#d’artagnan x reader

[theblondeone-029]

[fandom-imagines-stories]

These Lips Speak Lies

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 7048

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

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

Find more Musketeers: HERE

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blew out a breath. “Yes and no.”

“Did you work together?”

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

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

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

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

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

The three members of the audience nodded. 

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

Aramis, certainly, was not. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aramis turned on his heel and stopped suddenly. 

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

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

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

-

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

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

All but one. 

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

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

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

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

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

But those eyes…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aramis looked away. 

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

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

“These are your observations then?” He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raised a brow. 

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

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

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

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

Your fellow musketeer crossed his arms. 

“I’m coming with you.”

“You most certainly are not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was only cute the first time.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s mademoiselle,” you corrected.

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

You rolled your eyes and went back downstairs. 

-

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

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

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

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

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

Those eyes. 

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

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

Hands grappled you from behind. 

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

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

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

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

“Maybe we should have left her for Claude.”

“Let’s get her in the cart.” 

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

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

Or someone. 

“Great,” you sighed. 

Treville was not going to be happy. 

-

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

Aramis groaned, eyes fluttering open and closed. 

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

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

You put a hand on his back to steady him. 

“Where are we?” He asked. 

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

“Did you see them?”

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

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

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

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

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

“They told me you were a clever one.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gritted your teeth. 

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

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

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

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

“Lady Augustin.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N-”

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me go,” you demanded.

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

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

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

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

“Not in my position, it’s not.” 

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

When Lord Augustin used you to appease his sick appetites. 

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

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

Aramis grimaced. 

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

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

You’d seen it happen before. 

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

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

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

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

You snorted. 

He closed his eyes. 

And you both waited. 

-

They came for him first. 

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

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

“Stay away,” you spat. 

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

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

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

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

Aramis groaned. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Someone will have heard that,” he said. 

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

Aramis took both from the men on the ground. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You noticed the tension in his back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aramis leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead. 

And you let him. 

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

“You there!” Someone shouted. 

It was definitely harder to sneak two people around. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shuddered. 

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

Lord and Lady Augustine exchanged confused and irritated looks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A great shot rang through the room.

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Must be in trouble,” Porthos muttered teasingly. 

Aramis didn’t laugh. 

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

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

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

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

Aramis shook his head. 

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

“I understand.” 

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

You stepped forward. 

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

“Hello Aramis,” you smiled. 

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

Treville cleared his throat. 

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

“Thank you, sir,” you said quietly. 

Aramis bowed slightly as the captain left. 

The two of you turned back to each other. 

And closed the space between you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I believe I rescued you first.” 

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

Aramis chuckled, raising a hand to your cheek. 

You leaned into his touch.

The two of you drew closer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aramis shot him a look. 

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

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

You glanced at him. 

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

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

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

“Here here,” Porthos cheered. 

The five of you clinked your cups together. 

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

[bullet-prooflove]

A Cottage in Nice: Captain Jean Treville x Reader

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

Jean’s fall from grace is inevitable. You see it coming the moment he turns down the position of First Minister.  It becomes the talk of France because no man in his right mind would defy the king’s wishes and your husband does just that.

It moves quickly from there, the king shows his displeasure by stripping him of his rank before he dismisses him from the service entirely. His career is shattered within a matter of weeks.

He steers clear of you in the aftermath, he doesn’t want the taint of his misfortune to muddy you. Your marriage has always been his most closely guarded secret, he will take it to the grave if he has to.

He ignores your letters, vacates his premises in the garrison and disappears in the night.

There is one other man who knows your true identity as Madam Treville and you meet with him under a rain drenched canopy a few streets away from the garrison.

“We’ve tried to locate him.” Athos tells you as you watch the droplets form puddles in the mud. “It is as if your husband has disappeared from the face of the earth.”

“He is ashamed.” You say quietly as you remove your riding gloves from pocket of the men’s jacket you are wearing. Your hair is tied away from your face with the red ribbon that secured the bouquet on your wedding day and your clad in fitted men’s breeches. It’s easier to move around Paris in this guise. Women tend to be hassled if they are alone during this late hour. “If he isn’t in his cups, there’s another place he would have gone in order to lick his wounds.”

“The cottage in Nice?” Athos questions.

It’s been years since he’s thought of that place, of the town where he witnessed your marriage. It hadn’t occurred to him that their Captain may return there, that he maintained that level of sentimentality.

“We bought it several years ago along with a small patch of land.” You reveal as you tug the kidskin riding gloves up to your wrists. “A place for an old soldier and his spy to retire in their golden years.”

It’s a joke between the two of you because you both know there will be no golden years, not with your choice in careers. The cottage serves as a safehouse these days, a place to go amidst the chaos of the world.

“I’ll escort you.” He says, removing his own gloves from his belt. “The roads at this time of night will be treacherous…”

“Athos.” You say fondly because his loyalty to you and your husband is admirable. “The Musketeers need a leader in my husband’s absence and Jean has always intended to name you as his replacement.”

“Take Aramis or better yet Porthos, even D’artagnan.” He argues as he helps you up onto your mare and you shake your head as you grip the reins in your hands.

“This is something I need to do as a wife.” You say softly. “The presence of others will only serve to silence him.”

You see the resignation in his features as he looks up at you. It’s hard for him to concede to your wishes, it’s the gentleman in him you think.

“Stick to the main roads.” He recommends as his palm smooths over the nose of your horse. “The back ones will be filled with vagabonds.”

He’s not telling you anything you don’t already know but it’s the warning of an old friend, one that doesn’t want to see you dead. You feel his eyes on you as you disappear into the night, watching you for as long as he can. He can’t stand the thought of his Captain losing anything else, especially not his wife.

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

It’s a long ride to Nice and you spend that time considering the state you’ll find your husband in. There have been ups and downs over the years, the rise and falls of your professions, your personal follies but there has never been anything like this. The king has thrown his whole identity into flux and you’ve seen what that can do to a man, how it can twist them into bitterness.

When you arrive at the cottage nothing is as you expected. The windows are wide open, airing it, the garden is neatly trimmed, the flowerbeds recently tilled. The vegetable patch has been replanted and there’s a small harvest sorted into several different baskets. Each one has a name tied to them written on parchment in Jean’s hand.

Local families you realise as you study each one of them. You know that some of them have suffered hardships recently and Jean can’t stand to see someone struggle, not if he can help.

You employ a house keeper and a groundsman from the village to maintain the cottage while you are away. You use money you earn from your spywork and the jewels your first husband left you to fund it. His lands, along with your own had been seized when he’d been tried for treason but the jewels, you kept as payment for what you had endured underneath that tyrant. It had been a pleasure to watch him hang, knowing that you had orchestrated his demise.

You find Jean around the back, bare chested, chopping wood. His scars stand out starkly against his firm muscles as he swings the axe down over and over  and over again. There’s a catharsis in being productive, especially for him. You watch as he tosses the logs onto the wood pile before clearing your throat and stepping into his line of vision.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He says wearily as he sets the axe down, diverting his attention to the wash bucket and rag he’s set alongside the well.

“Here or with you?” You ask him as he cleans himself with the cool water.

He doesn’t answer you, he won’t even look at you and you can tell he feels ashamed. He has lost his stature, his position. His name may be on the title to this house but it is you that it belongs to. He has nothing besides the clothes on his back, his pistol and the sword that’s been with him for almost as long as you have.

“I have no prospects as a husband.” He says finally as he wrings out the rag. “You’d be wise to ignore the affiliation you have with me, it will not put you in good stead if our relationship is ever revealed.”

You take the rag from his hand and toss it back into the bucket and he sighs because you would never let him off that easy, despite it being in your best interests.

“My love.” You say softly as you lean against the well. “Will you look at me?”

The line of his jaw clenches as he shakes his head, his palms coming to rest upon the stone rim as he looks down into the clear water below.

“I know that it feels that you have lost everything.” You say quietly, studying the profile of his features. “But you have not lost me, you will never lose me.”

“Terese…” He says, his voice rough as he finally tilts his head to meet your gaze. “I have nothing to give you…”

“Our marriage has never been about trinkets or reputation.” You say, your forehead coming to rest on his as your fingertips chase along his grizzled cheek. “It’s about love, it always has been.”

“Terese…” He begins again but you press your lips to his and all thoughts of arguing fall out of his head because there’s just you, here in this moment, anchoring him, holding him steady.

His world is full of turmoil but you’ve always been a safe space, a guiding light in the dark. With you he knows who he is, who he’s always been, who he always will be.

Jean Treville, your lover, your husband and most importantly the man you call home.

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

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[backtothefanfiction]

Rain Grows | Aramis x Reader Imagine

Summary: sometimes we all just need a good cry.

