#the musketeers imagines

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Phantom

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 3631

Part One of Three

Summary: Aramis’s paramour is proclaimed dead by the man she was set to marry. Having escaped her murder attempt, the reader tries to reach Aramis before a worse fate can befall him at the hands of her betrayer.

Notes: I really wanted to write my own interpretation on what happens to Adele and what Aramis’s reaction would be. I didn’t use the Cardinal though because I wanted a character more expendable for revenge purposes. I also know that Pinon is much farther away, but for the sake of the story, I’m making it closer.  Also was only meant to be one part, but we all know I can’t write short things. Sorry!

Warnings: The usual- violence, mentions of death/assault, Aramis steaminess (of course)

More Musketeer imagines: HERE

-

“She died screaming your name, musketeer scum!” Visage sneered. The horse trampled over fallen leaves, each step thundering in Aramis’s ears. “She pleaded for you to come to her! To save her.” The wretch aimed his pistol, but Aramis continued running after him. “You failed.” 

He fired. The shot rang past the musketeer’s ear. He kept running but his speed was no match for Visage’s horse. 

“Come back and fight me you coward!” Aramis screamed. “Visage!” 

Athos broke through the trees, followed closely by the other two. 

Visage fired again. Again, it failed to find its mark. Porthos called out to Aramis. He didn’t hear him. 

“I’ll be back for you, filth! The embarrassment you’ve forced upon me will be nothing compared to the pain I have planned for your death!” Visage shouted. He took something from his bag. “Have this token as a promise.” A glint of gold fell to the forest floor and Visage disappeared into the morning mist. 

“Aramis!” The three chased after him. D’Artagnan stopped to examine the item from Visage.

He ran until his lungs felt that they’d burst. Even after he couldn't see him anymore, he sprinted with fire in his blood and tears in his eyes. It couldn’t be true. He’d catch Visage and force him to confess the lie. 

It couldn’t be true.

“Aramis, stop!” Athos called. He caught up to his breathless friend and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Stop. He’s gone.” 

“We can’t allow him to escape,” Aramis gasped. His mouth tasted bitter. His lungs heaved for air. 

“We won’t.”

Porthos joined the two. In the distance, D’Artagnan hurried after them, examining something in his palm intently. 

“What the hell happened?” Porthos asked. “Was that who I thought that was?” 

Realization struck Athos first as Aramis hit his knees. His shaking breaths turned to sobs he couldn’t bring himself to suppress. 

“Where is she?” Athos froze in place, his words carrying his understanding panic. “Aramis, where is she?” 

Aramis looked at the ground. 

“What is this?” D’Artagnan held up a lilac-colored ribbon. Aramis reached a hand to take it from him. At the end of the ribbon was a metal locket, spattered with the gore of dried blood. Aramis opened the latch and a small note of his writing fell to the ground before him. 

Paradis.

Heaven. 

It was the name he’d given Y/N, whispered in intimate moments in the dark. 

“He killed her,” Aramis said, words heavy with the guttural pain gnawing at every inch of his being. He glanced up at his companions with tearful eyes. “He killed Y/N.” 

-

The charcoal swooped across the page, creating the line of the sheet draped over his stomach, concealing what lay underneath. You shaded the defined curves and lines of his chest, biting your lip in concentration. 

“Are you nearly finished?” Aramis teased, eyes still twinkling in the way you’d drawn them on the paper in your hand. You peeked up over your sketchbook. His gaze grew lustrous and wanting. “I’m not sure I can be still much longer with you looking at me like that.”

You smirked. “I’m nearly there. Be patient.” 

“Patience is a virtue I haven’t quite gotten the hang of.” He cocked a brow and lifted his foot to graze against the flesh of your thigh in an attempt to coax you back to him. Though his touch left a tingling spark in your nerves, you persevered in your resistance for a few more strokes of your charcoal.

“Just a few more details…” You mused. You finished the shadow on his arms, crossed comfortably beneath his head, and added a few more strands to his dark, unruly mane. “There. Finished.” You beamed proudly at your work and flicked your eyes up to your bedmate to compare the drawing’s likeness. 

“Let me see,” Aramis said, holding out his hand for your book. You clutched it to your chest. He sat up to reach, but you jumped up, scurrying away from his grasp. His mouth fell open with an amused whine. “I’ve just laid here for an hour so you could draw. I think I’ve more than earned a preview.” 

“Well, then you’ll have to come and get it.” You stepped back, your back brushed against your curtains. 

“Very well.” Aramis tossed the blankets aside and stood before you. 

Naked. 

You erupted with laughter. 

He marched across the room, prompting you to hurry away again, but he gave chase despite his lack of clothing. Your squealing giggles filled the room and his arms locked around you. He plucked the notebook from your hand and examined his portrait with a victorious smile. 

“This is actually quite good,” he said. 

“Madame de Visage doesn’t fund me for my looks,” you snorted, wriggling to try and escape, but his arm was firmly clamped around your waist. 

He set the sketchbook aside and flipped you around. “Now, we have approximately an hour before your patroness returns, correct?” 

You nodded, beaming. 

“Then may I suggest…” He peppered kisses across your decolletage. “We finish what we started before your artistic endeavor?”  

“Aramis-” You sighed breathily, cut off by his lips on yours. His hand slipped under your chamise while he leaned you back onto the bed, muttering what he often did when wrapped in your arms. The same phrase over and over as he hovered over you, continuing his nipping across your shoulder. 

“Tu es mon paradis.” 

-

Porthos lifted the water-soaked towel to dab at the cut across Aramis’s brow, but his hand was swatted away. The four men sat in silence, each with his eyes fixed on the table where Y/N’s necklace sat, ribbon frayed and metal tarnished with dried blood. A heaviness filled the room and sunk into their hearts. 

“I thought she’d left me,” Aramis spoke quietly, lips pressed against his clenched fist. “When her servant told me she’d gone through with Visage’s proposal and moved with him to the country I did nothing.” His throat burned with a hatred directed inward. “I thought she betrayed me. So I. Did. Nothing.” 

He slammed his fist on the table, making the necklace skid across the wooden surface. Aramis lifted his eyes to the others and all they saw was loathing. For Visage. For the world. But, most of all, for himself. 

“He strapped her to a tree and beat her like a dog because she loved me,” he said. “And then he shot her through the heart while she begged for my help.” Each word choked him until he felt he couldn’t breathe. His chest heaved as it had in the forest, the guilt and despair overtaking his body like a disease. “I doomed her the moment I laid eyes on her.” 

“This is because of that pig, Visage, not you,” Porthos said, fury boiling with every word his friend spoke. “We’ll find him and make him pay, Aramis, I promise you that.” 

D’Artagnan nodded in agreement. Athos said nothing. He just examined his companion’s despondence with an understanding eye. 

Aramis stood and left them, an air of emptiness in his wake. 

“If I find Visage…” Porthos seethed. 

“That’s what he wants,” Athos said, finally breaking his silence. “You heard what he said. He wants Aramis dead next.” 

“Of course, he wants him dead,” D’Artagnan said. “The woman he sought to control fell in love with another man. And now that he’s killed her…” His words reflected the disheartened feeling deep in his chest. D’Artagnan knew Y/N well. She’d come around the garrison often and befriended each of the musketeers. She was sweet and bright and courageous. It pained him to know that such a light had gone from the world. It pained all of them. 

Porthos clenched his fists. “We’ll be ready for him. And when he shows his face again, we’ll show him the same mercy he gave her.” 

“We have to be smart about this. Visage has a small army of men to do his bidding. It’s how they were able to overtake Aramis once already,” Athos sighed. “If we hadn’t shown up, Aramis would have joined Y/N in the grave.” 

Lord knows how much he wished he had and Athos knew it. 

They sat for a moment, contemplating this. D’Artagnan looked toward Aramis’s quarters. 

“Should one of us check on him?” He asked. 

“No,” Athos said grimly. “No, I think he needs to be alone.” 

From behind the closed door, the sounds of items thrown and glass shattering filled their already heavy hearts with woe. When the destruction ceased, there was a silence, and then a deep, desolate scream burdened the air. 

Porthos moved toward the horrible sound, but Athos put a hand on his shoulder. He knew, better than either of them, that Aramis needed to feel. 

Aramis had the biggest heart of all of them and he’d given it to Y/N completely. Athos worried that, even if they did kill Visage, it would destroy him. 

-

The small room filled with barely conscious, painful groans. Jeanne called for her father to hurry. 

You were waking up. 

“Where…” You opened your eyes, finding them sore and still recovering from being so swollen. “Where am I?” 

“We brought you to Pinon,” the girl hovering over you said. “My name is Jeanne, my father is Bertrand. This is our inn.” She brought a towel to your forehead. The cool drip of water down your jaw was a welcome sensation compared to every nerve in your body screaming at you as you started to remember what happened. 

Visage. 

Every blow, every cut, and every cruel word resurfaced in your memory. His threat- No. His promise sent a jolt of energy through your aching limbs. 

“He’s going to kill him,” you gasped, sitting up. A sharp pain rattled in your ribs. The girl held you down. “I have to find him before he… he…” 

“You’ve been in and out of consciousness for nearly a week,” she said. “You aren’t going anywhere.” 

The terrible ache in your battered body prevented much resistance on your part and you laid back down. You blinked, taking in the room around you. Where were you? How did you get here? Who were these people? The echo of a gunshot pierced your brain.

How were you alive? 

“I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in,” Jeanne blew out a low breath, “but you definitely angered the wrong person. You’d be dead if it weren’t for that thing under your cloak.” She motioned to the table beside the bed. Your eyes grew wide. 

Your sketchbook sat, the leather cover and pages curled around the scorched chasm in the center. Reaching a shaking hand, you opened it and, sure enough- though singed by the hole in the middle, the drawing you’d done of Aramis smirked back at you. Somehow, the pile of papers and sketches saved your life. For a long while, you just laid there, staring into the smudge-drawn eyes of the man you loved. The man you put in danger. 

