the most was the intensity in his eyes and the way he seemed to keep his emotions tightly locked away.

Curiosity got the better of her, and during a break between sets, Y/N decided to strike up a conversation with him. "You're an excellent middle blocker. Your blocks are on point."

Tsukishima glanced at her briefly, his expression remaining impassive. "Thanks," he replied curtly.

Undeterred by his reserved response, Y/N continued, determined to break through his shell. "I've seen you play a few times before. Your techniques are impressive. How long have you been playing volleyball?"

"Since elementary school," he replied tersely, not offering any more information.

Y/N sensed his reluctance to engage in conversation, but she was determined to connect with him on some level. As the tournament progressed, she made small efforts to strike up conversations during breaks, asking about his favorite plays or how he got into volleyball. It was a slow process, but Y/N's genuine interest and friendliness gradually began to chip away at Tsukishima's guarded exterior.

Over time, they found themselves exchanging more than just volleyball-related conversations. They discovered shared interests in books, music, and even silly jokes that would elicit a rare chuckle from Tsukishima. Y/N learned that beneath his aloof façade, he had a dry wit that matched her own, and they found comfort in each other's subtle sarcasm.

As their conversations grew more frequent, Y/N noticed that Tsukishima's walls were starting to come down. He seemed more at ease, even cracking a genuine smile from time to time. Y/N was thrilled that she was able to break through the barriers he had built around himself.

Tsukishima's childhood friend, Asami, became a part of their lives too. They were the three musketeers, but little did Y/N know that the bond between Tsukishima and Asami was deeper than she imagined. They even had a lighthearted marriage pact with Asami, Tsukishima's childhood friend, that if none of them were married by the age of 30, they would marry each other.

But life took a different turn when Y/N came into the picture. Tsukishima and Y/N's connection was undeniable, and they fell in love deeply and irrevocably. Their love seemed to transcend the bounds of their childhood pact, and they decided to get engaged, looking forward to a lifetime of happiness together.

As the soft evening light streamed through the curtains, Y/N found herself lost in a whirlwind of memories. The room felt filled with echoes of laughter and whispered promises as she reminisced about the journey that led her to this very moment. Her fingers gently traced the delicate gold band adorning her finger – the engagement ring that symbolized the love story she had always dreamed of.

It was a lazy evening, and Y/N had decided to surprise Tsukishima with a visit to his home. The knot of anticipation tightened in Y/N's stomach as she approached Tsukishima's house. Tomorrow was meant to be the day of their long-awaited wedding, and she had come over to surprise him with the final touches they had planned together. A warm smile graced her lips, and she couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he saw the arrangements they had made.

However, as she pushed the door open, her heart plummeted to her feet. Right at the entrance, a pair of unfamiliar women's shoes lay neatly placed, catching her eye like a glaring beacon. Her mind struggled to process what she was seeing. Thoughts raced, but she couldn't deny the sinking feeling in her chest.

An unsettling sense of dread took over as Y/N stepped further into the house, her footsteps echoing in the silence. "Tsukishima?" she called, hoping for an explanation, hoping that she was wrong.

What Y/N saw shattered her world into a million pieces. There, in the dimly lit room, stood Tsukishima and Asami, their hands intertwined as they gazed into each other's eyes with a tenderness that was meant only for lovers. Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she tried to comprehend the scene before her.

Her voice quivered as she walked through the house, and the sight that met her eyes was a painful blow to her heart. In the living room, there they were – Tsukishima and Asami, sitting close together, their hands intertwined, their faces far too close for Y/N's comfort.

The room seemed to spin around her, and she clutched her chest, trying to steady her breath. Her vision blurred with tears, and she took a step back, unable to bear the betrayal before her.

Asami's eyes widened with guilt, and Tsukishima's face turned pale, realizing that their secret had been exposed. Y/N took a step back, her mind racing, desperately searching for an explanation or a reason that could justify what she had just witnessed.

The damage had been done, and Y/N could hardly bring herself to look at either of them.

"I-I can't believe this," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling with hurt and disbelief. "How could you do this to me, Tsukishima?"

Asami looked equally guilty, her eyes filled with remorse. "Y/N, we never wanted you to find out like this. It just happened, and we never meant to hurt you."

Y/N felt a mix of emotions – anger, betrayal, and heartbreak. Her whole world felt like it was crumbling around her, and she struggled to find her footing amidst the chaos of her emotions.

Tsukishima reached out to her, his voice filled with regret. "Y/N, please, let me explain. It's not what you think. It was a mistake, and I never wanted to hurt you."

"How can you say that?" Y/N choked out, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You knew how much I loved you, and yet, you chose to betray me."

The words hung heavy in the air, and the pain was palpable. Y/N turned on her heels and ran out of the house, feeling like she couldn't breathe. The world outside felt like a blur, but she kept moving, seeking solace and clarity amidst the chaos in her heart.

Y/N found herself standing on the same beach where she and Tsukishima had once shared beautiful moments. The waves crashed relentlessly against the shore, mirroring the turmoil in her soul.

She clutched the engagement ring on her finger, a painful reminder of the love and dreams that had shattered. The future she had envisioned had crumbled into pieces, leaving her heartbroken and lost.

At that moment, she didn't know what to do or where to go. But as she stared out into the vastness of the ocean. As Y/N stood on the beach, gazing out at the vast expanse of the ocean, she felt an overwhelming sense of despair. The crashing waves mirrored the turmoil within her, and she was torn between holding onto the love she once believed in and the pain of the betrayal that had shattered it.

Tomorrow was meant to be the day she had dreamed of – the day she would marry Tsukishima, her soulmate, and start a new chapter of their lives together. But now, it felt like all those dreams were being thrown away, lost in the depths of the ocean before her.

Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and heartbreak. Part of her wanted to confront Tsukishima, to demand answers, to try and salvage what was left of their love. But another part of her knew that the trust had been broken, and nothing could ever be the same again.

As the sun set on the horizon, casting a warm, orange glow across the water, Y/N sank to her knees on the sand. She clutched her engagement ring tightly, feeling the weight of its symbolism in her hand. It was a symbol of the love they had once shared, but now, it felt like a painful reminder of the love that had been lost.