Length: Short

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, depressed feelings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“3 hours?” Porthos said.

“In this weather?” D’Artagnan added.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kurokoros]

Happy Holidays, Alisha! I’d love to know 12, 15 & 26 :3

hello, hello! happy holidays, stranger! I hope you're doing well!

12) longest fic you read this year

the longest fic I've been keeping up with this year is the fragments in which we fit together by stormflight777 on AO3. it's a bertholdt x reader AOT rewrite and currently the fic is a little over 430K words.

15) favourite headcanon of the year

okay, I have two for Steve from Stranger Things:

the reason Steve overreacted to (incorrectly assuming) Nancy cheated on him in S1 and why he's still hung-up on her after she did cheat on him (with the same guy who he thought she cheated with in S1, no less) is that his father constantly cheats on his mother, and he's watched her continue to forgive his father for it every time.

Steve's D&D class is a Swashbuckling Rogue and I refuse to believe otherwise.

A Swashbuckler is a flashy, showy, bombastic adventuring type, usually but not necessarily a swordsman. In Dungeons and Dragons 5e, the Swashbuckler is a Roguish Archetype specializing in a mix of Charismatic Panache and being an expert duelist. Some hear the name Swashbuckler and think pirate, and while that is a perfectly reasonable direction to take, there are plenty of other ways to play one. For every Captain Jack Sparrow among their ranks you’ll also find a d’Artagnan, Peter Pan, Robin Hood, and Zorro.

What sets Swashbucklers apart from other Rogues right away is their Rakish Audacity, allowing one to reliably apply Sneak Attack damage while in one-on-one combat. Additionally, Fancy Footwork grants the Swashbuckler what amounts to a free disengage vs their dueling opponent, for the most daring of acrobatic movements about the battlefield to leave a foe in shambles and disarray.

this is literally just Steve if the Duffers hadn't made him less charming and incapable of winning fights for the sake of the plot. He's a swashbuckler.

26) best song you listened to this year

I've found a lot of really good music this year, but "Blood Upon the Snow" by Hozier immediately gave me chills the first time I heard it, so I have to give it to the man. "Time She Takes" by Sumbuck was also a favorite this year.

fandom end of year asks

[rose-edith]

Just imagine kissing D’Artagnan like this:

•you’ve known for a little while that a mission is coming up and he has to go- he’ll be gone for weeks and it eats you up inside! But that’s what it is to be in love with a King’s Musketeer!

•you’ve spent days together, soaking up every morsel of your lover. And you’ve spent nights together too.

•he sneaked you in to the Garrison last night, the other Musketeers all knew of your blossoming love and had cleared out a room, setting it up with a comfy bed, lots of candles and the promise that they’ll see to it that you’re left entirely alone and undisturbed.

•the passion that night is drawn out. Every touch is a lingering one, every gasp is allowed to grow and flourish into a moan that can be released without fear of judgement or disturbance. Usually sex is playful or teasing with D’Artagnan, but this time it’s slow and sensual.

•you kiss every part of his body and commit the image and feel of it to memory…just in case, you hope beyond prayers that he will be safe, but he’s a Musketeer, and that’s dangerous territory. So you lather him in kisses.

•you take control and ride him, and he’s totally under your spell. The way he arches up into you, the way his hands can’t decide where to settle, so they skim all over your soft skin…he’s committing it all to memory too. And even though he’s desperate for you, he helps to make this last.

•but you know he needs to rest too, he has hard work ahead of him. So you hold him close, he’s the little spoon as he sleeps, though you can’t slip into slumber. Instead you trace his scars, kiss his shoulders and play lightly with his hair.

•and then in the morning he wakes up early- he’s a farmer, or at least he used to be, so he’s used to early starts. You get dressed first, and then you take the wet cloth from his hand and clean him.

•slowly you clean him, dry him, drop a few kisses on his skin; and get him dressed.

•you hold hands as you go down the stairs, his brother Musketeers have his horse ready and breakfast packed for a few hours time. They’re all ready to go, but they’re not rushing you two. They know the bittersweet sorrow of lovers parting.

•D’Artagnan turns to you when you’re on the steps and he’s on the ground, and the look he’s giving you, the way those big brown eyes are adoringly gazing into yours…you’re helpless to your own actions as you pull him gently in with a hand to his cheek. The kiss is breathtaking, your heart hammers and you pour every ounce of love into it.

•his lips are so soft, they’re intoxicating. Every kiss feels like the first; and you’re lost in it. It could’ve been minutes or it could’ve been hours, but eventually it had to come to an end. But both of you are reluctant to step back.

•letting him go is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. But you manage, with one final feeling of his heart under your palm he steps away and leaves.

•all you can do is watch as he and his brothers in arms leave, and wait for them to return, hopefully all in one piece.

(A little gift for @dreamerinthesun I hope you like it!)

[ruiniel]

Another way - II

Summary: entertained an idea as I was doing writing warm-ups for CV: if someone in the 21st century stumbled upon this stranger during a turbulent storm, narrowly avoiding running them over, and what's more they can't understand a word coming out of their mouth.

Fandom: Castlevania animated series

Pairing: Alucard x Reader

Rating: Mature / 18+ only

Tags/CW: explicit language, depressive character, character-meets-world, modern AU, fantasy, more to be added

II.

This is… not how you expected your time alone aimed at self-reflection to go. You barely dragged your ‘find’ onto the back seat of the car, and luckily reached your destination before nightfall. 

What was he doing lumbering around in the middle of the road, anyway? It’s this, and many other questions that crowd your mind as you sit in an old armchair, late in the evening, nervously snacking on some pretzels and staring at the unconscious man draped over the couch by the old burning fireplace.

He looks completely out of it, pale blond hair a mess, eyes sunken in their sockets, chest barely rising to show he’s alive.

You doubt you’ll get any sleep tonight, not until you’ve seen what he’s about. For now, you rest your head on a folded arm and make yourself more comfortable, body curling in the armchair, and watch the sleeping stranger through eyes heavy with exhaustion; wondering what event in his life led to him straying in the middle of nowhere, apparently lost, no belongings to his name aside from the — weirdly tailored — clothes on his back. 

When next you open your eyes, dawn has arrived, and the cabin is flooded with the brightness of day. You rise groggily, body stiff, muscles in your back aching.

Your guest is still there, same as you left him, sprawled in the exact same position, an unsettling stillness to him; comatose. 

“Good morning,” you mumble, rising and walking over to the kitchen corner, determined to make yourself some coffee first; everything else, can wait. You’d already unpacked the food you brought with you the previous night, stocking up the fridge and cabinet above the counter, and you’re just stirring your coffee when there’s shuffling, and the creak of wooden floorboards.

You turn around, swallowing. “Here we go…” You walk back towards the couch in time to see him rising slowly, a hand to his head, a deep frown on his face; as though he were in pain. 

Not much has changed in that he still looks utterly, haplessly confused.

“... Hi there,” you say, cup of coffee in hand, stopping a few paces away, an uncertain smile on your face.

His gaze snaps to yours, eyes widening again before a familiar feeling changes his face: utter despair. He starts trembling, hands in his hair again, shaking his head.

“Hey, you’re fine,” you try. “You’re safe here,” you say, and he looks at you again, blinking rapidly, frowning at the words coming out of your mouth. “I found you on the road last night… if you remember. Do you?”

He looks at you, so helplessly you feel deeply sorry for him, this oddball of a person suddenly thrust into your life.

“So what… happened?” You gesture at his clothes. “Was there some LARPing event nearby, and you got lost or something?”

He merely stares at you, at his surroundings, at the steaming cup of coffee in your hand; at your face.

You near and take a seat in the armchair, careful with your words, eyes never leaving his peculiar amber ones. 

His mouth opens, and he says something — one word, maybe two?

“I guess that settles that,” you sigh. “Sorry,” you shake your head, “I don’t understand you. Do you speak English? Er… I also know some German but somehow doubt that will help, uhm…” you rub the back of your head.

He sighs, looks at his hands, curls them into fists over his thighs; muttering again.

Many possibilities fly through your mind as to what his situation might be; an amnesiac; an addict of some kind… or an escaped convict — but dressed like fucking d’Artagnan? 

You quickly discard that thought. 

“Are you hungry?” you settle, seeing as there’s no success in the language department and he still looks at you owlishly, close to tears if you didn’t know better.

You hear his stomach grumbling. “I mean, scratch that, stupid question,” you rise, heading towards the counter. “Of course you are. My phone broke, which means technology won’t help the language barrier we’re experiencing here, but…” you turn around, press both hands emphatically to your chest, and tell him your name. “What about you?” you point back at him, hoping he understands that, at least. 

He merely stares at you; desperately, as though silently begging for something he cannot have.