“I can’t stay here,” you sighed, letting your body adjust to every movement as you again tried to get out of the bed. Jeanne moved to stop you, but you held up a hand. “The man who did this to me isn’t finished.” She pursed her lips and moved to the other end of the room where a pile of your clothes and pair of boots sat. You stretched, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the bowl of water beside your sketchbook. 

You gasped. 

Your cheek was swollen and turned an awful purplish color. A large cut stretched from your temple to the inside of your brow, just missing your eye. Your lip was marked with a bloodied scab. Worst of all were your hands. You hadn’t looked at them until now, but the flesh of your knuckles was badly torn apart and your fingers trembled terribly. You wondered if you’d ever be able to draw again. It seemed such a stupid thing to fret over now, but it brought tears to your eyes. 

“W-where did you say we are?” You asked through the shock. 

“Pinon.” 

You turned back to Jeanne, the name striking something in your mind. “I know a man who speaks of this place. His name is Athos.” 

Jeanne stiffened. 

“Do you know him?”

“He was the Comte de la Fére,” she spat. “He doesn’t do anything for us now.” 

“Do you think you can send word to him?”

“We’ve been trying for ages, but it just won’t work.” Her anger softened with sadness that came from desperation. “He just ignores any letter we send as far as I know.” 

“Trust me.” You tore a sheet of charred paper from your scrapbook. Your hands shook as you tried to hold the charcoal steady enough to write. “He won’t ignore this one.” 

-

Perhaps he would spend the rest of his days in that blinding numbness that consumed everything. Perhaps he would drink away any feeling and pretend everything was fine, as Athos had for years. Perhaps he would die by Visage’s hand and find an end to this misery. 

But not yet. Not now. 

Now, he had his rage. 

Aramis sat at the base of the steps, sharpening yet another blade. The sun had not yet risen over the city, but he could feel the approaching daylight signal his need to hurry before the others awoke. Three more, two short swords and one rapier, lay out before him, glistening and prepared for battle. He could see your face in it, like a phantom reflection in the blade.

When that was finished, he moved onto his musket. 

“You’ll have to teach me how to handle it one day,” you’d said once. 

He remembered chuckling and shaking his head, taking your sweet, soft hands in his. His fingers had traced splotches of paint and charcoal under your nails. 

He’d smiled. “Your hands are made for artistry. Not violence.” 

It felt as though your hands were upon him now, your touch haunting his every motion. He readied his weapons and gathered them in front of him. It was certainly enough for a one-man army. 

He knew the others wouldn’t hear of it. They’d insist on coming with him and taking on Visage’s men together. But Aramis wouldn’t allow them. This was his fight and he intended on going alone. 

Of course, the other three had already figured this out and had been plotting for the past hour. 

“Visage can’t have gotten far from the city if he’s left at all. Luring Aramis into the forest was merely a ploy to get him alone,” Athos whispered. 

“A ploy he’s about to fall for all over again,” Porthos huffed. His fists clenched at his sides. If it’d been up to him, they would have started the hunt hours ago. But Athos said they needed a plan, especially if they were going to convince Aramis not to lose his head. 

Athos put a hand on his shoulder. “Not if we can help it.” 

“He’s moving,” D’Artagnan said. 

Aramis gathered his weapons, hooking his pistols onto his belt and strapping his musket to his back. One rapier hung from his hip while he gripped the other in hand, ready to fight at a moment's notice. He would not be surprised again. 

The three stood from their place in the shadow, forming a line before the entrance and blocking Aramis’s exit. He halted, grip on his weapon tightened, along with his jaw, setting his face in a deep frown. 

“You didn’t think we’d actually sit by and let you get yourself killed, did you?” Porthos asked. 

“Move aside,” he growled. He kept his eyes over their heads, staring down the enemy he knew lay beyond the buildings around them. 

“We’re going with you.” D’Artagnan stepped toward him. 

Aramis’s sword was at his chest in an instant. 

“Get out of my way!” 

Two more swords crossed his, forcing the blade away from the youngest member of their group. Aramis’s chin trembled. 

“I have to do this,” he whispered. 

“But you don’t have to do it alone.” Porthos lowered the sword and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Let us come with you. Visage has a small army, you’ll never reach him.” 

“I cannot ask you to join my fight.”

D’Artagnan shook his head, again stepping forward. “Y/N was a friend to all of us. It is our fight as well. I’ll gladly give my sword in the cause to avenge her gentle and kind spirit.” 

Aramis still opened his mouth to argue. Athos silenced him with a wave. 

“Think about it, Aramis,” he urged sternly. “What do you want? A fruitless death? Or justice?” He looked at him with such intense feeling, that Aramis couldn’t ignore it. “What would Y/N want?” 

She would want to live. Aramis wanted to say, but couldn’t find the words on his tongue. He could only nod and let the fire in his chest cool with thoughts of her. Athos was right, of course. The only thing that mattered was making Visage pay. 

Porthos gave him a reassuring smile with a determination that matched his own. “Then let’s go find this bastard, eh?” 

Aramis allowed himself to be led by the three to saddle their horses. As Porthos and D’Artagnan kept an eye on him, Athos was drawn away by a young man waving him down with a letter in hand. 

“A letter for you, monsieur. From Pinon.” 

A shot like ice rushed up his spine. He crossed his arms in dismissal. “You may dispose of it. There’s nothing there that concerns me.” 

“I’m told it’s urgent.” He held the parchment toward him. 

Athos started to deny him again, this time with a tinge of annoyance, but the writing on the front stopped him. In soft, swooping letters read his name- Athos of the King’s Musketeers. He took the letter from the young man, perplexed. Of the letters he received from the home he wished to forget, he’d only ever been addressed by anyone there as the Comte de la Fére- something he’d never call himself again. Perhaps they’d finally accepted his decision. 

He could still throw it out. What good could come of it? Anything from Pinon could only bring him heartache. And yet, the letter weighed heavily in his hand.

“Thank you,” he said, paying the man for his efforts. 

With his back still to his companions, he tore open the envelope, finding two papers inside. The first, a small note, and the second a sketch, charred in the middle from what appeared to be a gunshot. 

I’m sorry to contact you in such a mysterious manner, but my circumstances have given me little choice. I’m sure Visage has revealed the news to you and my dear Aramis that I am dead. I write this letter to tell you he has failed. By the grace of God, I survived Visage’s attack and am now recovering in your former home of Pinon. I provide this drawing I once did of the four of you training on a sunny day several weeks ago. You told me it seemed the swords moved right off of the page. I hope this is enough to convince you that this is no trick. 

I write to you because I know you will grant me this request- do not tell Aramis. Not yet. I fear that Visage will find him too easily if I were to reveal myself to him. I beg of you to ride to Pinon to help me save him before Visage can enact the final part of his terrible, jealous plot. Urge Aramis to stay away from him, to stay safe. I cannot bear the thought of any harm coming to him. Though I know prolonging my return can only cause him more grief, it is for his own protection. 

Please, Athos, I need you now more than ever. If this letter has been intercepted by any but you, I fear my hope will be lost. 

Y/F/N Y/L/N 

Athos’s eyes darted between the note and the drawing. Sure enough, it was the very image Y/N had drawn during a particularly laid-back day in the early days of summer. 

But it couldn’t be. Visage was a violent, unforgiving man. He would not have just let the woman who fooled him escape. And the necklace D’Artagnan had found was filthy with Y/N’s blood. 

The writing of the letter could be hers. He hadn’t seen enough of her handwriting to be sure. And the drawing… who else would know what he’d said to her that day? 

“Athos!” Porthos called. “Aren’t you coming?” 

The somber musketeer stuffed the letter and the drawing into the top of his boot and turned back to his friends. As he rejoined them, he could feel Aramis’s suspicious eyes before he even spoke. 

“Something has come up,” Athos said. “I’m afraid I’ll have to join you later. When you find Visage, do not attack. Wait and send for me.” 

“What could be more important than this?” Aramis spat. His hands tightened his grip on the reins and his horse whinnied. 

“I assure you, I would not leave if it wasn’t absolutely essential.” He mounted his own horse, feeling the burning stares of all three of them as he moved. While he wished to tell them, to give Aramis even the slightest bit of hope, he couldn’t in good conscience until he confirmed it was true. “You will understand later.” 

He rode off before they could ask anything else. 

D’Artagnan watched until he could no longer see him. “What could that be about?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Aramis said. He urged his horse forward. “Come on.” 

The three departed shortly after Athos, driven by vengeance, while their separated friend almost dared to hope.  

#aramis x reader #aramis bbc #the musketeers imagines #the musketeers bbc #santiago cabrera #athos #d'artagnan #porthos #all for one and one for all

[chiaraanatra]

Musketeers Don't Die Easily (Athos)

Summary: They had to make it believable and that involved not having you in on the plan.

Warnings: Series-appropriate violence, mentions of blood, minor spoilers for season one finally, angst with a fluffy ending

Word Count: 1.3k

AN: Finally, a piece for Athos, took me long enough! Feedback is always appreciated! Can also be read on AO3

《  m.list  ||  ao3  》

The four of you walked through the corridor back towards the Garrison. Athos always insisted that you never left the Garrison without a musketeer escort. You both knew that you could take care of yourself, he had made sure of that, but that could never fully quell his worries about something happening to you. You couldn’t help but find it enduring. The two of you had known each other since he first moved to Paris, quickly developing a friendship much to his dismay, wanting to be left alone to brood in peace, something you would have none of. The truth was you loved the tall sandy blonde, but that was a secret (a poorly hidden one if you were to ask Aramis and Porthos) that you would take to your grave.

You watched as Porthos joked around, glancing at the smirk that fell onto Athos’ lips. As his eyes met yours you quickly looked away, praying the blood to leave your cheeks.

“Athos!” You turned around to find D’Artagnan shouting down the corridor. To your knowledge, the 4 of you handed heard anything from the brunette in a few days. You looked towards the young recruit before looking back up at Athos.