Her heart ached, not just for herself but for everyone who had been excitedly preparing for the wedding. Friends and family had come together to celebrate their love, but now, it seemed like it had all been a facade.

She closed her eyes, feeling the tears welling up once more. It wasn't just the wedding she was mourning; it was the future she had imagined with Tsukishima – the laughter, the shared dreams, the moments of love and understanding.

As Y/N stared out at the ocean, lost in her thoughts, a figure caught her eye in her peripheral vision. Turning her head, she saw Asami running towards her, her face etched with worry and concern.

"Y/N!" Asami called out, breathless as she reached her side. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Are you okay?"

Y/N felt a mix of emotions at the sight of Asami – the woman who had been at the center of the painful revelation. Part of her wanted to push her away, to demand answers, but another part yearned for someone to lean on in her moment of vulnerability.

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, and she turned her gaze back to the ocean, unable to meet Asami's gaze. "How could you?" she choked out, her voice trembling with hurt. "How could both of you betray me like this?"

Asami's face fell, and she knelt beside Y/N, her voice filled with remorse. "I know I can't justify what happened, and I never intended to hurt you, Y/N. It was a mistake, and I regret it deeply."

Y/N's heart ached, torn between wanting to hear an apology and wanting to push Asami away. "A mistake?" she whispered, her voice filled with bitterness. "Do you have any idea how much pain I'm in right now?"

Asami reached out to touch Y/N's hand gently. "I can't undo what happened, but I'm here now. Please, let me try to explain."

A part of Y/N wanted to turn away, to shut Asami out completely. But another part couldn't help but yearn for closure and understanding, as painful as it might be.

Taking a deep breath, Asami began to speak, her voice soft and remorseful. "It started out as innocent , Y/N. Tsukishima and I have known each other since childhood, and we had this marriage pact. But as we spent more time together recently, old feelings resurfaced, and we made a mistake. I'm so sorry."

Y/N listened, her heart torn between anger and sadness.

"Why didn't you both tell me?" Y/N asked, her voice trembling with emotion. "You were both going to let me marry Tsukishima without knowing the truth?"

Asami looked down, her guilt evident in her eyes. "We knew it was wrong, and we wanted to stop, but we were scared of hurting you even more. It was selfish, and I regret it deeply."

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. "He's got you on a pedestal but me in his arms," she uttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Is that how it was all along? Was I just a place holder for him?"

Asami looked down, her gaze filled with guilt. "I can't speak for Tsukishima's feelings, Y/N. But I do know that you mean a lot to him. He loves you, but he also made a terrible mistake."

As Y/N stood there in front of Asami, clutching the engagement ring tightly in her hand, her tears fell like raindrops on a stormy night. 

Just as she was about to speak, she heard a familiar voice call out her name. Tsukishima emerged from the shadows, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and regret.

"Y/N, please," he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. "Give me a chance to explain."

But the pain within Y/N was too raw, too overwhelming to bear. "Explain what, Tsukishima?" she cried, her voice breaking with each word. "The lies, the betrayal? There's nothing left to say."

Tsukishima took a step closer, reaching out as if to touch her, but he hesitated. "I know I made a terrible mistake," he said, his voice choked with remorse. "But please, let me try to make it right."

Y/N's heart ached, torn between wanting to believe him and wanting to shield herself from further pain. "How can you make this right?" she asked, her voice filled with anguish. "You're engaged to me!"

As Tsukishima looked into her tear-filled eyes, his own filled with pain. "I was a fool, Y/N. I let my fear and confusion cloud my judgment. I never wanted to hurt you, but I let my emotions get the best of me."

Tears streamed down Y/N's cheeks, and she shook her head, unable to find the strength to forgive him just yet. "Why did you even ask me to marry you," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the crashing waves.

Tsukishima stepped closer, his desperation evident. "Please, don't throw the ring away," he implored. "It meant something once, and I want the chance to prove to you that it can mean something again."

In that moment, Y/N's heart wavered, torn between the love she had once shared with Tsukishima and the pain of his betrayal. The memory of the happiness they had once found in each other tugged at her heartstrings.

Summoning all the courage she had left, Y/N shook her head, tears falling like raindrops. "I can't, Tsukishima," she said, her voice resolute. 

The weight of the engagement ring on her finger felt suffocating, a constant reminder of the shattered dreams and broken promises. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she knew that she couldn't carry the burden of that ring any longer.

With trembling hands, she removed the engagement ring, the symbol of a love that had turned to betrayal. As she held it in her palm, her heart ached with the weight of the decision she was about to make. She looked at the ring, its delicate gold band gleaming in the fading light, and she knew that it no longer held the same significance it once did.

With a mix of pain and determination, she flung her arm forward, releasing the ring into the vast expanse of the sea. It glimmered for a moment in the sunlight before disappearing beneath the waves, swallowed by the ocean's depths.

As the ring vanished from sight, Y/N felt a sense of pain wash over her. 

The sea seemed to embrace her grief, its vastness swallowing her sorrow.

As the ring disappeared beneath the water's surface, Y/N felt an overwhelming emptiness engulf her. The tears kept falling, and she knew that walking away from him wouldn't erase the pain she felt.

Her heart shattered into a million pieces, and the world around her seemed to blur into a haze of desolation. The love she had once believed to be eternal had crumbled, and she was left standing on the precipice of a dark and unknown future.

With a heavy heart, she turned away from the sea, Asami and Tsukishima, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. The beach, once a place of happiness and laughter, now held only memories of betrayal and heartache.

Days turned into weeks, and the ache in Y/N's heart showed no signs of subsiding. The pain of betrayal lingered, leaving her feeling lost and adrift. She tried to keep her distance from both Tsukishima and Asami, seeking solace in the company of friends who were always there to support her.

One evening, as she was going through old messages on her phone, Y/N stumbled upon a post. It was a picture of Tsukishima and Asami standing together, their arms wrapped around each other with smiles that felt like a cruel twist of fate.