“Okay, no names then,” you turn back around and take some eggs from the fridge. “I’ll ready up some food, and I think I still have some of my dad’s old clothes in the attic which might fit you, since yours are… you know… covered in mud. If you want to, that is. I was planning on staying here for a while, but now that’s not gonna happen since I assume you want to get back to civilization as soon as possibl—” your words die on your lips when you turn again and see the now empty couch, your unusual guest nowhere to be found.

By chance you look outside the window, and… there he is, a way ahead closer to the path leading to the woods from your cabin; frantically looking around. 

How the actual fuck is he way over there, when a second ago he was…?

You shake your head — looks like he’s in a hurry to get somewhere real bad, but with the way things stand, you can’t be of much help to him, not now at least. When he falls to his knees, forehead pressed low to the ground, you sigh and place the pan you were holding back on the wooden table.

Outside the skies are a cold, unmarked blue after the night’s storm. “There’s nothing that way, but forest; then some more forest,” you say once you’re standing a few steps behind him.

A gurgling sound leaves his throat, close to a choked sob.

“I’m going back inside, and I’m making some eggs,” you say — if he wants to follow, fine, if not, well, we each have our paths to choose in life. You walk back inside the cabin, unsettled by this erratic behavior, though nothing of his demeanor yet hints at any possible red flags.

Well, almost nothing. 

You’re on that thought as the door creaks open, then closes, and the floorboards moan beneath steps. Briefly you glance towards the sound, only to see him plopping down onto the couch again, unmoving, his head in his hands.

“Welcome back,” you say, more to yourself. “...I guess.”

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX - Part X

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MASTERLIST: CASTLEVANIA SERIES x READER

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[coffeecatsandcandles]

𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕- 𝐉𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐲

Chapter IV || Chapter VI

➵ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You team up with Steve to fight the demodogs with Dustin, Lucas, and Max and Joyce instructs you to help exercise Will with Nancy and Jonathan. You finally admit your feelings towards Billy.

➵ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Billy Hargrove, platonic!Steve Harrington, bestfriend!Nancy Wheeler x Henderson!reader

➵ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7.3k

➵ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Fighting, abuse mention (physical), brief SA mention, blood, absent parents, you get hurt. Poor Will and everything he went through in s2. Mews (rip). Drugged Billy.

დ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | დ 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | დ 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

Dustin came bursting through your door as you were on the phone with Billy, telling you to hang up and that he needed to talk to you now. You awkwardly said goodbye and hung up, wondering what in God’s name your brother could’ve wanted.

“I’ve been trying to keep this from you because I thought I had it under control. But I don’t. And I need your help.” Dustin said, panicked. You gestured for him to continue, hoping that your brother’s frantic episode was an absolute emergency. “There’s a junkyard about ten miles northeast from the school, can you take me to it? I’ll explain everything on the way.”

Dustin sounded scared. You knew you had to help him, and it bothered you that he wasn’t explaining the situation enough. But you told yourself to be patient; that answers would come eventually. You agreed, taking a few minutes to change and grab your keys.

Giving you directions as you drove, Dustin confessed everything that had happened in the last week and a half. Will was having seizure-like episodes, and he’d discovered a creature living in the trashcan outside their house on Halloween and kept it in his room. It hated light, ate his candy bars, and was once no bigger than his palm. But since he’d kept it and fed it, it got bigger and bigger. At first, he thought he’d discovered a new species. He named it D’Artagnan, Dart for short. Soon enough, he came home one day to find Dart feeding on Mews.

You were furious. It all made sense, why you hadn’t seen your car in days, why Dustin was spending hours in the AV room after school, why he grabbed so much food before leaving the house. It almost seemed fake, like this was some sick practical joke he was pulling on you. But he seemed too frantic to be lying.

Mews was an old cat, on the brink of death on and off for the last two years. She was lazy and only really enjoyed your company. She was a gift from your mother on your fifth birthday, and you were attached to her for most of your childhood.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” Dustin said.

“it’s okay,” you shrugged. This was out of your control, and it terrified you. You could blame him for keeping that thing in your house for so long. You could blame him for Dart killing the cat. But Dustin was obviously just as scared as you were. He clearly knew he made a mistake; you didn’t want to make things worse. “Just as long as nobody else knows about this. Only you and me.”

“Well,” Dustin started, causing you to groan.

“Oh my god, who else knows?”

“Well, Mike, Lucas, Will, Max-“

“Max?” you asked, recognizing the name. Was this the same Max who you met on Halloween? Billy’s stepsister?

“Yeah, she’s new.”

“Does she have red hair and ride a skateboard?”

“Yeah, how’d you know that?”

You held your breath, wondering if everybody you knew was aware of the situation except you. You worried Billy was in danger, and that frightened you more than the idea of your own life being in danger. “No reason.”

Dustin paused, knowing there was something you weren’t telling him. He decided to let it go, for now. “Anyway, Steve knows too.”

“Steve?” you interjected, “as in Steve Harrington?” What was Steve Harrington doing in all this? What was he doing hanging out with a bunch of middle schoolers?

“Yes. Nancy dumped him and now he’s helping me.” Dustin said. This was new information to you. It hadn’t been long since the Halloween party, and they seemed fine. Not happy, but fine. You couldn’t help but wonder how Nancy was doing in all this. Was she okay? What caused her to break up with him?

Following all of Dustin’s directions, you arrived at the junkyard. The sun was setting, the air smelled of old meat and garbage, and from a distance, you spotted Steve, Lucas, and Max.

“Finally,” Steve called, “I was starting to think you’d chickened out.”

“I wouldn’t,” Dustin said as the two of you walked towards the group, “besides, I got more help.”

You and Steve locked eyes, not knowing what to say to each other. You hadn’t spoken since the movie theater incident a year ago. After becoming sort-of-friends with Dustin, Steve realized he’d messed up. Regardless of the things his former friends told him about you, he regretted his decision the minute he picked up the can of spray paint.

No, the minute he believed Chris’s lies.

The word ‘slut’ was thrown around more times than he could count when he and Chris talked about you and Nancy. Nancy had broken his heart, telling him she never truly loved him, and even though he was so angry with her, he couldn’t imagine doing something like that to her again. He was lucky enough to get a second chance with her after all of that. And now, for some reason, he felt this genuine companionship between himself and your younger brother. Though he’d never say it out loud, Steve cared about the little guy. Dustin was in need of a big brother type of figure, and he found himself willingly filling that role. With that, you were- in a way- like a sister to him.

“How good can you hit?” Steve asked, handing you a bat with nails sticking out of the top.

“I don’t miss.” You said, feeling a year-old anger brew at the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t be mad at Steve. You had to take whatever anger you were feeling and put it all towards fighting this creature Dustin had told you about.

Steve gave a genuine smile, “Perfect.”

Dustin and Steve had advised the group to stay alert while you all waiting in an abandoned school bus for the creature to come. They’d set up a line of lunch meats for him to follow, leading him here. The bus would act as your shield. To your surprise, this wasn’t the first time Dustin and his friends had hidden in this bus to avoid something that could potentially kill them. A year prior, they had been hunted by the secret service members at Hawkins Lab over information they had about a patient who escaped. A little girl, the same age as Dustin and his friends. They called her Eleven. She was an experiment and could move things with her mind. Dustin recalled her flipping a van over their heads, breaking a kid’s arm, and shattering a glass door all with her mind. You found that to be unbelievable. Yet again, after you saw what happened to Barb, you couldn’t afford to stay naïve. Eleven was gone now. She’d disappeared after Will came back, and they all presumed she was dead.

Now here you were, sitting next to Steve Harrington in an abandoned school bus. And you were surprisingly cool with it.

“This random girl-“

“Max. Her name is Max.” you said.

“Okay, Max,” Steve said, “I think Dustin likes her.”

You looked over at Dustin, who was on the opposite side of the bus while Max and Lucas had climbed outside to the top. “What? No way.” You said. Dustin having a crush? There was no way that was possible. Dustin was still a baby to you.

“Yeah, I think so. He’s been asking me all kinds of shit about getting a girl to like him and how he looks.”

“Oh, like you’re the master?” you joked, causing Steve to smile.

“He didn’t come to me begging for advice,” Steve defended, “it just sort of happened. Anyway, it’s thanks to me and my amazing advice that that kid has any game at all.”

“Sure,” you said, “and has any of this advice actually worked out for him? I’m sure your girlfriend could tell me… oh wait…” you sucked in air through your teeth, and Steve didn’t seem happy with the response. He looked away and down at his hands, and you sensed right away that you’d said the wrong thing. “Hey, I’m sorry. That was kind of a bitchy thing to say.”

“It’s fine.” Steve said, “Turns out everything between the two of us wasn’t real anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“At Tina’s. She got really drunk and told me she didn’t love me. That our whole relationship was bullshit.”

