#treville imagine

[wingsofhcpe]

thinking of Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan celebrating new year's together... drinking to each other, to their brotherhood, laughing and knocking onto each other drunkenly, Aramis falling asleep on Porthos' shoulder, d'Artagnan counting the fireworks, Athos smiling fondly as he realises that all he's ever wanted in life is right there in front of him.

#bbc musketeers #the musketeers #athos #porthos #aramis #d'artagnan #comte de la fere #porthos du vallon #rene d'herblay #idk what the french do for new years. esp what they did back in the 1600s lol #but in greece we cut the vasilopita which is a special cake or tsoureki with a little coin hidden at the bottom #we cut a slice for each family member/friend/ etc #and whoever gets the coin in their slice 'wins' #(symbolises wealth and prosperity and is based on the legend of saint vasilios of eastern orthodo #*orthodoxy #so now i imagine the boys doing that #(treville is like my grandma and he secretly hid 4 coins in the vasilopita and strategically cut the slices so all 4 of his sons would win.)

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Honor and Espionage Part Two

Aramis x Reader

Words: 5013

Part One

Summary: Shut away in the ambassador’s mansion with a woman who knows her true identity, the reader attempts to complete her task. Aramis must wait helplessly as the fatal night ticks on. 

Notes: I cannot even begin to explain how much of a chokehold this man has me in. Aramis has stolen my heart, and I hope there are those of you who can relate! Let me know what you think, these are just such fun characters. (I also plan to do more with this reader/Aramis dynamic in the future, including the story of how they met)

Warnings: Violence, blood, angst, more steaminess 

Find more Musketeers: HERE

-

The doors closed and the last of the guests appeared to be inside. Aramis tucked his spyglass away with a frustrated sigh. He could see you now in his mind, your dazzling smile winning over the guests and the ambassador, your charm earning your way to more secluded areas of the house. Areas with information. Areas with proof of his treason. Aramis had seen firsthand how skilled and precise you were at your job. But that didn’t keep the turning in his gut from adding to the pained worry in his chest. 

The musketeer leaned back against the bark of the tree he’d hidden behind. The others were in similar positions, all glancing up at the house for any sign of trouble. 

D’Artagnan shifted, leaning toward him with a raised brow. “How do you do it?” He asked. “I imagine marriage would be hard enough when only one of you is a musketeer, but both of you?”

Aramis looked up at the boy and found only innocent curiosity on his face, as well as a hint of admiration. He inhaled deeply and ran a hand through his hair. Aramis knew of the younger man’s complicated feelings for a particular merchant’s wife. Perhaps all he was looking for was a little hope. 

“It isn’t easy, but I’m sure you’ve gathered that,” he said, a small smile teasing his lips. “But I think it helps us understand each other more than we would if we lived in a cottage somewhere.” Aramis chuckled. “Perhaps understand isn’t the right word…” In all his years of knowing you, he found that your mind was one he had yet to comprehend. Luckily, trying was one of his favorite activities. 

“What is then?” D’Artagnan rested his arm on his knee and tilted his head. “The right word?” 

Aramis contemplated the question for a while, listening to the distant sounds of the forest around the ambassador’s property and the occasional laugh streaming from one of the open windows. 

“I don’t know, ‘appreciate,’ I suppose,” he answered. D’Artagnan noticed the intense sincerity overtaking his features. “I cherish every moment I have with her because of everything we’ve been through. I worship each second breathing the same air as her as if any inhale may be my last. Because when I even think of a world where her voice has been silenced and her heart has been stopped…” He trailed off, turning back to the house. “I know my soul would follow her, even if my body could not.” 

Porthos’s deep and thoughtful laugh joined their conversation. He sat with his head tilted back and a smirk on his face. 

“Always the romantic hero type, eh?” He said. “Both you and her.” 

“Yes, Porthos, I am a man guilty of loving my wife and she is guilty of the same. Tease all you like.” Aramis smiled to himself, still facing the place where his wife could be in danger and he’d have no way of knowing until it was too late. 

Porthos shifted so he was sitting beside him. He put a hand on his shoulder, gaze following his worried friend’s. 

“She’ll be alright, yeah? She always is.” 

“And if anything happens, we’re ready,” D’Artagnan added. 

Athos merely nodded but Aramis felt his support. All four men contemplated the situation in silence, each plagued with his own thoughts and concerns. Aramis forced slow breaths to calm himself but reached again for his spyglass to peer through any windows he had a clear sight of. 

D’Artagnan thought of the fierceness he’d already witnessed- had even been on the receiving end of- and had faith in your abilities. He felt sorry for anyone inside who’d be unfortunate enough to cross you. 

-

With the man who was to be your escort now rotting away with poison in his belly, you had to alter your story to one Treville would likely have a headache of explaining later on. Rather than the daughter of a prominent merchant in the area, you’d presented yourself as a friend of the king of France’s sister, the Duchess of Savoy, who was traveling with her brother- unable to attend the dinner due to a head cold he gained on the journey- and looking for an advantageous marriage. A forward approach, of course, but luckily it seemed the ambassador couldn’t resist a good challenge of pursuit. All of the other guests seemed to buy your story as well. 

Almost all of them. 

As you giggled mindlessly at something Laurent had said, you could feel the harsh, burning glare from your rival across the table. Milady de Winter, making conquests of her own, ensured that you couldn’t ignore her presence. Her intentions, you had yet to decipher, but you knew her presence could only mean trouble for you. 

Why had the cardinal sent a spy after the ambassador? Did he have the same information as Treville or were his motivations more sinister, as they often were? 

“Tell me, mademoiselle,” Milady began, the same knowing smugness in her voice as before, “what do you think of the rumors growing in Paris regarding the musketeers dueling with Cardinal Richelieu's noble Red Guard? I, for one, have been frightened of even stepping outside of my door.” 

Laurent grunted with an approving nod and took a drink of his wine. “A bunch of lawless miscreants, the lot of them.” He leaned forward so only the two of you could hear. “You know, I’ve heard that the imbecile Captain Treville even has some of his men following me.” 

“You poor dear,” you cried, placing your hand beside his, “how awful to be pursued by those brutes. I’ve personally spoken to the cardinal recently and he couldn't agree more with… I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name madame.” You stared pointedly at Milady. She didn’t blink. 

“Lady de Bonacieux.” 

You kept your face politely neutral, but inside you wanted to reach across and slap her. The use of your close friend’s last name was surely not a coincidence, but you failed to understand how she could know about your relationship with Constance. And her degradation of the musketeers was certainly meant to frustrate you, which meant she knew about your marriage to Aramis. But why not reveal you now? Why keep your identity a secret when it would benefit her much more to see the ambassador throw you out, or worse? 

“Ah, yes, we’ve met before,” you said. She wasn’t the only one with veiled threats up her sleeve. After all, you were not the only one here under false pretenses. “The cardinal introduced us once, did he not?” 

“I believe that was the occasion, yes.” 

“How lucky am I,” Laurent cheered, “to have friends of the cardinal’s on either arm.” 

You noted his boisterous tone and genuine glint in his eye. Either he was a much better liar than you anticipated, or there was something you had yet to discover. 

After dinner, Ambassador Laurent insisted on showing off his gardens to his guests before the men would separate to discuss subjects they felt were ‘too intense for the women’s delicate sensibilities.’ It always made you laugh, having to play the part of the naive ornament that they foolishly believed women to be. If any one of them could look into your mind and discover what you truly knew and understood, the burdens of knowledge you carried, they’d be terrified. 

Whereas, with your husband, your mind was his favorite thing about you. 

You pushed Aramis to the back of your thoughts again and continued batting your lashes at the idiots around you. 

Servants holding lanterns lined the paths of the garden, illuminated by the moonlight. Grand statues and topiaries were the center of Laurent’s boasts. You nodded and giggled and flattered until your brain was numb of boredom. 

A glint in the trees caught your eye. It was only for a second, but you could have sworn you saw movement. A flicker of silver. A contrast of blue-gray in the dark between the trees. 

You restrained yourself from groaning in frustration.

Surely, Athos was smarter than this. Surely, he wouldn’t allow for Aramis and the others to stake out the ambassador’s house because your husband was a touch too protective. Surely, they wouldn’t be that stupid. 

And yet… you knew it was them.

Aramis ducked behind the tree with his breath caught in his throat. 