“What do you want?” Athos pushed past you slightly, so you were just behind him. You watched as Porthos, and Aramis moved in closer to you both. You couldn’t help the confused look on your face.

“An apology for the way you've treated me.” D’Artagnan spat.

“What’s going on…?” Your whispers were directed at Athos, but he seemed unfazed, almost ignoring your words.

“Or what?” Athos retorted. You reached out to touch his arm as fear began to find its way into your chest.

“Or... we'll settle this like gentlemen.” D’Artagnan drew closer, removing his glove before slapping Athos across the face with it. You let out an audible gasp and felt Aramis move you farther behind the three of them. Athos pushed the younger musketeer.

“Hey!” Porthos grabbed D’Artagnan pulling him away, “that's enough!”

“I know what you did to your wife, Athos. I know your true character. You disgust me! You'll hear from my seconds!” You watched in confusion as the three men seemed pinned against the other. You wanted to speak but your voice was gone, fear slowly taking over your form.

You watched as Athos began moving closer, closing the gap between him and D’Artagnan before being paused by Aramis, “This must be done properly, according to the rules!”

“Damn the rules.” You watched in what felt like slow motion as Athos removed his pistol from its holster and aimed it at the younger brunette. You wanted to jump and stop him, but you felt yourself being pulled away by Aramis.

“D'Artagnan!” Porthos yelled out in a warning before Athos fired his shot obliterating a small barrel that was close to where D’Artagnan was standing. Aramis quickly moved you behind a pillar protecting you from any future fire.

This can’t be happening… Your thoughts were going a mile a minute. What were they thinking? What had happened in these past few days to spur such anger from the two men? A second shot was fired, and your mind went blank you looked around the pillar to find Porthos and Aramis kneeling over Athos.

The two began to stand and you saw their hands and Athos’ chest covered in a vibrant and thick burgundy. “He's dead!” Porthos cried out. It was at those words that you could feel your soul leave your body. He couldn’t be dead, you refused to believe it Athos could not be … dead. You attempted to get closer to Athos only to be stopped by Porthos, he removed his blood-soaked gloves before pulling you away. “You don’t need to see this Y/N…” His face was sorrowful.

“Let me see him...” You tried your best to push past the larger man, but he refused to budge. In the distance, you could hear Aramis yelling out to a fleeing D’Artagnan. You felt as though your heart was cut from your chest.

The two men had to practically drag you back to the Garrison, you were kicking and screaming trying to fight your way back to Athos. Once the gates were closed you were let go. You turned to face Porthos with fire in your eyes. “How dare you just leave him! We could have saved him! He might still be alive!” You began to pound on the larger man’s chest. He watched as the fire within you began to succumb to your tears. You were beginning to shake, legs becoming weak.

Porthos could barely look at you. He knew very well the feelings you had for Athos, and he hated the part that you had to play in all of this. After about half an hour of sobbing numbness began to take over your form. It was then that Aramis finally spoke “Why don’t you get some rest?” His voice was reluctant, and he also refused to look at you. With shaking breaths, you gathered yourself and made your way to your room within the walls of the Garrison.

You took no time to observe the surroundings of your room, only capable of taking a few steps to get to the foot of your bed before allowing your legs to give out. You sat on the floor feeling your eyes sting once more with tears.

It was then that a deep voice came from the corner of the room. “Has anyone ever told you that you are far too lovely to cry?” You gasped looking up in its direction. You hadn’t noticed the figure seated in the chair near the corner of your quarters. The figure stood and began walking towards you, as he breached the shadows you saw that familiar sandy blonde hair and smirk that you had firmly believed was lost forever only moments ago. His clothes were different, more relaxed, and no longer covered in crimson. He towered over you, offering his hand to pull you up off the ground. You reached out your shaking hand, scared of the tricks you were sure your mind was playing on you.

You felt warmth in the palm of your hand before you were pulled up gently. You looked up only to be met by beautiful pools of blue. You pulled him into a tight hug absorbing his warmth. “I… I thought you were dead…”

He returned your affection, holding you up in fear that your legs may give out. “For the purposes of the plan I am.” You looked up at him in confusion, “plan?”

His gaze moved away from your own for a moment before returning. “Milady de Winter wanted me dead. We had to make her believe that I was dead. I didn’t want you to have any part in this, but you became part of her believing it. I’m sorry.”

You took a small step back letting go of his hands, “I was just a part of the plan…? Collateral damage to make it believable?” There was anger in your voice, but you couldn’t help the tears that spilled onto your cheeks. “You bastard…” You weakly hit the taller man’s chest.

“You have every right to be mad at me. But this was the best way to ensure your safety. Y/N, I don’t know what I would do if something happened to the person I love.” You felt his fingers caress your chin lifting your head so you could look at him.

“Person you love...?”

“Yes, love. I tried to avoid it, fearing that I would put you in danger and in being honest you deserve a much better man. But yes, I love you.” He moved his hands to your checks running his thumbs over your tear-stained cheeks.

“I love you too, Athos.” Your arms made their way around his neck pulling him in close and pressing your lips to his. His touch was soft and gentle, you could feel the smirk that you loved so much forming against your lips. You moved away slightly to look up at him, a serious look taking over your features. “If you ever pull something like this again, I’ll kill you myself.”

“I do not doubt that, my love.” He smiled as he kissed the crown of your head.

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

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

#Athos x reader #three musketeers #the musketeers #athos imagines #reader insert #gender neutral insert #gender neutral reader #the musketeers imagines #the musketeers/reader #no beta we die like men

[verstarppen]

summary; mercedes is a just a tiny bit worried about your dates with their archenemesis

pairing; max verstappen x fem! mercedes admin! reader [ no faceclaim ]

a/n; due to popular demand here's the part 2; i see your comments: you asked and i deliver 🫶 [ series masterlist ]

liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell63, carmenmmundt and 299,546 others

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goatlonso GIRL THIS AIN'T YOUR PRIV ACCOUNT strawberryrosberg TEARS

ynusername sorry correct account this time boooo post the vertiddies

schecoperez No comment lewishamilton Really? Seems like you always have an opinion ynusername can we go back to the more pressing issue lewishamilton Don't you already stare at his chest enough maxverstappen1 She does? ynusername ACCUSATIONS

liked by mickschumacher, maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 295,199 others

ynusername us during wig gate btw

view all 86,280 comments

lewishamilton Blocked and reported

ynusername YOU'RE JUST MAD YOU GOT BAMBOOZLED

danielricciardo Things I ate and survived: That

ynusername i am in awe of your slaynergy (slay energy) mickschumacher 🙏🙏🙏

georgerussell63 Y'all hear something

ynusername stay mad georgerussell63 Praying for your downfall.

applenorizz HOW IS THIS WHOLE SITUATION REAL I-

lionkingseb wig gate is more entertaining than anything during silly season

liked by maxverstappen1, ynusername, pierregasly and 740,191 others

charles_leclerc This is my official audition for the next wig gate model. I'm ready 👠

view all 200,024 comments

ynusername are you sure this isn't an audition to date my boyfriend

charles_leclerc Never insult me like this ever again

arthur_leclerc jumpscare

maxverstappen1 I'll be frank, I dropped my phone.

charles_leclerc Hi, Frank ynusername wow i wish you dropped your phone when you look at me 💔💔😩 maxverstappen1 I would drop everything for you ynusername oh 🤭 charles_leclerc Get out of my comments and get a room.

liked by maxverstappen1, mickschumacher, charles_leclerc and 101,736 others

ynusername he's just a little guy

view all 42,009 comments

lewishamilton Please stop putting him on my timeline

ynusername this is your purgatory

patiencesainz i keep forgetting this man is 1.81cm

troubletauri FAMINE OVER, THANK YOU FOR FEEDING ORANGE ARMY MAX CONTENT

gonestappen LOOK AT HIM

georgerussell63 I wish instagram would create a muting posts feature

ynusername woomp woomp

pic credits: pinterest and instagram

#⚔️ max and the three musketeers #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #instagram au #social media au #max verstappen au #max verstappen #formula 1 #max verstappen x reader

[cak31ssuperi04]

barbie movie doodle dump

#barbie #barbie movies #cakeart #Sorry Louis ily I promise. That's just strawberry jam #Had to put the secret door/mariposa ones together because it looks like they have beef with each other. #Which was intentional(lying). I have great foresight like that. #It's possibly over the dead body in the background #barbie and the three musketeers #barbie and the secret door #barbie and the rockers #barbie as the island princess #barbie mariposa #barbie mariposa and her butterfly fairy friends #barbie mariposa and the fairy princess #barbie of swan lake #barbie and the magic of pegasus #I wasn't really planning on including the venn diagram but I needed to make it an even 9 or I will die #For the record I DID want to include Odile but I couldn't figure out how to make her circle fit so just. use your imagination

[witchthewriter]

𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 & 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈

(requests are open❕)

smut ✅ (18+ only)

comissions

𝑊𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑐𝘩-𝑢𝑝 𝑜𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑏𝑜𝑎𝑟𝑑?                    

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈

                                               ⸻ ✶✺✮ ⸻

𝐴𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑟

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

who I think the characters would be best suited to

when you, their crush, is confused by their avatar body would include

⭑ Jake Sully ⇢ sfw alphabet 

⭑ Neytiri  ⇢ being her mate would include

⭑ Neteyam ⇢ being his mate would include

𝑩𝑮𝟑

⭑ Astarion ⇢ being his s/o would include

⭑ Halsin ⇢ being his s/o would include

𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑺𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔

⭑ Charles Vane ⇢ sfw alphabet

𝐵𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑦 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑉𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑆𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟

⭑ Spike ⇢ w/ a tall and/or chubby gf would include

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒖𝒕𝒚

🇶​🇺​🇮​🇿​

Who Is Your COD Soulmate?