This didn’t seem like Nancy. She was spiraling, you could tell. From the argument the two of you had that night, the amount she was drinking, and now learning that she’d also dumped Steve that night. You were starting to see that Nancy was hurting, too. You were just better at hiding it. “I’m sorry.” You said. You never thought you’d be saying that to Steve, especially after everything that happened last year.

Steve gave a sad smile, as if to say it’s okay. “Hey, by the way, I see you hanging out with that new guy.”

“Billy?’ you asked. You never realized the two knew each other.

“Yeah. Just so you know that guy is a grade-A asshole.”

You were shocked. He was always so sweet with you. He had a big, obvious crush on you and you could tell. You couldn’t imagine him being anything other than nice.

“He is not,” you said.

“Yeah, he is. At basketball trials he was being a total dick and it cost me getting on the team,” Steve said.

“Oh please,” you said, “just because you weren’t good enough to get on the team doesn’t mean he’s the asshole.”

“You weren’t there.”

“I didn’t have to be. Besides, he doesn’t start or spread rumors about me saying I’m a huge slut.”

There was a silence following your words. Steve was reminded of what he took part in a year prior. He believed Chris’s lies when he told him you slept together at his party. He spread it around the school, ruining your reputation. “I’m sorry.” He said. He felt like he had to say it. He knew it wasn’t just him who caused you that pain, but since Chris moved, you only had him left as a reminder of what happened. “That wasn’t cool, what happened last year. I wish I could take it back.”

“It wasn’t entirely your fault.”

“Yeah, but I could’ve stopped it.” Steve said. I was just so mad at everyone that I wasn’t thinking. I know you probably hate me. I don’t really know what I can do to make it up to you, but I am really sorry.”

You looked up at Steve, showing a sad smile. “Last year was… chaos,” you said, “from what happened with Barb, to the rumors, I felt like I was being suffocated.” You, overwhelmed with the memories of last year, tried to avoid tears from falling, “And I know I’m never going to get an apology from Chris or anyone at the station, so just you saying sorry-“ You were interrupted by the sound of Steve shushing you, then Lucas and Max frantically making their way back inside the bus. “Seriously? I’m in the middle of pouring my heart and soul out to you and you just-“

“Shhh!” the group silenced you.

There was a loud thud on the roof of the bus, as if something heavy had just landed on top of it. “Shit,” Max said, noticing the door to the roof was still wide open.

You looked up, and right at the opening was a large, slimy creature shaped in a way you imagined only a monster would look like. It stood like a dog but was as big as a six-foot tall man, maybe even bigger. It’s face opened up in front of you, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth that could tear you to shreds. You screamed. Your feet seemed frozen in place, like your body was in too much shock to move.

“Out of the way!” Steve yelled, pushing you to the side and swinging at the creature with his bat. It jumped out and off of the bus, aiding itself after the impact. “Are you okay?” Steve asked, coming to your side. Your arm had a rash on it from sliding and your head was pounding after hitting the floor. You felt like you had a concussion, though you didn’t know what it felt like to have one. Regardless, you were extremely disoriented.

If you had just stayed home, maybe you wouldn’t be here. Maybe you’d be with Billy, wherever he was right now. You’d tell him how your little brother came bursting in, interrupting the call and talking about some crazy monster from his D & D game. You always told him everything. It didn’t take long before you told him everything that happened with Barb and Chris. And you told him everything.

He was livid. You remembered seeing his eyes get glossy, tears of anger starting to form. The rumors he heard about you weren’t true, and he felt like an asshole for believing them. For using them against you. You lost someone close to you that night, and all everyone cared about was whether or not you and Chris slept together. You remembered Billy pulling himself together for you. “Tell me what I can do,” he said, “I can walk you to all your classes, and your car. I don’t want that guy anywhere near you.” There was a little relief when you reminded him that Chris moved over the summer, but he was still upset. You could’ve kissed him right there had your mother not entered the house after coming home from work.

Steve and the kids had taken care of the monster, knocking it into a trap that Lucas and Dustin had spent the afternoon building, while you struggled to get back on your feet. You heard Steve help the kids into his car and run back into the bus. He looked out the window to keep a close eye on the monster, who was a few good hits away from escaping the trap. Steve realized after a few seconds that you physically could not get on your feet without stumbling, so he quickly picked you up and ran out of the bus. “You so owe me now, Henderson.” Steve mumbled. Steve helped you into the backseat of his car while Dustin and Max assessed your head, and just as the crew was driving off, the monster escaped. Steve began to drive as fast as he could, until eventually the monster was out of sight.

You eventually came to your senses, realizing that you were laying on the laps of two eighth graders in the backseat of a car. You quickly sat up, your head pounding but your senses starting to get clearer. Steve was driving, Dustin was in the front seat while you, Max, and Lucas were in the back. “You alright?” Steve asked, noticing you were up. He glanced at you in the rearview mirror. Never in a million years would you have ever imagined yourself happy to see Steve Harrington.

“You totally ate it back there,” Max said, genuinely concerned. Lucas and Dustin seemed to be holding back a laugh at the memory of you falling and hitting your head.

“Hey, dickheads,” Steve said, noticing the boys’ stifled laughter, “she could’ve died. You all are lucky two wiser, older, smarter people are even helping you out right now, or else all three of you definitely would’ve been killed tonight.”

“It’s not bruised, is it?” you asked Max. You wished you could see what it looked like, though you probably looked like hell.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” Max said, trying to look for a positive, “but hey, you’re alive!” You were glad Max was there, at least you had someone you could tolerate through all this.

Before you knew it, the group was pulling into the Byers’ driveway. You made your way into the house, which was torn to pieces inside. Hundreds of sheets of paper were scattered all across the house, almost as if it were making a map. Inside were Nancy, Jonathan, Mike, and Hopper.

“What is going on?” you asked, causing Hopper to become visibly annoyed.

“Give her a break, she’s been through a lot tonight,” Dustin said to Hopper, then turning to you, “Will’s possessed.”

“What?” you asked.

“Whatever monster was with Will when he went missing,” Mike took over, “it’s back. And it took him again. Except it took over his mind.”

“This is the same thing that took Barb. It’s smarter than we thought.” Nancy said. This was the first thing she had said to you since the Halloween party, “We need to stop it before it gets stronger.”

You looked around at the group. Barbara was gone, you knew that for a fact. You’d already hurt so much over the last year. You looked around at this group of Will’s friends. His brother. They didn’t deserve the pain of losing him again, or losing him for good. “Okay. What can I do?”

“Come with me.” Nancy said as you just started to notice that both she and Jonathan had been sweating profusely. You followed Nancy for a few steps before Nancy turned around, noticing your jacket, “You won’t be needing that.”

You took off your jacket, throwing it onto the couch, and Dustin began to follow. “No, no, no.” you said, stopping him.

“What? I want to help Will.”

“You’re staying here.” You said, “I can’t let anything bad happen to you tonight. I don’t know what I’m going to be doing, but I know that if you stay here, you’ll be okay.”

Dustin, defeated, followed your instruction and stayed in the home while you followed Nancy and Jonathan out to the Byers’ shed.

Inside, you saw Joyce Byers, Will and Jonathan’s mother, and Will stepped to a bed, unconscious. Joyce stood up, also drenched in sweat. There were about three different heaters on at once. A small stream of sweat started to run down your forehead, and you knew that this was only the beginning.

“Oh sweetie, thank you so much for helping,” Joyce said to you. You could tell she was in distress. Ever since Will went missing a year prior, she had never been entirely the same. You remembered all the times you’d come into Melvald’s, the convenience store Joyce managed, before everything changed. You’d come in before school to grab something quick to eat if you had forgotten to eat breakfast at home. Sometimes you’d come in so often Joyce would tell you that you didn’t have to pay. You always liked Joyce Byers, despite all the rumors that spread around town about her, how she went crazy after her husband left. When Will came back, it took a while before he was allowed to go out and see his friends again. She wouldn’t let him out of her sight, understandably. You couldn’t help but think if Barb had made it out alive, you wouldn’t want her to leave your sight either. You’d check in every day, bring food for her family or come over for sleepovers every weekend. “I know this is probably really scary, but I promise we’re going to get this thing out of my son.”

You were terrified. What were you going to do once Will woke up? “How bad is it going to get?” you asked, your voice low so you wouldn’t wake him.

“I don’t know.” Joyce admitted, “But we have to keep going, no matter how bad it gets.”

You nudged Jonathan noticing Will was waking up.

“I need you two to hold him down. Nancy, turn up the heat.” Joyce said, going from distressed to serious in a matter of seconds.