“Do you think she saw me?” He whispered. Athos shot him a silencing glare. One trip, one loud noise could give away their presence. 

D’Artagnan eyed their leader and leaned over to Aramis. “She definitely saw you.” 

“Do you both want us to be shot?” Athos snapped. 

Aramis held a finger to his smirking lips. Athos’s blue eyes glared icy daggers. They all turned back to the group in the gardens and found that you’d looked away from their hiding spot. 

“Mademoiselle, have you seen your companion, Lady de Bonacieux?” Ambassador Laurent asked as he approached you. You’d only just noticed her absence yourself, sending a shock of panic through you that pushed the thoughts of your sneaking husband to the back of your mind. 

You gave Laurent a confused smile. “I haven’t, mousier. Perhaps she forgot something inside?” He looked to the house with a disappointed frown. “Oh, don’t let it upset you, sir. I’ll find her at once and we can continue our merriment.” 

There was something else in his expression, as well. A flicker of suspicion. But it was gone as soon as it had appeared, replaced by a smile of encouragement. 

“Don’t be gone long, my dear. I have yet to show you the largest of the statues.” 

“Of course.” You bowed and hurried back inside. 

In the trees, D’Artagnan’s teasing of Aramis halted with Porthos pointing to the gardens. 

“Look,” he said. Four pairs of eyes snapped over to watch you go. Porthos shook his head in confusion. “Where is she going?” 

“More importantly,” Athos said, motioning to another member of the gathering who retreated back into the house. “Where is he going?” Laurent’s ornately dressed form followed after you just long enough that you wouldn't notice. 

Aramis’s stomach dropped. He moved into a readied crouching position. “He’s discovered her. We have to help.” 

“Wait.” Athos held out a hand to stop him. “We must have faith in Y/N’s abilities. If we act too quickly, it could be a disaster for both her and us.” 

“But if he knows, he’ll kill her!” 

“Not with all of these people here,” Porthos noted the still full garden. “Even he’s not that stupid. He’d have to take her somewhere else if he’s going to kill her.”

“How surprisingly unhelpful,” Aramis snapped. 

But, with no other choice, he again remained, holding a clenched fist to his lips as he uttered more prayers he could only hope someone was listening to. 

Inside, you crept along the halls to the sounds of the crowd outside. You couldn’t help but wonder how many of them knew. How many knew of this man’s betrayal of his country and stood by and let it happen? How many helped him? 

You came upon a door on the second floor with movement and light streaming through the cracks. You removed the dagger you had strapped to your leg and opened it. Milady de Winter stood over the ambassador’s desk, rummaging through piles of parchment. 

“I expected a more subtle exit,” you said, closing the door behind you. “I believed you were more skilled than that. I thought wrong.” 

“Speed, in this situation, is favored for stealth, I’m afraid. Not all of us have musketeer husbands waiting to rescue us if this goes poorly.” She sneered at you over the countless letters and plans on the dark wood desktop. You froze. “Oh save me the shocked looks. It’s my job to know who you are.” 

“As it is mine to know who you work for,” you fired back. Of course, your marriage wasn’t a secret, but something about her knowing of Aramis made your skin crawl. “How did the cardinal find out about Laurent? No one else was supposed to know. Why would he send his favorite spy?” 

“Why indeed?” The growling voice behind you made your heart stop. A hand roughly grabbed your arm and the glower of Ambassador Laurent loomed over you. His burning gaze shifted over your shoulder. “What does the cardinal mean by this? I thought we had a deal?” 

“A deal?” You gasped, whirling around to look at Milady. “The cardinal is working with this traitor?” Laurent’s grip on your hand tightened and you forced a cry of pain back down your throat. 

“Unfortunately, you’ve run out of usefulness, ambassador. You’ve drawn too much attention to yourself, as this musketeer insider proves.” Milady said calmly. She raised her arm from behind the desk, aimed her pistol, and fired. “And someone has to clean up the mess.”

Laurent crumpled to the floor. 

Milady skirted around the desk with a cold, hard glare. “I’m afraid that goes for you too.” 

-

The crowd let out a collective gasp as the sharp sound rang through the night. The four men hiding in the shadows jumped to their feet. 

“Did you hear that?” Aramis exclaimed, not bothering to stay quiet anymore. 

“Steady, Aramis,” Athos urged, though he’d reached for his weapon. 

“We can’t wait any longer,” Porthos said. 

Aramis didn’t wait for an order. He dashed across the clearing separating them from the gardens. The other three swiftly followed. The guests gasped again upon seeing their approach. 

“Everyone remain calm,” Athos instructed. “We have everything under control.” His voice boomed with enough authority that nobody questioned him. 

Aramis’s feet carried him through the main door. Candlelight flickered in his vision. Gold shimmered from every surface it was nearly blinding. He whirled around, holding a hand out to stop the others, and listened. 

You dove for the weapon with one hand and slashed at her with your knife in the other. Milady knocked against the desk, sending parchment flying over the ambassador’s bloody body. 

“We could have made quite the team, you know,” she said. “The cardinal would have liked you, had you not married a musketeer of course. Aramis, isn’t it? I’m told he’s such a charmer.” She finished reloading her weapon. “Too bad you’ll never see him again. Husbands are useless anyway. He’ll betray you. Just wait.” 

You snatched a candlestick from the side table and launched it at her. She fired accidentally into the wall. In the bright flash of your weapon, a note caught your eye. There, on the edge of the desk, was a letter. In the moment you were able to read some of the words, you recognized it as Laurent’s plot to pay Savoyan soldiers to assassinate the king. And in the corner, was the cardinal’s signet. 

You swung your knife in Milady’s direction again, grabbing the letter and taking the second she had to reload to retreat. The ambassador’s guards met you in the hall. One reached for you. You plunged your knife into his arm and elbowed the other in the nose. If they pursued you, you didn’t turn to see. You ran. 

The second shot might as well have been through Aramis’s pounding heart. 

The third consumed his senses completely. 

With Porthos and Athos busy with more guards, he and D’Artagnan raced up the stairs. The ornate white marble brought them to the second floor where you laid with your back against the wall and a cloaked figure standing over you, gripping your arm as you screamed in agony. The figure tore something from your hands and hurried away without looking back. Aramis fired a shot but missed. 

“After her!” You shouted. You tried to pull yourself to your feet using the railing, but any movement in your arm shot searing pain through your body. Blood had already soaked the sleeve and side of your gown. 

“Go,” Aramis said to D’Artagnan. The young man sprinted after the assailant while Aramis rushed to your side. When his dark, beautiful eyes hovered over yours, you almost breathed a sigh of relief through your clenched teeth. 

“My arm,” you groaned. “The wretch shot me in the arm.”

Aramis examined the wound, lifting your limb gently. You took a sharp breath that sounded more like a whimper. He laid a hand on your cheek. 

“It’s bleeding too much.” Aramis unlatched his belt and wrapped it around your arm just below the shoulder. He tightened it and this time you couldn’t keep the scream at bay. “I know, love. But if I don’t remove the ball and sew the wound soon-”

“I’ll bleed to death,” you finished. There was a flicker of terror in his eyes. 

He saw the light leave your gaze, felt the warmth abandon your skin. He heard your final breaths as your blood stained his hands. He imagined his life without you. It was as dark and cold as a moonless night. The mere image of standing at your grave planted a seed of despair in his chest that he forced himself to push down in order to ensure that it didn’t become real. 

“That’s not going to happen.” 

Downstairs, Athos and Porthos’s battle showed no signs of ending. D’Artagnan returned with a shake of his head. Aramis put an arm under your legs and the other behind your back. He scooped you up and you bit back tears of anguish with every step as he ran. 

“I can walk,” you protested. “It’s my arm, not my ankle.” 

“Now is really not the time to argue, darling.” 

“What happened? Is she hurt?” D’Artagnan asked, keeping up beside you. 

“I need you to bandage her arm and apply pressure to the wound,” Aramis instructed. The younger musketeer tore off a piece of tapestry from the wall and wrapped it around your arm. 

“Sorry about this,” he said, pulling the fabric taught. 

You bit your lip and buried your face in Aramis’s chest. 

“What in God’s name happened?” Athos exclaimed. He and Porthos joined the rushing group. 

Aramis kept his eyes forward and his focus on you. “I need the ambassador’s cabin. She can travel on horseback and we need to get to a secure location for me to operate.” 