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

cod men as character archetypes 

how you wake them up

random relationship headcanons

text story: you don’t want to do something while they’re on deployment

how they react to you falling asleep on them; pre-relationship

ᴘᴏʟʏ ᴛᴀꜱᴋ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇ  

Poly141! | Mission Pixie Dust

⭑ John Price

⭑ Kyle Garrick

⭑ Simon Riley ⇢ poly relationship w/ him & johnny ⇢ random relationship headcanons

⭑ Johnny MacTavish ⇢poly relationship w/ him & simon

⭑ König ⇢ random relationship headcanons

𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑪𝒊𝒕𝒚

⭑ Ruhn Danaan ⇢ being his Mate would include

𝐺𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑇𝘩𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

what pets they’d have w/ you would include

who I think the characters would be best suited to

how they act when jealous (sandor & sansa only)

headcanons w/ your bonded dragon (pt.1)

headcanons w/ your bonded dragon (pt.2)

headcanons w/ your bonded dragon (pt.3)

⭑ Jaime Lannister ⇢ meeting your family for the first time would include

⭑ Podrick Payne ⇢ nsfw alphabet

⭑ Sandor Clegane ⇢ being in queen sansa’s council w/ him, your husband, would include

𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑃𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

how they react to their s/o using an Unforgivable Curse

how they react to their s/o getting into a fist fight would include

the gryffindors as fathers would include

what kind of music I think they’d listen to

domestic headcanons w/ the hp characters

🇲​🇦​🇷​🇦​🇺​🇩​🇪​🇷​ 🇵​🇷​🇪​🇫​🇪​🇷​🇪​🇳​🇨​🇪​🇸​

their pet names for you

⭑ Harry Potter ⇢ your wedding w/ him would include

⭑ Fred Weasley ⇢ sfw alphabet

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝑮𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔

⭑ Johanna Mason ⇢ being her s/o would include

𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

first time with them would include (18+ post)

the characters falling in love with their enemy would include

⭑ Rhaenyra Targaryen ⇢ being married to her would include

⭑ Daemon Targaryen ⇢ being the rider of Vermithor and in a poly relationship w/ him & daemon would include

⭑ Aemond Targaryen ⇢ being the rider of Vermithor and in a poly relationship w/ him & daemon would include ⇢ with a plus size s/o would include

⭑ Otto Hightower ⇢ sfw alphabet

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒅𝒐𝒎

🇶​🇺​🇮​🇿​

Which of The Last Kingdom Characters Is Your Soulmate?

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

spending yule w/ them would include

⭑ Uhtred ⇢ being his warrior s/o would include

⭑ Sihtric ⇢ being your husband would include

⭑ Finan ⇢ loving you from afar would include

⭑ Osferth ⇢ with a s/o who is the opposite of him would include

⭑ Aldhelm

⭑ Aethelflaed

⭑ Eadith

⭑ Ragnar

⭑ Sigtryggr

⭑ Leofric

𝐿𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑅𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

⭑ Galadriel ⇢ being her human s/o would include

⭑ Legolas ⇢ seeing his knight s/o scars for the first time would include

⭑ Samwise ⇢ being a hobbit & his s/o would include

𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑙 / 𝑀𝐶𝑈

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

sharing a bed for the first time with the marvel characters would include

⭑ Valkyrie ⇢ sfw alphabet

⭑ Loki ⇢ w/ a plus size soulmate would include

𝑀𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑛

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

what kind of music I think the knights would listen to

how they would react to someone insulting their spouse

⭑ Merlin ⇢ comfort headcanons

⭑ Morgana ⇢ sfw alphabet ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her & guinevere would include

⭑ Guinevere ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her & morgana would include

𝑵𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒂

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

Edmund, Peter, Caspian & Eustace fighting over you would include

𝑆𝘩𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤 & 𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑒

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

the crows and the one bed trope

how they act when the characters have a crush on you 

⭑ Jesper Fahey ⇢ being his pirate s/o would include ⇢ snuggling w/ him would include

⭑ Nina Zenik ⇢ with a grisha best friend who has chronic pain would include

⭑ Genya Saffin ⇢ jealous headcanons

⭑ The Darkling ⇢ sfw alphabet

𝑆𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝐴𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑐𝘩𝑦

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

their pet names for you

the one bed trope

what kind of person I think they’re best suited to

how they react to you punching someone in the face

𝑻𝒆𝒅 𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒐

⭑ Jamie Tartt ⇢ being his s/o would include ⇢ being Keeley’s s/o would include

𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑇𝘩𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑀𝑢𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑟𝑠

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

⭑ Porthos ⇢ being a healer and his s/o would include

⭑ Constance ⇢ being married to her would include

𝑇𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

⭑ Stiles Stilinksi ⇢ being his witch s/o would include

𝑇𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ

⭑ Charlie ⇢ being in love with a female vampire would include

𝑃𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝐶𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑛

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

⭑ Captain Jack Sparrow ⇢ w/ a chaotic s/o who has been there since the very beginning would include

⭑ Tia Dalma ⇢ growing up in Port Royal & being her s/o would include

𝑉𝑖𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

being in a secret relationship w/ them (rollo & ubbe only)

⭑ Bjorn ⇢ being a witch & his s/o would include | how you met (pt.1)

𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑊𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑑

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ  

⭑ Michonne ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her & Rosita would include

⭑ Rosita  ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her & Michonne would include

⭑ Negan ⇢ deciding that he only wants you as a wife would include

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑾𝒆 𝑫𝒐 𝑰𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔

⭑ Nadja ⇢ with a shy s/o would include

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓

⭑ Geralt ⇢ giving you a bath would include

𝑾𝑾𝑬

⭑ Rhea Ripley ⇢ nsfw alphabet

#masterlist #navigation #masterlist II #the three musketeers #buffy the vampire slayer #spike #the walking dead #pirates of the caribbean #witch the writer's headcanons #jack sparrow #captain jack sparrow headcanons #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #aemond targaryen #daemon headcanons #aemond headcanons #witchthewriter #vikings #merlin #bbc merlin #mcu #marvel #marvel headcanons #mcu headcanons #witch the writer preferences #witch the writer's moodboards #witch the writer #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead headcanons #daryl dixon the walking dead

[imaginationinstitutes]

new icon (FINALLY!!)

#journey into imagination #epcot #figment #walt disney world #disney parks #doodles #a musketeer figment as a combination of interests + for something a bit halloween-y!!

[july-19th-club]

seven or eight times now ive watched the episodes in which they take the andromache and this is the first time ive realized that during the initial battle, after they board, every time the camera is from dufresne's perspective it's blurrier than otherwise because. he took his glasses off for the fight

#real velma hours #i have a soft spot for s1 dufresne that i dont have for s2 & 3 #part of it is that jannes bore a passing resemblance to a longtime mutual of mine so i feel like im watching someone i know #the other part is . well its like andy whitfield versus liam whatsisface when they were on spartacus #i dont know for sure bc they passed and that's the reason their characters were recast. but the actors have a different energy #from seasons one to seasons two and three. and i really wonder what jannes would have brought to dufresne's betrayal #roland reed's take is extremely bitter and self-preservationist #but from what we did get of jannes' performance i imagine his version would've been more confused and fear-based. jaded/feral #and i always think it really wouldve been something #black sails #q #everything about this battle sequence is a masterpiece. from the shot of joshua getting his false fangs ready to put in #to mr beauclerc's pile of like a dozen muskets up in the crow's nest. because it's 1715 snipers can't reload . he has to shoot #a different gun every time #to the way most pirate media glosses over the minutia of battle or even priacy in general because it's about the vibe the aesthetic #but sails' piracy is a means to an end and so its pirates are just like. guys with jobs #the minutia of their battle sequences even in their comparatively less insightful first season are INCREDIBLe. like o'brien levels of detai #and the camera work in this sequence! even on my thirteen-inch laptop screen where my show is on a nine-inch window #i am right there in it i feel like im watching it in 3d

[chicotfp]

After feeling down for quite some time, I need a little change of focus, try and do something different but still very much dear to my heart. So here we are. Let me introduce you Athos and his secret but very famous wound received after a riot in a cabaret on the Rue Ferou.

"Well, my Captain," said Porthos, quite beside himself, "the truth is that we were six against six. But we were not captured by fair means; and before we had time to draw our swords, two of our party were dead, and Athos, grievously wounded, was very little better. For you know Athos. Well, Captain, he endeavored twice to get up, and fell again twice. And we did not surrender - no! They dragged us away by force. On the way we escaped. As for Athos, they believed him to be dead, and left him very quiet on the field of battle, not thinking it worth the trouble to carry him away. That's the whole story..."

..."But pray, sir," continued Aramis, who, seeing his captain become appeased, ventured to risk a prayer, "do not say that Athos is wounded. He would be in despair if that should come to the ears of the king; and as the wound is very serious, seeing that after crossing the shoulder it penetrates into the chest ... "

Alexander Dumas "The Three Musketeers".

#athos #alexandre dumas #the three musketeers #illustration #athos as i imagine him #edit/photomanipulation #made of a few AI generated images and my humble editing skills #book version of athos

[backtothefanfiction]

Two Can Play At That Game | Aramis Imagine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

“I love me too,” he grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

#aramis #aramis imagine #one shot #musketeers #bbc musketeers #Porthos #the three musketeers #aramis musketeers #aramis x reader #musketeers imagine

[bobparkhurst]

who are they, anyway?

#eoin mcgonigal #he really goes through some stuff in this scene #fear that paddy is going to leave him #curiosity about this life of paddy's from before and these people who know him well #like imagine for a second #how eoin would have felt #reading the words 'three musketeers' #about his paddy #and two men he doesn't know at all #and then there's sadness #that paddy makes such a decision without talking to him first #(does he not mean as much to paddy as he thought?) #and through it all #that love for listening to paddy talk #and the longing #oh boy #the longing #derry: gifs #sas rogue heroes #sas: rogue heroes

[roennq]

Aramis: What's wrong?

D'Artagnan: I just got a look from Athos. Sometimes, I wish I knew...

Aramis: *interrupts* Here...

The Many Faces of Athos: A Beginner's Guide

D'Artagnan: ...