“What’s happening?” Will asked. You had known Will since he was in fourth grade with Dustin. You knew his face, how little he was, and you knew his voice. He sounded different now. His voice was rough, like he was being controlled. It wasn’t him; you knew that for a fact.

Nancy turned up the heat as Joyce said, pointing the light directly at Will. He started to shriek, and black veins started appearing on his neck and face. “Hold him down!” Jonathan yelled at you. You noticed Will was starting to hit him, begging for his brother to let him go. He was screaming, and you followed Jonathan’s instructions.

Will’s scream was ear-piercing, and it brought tears to your eyes. You knew Will was still in there, terrified. This was what was best for him, but it brought you a different memory you hadn’t expected.

This whole thing, pinning Will down and having him yell at you to stop, it reminded you of that terrible night at Steve’s house with Chris. You were thankful it didn’t get any farther than it did, but the idea that it could have- the idea that something worse could’ve happened- haunted you. For a whole year, you thought, how could one person do this to another person? It was pure evil. Yet here you were, willingly pinning Will down as he yelled at you to stop. It was for his own good, you kept telling yourself. But it still hurt to know you were inflicting so much fear in him and hurting him.

Nancy watched as you fell apart while holding Will down. His screams were filling up the room, and you weren’t the only one crying. Joyce, Jonathan, and Nancy were also all in tears. “I can’t do this,” you said, loosening your grip on Will and turning away, sobbing. It was all too much for you to handle.

Nancy grabbed your shoulders, “I know this is hard. But we need you to do this. For Will. For Barb.” You stopped crying at her words, “You are so much stronger than you think. Trust me.” Nancy said.

You turned back to Will, Joyce now talking to him and trying to get some sort of proof that Will was still there. He was, but now his screams were sounding more demonic. Like there were two voices screaming at the same time.

Suddenly, almost tornado-like black clouds emerged out of Will’s mouth. You had only seen something like this once before, and it was in a movie. The demon had been exercised out of a woman’s body, but the movie wasn’t nearly as terrifying as this. The monster escaped out of the window, as if it were being pulled by a stronger force. And Will was unconscious again, only this time for a minute or two.

“Mom?” Will said as he woke up and looked for Joyce. It was done. He was fine. These monsters, this demon, it was gone.

You turned, your face tear stained as you made your way over to Nancy. You hugged, apologizing to each other without saying a single word.

Now knowing you were safe to leave, your mind immediately went to Dustin. You wondered if he was okay or what he had done while you were with Will.

The November air hit you like a truck, causing you to immediately start to shiver after being in a room that was over 100 degrees. You met Dustin outside of the shed, without a scratch on his body. You immediately hugged him after seeing he was okay. It had been two long hours but it felt like an eternity. Your sweat was now starting to feel like someone had dumped cold water on you. You searched for your jacket, but it was nowhere to be found. Knowing you brought it with you, you knew there was only one place it could be. “Oh no,” you said, still shivering.

“What?” Dustin asked.

“I left my jacket in the house. I’ll just be two seconds. Wait here.” You explained. Jonathan had agreed to pick up your car, since you didn’t think it’d be safe for you to drive as far as the junkyard with a head injury; you barely felt comfortable enough to drive home with Dustin in the car.

Dustin looked panicked. He knew that you couldn’t go back inside.

Billy found the group after his parents forced him to go searching for Max. He didn’t want to, he had planned on coming over to your house. When he found them, in a moment of intense anger, he started a fight with Steve. All he said was that he wanted Max to stay away from those boys. After everything that you told him just a few days prior, he had no good reason to trust any other boy in Hawkins. One had already hurt you, and it was his responsibility to take care of Max. He didn’t need her getting hurt too. He didn’t know these boys, but seeing Steve was enough to make him go ballistic. He completely lost himself, admittedly wanting to kill Steve. He pretty much blacked out, unable to control what he was doing. It wasn’t until Max stepped in, stabbing Billy in the neck with a syringe full of medicine they were using to keep Will asleep, knocking him out entirely.

With the serum still pumping through his system, Billy was likely still lying on the floor of the Byers’ house, unconscious or just starting to wake up. Dustin knew at the very least, you and Billy were friends. He couldn’t just have you walk in and find him, though he would love for you to realize the truly evil guy he was. “You can’t do that.”

“What? Why not?” you asked.

“You just can’t. It’s not important. Let’s just go home.”

“Dustin. It won’t take more than two minutes, I swear. If you’re scared to be alone you can come in with me.” You said, taunting him.

“I am not scared.” Dustin said, thinking of all the possible ways he could avoid you seeing Billy. Maybe he could go in and grab the jacket for you, though in all honesty, he didn’t have the slightest clue what your jacket looked like. He never paid attention to that kind of stuff.

Or he could go the extreme route, he could just attack you, right here, right now. It was high risk, but it’d definitely keep you out of the house.

Then a thought occurred to him. Maybe he should just let you see for yourself the type of guy Billy was. Let you be the one to find him, get angry at him, and vow to never see him again. He knew you, you wouldn’t want to spend a second with someone who terrorized his friends. “Fine. Go ahead.” Dustin said, watching you make your way into the house.

You cautiously made your way into the house, knowing full well the door was unlocked and the family wasn’t there. There were still drawings all over the walls and floor, only now there were pieces of broken plates scattered on the ground. You, trying not to step on any shards, tried to find your jacket when you heard a groaning noise coming from behind the couch.

Worried it was another creature, you quietly grabbed a heavy book from a shelf and took a few steps closer, ready to crush it like a bug. You peeked behind the couch, only to find Billy passed out on the ground, only starting to regain consciousness. “Oh my god,” you said, sighing and setting down the book, “you scared the hell out of me.”

Billy groaned in response, not fully awake but not fully asleep. You got closer to him, noticing a syringe sticking out of his neck and dried blood on his nose.

“What the hell happened?” you said, carefully helping him up and assessing his wounds.

“That little shit did something to me, I don’t know what.” Billy said. His words sounded tired, and he sounded out of breath.

“Who? Wait don’t move.” You said, holding Billy still and removing the syringe from his neck with the most care.

“Steve. It’s all his fault.” He muttered, plopping his head directly onto your shoulder.

“What? Did you fight him?” You asked, hoping to be proven wrong but knowing deep down that you were right.

“You,” Billy said, locking eyes with you. His pupils were extremely dilated, “didn’t deserve what happened to you. He had to pay before it happened to someone else.”

You weren’t expecting to hear those words from Billy. You didn’t expect him to go to such extreme lengths to hurt someone who hurt you. You knew it wasn’t morally right, but it did excite you a little bit. “Steve didn’t do anything.” You said, helping Billy up. This situation was starting to remind you of when the two of you met at Tina’s Halloween party, only the roles were reversed now. You slung his arm over your shoulder to help him stay up.

Jonathan had returned, talking to Dustin and returning your car. He flashed a strange look at you as he spotted you exiting his house, causing Dustin to look in the same direction.

“Are you kidding me?” Dustin exclaimed as soon as you got to the car and opened the back door, helping Billy into the backseat.

“I couldn’t just leave him!” You said, “And how come you didn’t tell me about all this?”

“I thought you’d see for yourself the kind of person he is.” Dustin said.

You thanked Jonathan quickly as you and Dustin went into the car. “He’s not like that,” you defended, “at least, not with me. He’s been through a lot.” You looked behind you, only to see Billy half-conscious yet again. There was no way he’d remember hearing any of this. And you hated to take advantage of it, but Dustin needed to know that you weren’t planning on letting Billy go over this. “I really like him,” you said, “I know probably none of this makes sense to you because you’re younger, but he makes me happy. And I will talk to him about what happened and make sure nothing like that happens again.”

Dustin had no response, so he simply crossed his arms and looked out the passenger window, looking at everything except you driving. You sat in silence while you made your way back home.

As soon as you parked the car in your driveway, you spoke again. “Go on inside. I’m going to take him home.” You said, watching your brother exasperatedly exit the car and enter the house.

You truly did intend on taking Billy back to his house that night. You’d even pulled out of your driveway to do it, until a small voice inside your head reminded you of all the things he’d told you about his father. You’d have to knock on the door at such a late hour, explain everything to him, and just hope he wouldn’t do anything to hurt him when you left. Billy was already in such a vulnerable place; he didn’t need to face his father right now.

You pulled back into the driveway, parking the car and turning off the engine. “You stay quiet. If anyone knows you’re here, you won’t spend the night here ever again.”

“Yes ma’am.” Billy said, sluggishly getting out of the car.

While entering the house, you tried your best to quietly get Billy from the front of the house to your room without making a single sound. It was a dark thought, but you were sort of relieved to know your cat wasn’t there anymore; she had a tendency to meow extremely loud whenever you came home, it would’ve definitely cause Dustin or your mother to wake up.