“Where is the ambassador?” Athos asked. 

You lifted your head. “He’s dead.” The four men exchanged a glance. You scoffed. “Don’t worry, I didn’t kill him.” 

“That might not matter,” Athos said. He held the door leading out to the path where carriages awaited. 

“What’s going on? Who are you?” The driver jerked the reins away from Porthos’s reaching hand. 

D’Artagnan lifted his gun. “We’re going to need to borrow this, monsieur.”

“Aramis, there’s something I need to tell you all,” you said, voice weaker than before. He lifted you into the carriage, keeping you close in his arms. 

“It will have to wait, darling.” He kissed your forehead. 

“But if I-”

“Don’t.” His tone was firm, but it shook with fear nonetheless. He gulped. “Everything is going to be fine.” 

-

A short ride away sat a small farmhouse, apparently abandoned. Porthos halted the carriage and the other two soon rejoined with the horses. Aramis hurried you inside. 

“She needs a drink. This is going to hurt.” 

Porthos held out a leather flask. “Why don’t we just do what you did with me?”

Aramis scowled. “I like her face the way it is. I’d rather you not damage it.” 

“I’ll have to agree with my husband on that.” You snatched the drink from his hand and downed as much as you could as quickly as the burning liquid allowed. You were already feeling the dizzy discomfort of losing so much blood from the inner side of your arm. “Before you start, I have to tell you all… I have to tell you… the ambassador was plotting to kill the king. And the cardinal was a part of it. That’s why he sent one of his spies to retrieve his letter. She’s the one who killed Laurent and the one who shot me. If you can find her, you may be able to expose the cardinal.” 

“We can worry about that later.” Aramis brushed a strand of hair off of your sweat-spotted forehead. “I’m taking care of you first. And I’m sorry, my love, but it is going to hurt.” His voice sounded as pained as you felt. The anguish in his eyes showed how much seeing you like this broke his heart. 

Finishing the rest of Porthos’s brandy, you gripped Aramis’s shoulder with your uninjured hand. 

“Do it.” 

Lacking the proper tools, Aramis took the sharpest knife he had and reluctantly plunged it into your gaping wound. The burn of the bullet was nothing compared to the blinding sting as he worked to remove the ball from your flesh. Athos gave you a piece of leather to bite down on, but even your muffled screams made Aramis sick to his stomach. 

“I know, mon amour. I’m sorry. It’ll be over soon, I promise. I’m so, so sorry.” He clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus. “I’ve almost… got it.” The gore-coated piece of metal fell into his palm. Blood poured out from your wound. Again, the sensory images of your failing body filled his mind. Your eyes struggled to stay open. He worked faster. “D’Artagnan, tighten the belt and hand me my needle.” 

“Is it supposed to bleed that much?” 

“Just do as I say!” 

You let the leather piece fall from your mouth and managed a weak smile. “This reminds me of when we were attacked by thieves on the way to Gascony,” you laughed, ignoring the growing haze in your head. 

“I think we have different accounts of that.” 

You smirked. “Only, I saved you that time.” 

Aramis shook his head, his lips teasing upward. He threaded his needle and held the point over a candle’s flame. 

“Like I said,” he examined the needle. “Different accounts.” 

The sharp point pierced your scarlet-stained skin. It didn’t hurt as much as removing the bullet. You squeezed your eyes shut, took shallow breaths, and tried to stay awake. 

“There.” Aramis sliced the thread and wrapped a fresh cloth around your arm. “It’s over. You’ve lost a lot of blood but, God willing, you’ll heal.” He adjusted the cushions beneath you and cupped your face in his hands. 

“Aramis,” you breathed weakly and placed your hand on his. Your voice was hardly above a whisper. 

“What is it, love?” 

You opened your eyes to his brown irises staring in panic. Your smirk grew. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

He breathed a sigh of relief and brought your lips to his. 

Porthos chuckled behind him and slapped him on the shoulder. “That is a tough woman you’ve got yourself.” 

“Don’t celebrate just yet,” Athos warned, though he was smiling as well. “We have to make sure the wound doesn’t get infected.” 

“Your concern warms my heart, Athos,” you teased. You pushed yourself up on your good arm and tried to stand. But the blood loss, as well as the brandy, weakened your legs. You fell back against your husband. 

“What are you doing?” He fretted.  

“I must get to Treville. We have to find de Winter. She has the letter.” 

“You aren’t going anywhere.” Aramis wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed your temple. “You need to rest.”

You squirmed in his hold, grimacing when you moved your injured arm. “Leisure is not one of my specialties.” 

“I’ll just have to help you practice.” His dark gaze glinted with his smug smile, brow raised. 

“Perhaps you will.” 

D’Artagnan coughed, reminding the two of you that three other men stood in the room. You might have blushed if you hadn’t lost so much blood. 

D’Artagnan winked. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re going to be fine.” 

-

Aramis made a sling for you from his deep blue sash and the five of you headed back to Paris. You rode with Aramis, his arms on either side of you and his eyes shifting at every movement. He tensed at each snapping twig, his arms holding you a little closer. 

“It’s just a bird,” you whispered. “Besides, you needn’t be so worried.” You turned your head over your shoulder so you could kiss his cheek. “Broken wing or not, I’m still a better shot.” 

But if there were any of the ambassador’s allies, you did not encounter them. Nor was there any sign of Milady. By the time you reached Treville, you were sure the cardinal’s letter was little more than ash and memory. 

The captain paced before you as Aramis changed the crimson bandages on your arm. 

“If I had known your contact was Baffier, I would have warned your spouse to expect you.” 

“That certainly would have made you simpler.” 

“Admit it,” you snickered, “it was fun.” 

“I can’t say that’s the word I would use for you almost bleeding to death,” he said. He wasn’t smiling, rather his face held the same concern it had at the farmhouse. 

“Nor I.” Treville gave you a hard stare. “The ambassador is dead and we don’t have any proof of what he was planning. This is going to be a mess to try and explain to the king.” 

“It was the cardinal’s spy that killed him, not I.”

“Unfortunately, we also don’t have any proof that she exists and if someone from the gathering comes forward and recognizes you or the others, it’ll be a hell of a time explaining what you were doing there.” He stopped his movements and turned his head to both of you. “Which is why I’m not assigning you to anything else until this all dies down.” 

You stood up, Aramis following behind you. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means stay home,” Treville sighed. “You are injured. For God's sake, Y/N, you could have died if Aramis hadn’t been there!” 

“I’m afraid I have to agree with the captain.” Aramis stepped forward. “It’s far too much of a risk for you to be seen.”

Treville changed the subject of his exasperated glare from you to your husband. “And I’m sending you with her.”

Aramis’s face fell so quickly you would have laughed had you not been so frustrated. 

“Captain, I don’t… do you really think that’s… surely you’ll need-” He stammered. 

“You can keep an eye on each other until I can get this awful business figured out and her arm can heal.”

You both opened your mouths to argue, but he held up a hand. 

“That is my final decision.”

“What if you should need our services?” You asked. 

Aramis nodded frantically in agreement. “Yes! Surely Paris will find itself in danger some way or another and you’ll need our skills to stop another villain.” 

“If an emergency arises- and only of the utmost importance-'' Treville pinched the bridge of his nose. “You two will be the first to know. Now I have to try to begin to sort this out.” 

He dismissed you with a wave of his hand. 

You wanted to stay and fight, but between the ache in your arm and your husband’s guiding hand leading you to the door, there wasn’t anything you could do. 

“God knows how long it’ll take for this to quiet down,” you huffed once you were outside. 

“You two don’t look happy,” Porthos said. 

“Let me guess.” Athos crossed his arms. “House arrest?” 

You crossed your arms, grimacing from the jerking movement. 

“Careful, darling.” Aramis winced. 

You ignored him. “We aren’t allowed on any assignments until this whole ridiculous situation is handled.” 

“So, what, you have to go into hiding?” D’Artagnan wondered. “What are you supposed to do until then?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll think of something.” Porthos gave you a mischievous smirk, but his teasing did not lighten your mood. 

“He might as well have sent us to live in a cave.”

“Now, dear,” Aramis said, putting an arm around your shoulder “don’t you think you’re being a tad melodramatic?” Your face morphed with fury and your eyes burned into his. He gulped. “I love you?” 