As her eyes widened in shock, she began to scroll through the messages and discovered the truth. Tsukishima and Asami had indeed gone through with the wedding, sealing their love just a few hours after Y/N's heart had been shattered. They didn't want all that money and venue to go to waste and just like that her dreams were stolen from her.

The revelation hit Y/N like a tidal wave, knocking the breath out of her. It was a betrayal on a whole new level, as if the universe was conspiring against her, mocking her pain. The two people she had trusted the most had found comfort in each other, using their deceit to validate their actions.

"How could they?" Y/N whispered, her voice cracking with disbelief. It felt like a knife through her heart, adding salt to the wounds that were still raw and bleeding.

The sense of betrayal and hurt overwhelmed her, and she felt a mix of anger, sorrow, and confusion. It was as if the world had collapsed around her, and she found herself questioning everything she once believed in.

At that moment, Y/N couldn't see a path forward. The pain was all-consuming, leaving her feeling lost and broken. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, but the bitter reality was that there were no answers that could mend her wounded heart.

In the distance, the sun began to set, casting a melancholic glow over the apartment. As darkness descended, it mirrored the darkness that had settled within Y/N's soul.

Grief washed over her in waves, as she mourned not only the love that was lost but also the future that could have been. She pictured the life they had planned together – a home filled with love, laughter, and children, growing old hand in hand.

But now, those dreams lay shattered, scattered like fragments of glass on the cold ground. The pain was all-consuming, leaving her feeling adrift and lost in a sea of sorrow.

Y/N felt as if her heart was like an artist's scrapped work discarded in the trash bin. The pain of the shattered love was akin to the pain of watching something she had poured her heart and soul into being tossed aside, unappreciated and unwanted.

The canvas of their love story, once filled with vibrant colors and promising strokes, now lay in ruins, torn apart by deceit and betrayal. She could almost see the paint splattered across the floor, an abstract representation of the chaos that had consumed her emotions.

She had invested so much in this masterpiece, carefully adding each brushstroke with love and hope. But as fate would have it, the canvas had been marred beyond repair, leaving her feeling like an artist who had lost her way.

Her memories served as a painful reminder of what could have been – a love story that was meant to be cherished and admired. Instead, it had been abandoned, a casualty of human flaws and weaknesses.

She felt like a shell of her former self, her spirit bruised and battered. The red strings of fate that she had once believed in now felt like a cruel joke, a reminder that love didn't always lead to happiness.

Fate had played a cruel trick, entangling her heart with the wrong person, and how she was left to untangle herself.

©Minarixx 2023 - please don't copy, repost or translate without my knowledge credit or permission.

[squiddokiddo]

Thinking about the idea of some ghosts being attached to objects.

Imagine the ghosts finding out that some of them may not be confined to Button House and as long as someone is carrying their object, they can leave. Imagine them going on adventures with Alison and Mike one by one and they're so happy that they're not stuck in that old house and they're able to go out into the world and explore. They may even consider moving out since now they actually can.

Over time the ghosts that can travel realise that they value the familiarity and comfort of returning to the house after their adventures, returning to the people that they were originally begrudgingly stuck with but now miss when they are away. They learn to value their place at the house even more and ultimately decide that they want their object kept there. It's their home.

Episode idea for this:

Mike takes a bunch of trinkets to a pawn shop in town including the musket ball he found.

Thomas goes missing, the ghosts and Alison are absolutely clueless as to where he went and become very worried. It's only when Mike comes home and talks about his trip to the pawn shop that they realise what's happened. Alison and Mike must set out to find the musket ball and bring Thomas home.

Bonus: A scene where Thomas' musket ball is put up for auction and Mike and Alison have to bid to get him back, all the while Thomas is complaining about the bidding amounts "£50?! Hardly sir!! Surely to own such a piece of history comes at a greater price, what's more the poet it tragically killed comes included with the item!!"

[bullet-prooflove]

Vigil: Captain Jean Treville x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989@@lovemissyhoneybee @sekretwindow @rey4kat @roschele @sassyscottishchick @aiko24k @scorpio-1357 @burningpeachpuppy @swanfan17 @@dragon85faby @angelnyx @princesschyanne @caffeinatedwomann @@missyhoneybee

When you receive the news that Jean has been shot your entire universe is thrown into turmoil. You feel the air leave your lungs as the world shifts underneath your feet because you can’t imagine a world without Jean. You don’t want to exist in a place you where you don’t see his smile, or feel his calloused hands on your skin.

Porthos reaches out a hand to steady you and you flinch at his touch because everything is too raw, too bright, too sensitive. It feels like you’re being flayed alive.

You ride the two hour journey back to Paris without stopping. Poppy, your mare is panting by the time you reach the garrison, her poor legs almost run out from underneath her. You don’t wait for Porthos to help you down from your steed, you’re already slipping from the saddle and half way up the stairs by the time Athos steps in front of you blocking your path.

“Treville is alive.” He tells you, his tempestuous blue eyes meeting yours. “Aramis and Juliette have managed to remove the ball and the fluid from his lung. He’s currently resting but they say he’ll make a speedy recovery.”

The relief is palpable. For the first time since Porthos delivered the news it feels like you can take a breath. With it comes the rage, it ignites inside of you like a powder keg because someone gunned down your husband in the street, they shot him in the back like a fucking dog.

The anguish you’re feeling, Athos feels it too with every single fibre of his being. The only reason he’s even here right now is to ensure he doesn’t end up with another tragedy on his hands, that his Captain still has a wife at the end of it all.

The three of you have been friends for a long time. You’ve fought together, bled together, endured together, he has come to know you almost as well as he knows himself. He recognises the wildness in you, the impulse to go out there hunt down the animal that hurt the man you love.

“Terese.” He says quietly, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders.  “He needs his wife right now, your love, your comfort...”

His words strike a cord deep within you because you cannot imagine the agony that Jean must be in, the terror he must have felt in those moments thinking each single one was his last.

“Swear to me.” You say fiercely, your palm coming to rest upon the patch embroidered onto his chest, the one that resides just over his heart. “Swear to me that you will find the person that did this, that you will bring them to justice.”