With Billy’s hands starting to grip onto your waist, you were having a hard time trying to decipher if he was making a move or if he was just trying to keep his balance. Hoping for the latter, you quietly opened the door to your room and let out a sigh of relief as soon as you two were alone together. You did get a little exciting at the feeling of his hands on you, though. You wouldn’t have minded if he tried to make a move, though you would’ve preferred it be something he’d remember the next morning.

Billy started to talk, the serum causing him to slur his words and he was going his best to sound normal. He acted like he had a big, rehearsed speech planned when in reality, he had no idea what was about to come out of his mouth. “I know you want us to stay friends, but I really, really like you.”

That’s exactly what you knew he was going to say, but it still hit you hard. He wasn’t that subtle about liking you most of the time, and you wanted it to be more too. But you didn’t want to risk losing him if it all went downhill.

Sensing you couldn’t say anything back, Billy let go of your waist as you helped him into bed, helped him take off his shoes, and laid next to him, a generous amount of space between you on your bed. Billy turned onto his side so that he was facing you. “Every time I see you, I want to kiss you.” He continued.

“You’re really out of it, I think you should go to bed.” You said.

Billy turned onto his back, seemingly embarrassed, “And I just ruined everything.” He said under his breath.

He slept through the night, not even stirring once. Occasionally you woke up to check on him, just to make sure he was still breathing or his heart was still beating. You touched him gently, not wanting him to wake up. He looked peaceful when he slept.

Hours later, Billy began to wake up, his ears ringing and his eyes struggling to adjust to the light. He had no memory of how he’d gotten to this room, and frankly, he had no idea where he was.

“How did I-“ Billy started, noticing small details around the bedroom to ensure that he wasn’t just seeing things, and he was actually in a stranger’s room. He spotted a dresser against the wall opposite of him, with a cassette player and loose jewelry on top of it. The sheets and duvet where white and he had a blue crocheted blanket on top of him. He looked for any context clues to have the slightest idea of who’s room this was, but there was nothing.

You, having been up for a while, reentered your room after eating a quick breakfast and noticed him stirring and tried to keep him calm. “Hey, I’m right here.” You said, immediately bringing him comfort. It was you. You took him in after whatever happened. He still had his clothes from last night on, but he didn’t remember anything past pulling into the Byers’ driveway. Everything after that was hazy; he had a stinging pain in his neck, his entire body was sore, and his knuckles looked like he’d just hit somebody. He straightened up, wondering if you knew anything that happened or if you had seen him like that. The idea of you seeing him hurt someone put an immeasurable fear in him. He didn’t like how angry he got sometimes, and you didn’t deserve that version of him. “You were knocked out for a while.” You continued, helping him sit up.

“What happened?” he asked. Deep down, he didn’t want to know the monster he’d likely turned into the night before, but he also needed to know how he got there, and most importantly, if he’d hurt you or not.

“Dustin told me that you went to the Byers’ house last night to find Max, and Steve was there and you sort of lost your mind on him.”

“I did?”

“You know, Steve didn’t deserve that. You really could’ve killed him-“

“You saw?”

“No, but Dustin did.” Billy felt a little relieved to hear that. Dustin probably exaggerated because he knew that Dustin didn’t like his sister being with him. But that still didn’t make what he did okay. Now your brother knew how angry he could be and could use it against him. “How am I supposed to trust someone who might snap if I say the wrong thing? You know I can’t always walk on pins and needles around you-“

“I’m really sorry.” He was worried that he was really going to lose her now. He couldn’t. Meeting you was the one good thing to come out of moving and changing his entire life. You seemed so disappointed in him, so much that it made him hurt inside. He hated this. He was supposed to make you happy, but he was doing the exact opposite now. Slowly, the night started to become clearer in his mind. How he saw Steve in that house and Max with that group of boys and assumed the worst. He’d just learned about your past. How you couldn’t be alone with a boy anymore without fearing the worst, because of some stupid guy who touched you the wrong way last year. He couldn’t help but feel like Steve was partly responsible for what happened, and he didn’t want history to repeat itself with Max. As much as he said he hated her, or that she wasn’t his real sister, he still couldn’t let anything bad happen to her. “I just- I don’t know what happened. I lost control. I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be apologizing to me.” You said, “you should be apologizing to Steve. And Max, and Lucas, and Dustin.”

You were right. He nodded in response, disappointed in himself. He dropped his head, looking at his knuckles, which were bruised and scabbed. He had completely ruined anything that would’ve ever happened between the two of you, and he was ashamed of himself. “Please don’t hate me,” he said, his voice low. He didn’t want to have to beg for your forgiveness, but that was second nature to him. Every time he did something that caused his dad to beat him, or when he was younger and trying to convince his mom that she should come back for him. He was used to begging for people to like him.

“Hate you?” you said, your eyes widening and immediately grabbing his hands, “I don’t hate you. I’m mad, but I don’t hate you.”

“You should,” he said, “you don’t deserve to be with someone like me. We’re to completely different people. I’m never going to be good enough and it drives me crazy because you deserve to be with someone perfect.” Billy realized what he said, growing more and more frustrated with himself, “I mean, to be with in a platonic way. Because we’re friends.”

You caught what he said, knowing you how had two options: either give in and kiss him, or ignore his advances again. You didn’t want to ignore him. And you knew that you did want to kiss him eventually. It was so difficult for you to come to a decision that should be so simple, being with someone or not. It shouldn’t be hard. The idea of liking someone and being with them shouldn’t absolutely terrify you.

In that moment, you decided you were done fighting your feelings. You wanted this. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, and maybe you’d end up getting your heart broken, but it felt real.

“You weren’t saying all that when I brought you here last night.” You said, hoping he’d remember pouring out his feelings to you.

Billy’s heart stopped. “What was I saying?” he asked, terrified to hear your answer.

“You were saying how- every time you see me you want to kiss me,” You finally said. You felt your hands shaking and tried to hide it, “and that you like me as more than a friend.”

Billy, embarrassed, put his face in his hands, “I’m… so sorry.” He started, not being able to look at you. He ruined everything; you’d never be able to look at him the same way. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position-“

“No, it’s fine.” You assured him, placing your hand on his knee, “I thought it was sweet.”

The feeling of your hand on his knee made Billy’s heart skip a beat. The feeling of your hand gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling. The sun started to shine through the window, the morning light hitting you perfectly. Your eyes and hair were glowing in the sunlight, and in that moment, Billy’s feelings towards you went from an innocent crush to fully being in love. You were the best thing about Hawkins, and he couldn’t imagine surviving the rest of high school- or even the rest of his life- without you. You were the best thing about his life. You made him want to be better without ever saying it. He always knew you were pretty; it was one of the first things he noticed about you. But you were also so kind and smart. And you made him laugh. But he knew you didn’t see him like that, or at least you didn’t want to be involved with him like that. But being with you brought him so much joy- and not a fake happiness. It was real.

Of course he had to ruin it- in his own defense, he was drugged when he said those things, but now things were awkward and tense between you. You still didn’t know a lot about each other, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t learn.

You found yourself inching closer to Billy, your body being drawn to him. You couldn’t fight it anymore. You wanted to kiss him, too. And he was so respectful about your conflicted feelings and how until you had your emotions sorted out, you wanted to just be friends. You knew this was a risk, though. You didn’t have anyone else before him. He was your only friend, and you didn’t want to get feelings involved because you values your friendship so much. Before you know it, you were speaking, allowing him to give in to your shared feelings, but he was too distracted by you.

Billy was so caught up in looking at you, coming to terms with his new, evolved feelings towards you, that he didn’t hear you when you spoke. He was too busy looking at every detail of your face- the bridge of your nose, your bottom lip, the way the light hit your eyes- to notice what you said. “W-What?” he said, snapping back into the conversation. You laughed lightly and softly as his confusion, causing him to smile. Above all things, seeing you happy was the greatest sight to him.

“I said you can kiss me if you want to.” You said.

Billy couldn’t believe his ears. The girl of his dreams was sitting in front of him, allowing him to kiss her. It had to be perfect. You deserved nothing less than perfection.

Your lips met his, and every pain the two of you had ever felt, every negative emotion, every time someone told you that you’d never be happy or that you didn’t deserve to be happy all went away when your lips touched. It was a feeling you’d both been craving to feel for so long. You’d both been hurt so badly by life and people that you’d just completely given up on finding that special person. Getting there wasn’t easy- in fact, it hurt a lot- but it was all worth it when your lips finally met.

The two of you separated, but you met your forehead with his, and you both felt sincere, complete comfort in each other’s presence. You were both sure that this was what you wanted, because one thought was prominent in both of your minds:

This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

[drkcnry67]

One Night...