D'Artagnan: *eyes light up*

Aramis: *smugly* You're welcome!

Part 2/3 | 3/3

#bbc musketeers #the musketeers #athos #aramis #d’artagnan #the many faces of athos #a beginner's guide #imagining d’artagnan holding it up each time athos makes a face #actually i think we can all use that guide #image prompt #humour #incorrect quotes #lol #tom burke #santiago cabrera #luke pasqualino

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Heaven

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 6968

Part One; Part Two

Summary: The final hunt begins and Athos and the reader rush to find the others before Aramis’s recklessness leads him into Visage’s clutches. 

Notes: Finally! This trilogy has taken me a while to write, so I hope you guys have enjoyed it! Since this part switches around the reader and Aramis a lot, it jumps quite a bit, so I hope it isn’t too confusing. (Also, I can't believe how long this is compared to the others. oops)

Warnings: Violence, assault, death (some intense stuff, so just be aware. I tried to keep the opening scene impactful without being super descriptive)

More Musketeers imagines: HERE

-

“I demand to know where you are taking me.” You kept your tone as calm as possible as the carriage jerked and jostled over the unknown road. 

The man who’d dragged you from your rooms made no reply, keeping his indifferent gaze toward the window. Trees loomed like soldiers in the twilight, the sun sinking ever further into the horizon. Abandoning you. 

You wanted to argue more, but your voice had gone hoarse from shouting. Surely your fists had bruised form banging on the window. But he couldn’t hear you. Whatever your treacherous stable boy had told him had forced him away. Still, you held onto the hope that Aramis would come for you. A rat like Visage may have power, but even his brigade of idiotic followers lacked the skill to take on the musketeers. 

“I know that Visage put you up to this,” you scoffed, eyeing your riding companion. “But whatever ‘claims’ he believes he has are nothing more than delusions. He has spouted nothing but lies ever since the death of his mother.” 

While you weren’t sure where you had been taken, you knew it was further than you liked. You’d been traveling since early afternoon and you hadn’t the faintest idea where you were or why you were here. What could Visage possibly be planning? 

You were trying to discern which direction you’d traveled when the carriage abruptly halted. The man with you grabbed onto your hands and tied them with a rope. He knotted it so tightly you were sure it cut into your flesh.

“Enough of this,” you exclaimed as you were shoved out of the carriage. “What crimes have I committed? What right do you have to imprison me and cart me off like a common thief? I am a personal friend of the queen and I order you to-”

‘Oh enough with your screaming.” The cold voice sent shivers down your spine. “No one can hear you out here.”

You turned slowly, lifting your chin and blinking back any fear in your eyes. The man you’d suspected scowled back at you. 

You smirked. “Ah yes, I thought I smelled vermin.” 

Any smugness in your expression was instantly slapped away, the sting of Visage's hand radiation from your cheek. Fuming, you opened your mouth to speak, but he roughly took hold of your chin. 

“You have humiliated me for the last time,” he snarled. Visage shoved you back and you hit the forest floor hard, knocking the breath out of your lungs so that when he kicked you, you couldn’t even scream. 

Three of his men stood by and watched as he switched between his foot and his riding crop. You tried not to give him the satisfaction of watching you cry, but tears flowed with your permission. You were too delirious from the pain to care after a while.

When you thought you’d surely faint, Visage took you by the hair and lifted you off the ground. 

You spat in his face with the strength you still had. 

He threw you back down and took the riding crop to your hands, bound in front of you still with a rope that had turned red from bleeding wrists. Every hit sent an unimaginable pain up your arms, shaking your whole body and shattering your heart. Your hands that were once kissed and praised for their delicate beauty by Aramis. The hands of an artist. By the time he dragged you to your feet, you couldn’t feel anything but the throbbing in your fingers and bloodied knuckles. 

Visage nodded to his men and they pulled you up to a large cedar, pinning you back and tying you around the middle. Your cloak felt suffocating, pressing the sketchbook in your bodice into your chest. 

“It is lucky your mother is not alive to see you now,” you said through the blood on your lips. 

“Do not speak of her,” Visage snapped. “You preyed upon my mother’s generosity, all the while spitting on her family name.”

“You fail to remember that I have never been betrothed to you. Your mother knew this. She knew my heart belonged elsewhere.” The thought of him made your voice crack. “She knew my heart belonged to Aramis.” 

The men finished tying the rope. 

“It will always belong to Aramis.” 

Visage slapped you again. 

You took a deep breath and stared him in the eye. “I love Aramis.” 

Again.

“I love Aramis!” 

His hand gripped your throat, pushing your head back against the bark. 

“This I swear to you, you ungrateful bitch,” he sneered, leaning so his lips were by your ear. “I will tear him limb from limb for the embarrassment the two of your sordid relationship has caused me. And I will revel in every second.” 

He stood back, taking his pistol from his belt. 

You knew then that you didn’t want to die. 

“Aramis!” You cried, hoping that the heavens would hear you. 

“It seems like such a waste.” Visage loaded his weapon. “There was a time when all I could think about was your touch. The way the dresses my mother bought you fit your body.” 

“You will never get away with this,” you exclaimed. “I am friends with the queen and the best fighters of Captain Treville’s regiment. They will see justice is done.” 

“That’s where you're wrong, Y/N.” He took aim. “Nobody will miss a musketeer’s whore.” 

You tried to yell one last time, but with the final shot, Aramis’s name died on your lips. 

-

With no rain and with this part of the forest being relatively remote from Pinon, there was nothing to wash away the blood. The dark, dried stains coated the leaves on the ground and left horrible marks on the tree where you’d been bound. Looking at it felt as though you were being brutalized all over again. But when you thought of Visage’s sneer or the sting of his hand, you only imagined them directed toward your beloved Aramis. 

Any harm that should come to him would be put squarely on your shoulders. 

“This is where it happened,” you said quietly. 

Athos was stopping to give the horses water. He looked over at you with a grim expression. 

“It’s a miracle they found you.”

You shook your head. “It’ll be a miracle if we stop him. If Aramis and the others go after him tonight…”

“You underestimate us,” Athos tried to give you a smile to reassure you, but he was never known for his ability to comfort. “We are musketeers after all. They won’t charge in without a plan. Besides, they don’t know where Visage and his men are.”

“I do.” You turned your back to the tree of your torture, holding your head high with new determination. “Madam de Visage owned an orchard just east of the city. I’d bet my life that’s where Visage is hiding while he plots Aramis’s death.” 

Though you tried, you still couldn’t hide the growing fear in your voice. 

Athos walked across the clearing and put a hand on your shoulder. “Luckily we will be there to take him off guard and put an end to his schemes.” 

“I hope you’re right,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Oh, Athos. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t defied him, humiliated him, then-”

“Then you would have married a foul man you hate and abandoned the one you love, living out whatever days Visage allowed you to live in utter loneliness and misery,” he reasoned. “The only one to blame here is Visage. And we will see to it that justice is dealt and that you may reunite with Aramis.” 

His blue eyes bore into yours until you couldn’t take it. You lowered your gaze to the forest floor. 

Athos sighed. He knew that you were still warring with yourself over your return and he was fairly certain as to why. You didn’t see yourself as the same woman Aramis loved and you were afraid, when he saw you now, changed and broken, that he wouldn’t not love you. But after the past week of his friend’s utter despair, Athos knew that there was nothing that could take Aramis’s heart from you. Not even death. 

-

He clutched the bloodstained locket like a rosary. Aramis stood a ways from the other two while they gave their horses time to rest and their lungs a moment to breathe. The trio had been searching all afternoon for Visage’s camp and, though the place the stableboy had indicated showed signs of a brief settlement, Visage and his men were long gone now. 

“Tell me where to go,” Aramis muttered, holding the necklace to his lips as if in prayer. “Help me find him, my love.” 

D’Artagnan nudged Porthos in the arm. “He’s doing it again,” he whispered. 

“What?”

“I’m worried about him.”

“We all are.” 

“I know, but look at him.” The youngest of the group motioned to their friend’s tense shoulders, trembling frame, and perpetual fighting stance. “Even if we find Visage, will it matter?”

“Y/N deserves justice,” Porthos growled. 

“And I want to get it as much as any of us,” D’Artagnan sighed, “but what is the pursuit of it going to do to him? What will be left?”

Aramis stiffened, having pretended not to hear their conversation. He turned around. 

“Let’s go. We still have a few hours of daylight. If we don’t find anything, we’ll return to the boy and force him to tell us the truth,” he said, mounting his horse. 

“He told us all he knows,” D’Artagnan reasoned. “Scaring him more won’t do us any good.”

Aramis took off his hat to run a hand through his hair. “You’re right. It would just be a waste of time. We’ll just have to search through the night.” 

D’Artagnan’s worried expression deepened, casting a glance to Porthos, who took a deep breath and nodded. 

“Let’s find this bastard,” he muttered, though the concern he shared with D’Artagnan was becoming clearer in his voice. 

Aramis urged his tired horse on with the two others trailing behind him. 

They traveled for several more hours until their horses simply refused to go any further, much to Aramis’s annoyance, who was usually very gentle with the animals. Porthos plucked a couple of apples from one of the trees and tossed one at his friend. Aramis stared at the ripe red fruit. 

“Wait,” he gasped. “How far east have we traveled?” 

D’Artagnan shrugged. “Ten, eleven miles. Why?” 

Aramis thought of a map you had once shown him of the Visage’s property. The orchard. 

“He’s here,” Aramis said. “He must be.” 

His companions exchanged the same worried look from before.

“How can you be sure?” Porthos asked. 

“This is his mother’s land. The land he inherited. He’s a coward, he would have gone somewhere familiar. He must be here.” He drew his sword. 

“We should think about this,” D’Artagnan interjected. “He practically has a small army working for him. We can’t just barge into their camp.” 

“I know that,” Aramis snapped. “I had a plan before you three insisted on coming with me.” He paused, remembering the absence of their fourth friend. The others seemed to notice as well.