“You have my word.” He promises you before he inclines his head towards the door to your husband’s chambers. “Take care of our Captain, leave your vengeance to me.”

***

Jean’s chambers are well illuminated when you enter, candles light every available space like a vigil. You realise it’s because his Musketeers don’t want him to wake up panicked in the dark. The period after such a trauma is tempestuous with nightmares and half dreams, the mind can take a while to adjust. The gesture touches you because he means so much to the men that he commands, you can feel their love emanating through the room.

Jean is sleep on his bed in the corner, his back propped up against the wall with pillows because of the nature of his wound. His complexion is ashen, his breathing heavy. It tears at something inside you to see him like this, to know how close he came to death.

 It isn’t until you sit down in the chair alongside his bed that you realise he’s clasping a piece of parchment to his chest. You recognise the awful drawing of a wild flower, the one you had sketched out when you were trying to describe something you had seen  in Spain. You had no idea that he’d kept it, that he spends the nights he misses you tracing his fingers over it because he remembers your self-depreciating laugh when you’d showed it to him.

“I’m either dreaming or dead.” He grumbles, his eyes barely open as he surveys you from his position.

“You are very much alive, my love.” You say with a fond smile, your fingertips trailing over his grizzled cheek. “I’m to stay here a while, make sure you behave yourself.”

He smiles at that because you both know which one of you is the mischief maker of the relationship.

“Will you read to me?” He requests, his voice a rasp as he gestures to the book on the windowsill. “I long to hear the sound of your voice but I fear I won’t be able to hold much a conversation.”

You pick up the book before lowering yourself gently onto the bed alongside of him. He nestles against you, his head coming to rest upon your shoulder. Your lips brush over his temple before you open the book at the folded page and begin to study the words.

“Jean.” You chide affectionately as you review the title ‘Military Tactics Between 1550-1650’. “Surely you could have chosen some better reading material.”

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

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[sir-adamus]

in terms of like, visual story-telling, the characters in RWBY all having unique weapons is great short-hand for telling you about them

Ruby’s scythe - it’s big, over-the-top, loud, it showcases her exuberance and imaginative thinking because she has to accommodate for its size and difficulty to use, which is why she’s a good leader because she’s already good at thinking around problems and using what she has available to her advantage

or Jaune’s sword and shield - it starts fairly basic and he’s not good at using them because they’re not his yet, Jaune doesn’t know who he is, so his weapon is straightforward and generic. as he progresses and upgrades his equipment, the weapon changes to reflect him - the Mistral upgrades when he’s on a self-destructive spiral focusing more on brute force that ultimately proves to not be particularly effective, especially contrasting his Atlas upgrades, which allow him to finally address his lack of a landing strategy and expand the shield, showing him more comfortable in his role as support and protector. and then the Ever After degradation, showing how he’s stagnated because he’s not been able to move forward

and on the flip-side of that, the weapons that aren’t terribly unique also tell you a lot about the characters

Cardin has a mace. that’s it. it’s blunt, brute force and aggressive but it’s also boring as hell. he’s a one-note bully with nothing much to him once you get past the bravado

similarly, James Ironwood has a gun. and that’s it. his upgrades involve: more gun. and then bigger gun. brute force trading out for even bruter forceness. it demonstrates his complete lack of imagination and how he focuses solely on direct action (which is reflected in how every strategy of his is ‘swing my dick giant army at it’, and we see in volume 8 how being the leader of the world’s only standing military means jack shit when you’ve never had to fight a war, and for all he brags about how advanced Atlas is - because that’s all he cares about - he’s never thought to update their strategy for the new equipment. using formations meant for horses and muskets isn’t gonna do you much good with giant robots and laser guns my guy)

[backtothefanfiction]

Rain Grows | Aramis x Reader Imagine

Summary: sometimes we all just need a good cry.

Length: Short

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, depressed feelings

A/N: as usual at the moment, I’m feeling very emotional and angsty and need some hurt comfort from one of my boys. Tonight I chose Aramis.

It was like someone had blown out the candle inside you. The one that kept things running. Your spark. Your hope. Now- there was nothing.

You had always been known for your joy. Your bright smile. That small skip in your step. You had kind words for everyone. But now- now you just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.

The moment the candle went out, it was like a delay, the smoke making you hazy as you aimlessly wandered around the market in a daze. All the usual faces tried to say “hi” to you, but you couldn’t seem to say it back. You couldn’t even give them your usual toothy grin. Your new polite tight lipped smile became the hushed talk of the market- and it only made you feel worse.

When one of the older ladies finally asked you if you were okay, it made your heart ache. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know how to act. This had never happened to you before. Then suddenly his name was echoing around your hollow skull. Your knight in roughed up leathers. He always made your heart skip a beat and brought a smile to your lips and a blush to your cheeks. You just had to see Aramis and everything would be okay.

When you got to the garrison it was empty, most of the musketeers- the inseparables included- were all up at the palace and not due back for a while yet. So you decided to wait. And wait. And then wait some more.

Feeling hollow and empty, you sat yourself on the steps that lead up to the Captain’s office and you waited. Your fingers fiddled idly with your skirts, the rough fabric rubbing against your fingertips grounding you and giving you something to focus on as you waited for the time to pass. 20 minutes. Half an hour. 1 hour. 2. 3.

When it began to rain, you still didn’t move. The cold drops of early spring rain hit the back of your neck- your arms- droplets running down and soaking into your clothes. But you didn’t care. You barely noticed. You had completely checked out, that empty darkness seeping out and wrapping its tendrils around every fibre of your being. You were vaguely aware of the passing looks of the stable hands and a few passing musketeers, but you never looked, never paid them attention, just kept your focus on your one mission. Waiting for Aramis and not completely falling apart until he got here.

*****

“Ahhh, I do love the rain.” Aramis hummed to himself and smiled as he took his hat off and allowed the water to wash over him.

“He’s mad.” D’Artagnan muttered to Porthos and Athos as the four of them made their way back down the street towards the garrison.