A/N thank you so much to @randomfandomimagine for the opportunity to branch out on my writing endeavours once more. i bring you something not marvel, or dc or supernatural or hogwarts related. i am bringing you guys something entirely new! hoope that you all enjoy this story its gonna be a bumpy ride.

Pairing: D'Artagnan x reader

Prompts: “Go and do it then, see if I care.” + “I think I’m gonna faint.” + “You do not speak of that which you know little about…” + “Things just can’t get any worst.” + hurt / comfort + accidental confession + anger + shock + romantic + hurt

Tags: reader taking a vile of poison meant for the king, d'artagnan and the reader implied not detailed smut, d'artagnan and reader argument the reader storming off to do something stupid, d'artagnan not telling reader how he truly feels till its almost too late, dont think there is anything else. kisses, make out, quick pressed engagement maybe, maybe some mushy fluff stuff. (not all this may be in the story but its included in the tags aanyway)

Rating: 14+

Word count: 2,992

Created for @sweetness47 @randomfandomimagine

Summery: nope

you were drinking with your best friend in the entire universe, it was a celebratory thing where you guys had just reunited after he and the other musketeers had just come back from victory at a rescue mission for the king.

you and your best friend D'artagnan both secretly unknowingly by eachother, crushing on eachother, you did it, you both were way past your limits, im talking like way passed over drunk im talking like 14 bottles of mead, 16 bottles of wine and 2 bottles of rum all on a tab that someone would be very sorry about later.

but waking up in the morning it was like someone was playing the kings royal drum roll on your head with bricks. but your vision became clearer the more awake you became...

yn(barely audible mostly mouthing words to self): omg im naked, but that must mean...

you were too scared of what you might see beside you but you knew if you didnt look you might never know what happened that previous night... thats when you got up off the bed gently and quietly.

yn(barely audible mouthing words to self): oh my god i slept well with my best friend, he doesnt even know how i feel... i dont know what im gonna do, i gotta get back home before constance wakes up and starts to worry.

you get your stuff putting on something to wear and your cloak and going from the room at the tavern where you woke to the house. you opened the door and walked inside trying to be quiet but constance came out of her room just as you were heading to yours.

she followed you and felt your emotions spiking, as she watched you sit on your bed half dressed...

Yn: before you say anything, Constance something happened to me last night I remember sitting in the tavern celebrating with D'Artagnan, and then I wake up this morning naked in the bed beside him... Constance it was awful, I mean I know it would have happened eventually anyway but last night, we were heavily drunk and it's not how I wanted it to go.

Constance: just sit and compose yourself yn, your emotions are a little high but remember we have duties to attend to later... let me sort this out, I need to find and speak with him at once. I'll do that as I head to the palace to assist the queen.

Yn: Constance just please tell him I was scared when I woke that's why I left without a word this morning. Things just can’t get any worst… can they?

constance: ill tell the queen you will be a bit late... that you went to market... you gonna be okay?

you nod as you go grab your fresh clothes from your wardrobe. then give constance a hug before she leaves the room. you spend time washing your self off and doing your hair and getting dressed.

meanwhile constance was arriving at the garrison, where she cornered d’artagnan while he was grabbing the mount for his horse… constance punched him in the arm…

D’artagnan now nursing his sore arm answers constance.

D’artagnan: good morning constance.

Constance: how dare you… how could you do this to her…

D’artagnan: im quite certain i dont know what you mean…

Constance: yn came home this morning all upset, beside herself. I know what happened between the 2 of you last night… well i know her perspective.

D’artagnan: thank heaven… is she alright? Where is she?

Constance: she is composing herself while she gets ready to meet me at work. She wants me to let you know that when she woke up she got a little scared, her having no memory of the previous night and she woke to you being next to her, she just was scared and so she left without a word or waking you… she just says she will speak to you about this and what it means when she is ready… she is fine…

D’artagnan took a breath in a deep one at that… and on the exhale he simply looked at Constance.

D'Artagnan: at least she is safe.

That's when they were interrupted by Athos clearing his throat…

Athos: morning Constance. D'Artagnan let's go we have to get to the castle to act as protection detail to the council meeting.

Both D'Artagnan and Constance say their goodbyes and leave their seperate ways…

You however were already almost to the castle when you stopped in market to get a new shawl and some flowers for the queen. Obviously you were taking your time not wanting to rush… but While that was happening Constance was just arriving at the castle where she goes to greet the queen and tell her a small portion of your tale before starting her duties.

You arrived at the palace flowers in hand wearing your new shawl going inside you go to where you knew the queen would be…

Anne: yn, Constance told me some of what you went through not all the details but it sounded like you had a very trying morning…

Yn: indeed I did your majesty… I shall put these flowers in a vase for you… then you can tell me what the agenda is for today…

Anne: just put those flowers in with the ones on the table here and come sit down you need to relax a bit before we conduct any sort of business.

You do as the queen says, taking a seat in the chair beside her you taking a deep breath and exhale it slowly…

Anne: feeling a bit better?

Yn: I still feel like a failure but ya I am somewhat more composed now.

Anne: great I'm glad to hear it. Now onto business you and I have to attend this council meeting this afternoon… the musketeers are the protection detail for the meeting. But your not leaving my side. Constance is doing her rounds and running some errands for me. And then once the meeting is done food and drinks will be brought out. Rochefort will also be there whispering in the king's ear. That's why your not leaving my side. If the king can have his secrets with Rochefort then I'll have my own with you At my ear.

Yn: so basically I'm being promoted again to confidante/loyal best friend?

Anne: silently yes… what the king doesn't know won't hurt him… plus I know you watching everything… you see and hear everything, you can descern what rocheforts true intent is… or if anything is gonna go wrong you can step in… I trust your judgement.

With the queen on your side you felt much better, you both prepared yourselves to walk out of the room and into the council meeting…but just as you were about to exit the room, rochefort bursts through the door unannounced and begins striding his way around the room… its only after you and anne clear your throats that he realizes that the room isnt empty…

Rochefort gets down on bended knee…

Rochefort: your majesty, yn i didnt see you both in here.

Yn: clearly the queen and i were just on the way to the council meeting… isnt that where you should be as well… with the king?

Rochefort clearly not planned on getting caught now backed into a corner.

Rochefort: indeed, well i shall take my leave and see you both there… your majesty, yn…

Both you and the queen step aside and watch as rochefort exits. You go to the guards outside the doors and give them the following words.

Yn: you both are to never ever let rochefort into this room like ever again unless myself and or the musketeers are present and the queen is never to be left alone with rochefort again is that understood… and triple the guard outside this room anyone seeking to enter this room needs to have either a note signed by either me or one of the musketeers or the queen herself.. No one else not the king not rochefort no one else… this is an extreme security procedure not to be discussed with any except me… i shall also have words with mister treville and the musketeers as well… do you both understand me…

The guard in unison speak: yes m’lady. We will get right on the tripling of the guard. Would you like us all stationed in pairs down each corridor leading to this room…

Yn: yes, that sounds like a plan.. Ill send one of the musketeers to spear head the positioning down each corridor… you guys are gonna be expected to sign agreements for this new order… this will be given and passed round by the musketeer Athos… no one else is gonna get through these corridors are gonna be locked down so the queen can have her private chamber away from the crowd, away from the king where she can have her private council…

Guard 1: very well, will there be a way for you to get us a list of allowed personal to access this room…

Yn: yes, that will also be sent with athos. Do not let anyone come down these hallways without a full body search of their persons and each of you will stand at a corridor and watch the hallways till your reinforcements arrive. Im gonna take the queen to the council chambers and ill send athos with the papers.

With that you and the queen leave down one of the corridors with the intent of making it to the council chamber with enough time for you and the queen to speak with athos… you usher for athos and the rest of the group to meet you and the queen on the side bar…

Athos: your majesty, you look radiant… yn, you look slightly concerned…

Yn: thats kinda why we are meeting away from the crowd… you and the others are gonna be apart of the new protection detail for the queens private chambers… where she can escape the craziness of court for a bit.. Yes both constance and i are the only ones who have known where this room is… but you are the only ones who can help us make sure the new order of detail

That's when D'Artagnan caught your gaze, Anne noticed this and took over the speaking.

Anne: noble musketeers I do not trust Rochefort for he was caught by me and yn leaving these secret chambers of mine not but a few short moments before we were coming here. He was looking for something. I have a parchment ready for the order of detail to be written down as well as the list of people who are the ones only allowed to enter. This is meant to be my safe space and earlier it did not feel safe.normally i would speak to the king of such a matter but i fear that rochefort may be poisoning the kings mind. Please athos i trust you to get my new detail up and running.

Athos pulls aramis and porthos aside as d’artagnan slowly approaches you….

D’artagnan: can we talk a moment yn?

You turn to him slightly while staying fully by the queens side.