“Right,” Porthos mused, “where is Athos?” 

-

You tried to urge your horse forward, the forest growing darker and darker by the minute. 

“We should stop,” Athos said, slowing his horse from its trot. “We won’t arrive back to Paris before morning anyway, we might as well get a few hours of rest.” 

“At best, Visage and Aramis are still hunting each other in circles,” you said. “At worst…” You shook your head and pulled on the reins. “We cannot stand to lose any more time.” 

“I told you. Aramis will have a plan. Even if he didn’t, D’Artagnan and Porthos can reason with him to make one. He is not alone.” His eyes softened. “And neither are you.” 

“Honestly, Athos,” you scoffed, reluctantly dismounting from your horse and sitting at the base of a tree. “You can stop looking at me like I’m going to break.” Your statement was not supported by the trembling of your hands or the way you avoided his gaze, but your tone was laced with determination. “I have to find Visage.”

Athos sat beside you with a light chuckle and a shake of his head. 

“He’s been saying the same thing.” He plucked a blade of grass and held it to the light. “Both of you, so willing to throw yourself into harm's way to save each other, even if he believes he’s doing it for your memory alone.” Athos dropped the grass, watching it flit back down to the ground. “Love.” 

“You say it as if you know it yourself.”

He shook his head. “Not anymore.” 

You laid your head on his shoulder. Staring at your hands, you removed your leather gloves, wincing as the fabric grazed your scabbing wounds and bruises. No matter how hard you tried, you could not make them still, for they twitched painfully with every breath. 

“You were right, Athos,” you whispered. “I am afraid that when I see him again… I won’t be the woman he wants anymore.” 

Athos leaned his head back against the bark, drawing his arm around you a little tighter. And though he didn’t say anything, you took comfort in his reassuring silence. He knew there was nothing he could do to dissuade your troubled thoughts any more than you could banish his painful memories. 

So instead, you both slept while, somewhere on the other side of Paris, gunshots echoed through the trees. 

-

They found them in the dark of night. A few seemed under the heavy sleep of drink, but there were still some more alert standing guard. Visage was nowhere in sight. Any exhaustion plaguing the three men dissipated with a new wave of fury-fueled adrenaline. 

A figure appeared from the largest tent, bottle in one hand and sword in the other. Even in the pitch black, the man’s arrogant swagger and barking voice gave him away. 

Visage.

Aramis stepped forward. 

D’Artagnan grabbed his arm, raising a brow. 

“Surprise is everything,” he said, recalling his companion’s words from years past. 

Aramis took a breath and nodded, though every nerve burned. Just one shot was all he needed. All of this could be over. He remembered his friends’ concerns. Once this was over, what would become of him? 

Did it even matter anymore?” 

“Those four on the left, they’re the drunkest,” Porthos pointed out. “They’ll be easy to deal with.” 

“That still leaves twenty against three. Inebriated or not,” D’Artagnan sighed. 

“All that matters is taking down Visage,” Aramis said. 

“And,” Porthos started, “not getting killed in the process.” He shrugged, “At least until Athos gets here.” 

Aramis tensed with a new surge of frustration. “Where is he? What could possibly have kept him from something as important as this?”

The other two couldn’t answer, for they had the same questions. 

A branch cracked behind them and all three bolted upward, turning to face a wall of Visage’s men. Pistols clicked, ready to fire. 

Aramis went one way, D’Artagnan the other, and Porthos down the middle. Ten men attacked from the trees, followed by the others from the camp. The musketeers fought valiantly and impressively, killing several of their opponents before Porthos was struck with the back of a musket.

“Porthos!” D’Artagnan exclaimed. 

Five men surrounded him, forcing him to drop his weapon. One slashed a sword at his side.

Another group grabbed Aramis from behind and pulled his arms behind his back until he screamed. 

“I’ve heard of the recklessness of the musketeers, but I must say I expected better,” Visage called over the commotion as the three were overtaken. 

D’Artagnan glanced over at his captive friend grimly as the men pinned them both to the ground. “Surprise would have been everything.” 

With his arms still behind him, they shoved Aramis’ face into the dirt while his anger swelled in his chest, and tried to jerk free. 

“Don’t worry,” Visage sneered, now standing over him, “you’ll be with your whore soon enough.” 

He looked the man in the eye, brought up his heel, and kicked Aramis in the back of the head. 

The world and his hopes of revenge went black. 

Visage let out a hearty, despicable laugh, pushing Aramis’ face further into the mud with his foot. 

“Get him up,” he ordered. “We’ll take him to the tree where that sniveling girl died. Let them hang there together.” He flourished a hand and smiled. “I’m feeling poetic.”

“You bastard!” D’Artagnan growled. 

The men stood him up as they lifted Porthos and Aramis into a cart nearby. He watched his friends go with a sinking heart. He had to do something. But he couldn’t fight this many men on his own, no matter how much more skilled with a sword he may be. Then, it struck him. 

Athos. 

Athos would know what to do. 

But how could he find him? 

Visage slapped him across the cheek. The sting in his face added to the growing ache in his side, but if he could just get his arms free…

“I can see why she left you,” D’Artagnan chuckled. “What woman would choose a man who lets others do his work for him? What woman could ever want to hide behind this army of mindless brutes?” He leaned forward and spat in Visage’s face. “If you want to fight, then fight me. One on one. Like men.”

The other man’s face reddened with fury. He snapped his fingers. The men holding D’Artagnan released him. 

His stomach churned as he glanced at his unconscious companions one more time. How could he just run? How could he leave them here and flee like a coward after accusing Visage of being the very same? D’Artagnan closed his eyes and remembered Aramis’ words. 

“All that matters is taking down Visage.”

If he could get help, they could defeat Visage and still, maybe, live to honor the woman they were doing this all for. 

So he ran.

As D’Artagnan dashed into the trees, a group of men started to follow him, but Visage stopped them, his laughter booming in the youngest musketeer’s ears. 

“Let the coward go,” Visage said. “He’s not the one I want.” He looked to the cart and smirked. “Now move! All of you!” The darkness in his eyes returned. Hungry and wrathful. “We can get to the spot by morning and make it a musketeer’s grave.”

-

“Hold still,” you whispered. The needle shook in your hand and you tried to force it still. 

“I’m not the one I’m worried about,” Aramis smirked. He took your arm in one hand and put the other under your chin. “You’ll do fine. I’m right here to guide you.” He tried to keep the nerves out of his voice. Frankly, he was used to being on the other side of this situation and he didn’t care to have it the other way. 

The wound on his chest continued to slowly seep with the deep scarlet liquid overtaking your vision. 

“Just take a breath and steady your hands,” he instructed, releasing your arm but keeping a hand on your cheek. He nodded. 

You began. 

Aramis breathed through a hiss as the needle pierced his flesh and you muttered a string of apologies. 

“It’s alright. Just keep going.” 

“This is ridiculous,” you almost laughed. “I’m not the one with a slash in my chest. I should be comforting you, my love.” You leaned down and kissed his forehead. Aramis directed your lips down to his, letting his kiss reassure you. 

You continued stitching until the wound was closed and the blood more or less stopped. Aramis craned his neck to examine your work. 

“I don’t believe I could have done it better,” he grinned. 

You were glad to see the color return to his face. When he’d come to you, he was pale and shaking from adrenaline. Whatever fight he’d won, was won with a cost. 

You kissed him again, this time with all of your fear and concern and startlement. Aramis’ hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer. 

It settled then, in both of your minds, that this was more than a mere flirtation. What began as little more than a series of private rendezvous in your bedroom had turned into something else entirely. Neither of you had intended it. In fact, it frightened both of you so much that you had to break apart to hide the panic from the other person. 

You moved to the other side of your bedroom and stood before your vanity, where a bowl of water turned pink as you scrubbed your lover’s blood from your fingers. 

Aramis watched you in the reflection and conquered his own cowardice. 

“I love you,” he whispered, the words barely making it past his lips. 

You froze. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. But, lying there in your bed, with a wound over his heart, he realized that perhaps this was exactly what was meant to be. 

He spoke louder. “I love you.” 

“Aramis…” It took only seconds, but to you, your mind seemed to reel for hours. How could you put it into words, for those simple three didn’t seem like enough? There wasn’t a way to describe what he’d become for you. He was a wild, untamable, excitement that still somehow grounded you. Both the shelter and the storm in every wonderful way. 

You crossed the room and sat beside him. And, as you watched his dark, adoring eyes, you answered his unspoken question. 

“I love you,” you said. “Of course, I love you.” 

Your hands were steady now as you took his face in your palms and pulled his lips to yours. 

Against your skin, he whispered the same, sweet phrase you’d heard time and again, and yet, no matter how often you’d heard it, it still lit a soft flame in your heart. 

“Tu es mon paradis.”

-

D’Artagnan did not know where he was running, but somehow, he knew it was the right direction. He could feel it. The image of Porthos and Aramis in that cart fueled his sprint, even after his lungs felt as though they’d burst from exhaustion and his legs wanted to give out. Even when the wound in his side continued to throb and bleed to the point of concern.

 He would find Athos. They would get help. They would bring the wrath of the entire regiment down on the scum Visage. 

He wasn’t sure how long it had been when he heard the distinct thumps of hooves riding over fallen leaves. 

He ducked behind a tree and braced himself. Luckily, Visage’s men hadn’t had the opportunity to take all of his weapons, leaving him with a single pistol and a dueling dagger. D’Artagnan again saw his friends overtaken and despairing. He would at least take out a few of Visage’s mindless soldiers on his way to Athos.

D’Artagnan took a deep breath, loaded his pistol, and leaped out into the path with a furious cry. 

The horses alerted and reared back. 

D’Artagnan aimed.

“Wait!” A familiar voice shouted. 

The youngest musketeer met eyes with the clear blue eyes of his noble friend and a sigh of relief left his lips. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” he grinned. 

Athos met him with a grim stare. 

“D’Artagnan?” 