Porthos chuckled, “Is that so?” He said to his friend, clapping him on the shoulder, “because I remember just last week you said you hated it.”

“Ahh yes, but that’s because it was still Winter then my friend.” Aramis said back, “Spring is here now. The birds are returning, the flowers are blooming,” his fingers reached to brush across the petals of a couple of blooming flowers in a window box they passed.

“And it’s not so cold.” Athos finished Aramis’ sentence for him, in his usual droll tone.

“Exactly!” Aramis smiled enthusiastically, sweeping his hat back onto his head.

“Afternoon boys.” A fellow Musketeer said as he made his way in the opposite direction, away from the garrison from where he had just come.

“Benoit.” They each greeted him, none of them intending to stop, until he did.

“Umm, Aramis, you should know, there’s a young woman waiting for you. Been there a while.”

“Does this lady have a name?” Athos asked.

“She didn’t say, was just asking after Aramis, but I think it’s that girl who works down at the tavern on-“

Aramis didn’t need Benoit to say which tavern, he already knew it was you. But you never visited him at work. You’d seek him out in the tavern- sure- but you never sought him out outside of your work. “How long has she been waiting?” He asked.

“I’d say just gone 3 hours.” Benoit replied before he began to start walking in the direction of his next destination again.

“3 hours?” Porthos said.

“In this weather?” D’Artagnan added.

“Shit, it must be really bad.” Porthos continued, a hint of amusement beginning to fill his voice as he prepared to make a joke and mock his closest friend, “Don’t tell me you got her knocked up?” He began to joke, but Aramis’s face had grown serious.

He ignored his friends as he began to pick up speed, his brisk walk turning into a light jog as he left them behind to run on ahead. You had been waiting for him for over three hours. Why? It had to have been important if you were willing to stay there and wait in the rain for him.

His pace slowed as he came through the gate to the garrison, your rain soaked body near frozen on the stairs as you looked down at your fingers. He found himself pulling his hat off of his head in respect. His steps towards you were slow and tentative, as if he were stalking an animal in the woods, not wishing to startle it, just get a better look. He suddenly froze mere feet away from you as Porthos’s booming and defensive voice grew closer to the gate, making you look up at him like a startled deer.

“Hey- hey…” he said in ever softer tones as if to soothe you and make sure you were okay, “it’s okay.” He said. You both looked away from each other to his brothers as they came into view of the gate, their hesitating eyes locking on the two of you and your more somber faces, each giving you both a silent nod of acknowledgment before passing by and making their way inside.

“You should come inside,” Aramis said, taking another gentle step closer to you, “dry off-“ but his words got trapped in his throat when your eyes met his. They were so scared. So worried. “What is it? What’s happened?” He asked, placing his foot up on the bottom step and leaning in to you, his fingers instinctively reaching out for your face. He forced you to keep your eyes on him. Silently reassured you that he saw your pain and had no intention of averting his eye or looking away.

You had no words. You thought the moment you saw him it would magically make things better, but it didn’t. You didn’t know what else to do now. You had waited in the rain all afternoon in the hopes that you would see his face and it would make everything okay. Now you were just wet. Empty and wet. Your chest sagged, heart breaking and suddenly the dam broke too. Tears filled your eyes and big chest wracking sobs burst free. Aramis quickly shucked off his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders. He then sat himself beside you on the step and wrapped you in his arms.

His embrace was comforting, the smell of his leather familiar. He kissed the top of your head as you just cried. Your tears mingled with the rain on your cheeks and after a few attempts of trying to brush them away for you, Aramis just gave up and held you tighter and continued to let you cry. “There, there,” he cooed softly as he slowly rocked you back and forth on the step, “let it all out.”

“I’m sorry.” Your broken voice said between sobs, but he wouldn’t accept it.

“Now, now, there’s nothing to be sorry about.” He said with another kiss to the top of your wet head.

After another few minutes wrapped up in his embrace, your sobs began to break. “There, there.” He continued to gently say, “it’s okay, I’ve got you,” he repeated, until your breathing was finally under control again and your tears ceased to fall anymore, the rain seaming to also grow lighter too.

As you pushed yourself up away from his chest, wiping at your face as you tried to meet his eyes, his own hands moving to replace your own to do the task for you, you slowly attempted to find your voice once more. “I’m sorry.” You said again. “I just-“ but you couldn’t find the words to explain what happened… because truly you didn’t know what happened, but with his presence, his kindness and warmth, the safety of his arms protecting you as you allowed yourself to shatter into a million pieces, it somehow eased the tension in your chest. You still felt a little bit empty, but now you felt lighter.

“It’s okay.” He said to you again as he smoothed back a sopping wet strand of your hair from your face. Already he could see the light in your eyes returning. He looked hesitantly down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. He’d wanted to kiss them for a while, the way you’d nibble on them and blush when you saw him and give him not your big smiles you gave to everyone else, but your smaller adorable, bashful and intimate ones. But now, knowing he meant so much to you that when you were hurting, he was the only one you’d share your vulnerability with, it made him want to kiss you even more. But now was not the time. Instead he decided to use his mouth instead to distract. “Do you know why I love the rain?” He asks you, his fingers reaching out to intertwine with your cold ones as he looks out towards the gates of the garrison.

“No.” You reply as you carefully watch his face from the side, the corners of his lips turning up as the dark clouds above began to pass and make way for a clearer skies.

“Because it washes away the old and makes everything clean, ready to start a fresh.” He says proudly, his chest puffing up slightly as he turns his head to share his grin with you and it makes the corners of your own mouth twitch, a faint ghost of a smile slowly gracing your features, observing his boy like wonder about the world.

“It also,” he continues, his thumb rubbing gently across the back of your hand, “brings life.” He smiles. “It waters the plants and helps the flowers to bloom and the crops to grow. There’s so much wonder in the rain. Everyone gets so caught up in it, you know. Their clothes get wet and the shoes get muddy. But it’s so much more than that. Plus,” he says, standing and pulling you up with him, “when it eventually passes and the sun begins to shine again, sometimes,” he says, pulling you into the centre of the garrison, his eyes moving in small searching flashes to the sky until they stop and he too stops, turning you in the right direction to see what he does, “you get to see truly rare beauty that no amount of money in the world could buy.”