You turned on your heel and stormed away. Aramis looked desperately at his three companions, but none offered any solace. In fact, they all grinned in amusement. 

“God help me,” he muttered, chasing after you as the trio started to laugh. 

-

Two Days and A Country Cottage Later

You swiped the damp cloth over your skin, bringing it further up your arm until fingers gently grabbed your wrist, stopping you from soaking your stitches. 

“Mind my needlework, darling.” Aramis purred into your ear. He took the cloth from your hand and began his own soothing motions over your arm. “Allow me.” 

You laid back against him, the bath water rippling with each movement. With your head leaned on his shoulder, he carefully cleaned the area around your wound. Any ache in your nerves was erased by his lips on your skin- from your shoulder to your neck to that little spot behind your ear. 

“You know,” you sighed contently, “maybe the captain was right to send us out here. I can’t remember the last time we’ve gotten to spend this much time together.” 

“I couldn’t agree more.” His lips followed your jaw as you turned to face him. 

“I just hope the city is still standing by the time we get back,” you giggled. “I’m surprised we haven’t already been summoned.” 

Aramis flicked at the water. “I give Treville and the others three more days before they come begging for our help.” A cocky smirk played on his features. 

“Well,” you stood, water cascading from your skin and glittering in the setting sun streaming through the window. 

Aramis basked in the sight of you. Almost glowing, you looked practically angelic. You stepped out of the bath and ran your fingers through your hair, beckoning him with a hooked finger and a suggestive glimmer in your eyes. 

“We better not waste them then.”

#aramis x reader #aramis imagine #the musketeers #aramis #the musketeers aramis #the musketeers imagine #the musketeers bbc #d'artagnan #athos #porthos #treville #santiago cabrera

[rose-edith]

Okay but like imagine being Treville's daughter and having a thing for someone from cardinal's men😂 we love a good forbidden love thing

We do all love a forbidden love! Somehow it tastes all the sweeter. Hope you like it!

Being Treville’s daughter and liking a Red Guard would include:

•your poor dear, long suffering Father does love you. He loves you entirely, with all his heart.

•but what he can’t do is accept that you’re quite a grown up now! It doesn’t matter how old you are, how old you get to become, you’re his baby girl. In his mind he can still see you taking your first steps towards him, he can remember the first tooth you lost, when he caught you learning to use a sword…all of those memories were living in his mind every time he looks at you.

•he absolutely cannot tolerate the idea that you might be entering into any romantic dalliances with anyone. He doesn’t like that- no one is good enough for his baby girl!

•BUT in his head it would be marginally more acceptable if you were to enter into an ‘understanding’ with one of his men. He trusts his Musketeers, he can frighten them into submission and treating you well…

•so when you told him that you were a little interested in/fascinated by a Red Guard, your Father fell backwards into his seat, landing with a hard thump! Even the chair creaked.

•he blinked owlishly at you. Silent, brooding, confused…he waited to wake up- he was sure this was a nightmare? But when he realised he was awake, he just sighed and rubbed his face.

•he thought about it for a moment, ignoring the way you were shuffling in fear and anxiety as you waited to hear what he would say.

•but then he spoke. So long as you were happy he didn’t mind, so long as the man cared for you it was ok. He didn’t want to know every detail. But he would like to meet the man…to take an assessment of his character.

•what he also did however, was send Athos, Aramis, Porthos and D’Artagnan on a little spy mission. He had his men watch the guard closely and report back to him.

•and he was almost disappointed when it was revealed that the man was good. A good fighter, a loyal Frenchman.

•Treville even went so far as to speak to Cardinal Richelieu to ask about his Guard…the Cardinal was secretly a silent protector of yours, so when he learned of your attachment to the man, well he personally went digging for dirt! But nothing bad was turned up.

•so reluctantly your father conceded that you could see the man if you wanted. But he was going to meet him, and soon. But for now, you had his approval and support.

#musketeers #bbc musketeers #musketeers x reader #musketeers imagine #musketeers headcanons #captain treville x reader #captain treville headcanons #captain treville imagine #captain treville

[bullet-prooflove]

Vigil: Captain Jean Treville x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#captain treville #captain treville x reader #captain treville x you #captain jean treville #captain jean treville x reader #captain jean treville x you #treville #treville x reader #treville x you #jean treville #jean treville x reader #jean treville x you #bbc musketeers #the musketeers #musketeers

[bluebellsinburbank]

List Your Top 9 Characters

Thank you @ascreamintothevoid-blog for tagging me!

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

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

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

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

Obi-Wan Kenobi - for many, many reasons 😁

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

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

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

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

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

#Choosing nine should not have been that hard #And I only picked two Matt Bomer characters #that's growth #a deplorable lack of female characters #I'd blame society but im pretty sure that's on me #neal caffrey #captain kirk #colonel hogan #obi wan kenobi #jareth the goblin king #chuck bartowski #cardinal richelieu #sherlock holmes #hawkins fuller #fun

[thorin-is-a-cuddler]

A little convincing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

„Ooooh, feisty!!“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

„Nohohoho, I swear!!“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#the musketeers #tickling #tickle imagine #ticklish!aramis #little sister reader #aramis little sister #the three musketeers #athos #porthos #hurt/comfort

[hacash]

Series asks:

• The Terror

• The Musketeers

• the last movie you watched

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

The Terror

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

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

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

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

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

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

BBC Musketeers

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

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

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

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

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

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

LOTR

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

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

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

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

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

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

#the terror #lotr #bbc musketeers #answered ask memes

[enigma-the-mysterious]

Musketeers The Mummy AU that I bothered everyone on the server with:

Athos as a jaded, tired af deserter/ex soldier

Constance as a brilliant archaeologist who is stuck with a librarian's job

Aramis as her goofy, but actually Very Serious and Protective Brother if you care to look beyond his happy-go-lucky persona

Porthos as the Hot AF Leader of the Medjai

Treville as Constance's Extremely Tired Boss who is constantly begging Constance and Aramis not to destroy the library please and thanks

D'Artagnan is the good version of Benny. He doesn't leave Athos, okay?

Imagine Porthos with those sexy tattoos on his face

Plot Twist: Athos O'Connell doesn't fall for Constance Carnahan (brilliant as she is) but her brother, Aramis

Extra Plot Twist: Porthos Bay is soon added to the mix and this leads to an OT3

@lemissingmask proposed Richelieu as Imhotep

This implies that the Normal Librarian desperately trying to lead a Normal Life is actually his lover reincarnated:

Aka Treville

The last couple of points can lead to either extreme comedy or extreme angst (your choice really)

It is definitely going to lead to Extreme Chaos though

#the musketeers #bbc musketeers #lol #the mummy #the mummy returns #aramis #athos #porthos #santiago cabrera #howard charles #tom burke #original post #not incorrect quotes #portamis #athamis #trevilieu #treville #richelieu #constance #d'artagnan #peter capaldi #porthos x aramis #athos x aramis #hugo speer #luke pasqualino #porthos du vallon #alexandre dumas #athos x porthos x aramis #tamla kari #treville x richelieu

[lpdaf]

Prime Minister of France Armand Jean du Plessis Richelieu aka the Red man. Just imagine Treville always got him in the shadows (he's in charge of the security).

@lepredateurdartfurtif on instagram

#capaldieu #trevilieu #cardinal richelieu #captain treville #the musketeers #peter capaldi

[firstelevens]

LEFT FIELD REQUEST: Phryne and Jack, #63

(or if that's all just too long ago and you can't call them up, then Aramis and Anne, #4)

Sylvia I love you so much but Phryne and Jack are IMPOSSIBLE to write so Anne and Aramis will have to suffice, alas.

4. At Last - Etta James

It's strange, after so many years of the Musketeers being at her beck and call, but Anne simply can't get used to having Aramis so near.

She knew, on some level, what it meant to make him First Minister: Treville had been the Crown's right hand as long as he'd served, Richelieu before him, neither of them had ever been far when they were needed. Still, it seems that every meeting with her advisors leads to a meeting with her First Minister, and while there's nothing untoward happening--indeed it's impossible to imagine how anyone might find time to be untoward, given all the treaties and diplomatic letters that fill their time together--she still finds herself blushing like a young girl as she makes her way down the halls to her more private meeting rooms.