The other figure dismounted from their horse, still hidden by the animal’s body. But D’Artagnan knew that voice. 

You stepped out into the moonlight and D’Artagnan looked as if he’d seen a ghost. Of course, for him, he had. 

“You’re alive?” He gasped. 

You answered by taking him in your arms, the darkness in your chest lifting enough for laughter. His arms enveloped you, still stiff with shock. He pulled away to look at your face.

“But how is this possible? How could…” He trailed off, dark eyes wide and glistening. 

You laid a gloved hand on his cheek. “I will have to explain later. I’m afraid we don’t have time.” Your eyes scanned the trees behind him. Athos did the same, realizing at the same moment as you. You looked into D’Artagnan’s eyes. “Where is Aramis?” 

His gaze fell to the ground. 

Your heart sank. 

“Where is he?” 

The youngest musketeer gulped. “He and Porthos were taken by Visage. I barely escaped.” Guilt washed over his features. “I only ran so I could find help. So I could find Athos. I didn’t want to leave them. I swear. I didn’t…” He trailed off with shame in his voice. 

You put your hands on his shoulders. “If you hadn’t escaped, you wouldn’t have found us and all three of you would be dead by now,” you reasoned, though panic was rising in your throat. “The best thing now is for you to help us find them before Visage-” You stopped, unable to even think the words. 

“Did Visage say where he was taking them?” Athos asked. 

D’Artagnan tried to gather his thoughts, mind still reeling from your survival. He closed his eyes and heard that awful man’s instructions. 

“He wants to kill him at the spot that he killed-” He opened his eyes, finding yours. “Well, where he thought he killed you.” 

“That means they’re coming this way,” you exclaimed. “We can stop them on the road.” 

“Wait.” Athos held up a hand. His eyes darted between the two of you. A thoughtful smirk played on his features. “I may have a better idea.”

Athos gathered the two of you and noted every detail, every possible variation. D’Artagnan’s face lit up with a confident smile. He patted his friend on the back. Despite Visage’s numbers, it could actually work. 

You only prayed it wouldn’t be too late.

-

Aramis awoke, tied back to back with Porthos, in a wagon surrounded by at least a dozen men on foot and at least half that on horseback. He pulled at his restraints. 

“Tried that,” Porthos huffed. “No use. They know their knots.” 

“Where’s D’Artagnan?” Aramis asked. 

His friend did not answer. 

A hopeful man may have believed their young companion had escaped. But Aramis was no longer a hopeful man. 

Aramis hung his head, the claws of defeat sinking into his chest. 

“I shouldn’t have brought you into this,” he sighed. “Visage is my fight and now D’Artagnan is-”

“We don’t know that,” Porthos interrupted. He nudged Aramis’s shoulder. “And don’t start on that again. Your fight is my fight. Always has been, always will be.” Porthos leaned back as best he could, trying to give his friend a reassuring glance. “All for one, remember?” 

Aramis couldn’t bring himself to respond. 

Porthos just nodded, having enough hope for both of them. “We’ll figure it out.” His tone darkened. “And then we’ll get Visage.” Porthos’s shoulders tensed, searching the riders around them for their villainous leader. While he let his anger keep his head clear, the same couldn’t be said for his fellow captive. 

Aramis stared out at the trees behind them. 

Did Visage tie D’Artagnan up, shoot him, and beat him the way he had to Y/N? Another life gone… because of him. 

Hours must have passed, for the sun had begun to peak over the horizon. He watched it with a heavy heart and a numb mind. Perhaps it would be his last sunrise. Worse, perhaps he wanted it to be. 

“This is it,” Visage announced. 

He sneered at the empty clearing. Animals must have picked the body apart and dragged it off. Too bad. He would have liked to see the musketeer’s face when he looked upon the broken form of the woman he’d stolen. 

The wagon halted. Men roughly grabbed the two musketeers and pulled them to the ground. It took four to subdue Porthos as they cut them apart. 

Visage grabbed Aramis by the hair and forced his face toward a tree with splintered, rust-colored bark. 

“This is where she cried for you,” he sneered, pulling his head back until Aramis winced. “Where she bled and begged. Where the heart you stole stopped beating.” He threw Aramis down hard enough that when he hit the ground, he saw spots. 

He almost thought he saw movement in the trees behind Visage, but it must have been the impact of the tree trunk against his temple. 

“And now,” Visage pulled out his pistol. “It’s where I will put an end to your miserable, dishonorable, foul life.” He looked at the man before him with hate in his eyes and aimed at Aramis’ heart. 

“No!” Porthos cried, almost breaking free. Another man had to help hold him. 

Your hand shook more than it ever had before. 

“It has to be you.” Athos had said. “D’Artagnan and I must take on the other men. You will have to kill Visage.” 

But your hands wouldn’t allow you. You could hardly keep the pistol in your grip. It was as if Visage was crushing them all over again. Then you heard Aramis speak. 

“I love Y/N. I love her with every breath I’ve ever had. I love her with every beat of my heart. And I will love her after my soul has left this body because I know she loved me all the same.” Aramis took your necklace from his pocket and brought it to his lips. He stared up at Visage, whose hand quivered with rage. Aramis accepted his fate. “And not even death can take that from us.”

Visage cocked his weapon. 

You took a breath, steadied your hands, and fired. 

A shot rang through the air and a mass pushed Aramis against the tree, slamming his already pounding head against the bark. Blurred chaos broke out around him. All he could see was light. 

The pressure on his chest lifted and another figure appeared above him, enveloped by the rising sun. 

“Please wake up, my love,” said the angel. “Please, Aramis.” 

A smile spread across his lips. “I never believed I deserved heaven.” He lifted a hand to your face. “But I must be there.” 

You took his hand in yours and, forgetting the battle around you, crashed your lips into his. All sound dropped away. Everything seemed still. All vanished except for you, Aramis, and the rays of the sun. 

“You’re alive, Aramis,” you breathed against his lips. You pulled back, running your still-gloved fingers through his hair. “I’m alive.” 

Aramis stared up at you, his fingers still grazing your cheek, not believing that it was truly your flesh that he felt. Then, the shock passed, and joyous tears took its place. 

But your reunion was short-lived, for the body beside you stirred and you felt the sharpness of a blade slide across your arm. You held up a hand to defend yourself and another latched onto it with crushing strength. You cried out, feeling your bones whine in his iron grasp. 

“Impossible!” Visage shrieked, eyes blazing. He lunged at you, but Aramis rolled on top of you, shielding you with his body and dodging Visage’s strike. 

The battle around you continued. Porthos, now freed, tried to keep his focus on his opponent, though his gaze kept slipping over to you. After a moment of surprise, a victorious smile spread across his face and he fought with new vigor, a strong battle cry roaring through the trees. Athos and D’Artagnan were keeping Visage’s men at bay while their leader stumbled to his feet. 

“You have crawled up from Hell,” he spat. Blood dripped down his chin and seeped from the wound in his chest. “I killed you. I watched you die on this very spot. Demon. That’s what you are.”

“If I am anything, it is a phantom of your own making, Visage.” You stepped towards him. Aramis tried to keep you behind him, but you gave him a reassuring nod. 

Visage couldn’t hurt you now.

“It isn’t possible.” He stumbled. He held Aramis’s confiscated sword in his hand and raised it. “You are mine. Your life belonged to me. Your death is my right.” 

He moved, hands trembling weakly.

You were faster. Your sword plunged into his heart, eliciting a final gasp from his lips. He leaned forward, sinking further onto your blade. You glared at the instigator of all of your pain, the master behind your nightmares, and knew that you had one. 

“I belong to no one.” 

You drew your weapon out of his chest swiftly and watched his body fall to the ground where he believed he had killed you. 

How’s that for poetic?

You let your sword fall to your feet, blood-spattered metal glistening amongst the leaves. Something inside you burst and the emotion behind it drowned you. Relief and fear, anger and shame, love and hatred, all combined to fuel the tears that flowed freely down your face. More than ever, looking at the body of the man who made you into a killer, you knew that you were broken. 

The rest of the battle subsided- the head of the snake was severed. Visage’s men surrendered to the musketeers and Porthos and D’Artagnan gathered them into the cart to take them back to be tried for the attempted murder of several of the king’s men, as well as a close friend of Queen Anne. Visage would pay for his crimes, even after death. 

You collected yourself and removed your gloves. The bruised and scabbed state of your hands still appalled you, a symbol of everything that had been shattered inside you. You threw your gloves onto Visage’s chest, now forever still. 

“It’s real,” Aramis said, voice soft and breaking. “You’re here.”

You crossed your arms, hiding your hands as best you could. Fear kept you from turning around. The joy of seeing him had once again been replaced by the terror that kept you from revealing yourself sooner. You lifted your eyes and met the cool blue of your traveling companion the past few days. Porthos and D’Artagnan stood beside him. 

Athos saw your fear and opened his mouth to speak only to close it again. Instead, he just nodded. It gave you enough strength to face what you were truly afraid of. 

But you didn’t even have the chance to turn all the way before you were taken up into Aramis’s arms, strong and yet shaking with emotion. 

“I had wanted him to kill me,” Aramis breathed against your hair. “I did not want to walk in a world that you had been taken from. I thought I’d lost you. I thought…” He pulled away, smiling brightly through his tears. 

“I may not be the woman you loved anymore,” you cried, broken hands gripping the leather of his coat. “I’m afraid he has damaged me beyond repair. He has taken everything from me and he almost took you.” 

In the clarity after the chaos, he could see the welts and bruises, the forming scars and cruelly made marks on your skin. Aramis gently ran his finger over the bruise on your cheek, wiping away your tears. 

“Tu seras toujours mon paradis,” he whispered. Aramis kissed the bruise, then the cut on your lip, then the gash across your brow. “Not even God can change that.” He pulled you closer. “I have been granted the miracle of holding you again, my love.” He kissed your lips, a reaffirming action that filled you both with warmth. “And I don’t intend to take it for granted."