His hands rest on your shoulders from behind and his finger points up to the sky- and there you see it, faint at first, but slowly growing stronger. A rainbow. It makes you smile. A full one this time too. You feel his body relax behind you at the sight of it and you can’t help but relax back into him again, your smile growing content.

“See, even the sky cries some times.” He says into your ear, and you can feel the smile on his lips with how close his mouth is to it.

“And maybe it sends rainbows to let us know it was a good cry.” You turn your head and smile at him.

He beams, a small breathy chuckle escaping his lips. With a warm twinkle in his eye, he kisses your temple in agreement. “Sometimes we all just need a good cry.” He confirms.

[bluebellsinburbank]

List Your Top 9 Characters

Thank you @ascreamintothevoid-blog for tagging me!

Neal Caffrey - always and forever my favourite character. Words cannot describe how much I love him (and Peter and most of the White Collar family, but I had to choose Neal).

Captain James T. Kirk - my childhood favourite who will always hold a very special place in my heart.

Colonel Robert E. Hogan - continuing with my childhood favs from a series I recently rediscovered and still adore.

Jareth the Goblin King - comfort movie, comfort character and ... It's David Bowie!

Obi-Wan Kenobi - for many, many reasons 😁

Chuck Bartowski - yes, I mainly watch this show for the brief times Matt Bomer is there (and I am very proud of myself for not just picking Bryce), but I also have a soft spot for Chuck.

Cardinal Richelieu - literally the only good thing IMO about The Musketeers series, with the possible exception of Captain Treville.

Sherlock Holmes - and John Watson too (there is no separating the two) from many adaptations as well as the stories, but Jeremy Brett's is just perfect.

Hawkins Fuller - he's not perfect by any stretch of the imagination but I swear this show and Hawk are giving me severe emotional damage. (Plus, just look at that smile)

I'm fairly certain that everyone I know here has already been tagged, but if you see this and think it looks fun please consider yourself tagged.

[pilferingapples]

   ah that bit in every Romanticist bio where we gotta get the who's who as the author sees it (all this is from the Fourth Musketeer)

At the Café de Paris, on the boulevard, Alexander breathed the air of the great world. There the celebrities of journalism, literature, and dandyism met.

...this gets long

That man with the warlike hat and blinking eyes' is Nestor Roqueplan who has now left his garret, his washbasin-clock and his pistols-candelabra for the comfortable offices of the Figaro.

OK was this before/after/during its time as an anti-Romanticist paper??

Next him is Jules Janin, who looks comfortably rotund but thinks only of snapping at his neighbor, and who will later fight a duel with Dumas about a wretched question of dramatic criticism.

JULES JANIN DUELED ALEX DUMAS?? ...JULES JANIN DUELES ALEX DUMAS AND LIVED?!?

That fellow by way of being a gentleman, dressed with the correctness of an English lord in a blue coat with gold buttons, a yellow waistcoat, and pearl-gray trousers, is the husband of Marie Dorval, Merle, one of the legitimist party, an epicure and an authority on gastronomy.

..wait, isn't that outfit a Werther cosplay? Am I getting the colors wrong?

. . Over at the long table, orating in a high voice, with his face awkwardly swathed in an enormous neckcloth to hide certain unpleasant scars, is Veron, nicknamed the Prince of Wales, actually the manager of the Revue de Paris, who pays Dumas royally, at least for the time being. With his high color, his greedy lips that look as if they were smeared with jam, and his gluttonous eyes, he seems at once an abbot of former times and a comedy valet.

This guy is way more important than you'd guess by how little he shows up in histories! Also he got his start in patent medicine, which is really jumping out at me post-Blue Castle read!

     That tall, thin, dark man, with hair cut brush-shaped and a prominent nose, wearing a velvet caftan and a cap lined with martin fur, is Adolphe de Leuven, librettist of the Postillon de Lonjumeau, who launched Alexander. By his side, flaunting a magnificent kidskin waistcoat and whirling his rhinoceros cane, is handsome Roger de Beauvoir, with a mop of curly black hair, the only one of Alexander's friends who is an aristocrat of wealth-Beauvoir who entertains six hundred people at the Hôtel de Pimodan, and who has just challenged Balzac for accusing him of being named neither Roger nor Beauvoir. Although Balzac took the trouble to send him "forty pages of excuses," the dandy will listen to nothing and proclaims: "I scorn M. de Balzac's prose, I want only his skin!"

holy shit Balzac you messed up??

     Here is Eugène Sue, very smart in his sea-green coat, with a rather vulgar turn of the nose that detracts from his good looks. Last, simpler and jollier than the rest, is that good fellow Méry who passes for a librarian at Marseilles, but who is always off on a lark to Paris; an amazing improviser who can compose correctly an act of a classical tragedy within two hours, and in the drawing-rooms describe the tortures of hell so vividly that the ladies beg for mercy.

Fun new party game: Describe the tortures of hell!

     Near these gentlemen, but on a lower plane, the madmen appear. "He who was Gannot" and has made himself God under the name Mapah, is a fop and a billiard player now fallen on evil days who sends out manifestos signed "By Our Apostolic Ruin."

The Mahpah is one of the wildest ...visionaries? religious ...somethings? movement leaders? of the time, love seeing him get mentioned (Wiki) (Nonbinary wiki)

Jean Journet, called the Apostle, goes about dressed as a begging friar and sells his verses unfailingly entitled "Songs" or "Cries."

...I have no idea who this is . Sounds like he's coping with poverty very artistishly.

Poor Petrus Borel imagines himself to be a wolf; at his house Alexander has eaten cream from a skull. . . .

excuse you he never said he was a wolf he said he was a werewolf and no one actually disagreed also man,you serve ice cream in skulls ONE time...