The only thing to do is to blame Aramis. After all, she's fairly certain nobody told him to smile so warmly when he bows and greets her with a soft, "Your Majesty." Nonetheless, he does it every time, and every time, Anne's pulse quickens. If she doesn't get in the habit of it soon, her heart is liable to beat out of her chest at an advisory meeting, and then what will happen?

And if she can't get in the habit of him simply doing his job around the palace, how will she ever get used to the sight of him late at night, slipping into her chambers with the stealth of a trained soldier and the sweet grin that their son shares?

(It will take a lifetime of practice, she decides, and applies herself to it at once.)

Put a number 1-100 in my inbox along with a ship/character (or an AU) and I will write you a microfic.

#sylvia-morris #zainab does ask meme things #my fic #Anne x Aramis #spotify wrapped fics

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

I’ve been in a reading slump for the past two weeks. To get out of it, I’ve started rereading The Three Musketeers again, this time in French (I must be insane). Not sure if that was the best idea, but I’m enjoying myself so far.

Also not sure if anyone but me cares about reading updates, but here we are.

Chapter 1:

So 18yo d‘Art, son of a Gascon farmer, takes off to Paris with an old yellow horse, a sword and 12 sous in his satchel.

There‘s a heartfelt goodbye-scene with his parents during which his father tells him to seek adventures and duel as much as he can. Good parental advice. 😆

It strikes me how Dumas makes a point of d‘Artagnan senior staying firm and dry-eyed because Gascons Don’t Cry™️ when I know that, throughout the books, frequent (and fairly dramatic) crying will become one of our Musketeers’ greatest hobbies. Huh.

D‘Art is supposed to never sell his horse and keep it until it dies. As soon as d‘Art arrives in Paris, he sells it to the first person who will buy it. Good thing dad doesn’t know. Lol.

Luke Pasqualino as BBC d’Art really fits Dumas‘ description of d‘Artagnan: brown skin, dark eyes, lanky, with a quick temper and endless optimism. Only the nose, “crooked but well-drawn“, doesn’t match. (This is a good thing)

It’s also a good thing that Maman d’Artagnan has equipped her son with a balm that miraculously “heals all wounds that don’t involve the heart.” He’s going to need it, mom. (Like, in the very first chapter.)

Fainting isn’t reserved to damsels in distress in Dumas canon. In fact, d’Art faints twice in the very first chapter. Once because he’s injured. And then again when he sets his eyes on Milady for the first time (while still injured). Maman d’Artagnan should have packed some smelling salts for him as well.

Once more, I find the start of the novel really intriguing what with the nameless gentleman who first fights with d’Art and then steals d’Art’s letter of recommendation to Treville. Why? And who is he? (I know who he is, of course, my dudes, but maybe there is still some sweet uninitiated summer child here who doesn’t?)

And we have Milady’s mysterious first appearance. She’s on some kind of mission for the nameless gentleman. Again: What mission? Why? (She’s also blonde and blue-eyed, JFTR, although I always imagined her with the black hair of a femme fatale - hello, Maimie McCoy!)

The first chapter is so captivating with everything that’s going on - a farewell, a brawl (also involving a sword-fight), a theft, intrigue, whump and mystery, all of that infused with upbeat tempo and humor.

If I’d read this back in 1844, as the first chapter of a serialized novel in a magazine, I would’ve been hooked.

Who am I kidding. I still am!😊

#the three musketeers #alexandre dumas #reread #les trois mousquetaires #my reading #d’artagnan #athos #aramis #Porthos

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Honor and Espionage Part One

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 3284

Summary: The newest member of the team is abruptly introduced to Aramis’ wife- a high-ranking spy for the Musketeers who may be in over her head on her new assignment.

Notes: The chokehold that Aramis has on me is unreal. I love this man to the ends of the earth. Also, I had to make another Les Mis reference. Expect a lot of them in these imagines. 

Warning: Mild violence, some steaminess, the usual for these boys

Find more Musketeers: HERE

-

D’Artagnan still didn’t understand why they were there to begin with. The assignment made sense enough. Gather information, don’t approach the targets, and try not to cause any fights while at it. But the four of them had sat in the noisy tavern for hours now and there was no sign of anyone remotely resembling the treacherous representative of Savoy they were meant to spy on. 

“What if he doesn’t show up?” He whispered to the man across the table.

Aramis raised a brow. “Do you doubt Treville’s intel?” He smirked with his usual teasing mischief and patted the younger man on the arm. “Don’t worry, D’Artagnan. I’m sure our patience will be rewarded with at least something interesting.” 

He gazed over at the man Ambassador Laurent was supposed to be meeting- presumably to discuss secret information regarding the King’s plans of trade with Spain. The well-dressed middle-man bellowed flirtations to the woman whose back was turned to them, his face reddened with how much wine she’d brought him. Judging by the disinteresting angle of her head, his efforts were very much wasted. 

Then the woman stood and said something they couldn’t quite hear, but made Aramis’s brows furrow. She drew her hood up over her curled hair and slinked out of the tavern through the back entrance. The man stretched his arms and walked over to the counter to order another drink. 

D’Artagnan’s brain rushed around dozens of thoughts and settled on the possibility that the mystery woman could have been working with the ambassador. If not, she may have heard something of interest from the drunk and could be passing it on to another party, possibly even worse than the ambassador. 

“I’m going to go see where she’s off to,” D’Artagnan said.

“Wait-” Aramis started, but the young man was already halfway across the room. 

Aramis let the woman’s voice echo in his head. He may not have heard her words, but he knew that tone. He knew the curve of her neck and the curl of her pinned-up hair. But before he could follow D’Artagnan, and thus the woman, Athos’s instruction prevented him. 

“He’s here,” Athos hissed, motioning with his eyes for Aramis to remain where he was. Sure enough, the betraying bastard waltzed into the tavern with a grin on his face and an arrogant air about him. So, despite his nerves itching for him to move, Aramis remained while D’Artagnan sought out the cloaked woman. 

D’Artagnan moved without a sound down the alley behind the tavern, eyes scanning for the slightest motion to reveal where the woman had gone. A flash of cape caught the lamplight. He followed. The suspicious air about her exit further confirmed his suspicion that she was not just another bar wench looking for extra funds. Something else was certainly afoot. 

Inside, a roar of commotion stopped him in his tracks. He tried to decipher what the frantic people inside were shouting and could make out one word. 

“Poison!” 

He stepped forward and felt something metal touch the back of his neck. A click rang through the dark. 

“Don’t take another step.” An arm snaked around his neck and the barrel of the pistol moved to his chin. The woman spoke close to his ear. “Who sent you? Who knows about me?” 

“Madam, I assure you, I don’t know what you’re-”

She tightened her hold on his neck. “Do not play me for a fool, sir.”

The tavern’s occupants poured out of the front door in a panic. The Ambassador returned to his carriage and disappeared. 

Both D’Artagnan and the woman sighed with the same frustration. “Damn.” 

D’Artagnan’s brow furrowed in confusion. The woman stiffened. 

“Do you work for the ambassador?” She hissed. 

“Do you?” 

Another click cut off their conversation. 

“Let the boy go.” 

The woman turned, spinning D’Artagnan along with her. Her arm around his neck twitched and her tone changed with surprise. 

“Porthos?”

The Musketeer let his pistol fall to his side. “Y/N?” 

“You two know each other?” D’Artagnan squeaked, the pistol still pressed to his head making him increasingly uncomfortable. 

“Y/N.” 

Your heart fluttered, any semblance of control now betrayed by your excitement. You let your arm fall away from the young man’s chest and turned back around, facing the opening of the alley. There, caught in the lamplight, dark eyes glistened with adoring astonishment and a smile played across his lips. 

You gasped. “Aramis?” 

Forgetting where you were and the threat you’d just posed upon his compatriot, you dashed across the space dividing you and through your arms around him. His hands cupped your face as if making sure it was really you and pulled your lips to his. 

D’Artagnan, still breathless and reeling, whirled his head back and forth, from Porthos, to the couple, back to Porthos, back to the couple. 

“Would someone like to explain why Aramis is in the arms of the woman who just tried to kill me?” He exclaimed. 

“You followed me,” you quipped, taking a step forward in confrontation. Aramis tsked and held you back with an arm around your waist. 