“Aramis,” you sighed, letting yourself melt into him. 

The three others joined you. As soon as you left Aramis’s embrace, you were pulled into Porthos’s. 

“I knew it’d take more than a bullet to stop ya,” he cheered, nearly lifting you off the ground. 

Aramis put a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, but she’s still injured, so be careful.”

“It’s alright.” You hugged the strong musketeer back. “I missed you too, Porthos.” 

Utter happiness and relief surrounded you, lightening your spirits and lifting your heart. Aramis kept an arm around your waist, your closeness helping him convince himself this was real. 

“We should go,” Athos said. “Captain Treville will want to hear a report and I’m sure the queen will be relieved to know her favorite artist is alive and well.” 

The musketeers nodded. It was decided that another team of men would come out and dig proper graves for Visage and his fallen soldiers. D’Artagnan gathered the horses while Porthos manned the cart. 

“Alright, you lot!” He boomed. “Anyone tries anything and you’ll be joining your master in Hell!” 

Needless to say, the men obeyed. 

You remained behind doubt and worry returning. Aramis stayed with you, brows furrowed with concern. 

“What is it, darling?” He asked. 

You stared down at your hands. They were shaking again. “My hands. I don’t know if I’ll ever paint again.” Your eyes fell to Visage once more. “Another thing he took from me.”

Aramis stepped around you, blocking your view of the body and bringing your hands to his lips, kissing them gently as he had your other wounds. 

“These hands saved my life,” he said. “I’m sure they will endure, just as you have.” 

Keeping your hands in his, the two of you walked together, leading you back home. 

-

One Year Later

“Would all of you just please hold still!” You giggled, peeking up over your canvas. 

“Aren’t you nearly finished?” D’Artagnan whined. “It’s been hours.” 

“Yeah, my limbs are all seizing up,” Porthos added. 

Aramis rolled his eyes. “Great art takes time, my friends. Let her work.” He met your gaze and winked. 

The four of them stood together, noble and daring in their uniforms, but lacking the stiff detachment that many soldier’s portraits often had. They loved each other and you tried to capture that with every stroke. D’Artagnan was right. The painting had actually been done for the past ten minutes, but you enjoyed teasing them. 

All four pairs of eyes snapped to the door and they fell into a bow. 

Your brush fell to your side with a huff. “Boys, I told you not to-” 

“How is it coming?” The queen’s voice sounded from behind you. 

You whirled around and curtseyed, face reddening. “It’s just about complete, Your Majesty.” 

Anne appeared beside you, admiring your work over your shoulder. Her smile brightened with awe. 

“It’s beautiful,” she praised, laying an affectionate hand on your arm. “It’ll make a wonderful wedding present.” 

Aramis beamed from across the room. 

Porthos held up a hand. “Speaking of which.” An excited grin spread across his and D’Artagnan’s faces. The two broke away from the others and hurried to the large table in the corner. 

“I told you not to move,” you said. 

“This’ll only take a second.” Athos followed them and Aramis walked to you. 

“They wouldn’t tell me either,” your fiance smirked. He stood on his toes, trying to peek over the top to see the painting. You swatted at his nose with your brush. 

“You will see it when it’s finished.”

“It is finished,” the queen laughed. “It is perfect.” She motioned for Aramis to come around the easel. 

“Well, now you’ve ruined my fun.” You gave Anne a mock pout. 

Aramis wrapped an arm around your waist and gazed at your work with loving admiration. 

The painting depicted the four musketeers grouped together like brothers. In front of them, you had painted a rendition of yourself working at the canvas, painting the same image. That, of course, had been his plan. While you had just wanted a normal portrait of him and his companions, he had insisted that you include yourself, somehow. 

“You’re facing away.” He noted.

“Well, I can’t very well paint my own face while I’m looking at all of yours, hm?” 

He nuzzled your cheek. “I suppose I’ll just have to commission an artist’s self-portrait so you can see how lovely you are, hm?” 

“We’ll see.” 

It had taken a long time for you to allow yourself to look in the mirror. The idea of painting a reflection of your face was not something you had in mind quite yet. 

The three others returned, holding a box and a scroll. 

“You’ll have plenty of time to work on it here,” Anne smiled. 

Athos held out the box while the other two unrolled the scroll. It was a blueprint. A blueprint for an artist’s studio and a home to match. 

Aramis’s jaw fell and you turned to the queen. 

“What is this?”

“Consider it a wedding present of my own to the both of you.” 

Porthos cleared his throat. 

“Our present,” Anne corrected. “It was these noble gentlemen’s idea. I merely funded it.” 

“Which was greatly appreciated, Your Majesty,” Athos said. He bowed again, the others following suit. 

“I don’t know how to ever repay you,” Aramis said. “Any of you.” He pulled you fully into his arms. His miracle. His world. “Thank you.” 

“After everything the two of you went through, it is the least I can do to contribute to your future happiness.” Anne retrieved a quill from your station and handed it to you. “It shall be a great house and a great house needs a name.”

Aramis chuckled. “I am no nobleman, Your Majesty.”

“You are all more deserving than any nobleman I’ve ever met,” she argued. “Believe me, this is more than deserved.” She leaned to you. “Besides, it’s fun.” 

You looked to your fiance and to his friends- your friends- and beamed. You took the quill in your hand, now bearing a simple and perfect ring promising you to the man you loved. Aramis smiled and kissed your cheek, standing behind you as you signed your future home’s title. 

Heaven. 

#aramis #aramis x reader #the musketeers #bbc the musketeers #porthos #athos #d'artagnan #anne of austria #the musketeers imagines #santiago cabrera

[chiaraanatra]

Expecting the Worst (D'Artagnan)

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

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

Word Count: 3k

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

《  m.list  ||  ao3  》

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

#D'Artagnan #d'artagnan imagines #d'artagnan x reader #the musketeers #pregnant!reader #husband!D'Artagnan #request #female reader #reader insert #y/n #the musketeers/reader #the musketeers imagines #anon request #no beta we die like men

[verstarppen]

summary; mercedes is a just a tiny bit worried about your dates with their archenemesis

pairing; max verstappen x fem! mercedes admin! reader [ no faceclaim ]

a/n; can you believe it took me this long to post a max smau my name is literally verstarppen this is so embarrassing [ series masterlist ]

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, mickschumacher and 23,401 others

ynusername what a perfectly good date with zero interruptions.

view all 11,221 comments

mickschumacher i would like to apologise

ynusername you've never done anything wrong in your life ever

totowolff What.

ynusername close your eyes gramps

liked by maxverstappen1, mickschumacher, totowolff and 42,214 others

ynusername the ""council"" assessing my date last night

view all 8,298 comments

totowolff This is not very "responsible social media admin" of you, Y/N.

ynusername i lied on the resume also this is my personal account, let's get you back to bed grandpa

maxverstappen1 🤣🤣🤣

ynusername you're the only person on earth i will not be bullying for using this emoji. maxverstappen1 Thank you

mickschumacher :(

ynusername IM SORRY notice how your pic is the least embarassing one mickschumacher :)

verstappler someone's losing their job soon so my question is @ redbullracing y'all looking for a new admin???

liked by gerogerussell63, lewishamilton, totowolff and 4,210,563 others

mercedesamgf1 here are the guys i guess idc

view all 917,193 comments

cherryhamilton LMAO

_estie_bestie_ CAPTION?????

tyrescreamer THEY DON'T PAY HER ENOUGH TO CARE LMAO

mercedesamgf1 delete this before toto sees it

totowolff Last warning

mercedesamgf1 IM DOING MY JOB, TORGER WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME sugarussell not the full governement name 💀 mickmacher342 HELP ME LORD

liked by maxverstappen1, alex_albon, georgerussell63 and 89,010 others

ynusername there's a getaway car joke somewhere here but i don't listen to enough taylor swift to quote it

view all 55,086 comments

vanillatauri I'M LIVING FOR THE MAX CONTENT

georgerussell63 Stop ignoring my messages and tell @ totowolff I didn't break the window

ynusername new phone who this

maxverstappen1 @ lewishamilton I got her home safe

lewishamilton I'm always watching. ynusername ok mom

loleclerc not the red bull/mercedes fight we expected, but the one we deserve

tsunodacloud MERCEDES ADMIN YOU'LL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS

liked by maxverstappen1, mickschumacher, totowolff and 236,990 others

ynusername just fell to my knees in walmart

view all 79,956 comments

maxverstappen1 You're not at a Walmart?

ynusername no babe that's just what the meme is im not physically there maxverstappen1 Oh, haha 🤣 ynusername you're so chronically offline can we kiss

totowolff I have to tolerate this, don't I

ynusername 🤗

lewishamilton For the record I liked this post because you posted it.

georgerussell63 Seconded mickschumacher max go brr

pic credits: pinterest and instagram

#⚔️ max and the three musketeers #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #instagram au #social media au #f1 #f1 smau #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen au

[disney-mystical-au]

If anyone asks if Clarabelles in my AU.

Well… She is.

Believe it or not. She’s a witch.✨

Yep! Just like Fanny, she is the witch of the twilight forests (known for its mysterious but beautiful nature around its land) plus a guardian to all the land! 😮😮😮

But uhhh yeah that’s all! I’ll explain more about her soon lol, enjoy!💛🧡✨

Outfit inspo (idk who’s the artist but I’ll credit them for their wonderful witch outfit!):

#my art #art #disney #mystical au #clarabelle cow #fanny cottontail #I’m still deciding on her colour palette #I like to imagine she changes up the colour of her clothes #yep! her design is based on the three musketeers #love that movie #if I can ill try and draw out her entire outfit!

[dream-this-nightmare-over]

what if after barbie movie, they start making adaptations of barbie films?

#barbie #barbie movie #margot robbie #barbie princess and the pauper #barbie island princess #barbie diamond castle #barbie mariposa #12 dancing princesses #barbie three musketeers #barbie swan lake #just imagine if trend gets to barbie #barbie movies