         ...you might see (Dumas) in the rue Grange-Batelière, in the salon of the dancer Marie Taglioni, "the sylph of sylphs," or at Delphine de Girardin's on the days when she recited her poems. But Alexander always grew sentimental near "the Muse" and asked her to receive him in private. "I love you," he said, "with an affection too selfish to share you with the world." Then, when they were alone together, she would interrupt him with questions about dramatic art. "Do tell me how one writes for the theater?" Dumas laughed at what he called "the naïveté of genius."      He was attractive to women, there was no doubt of that, even to the most distrustful of them. When Sainte-Beuve, who was fond of playing the rôle of intermediary, proposed to introduce Alfred de Musset to George Sand, she answered: "I don't want you to bring Alfred de Musset. He's too much of a dandy, we should never get along together. . . . Instead of him, do bring Alexander Dumas, in whose art I have found a soul, exclusive of his talent." Alexander came and Sand took a great liking to him.

Wow, imagine if George Sand had ever hung out with Musset What a disaster that would have been huh in that alternate world ><

[little-peril-stories]

I saw your reblog of historical dresses, and it reminded me that I had wanted to ask you what era PoT and QoL take place in, because the historical fashion enthusiast in me needed to know. As soon as I got to your blog to ask, though, I saw that you specified the era in your masterlist! But I thought I’d send you an ask anyway to let you know that I’m enjoying QoL and that I share your love for pretty historical dresses.

Hahaha sooooo 😅 When I first wrote TPOT, which was a long and messy process that started with Whumptober 2022 (I had NO idea what I was getting myself into, lmao), I didn't have an era in mind, and was generally imagining somewhere between the 1830s and 1850s, ish?

(I used to work at a historic site where we reenacted the 1830s, so it was a comfortable era for me.)

So, the version of TPOT that's online is basically this hilariously anachronistic mix of different time periods that allowed me to just draw on what I aleady knew about. I tried to smooth that out a bit in editing by doing some actual research 😂 (all the flintlock muskets magically became revolvers and the mentions of clothes got more consistent).

However, once I started writing TQOL, I realized that if I wanted to have this one specific dramatic moment I had planned, the time period HAD to be later, lol. So TQOL was (well, still is) written with the 1880s in mind. Whoops. 😅

I'm so glad you're enjoying TQOL! 💕 Thank you for telling me!!

All the YES to pretty historical dresses. If I could get away with wearing ruffled petticoats and long skirts in daily life, I totally would. 😁

[hacash]

Series asks:

• The Terror

• The Musketeers

• the last movie you watched

Marvellously the last film I watched was LOTR, which makes this beautifully easy! Also I want to sue for making me choose just one husband-candidate from the Terror character list, this is nothing but pure biphobia.

The Terror

Character I’d want as a best friend. - Depending on my mood it would either be Bridgens (sweet, gentle, loves books, will clearly be a comforting presence) or Fitzjames (gossipy, kinda bitchy, would enjoy drag brunch and hopefully sharing his fabulous wardrobe with me).

Character I’d want as a parent. – I was going to say MacDonald, as he’s just so nice and dry-witted and shaped like kindness, but honestly one of the fundamental rules of life is that you can't think your parent is hot and Charles Edwards remains an absolute dish, so it's gonna have to be Captain 'Grumpy Pants' Crozier here.

Character I’d want as a sibling. - Irving, my troubled dweeby little baby queer: I have so many queer Christian groups to share with you.

Character I’d want as a significant other. – SOL TOZER. LOOK AT MY TAGS. THIS MUCH IS APPARENT. He's loyal, he's snarky, he's genuinely protective of his men, he's the hottest one of the bunch and clearly takes orders well: which is basically my dream husband. Because I'm greedy I will also dub Fitzjames and Hartnell as very close runners-up: two absolute Good Eggs who also happen to be very pretty.

Character I’d want as a child. – Honest to God, if I could pop baby Thomas Evans into a sling like a baby kangaroo and carry him around all day, I would, with his curls and his pinchable cheeks and his heartbreaking loyalty to his buddies.

Character I’d want as a weird inlaw. – There is only one possible right answer for this, and that answer is Thomas ‘Monsterfucker’ Blanky.

BBC Musketeers

Character I’d want as a best friend. - Porthos, 100% the best musketeers of the bunch.

Character I’d want as a parent. – Obviously Captain Treville; apparently a specific blorbo-type I have is ‘gruff figure of authority who would die for anyone under their command’ and Treville was definitely a foundational blorbo here.

Character I’d want as a sibling. - Sylvie only had a single series and I'm still gutted about it; not only do I think she'd be a great sibling but we could overthrow the government together.

Character I’d want as a significant other. – I didn't spend several years spamming your feeds with reams of d'Artagnan gifsets and meta not to dub him my honorary husband now.

Character I’d want as a child. – Aramis: granted he’s an adult man but I feel like he needs a full-time parent just to tell him what not to put his dick in.

Character I’d want as a weird inlaw. – Can you imagine going to family dinners and having Louis as an in-law? Those meals would be so messy, I would absolutely love that.

LOTR

Character I’d want as a best friend. – I would argue that pretty much the entire point of the trilogy is ‘you will never get a best friend better than Samwise Gamgee’, so obviously my answer’s gotta be Sam. We both like gardening, planting, being snarky little shits and loving Frodo Baggins so we’d probably get on.

Character I’d want as a parent. – Absolutely Theoden: Bernard Hill’s delivery of ‘no parent should ever have to bury their child’ ruined me twenty-two years ago and honestly I’ve never quite recovered. (He makes such a good dad!!)

Character I’d want as a sibling. – Boromir is the archetypal big brother; I would bond with him over adorable hobbits and being aspec so so much.

Character I’d want as a significant other. – My little eleven-year-old self’s crush on both Pippin and Merry was a significantly formative period in my life, so honestly, either of them. They’re both Good Eggs, we can bond over cooking, Pippin can make me laugh lots and Merry can compensate for my utter inability to plan anything ever.

Character I’d want as a child. – Those two adorable baby hobbit kiddos played by Peter Jackson's kids.

Character I’d want as a weird inlaw. – Gandalf is the only weird inlaw.

[sailorwritesstuff]

could you write about reader and dustin dressing up for halloween and what their costume might be? maybe them going out with the rest of their friends?