“We were simply unaware of your being here, darling, otherwise I imagine things would have gone very differently.” He purred and pressed another kiss to your cheek before turning back to the younger trainee. “D’Artagnan.” He held out a hand to him, then to you. “Allow me to introduce Y/N D’Herblay, Captain of the Musketeers Covert Intelligence, and,” he held you tighter, “my wife.” 

D’Artagnan clamped his mouth shut to prevent his jaw from dropping in surprise. The smooth-talking Musketeer was married?

Horse’s shrill protests echoed down the street as the ambassador’s carriage tried to cut through the crowd of people trying to find out what happened. You laid a hand on your husband’s chest and urged him deeper into the shadows. 

“Perhaps we should continue this introduction elsewhere, else my cover will be revealed,” you said. 

He nodded and led you back into the tavern with a hand on the small of your back. 

D’Artagnan, mouth now agape, watched the two of you go. 

“But-” 

“Come on,” Porthos huffed, grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him inside. 

-

While Athos and Porthos dealt with the poisoned man you’d just met with, the other two Musketeers secured a private room in order to keep you hidden from any other investigating parties. Aramis’s hand never left yours, leading you and the man you’d nearly killed upstairs. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, darling,” you said once the door was shut behind you. “But what are you all doing here?”

“We could ask the same thing,” D’Artagnan exclaimed. 

You scoffed. “This is my assignment.” You turned an angry gaze on your husband. “Who is this?” Your voice rang through the room. Aramis held up his hands to try and calm you. 

“A moment, dear.” His charming smile was betrayed by anxiety in his eyes. “We mustn't lose our heads. There is a dead man downstairs.” 

“That she likely killed!” D’Artagnan quickly regretted his words, receiving warning glares from both of them. 

You let out a low sigh and removed your cloak, pacing across the small room. It was only then that Aramis saw how your hands shook. 

“I didn’t kill Baffier, I was using him to get closer to the ambassador.” 

Aramis nodded. “And you think Laurent killed him to prevent him from passing on information?” 

You looked at him with wide eyes and a fear that shot through his heart. 

“I don’t think the poison was meant for him.” 

Aramis’s face fell. Unable to bear the loving worry in his eyes, you turned to the open window to breathe in the night air. 

“You think Laurent knows about you?” D’Artagnan asked. Aramis was at your side in seconds, taking your hand in his.

“It’s ridiculous,” you sighed. “My life has been threatened countless times-”

“Countless times?” Aramis exclaimed. You raised a brow. “Sorry, love. Continue.” 

Your breathing turned shaky and you looked away again. “But to have someone die in my place…” 

Aramis lifted your chin with his finger, eyes alight and staring deeply into yours. 

“If you think your position has been compromised, then it is too dangerous for you to remain here. We must return you to Paris immediately.” 

You shook your head and pushed away from him. “All Laurent knows is my name. Thanks to Baffier- God rest his soul- I now have an invitation to a very important dinner where I will hopefully learn the extent of the ambassador's plans.” 

“You can’t be serious,” your husband exasperated. “We have no way of knowing if all he knows is your name. Baffier could very well have been the one to sell you out, or even poison you!” Deep brown eyes pleaded with yours. “You cannot continue.” 

“Fortunately, dear, you are not the one who gives me orders,” you snapped. “This dinner has been what Treville and I have been working toward for months. I’m not going to let a small threat get in the way.”

“I doubt the dead man downstairs would agree with your assessment of this threat level!” He shouted, more out of panic than of anger. 

“She’s right, Aramis.” Athos, having come from the havoc downstairs, closed the door behind him as he entered.  “A barmaid confessed to mixing Y/N’s drink and that Baffier accidentally drank from the wrong cup.” He crossed the room to the couple and spoke again before Aramis could interject. “But she cannot surrender the opportunity to get the closest to Laurent we’ve ever been.” 

“But you’ve just said it!” Aramis exclaimed. “One attempt has already been made on her life. How is that possibly not enough to convince Treville sending her would be a mistake.” 

“The barmaid said that it was Baffier who threatened her into poisoning Y/N’s wine,” Athos said. “He hadn’t the chance to reveal the truth about her to Laurent because the fool fell on his own sword. Y/N’s mission will go on as planned.” 

Aramis stepped forward, but you took his arm to calm him. 

Athos turned to you. “When are you set to leave for the ambassador’s estate?” 

“Day after next,” you answered, hand still on your husband’s shoulder. The lie formed a necessary lump in your throat. You just needed to buy yourself some time.  “The dinner is to celebrate his success as an advisor to the king.” Your last words were thick with irony. 

“Then you’ll have plenty of time to prepare and we’ll have plenty of time to ensure you aren’t walking into a trap.” Athos nodded and headed back for the door. He motioned for D’Artagnan to follow. “Everything is taken care of downstairs. The local authorities are taking Baffier and the barmaid.” A small smile crept onto his lips as he looked between the two of you. “And the room is paid for through the night. We’ll reconvene at dawn.” 

The two men left and the room fell into a tense silence. You began to pace again. 

“We agreed when we married that we wouldn’t interfere with each other’s work,” you sighed. “I know it isn’t easy. Lord knows how many nights I’ve spent wondering if you were alive or dead.” You stopped, feet firm on the ground and head high. “But I have to do this. It may be the only way to know the extent of Laurent’s plans.” 

Aramis closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and returned his gaze to yours. 

“I know.” 

You were taken aback. Frankly, you hadn’t expected the argument to be over so quickly. Usually, the two of you could debate from dusk til dawn. But Aramis knew that when your mind was set, there was no changing it. Still, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins forced your tongue. 

“I still don’t understand what you are doing here to begin with. Treville can’t have sent you to keep an eye on me, he trusts me more than that. I wonder-”

Aramis stopped you with a kiss. 

“My love,” he started, breathing a sigh against your lips. “We haven’t seen each other in weeks. I had hoped our reunion would be a little less argumentative.” Soothing hands traveled up and down your spine. He moved his kisses along your collarbone. 

“In all of the fuss, I’d almost forgotten how much I missed you,” you laughed, tangling your fingers in his chocolate-colored locks. 

As suspected, the room- and your adrenaline- were put to very good use. 

-

Aramis woke to an empty bed and for a moment a wave of panic rushed over him. He sat straight up and called out your name before he saw the sun outside his window and remembered Athos’ instructions from the night before. Ease comforted him, but only for a moment. He remembered why you were here in the first place and a new set of worries filled his mind. 

“You’re late.” Porthos peaked through a crack in the door. “May I come in? Are the two of you decent?” 

Aramis let out a deep sigh. “It’s just me. Y/N must have already gone downstairs.” 

Porthos swung the door open. Perplexion painted his features. 

“No, she hasn’t.” 

The two exchanged a glance of frustrated understanding and Aramis hurried to collect his clothes. 

“I should have known,” he muttered. 

“Why would she have taken off?” Porthos asked. “We’re here to help her.” 

Aramis secured his trousers and pulled his billowing shirt over his head. He grabbed the rest of his belongings and met his fellow musketeer at the door with a scowl. 

“Exactly.” 

Porthos held out an arm to stop him. “What’s that?” He jerked his chin at the table beside the bed where a small roll of paper sat with a ribbon tied around it. Aramis picked it up and held the thin fabric between his fingers. You’d worn it in your hair the night before. The parchment contained a single sentence written in your delicate handwriting. 

“I have to do this,” Aramis read with a grimace. He crumpled the page in his fist and gave a ferocious glare to his companion. 

“Don’t look at me,” Porthos huffed. “You’re the one that married her.” 

Aramis shoved past him and thundered down the stairs where Athos and D’Artagnan were waiting. Athos turned and his face fell with confusion to see only the two men descending. It took only a moment and a glance at Aramis’s fiery and frantic expression to understand. 

“She’s going alone, isn’t she?” He sighed. He ran a hand down his face. “I suspected this may happen. That’s why I secured the room, so that you may keep an eye on her.” Athos glared pointedly at your husband. 

“I assure you, if I had known her plot I would have tied her down,” Aramis said. Porthos raised a brow, earning a smack. “Not like that, you idiot.” 

D’Artagnan, who’d been silent until now, coughed and looked guiltily down at the floor. “She left around 5:00 this morning.” 

Aramis had his hand on his collar in a flash. “You saw her leave and didn’t think to, I don’t know, wake me?” 

“Actually,” D’Artagnan gulped. “I spoke to her.” 

“I fail to see how that helps you in this instance.”

“I let her go because she’s right.” The younger man gently removed Aramis’s hands from his shirt and took a cautious step back. “If the ambassador so much as theorizes that we may be onto him, it would be much more dangerous for her than if she were to simply go alone.”

“Then why did Treville send us if he's the one that assigned her?” Porthos asked. 

“He sent us to find out who Laurent was meeting and why, not to infiltrate his likely well-guarded home,” Athos said. He thought for a moment, noting Aramis’s chest heave with his breathing. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t observe from afar just in case anything goes amiss. Laurent’s estate will take nearly all day to reach. We should leave now.” 

Aramis was the first to the door, but he was stopped by the youngest member of their group. 

“What now?” He hissed. 

D’Artagnan reached a hand into his pocket and held something in his fist. “She was afraid it would be too dangerous to have on her person and asked me if you’d look after it for her.” 

He opened his hand, a small band of gold sitting in his gloved palm. Aramis picked it up. The inscription glittered in the morning sunlight and pierced his heart. 

L’amour Vainc Tout. 

Love conquers all. 

He brought the ring to his lips and muttered a prayer against the metal that you were right. 

-

The carriage jostled, worsening the nerves that twisted your stomach. You took a deep breath and attempted to clear your mind. Whispers of the night before teased your memory, the phantom of Aramis’s lips still burning your skin. You glanced out of the window at the French countryside, nearing the Savoyan border. 

He’d be awake now, worried and probably furious. No. Definitely furious. You could see his fuming face now as the other musketeers likely tried to calm him. The younger one- D’Artagnan- would hopefully have told them what you’d said to convince him to let him go. Athos would see the logic and would prevent your husband from acting rashly and storming Laurent’s estate. 

You hoped. 

Either way, by the time they arrived, you would be well into your mission of charming Laurent and his rich companions to gather the information Treville needed in order to sway the king’s opinion on Laurent and his treachery. 

“If I could halt all the violence in the world so we didn’t have to do what we do, I would,” Aramis had whispered as you laid together in the darkness of the night before. 

You’d laughed against his chest. “No, you wouldn’t.” In between words, you had kissed up the length of his neck until you reached his lips. “Because neither of us would know what to do with ourselves if we didn’t have something to fight for.” 

Aramis remained in your thoughts for the rest of the journey, though when you saw the grand house come out from over the hill, you forced his smile to the back of your mind and, like a lever in your chest, switched on your flattering facade that allowed you to do your work with a smile. Ever the perfect spy. 

Your legs ached from the hours of travel and you took a moment to stretch them as you stepped out of the carriage and onto the stone path that stretched through the front gardens and up to the ambassador’s mansion. The sun had already started to dip below the horizon and servants lit candles in the parlor. 

“This way, Madame…” The butler began. 

“Mademoiselle de Valjean,” you beamed. You took the invitation you’d procured from Baffier and handed it to him with a graceful motion. “I’m a close friend of the Duchess of Savoy and I’m just dying to make the ambassador’s acquaintance.” 

“I’m sure you are.” A new voice sounded from the shadows. A maid lit another candle and revealed a dazzling pair of hazel eyes alight in the flame. She put on a smile that matched your own as you hid your surprise well. The woman you only knew as Milady de Winter crossed the parlor and took your hands in hers. “Madame de Valjean, how lovely it is to see you again.” She said your false name with a knowing glint in her eye. 

This was going to be more difficult than you thought.

-

#Aramis #the musketeers imagine #the musketeers bbc #the musketeers #santiago cabrera #aramis x reader #aramis imagine

[pyonzzz]

HOKAY. SO. idk how rare this is but mallecater 👀

i'm pretty sure the textual implication is that cater's interest in malleus only stems from the clout he would receive if people thought they were friends but. just imagine the pastabilities

also again, idk how rare but im so so soft for trevil ;^;

cater suggested a selfie together

also treyvil ough .... i love them so much i go illiterate thinking about them too long

#tesla tag #twst #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #cater diamond #mallecater #i wouldve drawn treyvil too but im at work WWW #purrhaps later

[bullet-prooflove]

The Duke's Chambers: Captain Jean Treville x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @@lovemissyhoneybee @sekretwindow @rey4kat burningpeachpuppy swanfan17 dragon85faby  @angelnyx aiko24k 

There is only one person that Captain Jean Treville gets on his knees for and that is his wife. His hands are tangled in your skirts, his fists gripping the fabric as he buries his face between your thighs. His lips ghost over your clit and you make that sweet noise, the one he’s spent months imagining.

He takes pride in your ecstasy, in ruining you in another man’s chambers, knowing his intention to bed you. He wouldn’t normally be so reckless, so undisciplined but tonight he’s not Captain of the Musketeers, he’s your husband, the one who can’t stand the sight of another man’s hands on you.

He understands it’s part of your role, a method of getting close to the Duke in order to remove the key, he holds within his pocket but truly Jean hates it. He spends the entire ball, watching you from afar, his jaw clenched and his hands clasped tightly in front of him.

You’re clad in a dress that he could never give you, in jewels he could never afford. It should rankle Jean but it doesn’t because the Duke doesn’t get to have the real you, he doesn’t get experience your joy, your sadness, you pleasure. You save those things for him.

When you slip out of the ball room, he sees the intention in the Duke’s eyes. He expects to bed you tonight, that he’ll get to experience the heaven between your legs. When he makes a move to follow, Jean intervenes, his hand clasping the other man’s shoulder tightly.

“The king wishes for you to join him at his table.” He informs the other man as he steers him away from the doorway and back towards the ballroom. “He’s very keen to hear the about your hunt today.”

Ambition, it outweighs desire every time with men like the Duke.

You’re leaving the Duke’s chambers when Jean catches up with you. He watches as you tuck the letter with the Cardinal’s orders into your bodice before he closes the door behind him. He has that look in his eyes as he stalks towards you, already unbuckling his sword belt. It falls to the floor with a dull clank as he reaches you.

You open your mouth to speak but he silences you with a kiss, his steady hands backing you up against the Duke’s desk. The papers slip from it, the inkwell clattering as he hikes your skirts up above your thighs. He peppers your throat with heated kisses, the scratch of his beard raking across your flesh.  

“Tell me you’re mine.” He whispers against your skin as he draws down your undergarments. “That I’m the only man that gets to you like this.”

“Jean.” You murmur as he bundles them in his fist and tosses them onto the floor. “You are the only man for me.”

He sinks to his knees, his calloused hands parting your thighs and he inhales because this, this really is heaven. His lips are soft when he kisses you, your breathing hitches, your head tips back and your body arches.

Lord how he worships you, he could spend all night between your legs, bringing you to climax over and over and over again.

He devours you, licking up that sweet honey before he thrusts his tongue deep inside. Your fist curls in his collar, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt and he knows you’re close, it’s in that sweet little noise you make, the way you say his name. He pulls away just before the crescendo, his fingers scrambling to undo the laces on his breeches.

“On the bed.” He tells you, his voice raw as he raises to his feet. “I want to fuck you on his bed.”

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

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#captain treville #captain treville x reader #captain treville x you #treville #treville x reader #treville x you #jean treville #jean treville x reader #jean treville x you #captain jean treville #the musketeers #bbc musketeers

[dorothyoz39]

Feedback Fest 2024: The Musketeers (2014)

An Anatomy of the Human Heart by spycandy

Athos/Ninon de Larroque

Not rated.

Complete

Summary: Slow, quiet post series 1 Athos/Ninon. Ninon sends Athos a book, he finds her.

Fucking sweet!

The Delivery by SGLAB

Athos/Sylvie

Not rated.

Complete.

Summary: A very pregnant Sylvie is walking through the refugee camp with Aramis when she goes into labor.

Funny and adorable.

Surrender by under_my_blue_umbrella

Athos/Sylvie

M

Complete

Summary: Athos is a born leader, always on top of things. Well... except when he prefers not to be. Remember the opening sequence to "Death of a Hero" when, just as a casual aside, we learned that Athos likes to be tied up? This is a little ficlet about how Sylvie found out.

Sweet and tender, and hot while only being suggestive.

The Sounds Of A New Page Turning by under_my_blue_umbrella

Athos/Sylvie

G.

Complete

Summary: A new page turns for Athos, and d'Artagnan is there to help. Sylvie is in labor, Athos panics.