One more year

Dustin Henderson x gn! Reader

Warnings: reader IS dressed like Audrey from Little shop of horrors but I didn't put them in any specific clothing so you can imagine the fit however you want.

'Ding Dong'

You jumped up at the sound of the doorbell rushing towards the front door yelling over your shoulder towards your mom that you'd be leaving.

"be home by 11." She called from the kitchen where she had rushed off to refill the candy bowl for for the various amount of trick or treaters that pass through on their own personal candy tracking journey.

"I will." You roll your eyes grabbing your keys and wallet sticking them into the pocket of your jacket.

"I'm serious y/n and tell that boy I mean it."

'that boy' what's what your mother had taken to calling your boyfriend when you were younger she adored him she thought he was the cutest thing she'd ever saw. You couldn't help but grin every time she said it because she said it as if it were an insult but you knew that she not so secretly still adored him and was hoping that the two of you would be high school sweethearts.

"will do. Bye, I love you mama but I'm going to be late!" You blue exaggerated kisses as you close the door behind you coming face to face with Dustin carrying an insanely screen accurate puppet of Audrey II, that the two of you had worked on together. Most of his curls were pushed back out of his face and his normal hat was left behind in the depths of his room.

"Hi." He manages out breathly grinning at you like you'd personally just handed him the moon itself.

"Hi to you too" you kiss him once and grab little Audrey from his hands. "Ready to go?"

"You bet your ass." He smiled and the two of you beginning walking down the street passing kids on their way home from trick or treating and fond smiles makes their way onto your faces because that used to be you running home with bags full of candy hoping to make it before curfew.

"What do you even do at Halloween parties?" The question was slow and hesitant like he was embarrassed.

"honestly...I was hoping you would know." You shyly confess.

"not a clue."

A new comfortable silence fell on the two of you as you walk hand in hand passing house's with the front porch lights still on some shining on bowls of candy on the porch, some on spooky decorations, but All indicators that there was bags of candy inside.

"hey..." It slips past your lips before you even process it. Dustin gives a small questioning 'hm?' and you tug you hand up to point at the closest house. "Wanna stop for some candy real quick?"

He paused and thought for a moment before a wolfish grin fell on his face. "I could go for a Snickers bar."

"No three musketeers this year?" You tease, poking fun at his past Halloween with Dart.

"Funny."

"Dustin?" A deeper voice calls from a couple of feet away.

"Oh hi Lucas. Max." He waves politely shuffling on his feet.

"Are you coming? The party is still going." Max reminds him gesturing in the direction you were meant to be heading.

"Actually...I think we're going to go trick or treating. One more year." He smiles pulling you closer and slinging an arm over your shoulder.

"mind if we join you?"

[tenebrius-excellium]

Hi, who would you fancast as Gen, Irene, Sophos and Helen? Also, what would you do if ROTT ever gets a movie adaptation, one depicting the war with the Mede anyway? 🙈 🥺👉👈

Hii!!!! Oh my gosh fancasting Tqt is NOT easy...

...especially since a couple fancasts have already been made that I am SO down to agree with. I hope you'll forgive me if I partly choose people that have already been named within the fandom before...?

[Insert: ARE YOU KIDDING ME YOU MADE ME CREATE WHOLE POWERPOINT PRESENTATIONS FOR THEM I SPENT THE ENTIRE AFTERNOON ON THIS AND I DO NOT REGRET IT]

Eugenides: Luke Pasqualino

Who else. He could pull off Young Gen, King Gen, and God Gen. I love his chill mannerisms and his cheekiness. But whoever has watched BBC's "The Musketeers" knows he can portray a dark, rash and dangerous side as well. The actor has Italian roots btw.

Irene Attolia: Irene Papas

Sadly, this awesome actress died in 2022. She was Greek and played in "The Trojan Women" as well as "Iphigenia" - so, you know, she has the ideal Greek Aristocratic face. Isn't she the perfect Attolia?

Sophos - Christian Martyn

How I found this actor, I don't know. I am not familiar with him, though he played Gilbert Blythe in "Anne with an E". Look. LOOK. Bear with me. He seems innocent, is the definition of too Nice™ and has this precious aura of childlike chaos about him. But he is also able to glow up into a warrior when necessary O_O

Helen Eddis: Nathalie Emmanuel

Okay, look. While I'm personally highly satisfied with the above casts, I know full and well that this one isn't perfect. First of all, Emmanuel is far too thin and pretty to be Eddis. They'd have to change her nose at least, if not give her a rounder body type. But she is dark-skinned, her hair is short, her smile is fun and captivating, and I think this does reflect who Eddis is to some degree. I'm sorry I didn't find anything more accurate.

To comfort you, here are some more random character casts that I found/came up with while working on the others:

King of Sounis - Jack Black

Nahuseresh - Dev Patel. Imagine the reddish beard oh my gosh

Kamet - Riz Ahmed (that one was the author's choice, I believe)

Ambiades - Austin North. Like, come on. He's gotta be the evil version of Sophos and he would be perfect.

Costis - he's honestly just that one real life Kristoff edit from Frozen. No, he's really Channing Tatum in "The Eagle". Look him up.

As for what would happen if The Queen's Thief Series got turned into a movie, I would SCREAM YELL CRY HAPPY TEARS.

They could turn the 6 books into 3 movies, I believe.

The Thief & The Queen of Attolia (the story would have to be slightly changed, e.g. older Gen and different politics, but they can really pull together the whole 125 pages of travelling to the temple into a 5min montage)

The King of Attolia & A Conspiracy of Kings (how Costis became King isn't as important, but it could serve as a sideplot/what Gen is actually contributing politically behind the facade)

Thick as Thieves and Return of the Thief (again, how Kamet came to Attolia isn't as important as the message he brought.)

The Queen's Thief reminds me much of Narnia (the world, the values, the fashion, the colors), Percy Jackson (adventure Greek setting), and Sinbad (adventure + navigating the Gods). If they ever turned that into a movie, I'D WATCH THE HECK OUT OF IT.

Thank you very much for asking!!!