Sweet.

Love Above All Else by snufflyphoenix

Athos/Sylvie

G.

Complete.

Summary: Athos and Sylvie snuggle and talk about their worries about the future. They know they will face whatever the future may hold together.

Sweet and romantic.

With Mine Eyes by FireandRosemary

Athos/OFC

T.

Complete.

Summary: Athos is free from Milady but nothing ever runs smoothly for long; the arrival of a woman in Paris sets events and plots into motion that could catch all of the Musketeers in a web of hatred.

OFC is blind, smart, and Treville's daughter. It makes the story very interesting. It has some action too.

Moment of Truth by potentiality_26

Athos/Aramis

E

Complete.

Summary: A confrontation following 'Musketeers Don't Die Easily.'

HOT and lovely!

Goddammit, Aramis by penguingal

Athos/Aramis

E

Complete.

Summary: Returning to the Garrison after the events at Marmion's observatory, Athos has an important conversation with Aramis.

Hot and somewhat romantic.

Fairy Tales by breathtaken

Athos/Constance, Constance/D'Artagnan

T

Complete.

Summary: AU. Athos and Constance marry for convenience and then d'Artagnan apears...

It's smart and sweet. The friendship between Athos and Constance is the best part, and how maturely they solve the issues.

All for One by Richefic

Frienship between the musketeers

T

Complete.

Summary: The story follows season 1 adding stuf.

It's fun to read and it adds background to the story.

Bonus track: (Because I couldn't chose only 10)

In Blood And Silence You Speak The Truth by under_my_blue_umbrella

Frienship between the musketeers

G

Complete.

Summary: Athos is injured and his friends take care of him.

It's an awesome story about how he heals and his friendship with the others.

To regain faith by Flauschvieh

Athos/Aramis. Athos/Porthos/Aramis (at the end)

E

Complete.

Summary: Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan just returned from their assignment to transfer Bonnair back to Paris and Athos is still thrown over the recent events. One night when he gets unreasonably drunk and starts talking too much, Aramis doesn't know how to deal with the rock that is kicked loose…

Developing relationship. It's really sweet and romantic, and also very hot.

Crossing the River by Anima Nightmate (faithhope)

Athos/Aramis

M

Complete.

Summary: Aramis likes to be polite. And friendly. But he always seems to be at odds with Athos, in subtle (or not-so-subtle) ways. In different circumstances he’d have a better chance of knowing what to do, but this is a working relationship between fighting men, one of them notoriously reticent. If only Athos wouldn’t keep making references to Classical Greek literature, leading Aramis’s ever-fertile imagination into places it should not go.

Interesting and very compeling. Their relationship develops as the story goes and it's awesome to watch. Also, Athos is intersex.

Second Bonus track: (Because I couldn't not recommend the best story ever)

Standing on the Threshold, Waiting and Hoping by Anima Nightmate (faithhope)

Athos/Constance, Constance/Sylvie, Athos/Sylvie, Athos/Constance/Sylvie, Athos/Constance/Sylvie/Aramis

E

Summary:A gift fic for the Musketeers’ Garrison Fic Challenge wherein we dive off the beaten track of canon and explore what might have happened if The Inseparables decided to investigate deeper into the trade of young people in Season 2 Episode 8 (The Prodigal Father) and if they dragged Constance, still in mourning, into their shenanigans, inviting her to go undercover with Athos in another city.

This was written for me as a gift during a fandom exchange. The story is lovely!! We get to explore Athos & Constance friendship as they slowly enter in a relationship. They drag Sylvie and Aramis into it somehow. And we get to see Constance grow into herself and became akin to the woman we see in season 3. Along the way, she moves on from her marriage and d'Artagnan, who was an idiot in season 2. It's great to see her discover herself and the relationships develop beautifuly.

#feedback fest #feedback fest 2024 #ifd2024 #international fanworks day #international fanworks day 2024 #The Musketeers #BBC The Musketeers #tv shows #musketeers fanfiction #musketeers fandom

[dreamerinthesun]

“Sorry for the burned cake...”

{Captain Treville x reader, platonic!musketeers x reader}

A/N: Soo, here's one of my first one-shots. It's for the amazing birthday girl @rose-edith ☺️🤍 I hope you'll enjoy it as much as you enjoyed your big day! Love you!

Athos wasn't the best cook in Garrison, in fact he hated being around in the kitchen more than anything. How he was assigned with baking cake for his captain's wife birthday remained mystery but he still tried his best. Of course, today was a big day for the whole courtyard of Musketeers and Captain Treville decided that his beloved's birthday should be a perfect day. Why he wanted musketeers to help was still unsure but from what Athos understood, they show show their thanks to the madam Treville. “You know, the cake won't make itself...” Someone spoke up from the door with obvious amusement in their voice. The second in command looked up with a frown to see Aramis standing there with embrace full of flowers. 'Of course he was assigned flowers', thought Athos bitterly as it didn't surprise him at all. “I have never baked anything in my life”, confessed Athos beginning to move around the kitchen in a hope there was some hidden cookbook which could help him out of his misery. “It's not that hard, really. You just need to use eggs, flour, oil and sugar...” Aramis started to count on his fingers, enjoying the view of his friend in such an awful situation. Helping Athos out didn't even came to his mind. “Oh really? Well if it is that easy why don't you just do it yourself!”, snapped Athos back with a frown between his eyebrows. Turning around to face the younger musketeer Athos would love to see Aramis try to bake it. “It wasn't a my responsibility to bake the cake... But since you need my help, I will do it. You owe me one tho” Aramis sighed trying to act as if he was hard to convince but Athos's glare made him put the flowers down on the table as he began to show Athos what he should do as both of them teamed up to make at least something which was close to the birthday cake their captain imagined.

“What is taking them so long?” Porthos wondered leaning against the one of tables setted outside. His right arm was loosely put across barrel filled with the finest wine, his dark eyes watching the windows from the kitchen. After hearing sounds as if few things broke, Athos swearing loudly and Aramis's cheeky responses the oldest of musketeers began to worry for his brother's safety. Turning his head to take a questioning look at D'Artagnan, the longer haired male shrugged. "Maybe he's trying to put Aramis's body into the cake? Who wouldn't love birthday dessert with Aramis's head on it?" Suggested D'Artagnan with an amused chuckle while making sure everything and everyone else was ready. Few tables were decorated with flowers Aramis brought in, set up with multiple delicious courses captain was able to get from palace's kitchen as it was all ready for arrival of Madam Treville and Captain. Thinking about what else was missing both musketeers were taken out of their thoughts when they heard clapping of hooves on the city's ground.

“I really hope you enjoyed today” Jean Treville spoke to you with small but loving smile. He hoped today's day was the best for you and he made sure you didn't have to worry about such a things as making dinner as he nudged his horse towards Garrison. Everything inside of it was a surprise he was planning for a long time. Jean was slowly counting the days till your birthday, he couldn't wait for making the special day of yours even better.

As they arrived into the courtyard, both Porthos and D'Artagnan were waiting down by the stairs, happy to see you with their captain. It was no secret both men adored your relationship with their boss, it could be seen by the way they shared glances before yelling out "SURPRISE!”

Jumping off the horse Jean helped you down as well as he took your hand into his. His eyes were searching for the emotions in your own eyes, he wanted to see the happiness lighting up behind them and the beautiful smile of yours. Small wrinkles appeared by his own eyes at the sight of your breathtaking smile, he could stand there and stare at you forever but he was interrupted by someone barging out of kitchen door.

Everyone's attention turned to both Athos and Aramis coughing and trying to catch a breath as they were holding onto a sheet on top of which sad something what used to be dough. As the two men were trying to not die out of lack of oxygen, there was a lot of smoke coming from the kitchen. Something bad definitely happened. Aramis spotted his captain with his wife as he helped Athos back on his feet, the two men trying to ignore the tears in their eyes while they showed the completely burned dough. That was supposed to be a cake. “Happy birthday?” Aramis spoke up with questioning tone on the end of sentence. “Sorry for the burned cake...”, Athos added mumbling as his scratch the back of his neck nervously.

The sight of his two musketeers burning such a simple thing made Captain sigh under his breath. He now regretted his choices of cooks but it didn't matter at all if it was still the best day of your life.

#captain treville #jean treville #bbc musketeers #the musketeers #musketeers x reader #captain treville x reader