Yn: not now maybe a little later… the meeting is bout to start…

You dont even continue to glance at him, you instead take your seat by the queens side… the meeting is going smoothly till the snack and drink trays are brought in… the page who is bringing in the king and queens is acting suspicious in your eyes… so you watch him, only to witness him pouring the entire contents of a small vile into both the kings and the queens drinks…

The boy then brings them forth.. Placing one goblet in front of the king and one in front of the queen… but before a drop can touch either of their lips you snatch both goblets and back up a bit… one goblet per hand, d’artagnan approaches you calmly but with haste…

Louie: what in the world is this girl doing…

Yn: your majesty i regret to inform you of this but i saw that page boy who delivered your s and the queens drinks pour the entire contents of a vile into both goblets. Porthos athos detain that boy till we sort this out no one in this room leaves till this gets sorted…

Over the next few moments the meeting was in a bit of chaos, but you and d’artagnan were now having a very heated discussion about this..

D’artagnan: are you mad… dont drink it dont do this just to prove a point…

Yn: im doing this to save our king and queen are you telling me tht you wouldnt do the same thing…

After a few moments of silence d’artagnan yelled gathering the entire rooms attention.

D’artagnan: go and do it then, see if i care…

You take a swig of one of the goblets… waiting a few moments, before you and d’artagnan turn to the rest of the room, but before the boy is fully released you suddenly become very dizzy..

Yn: d’artagnan i think i’m gonna faint…

You kinda slurred the last word before dropping the goblets and falling toward the ground… d’artagnan not caring bout his clothes at that moment slides down to catch your head in his lap before you hit the ground. In a panic and shock d’artagnan and aramis along with an escort of some guards carried you back to the garrison, athos and porthos stayed to oversee the execution of the page boy and to question everyone…

But d’artagnan didnt leave your side even after aramis and the doctors administered the cure for the poison… it was a cure any poison remedy…

It was 2 hours later and you hadn’t woke up yet… athos returned to the garrison to check on d’artagnan and you…

Athos: how is she?

D’artagnan: aramis and the doctor administered a cure all… they said she should wake in a few hours… im not leaving her side till she wakes…

Athos watches d’artagnan as his facials change from concern to shock and finally to comfort the longer he watches you… athos decides to say something to d’artagnan…

Athos: how long have you been in love with her?

D’artagnan turns to athos and gets off his seat making his way toward him…

D’artagnan: how did you…

Athos: i can tell by th way you look at her my friend…

D’artagnan: i have been in love with her since the first day i saw her, but last night we were out celebrating and we gave ourselves to eachother in a drunken state no clarity whatsoever… constance came to see me this morning guess yn was scared this morning when she woke naked beside me and when she drank the goblets contents i…

Athos: i am sorry my friend, look i know what you are going through… i felt some of…

D’artagnan a little angry and hurt and shocked beyond reason yelled…

D’artagnan: no athos, you do not speak of what which you know little about… she all but told me in her own subtle way earlier that she was in love with me… you know what im gonna do it, im gonna marry this girl…

A few more hours passed athos and the other musketeers now sitting in the room as well, to lend their support to their friend as he tries his best to stay sane… but you were just waking up when treville walked in… everyone relieved to see you awake, treville had you sign some papers for the new guard detail, and then treville and everyone except d’artagnan left the room…

D’artagnan: i am so happy your alright.. And once you are all better we will have a few things to do… but while you were unconscious i did some thinking and i dont want to do this none confessional dance with you anymore… this acting like i am not in love with you isnt working for me… last night we lost ourselves to eachother and that was the best feeling ever till i woke up and you were gone… i thought maybe you didnt feel the same way till constance came here this morning and yelled at me…

Yn: what are you trying to say, that we have been fooling ourselves thinking we didnt feel the same way… and now we need to make up for lost time cause i think we did that last night…

D’artagnan: yes but we are going to skip a free steps cause i dont want to spend the rest of my life without you and in this line of work anything can happen today proved that… so the queen sent this with a note attached to it i read the note and its mainly for you but i was given very clear instructions on what to do with the attachment…

You read the note it was short and sweet plain clear concise and simple… went like this, “first things first yn, say yes to this question he is your soulmate and we are all rooting for you both to succeed… second D’artagnan give her this and ask her what you have wanted to ask her from the day you met her… i hope this makes a happy ever after… and i lend my services to you guys anything you need. Love Queen Anne…”

You sat up and starred at d’artagnan who now was holding a small gold band with a few diamonds on the top of the band… he said those words you always wanted to hear…

D’artagnan: marry me yn… lets live our lives together one day at a time.

Yn: yes of course yes…

The ring on your finger, the kisses flowing work the next day would be a new chapter…

~the end~

[radicalbilly]

The Arcade

pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

summary: Steve’s introducing his two favorite people to each other.

word count: 1,185

a/n: i feel a bit inspired and it’s four a.m. so i’m trying to get some requests done.

warnings: a few bad words maybe

“She’s way cooler than me,” Steve promised, looking over Dustin’s head to see if you were in view yet. He was bouncing on nervous feet, praying that you and younger boy would get along.

“How cool exactly?” Dustin inquired, eyes rolling at Steve’s passive answer. If all went well, he’d be meeting an older carbon-copy of Max who he could hang out with.

Steve huffed, looking down at Dustin, “She knows a ton about Star Wars,” Dustin still looked unimpressed, “her dad worked on the movies and met Mark Hamill.”

“Does she go to the arcade?” Dustin asked finally interested.

“Does who?” You chirped from behind Steve who jumped towards Dustin. “Sorry,” you added quickly, kicking up your skateboard and raising your free hand innocently with a small smile on your face.

“Do you go to the arcade?” Dustin asked again, gently shoving Steve for continuing to clutch his chest. Steve straightened up and put his arm out.

You ducked under his arm, leaning into his side as he wrapped it around you. “Yeah, I love the arcade,” you assured, “we could go there, if you want.”

Dustin nodded quickly, swinging open Steve’s car door and already attempting to climb into the backseat. Steve smiled down at you reassuringly, as he held the door open for you to climb in. He shut the door softly, after you got comfortable and tucked both your bag and board on the floor in front of you, he then walked around and got into his side of the car.

Steve’s right hand found it’s way to your thigh, as his left continued to maneuver the car. You turned down the music, turning around to look at Dustin, “So, what are some things you like to do Dustin? I’m sure hanging out with Steve has to get boring after a while,” you teased, earning a light pinch from where Steve’s hand rested.

Dustin snickered, catching a glare from Steve in the rearview mirror, “Don’t start, Henderson,” he warned, “I’ll leave your ass here.”

You swatted at the back of his head and looking back at Dustin. “So where were we?”

“I like reading, the Arcade, D’Artagnan-“ the car swerved, shutting Dustin up and making you clutch the seat for dear life.

“Oh look at that, we’re here,” Steve said too quickly, throwing the car into park and opening his door. You quirked an eyebrow at Dustin, silently asking what Steve’s problem was. The younger boy only shrugged in reply.

Steve opened your door, holding it for both you and Dustin to climb out.

“What the fuck was that?” You asked Steve, when Dustin ran ahead of you.

“Dustin can...overshare sometimes,” he answered, he seemed to preoccupied with his own thoughts, barely acknowledging you. You huffed lowly, walking ahead of Steve and entering the arcade.

Dustin was already at the counter, reading the signs and bouncing on his heels. You smiled lightly, walking up beside him and handing a ten to the attendant, asking for an exchange of quarters.

At her return, you thanked her, taking a few coins from the bag that she’d handed you before giving the rest to Dustin. He grinned widely in thanks before darting in the opposite direction towards the Dig Dug machine.

You had begun to walk towards the closest pinball machine, when Steve wrapped an arm loosely around your waist. “Steve, don’t act all sweet now,” you warned lowly.

He sighed, letting his hand fall back down to his side, “I didn’t mean to be an ass earlier, it’s just...it’s the dark stuff.”

“Oh,” you softened considerably, taking Steve’s hand, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” you stopped, eyebrows furrowing, “Steve, how does a musketeer become part of the ‘bad stuff’?”

Steve snorted at your question, starting to pull you towards the machine you had previously been heading towards, “You don’t wanna know.”

Time seemed to fly at the arcade. Especially when Dustin was kicking your ass at Skee Ball and the both of you were kicking Steve’s ass at everything.

“Get him, Dusty,” you cheered excitedly, watching as Dustin’s knight fought the dragon in Dragon’s Lair. You were getting antsy, holding Steve tightly with one hand and swatting his arm with the other.

“We gotta get you a dress like that,” Steve purred into your ear, watching the screen as the princess hyped up the knight.

“Shut up, Steve. You’re so gross,” Dustin chided, quickly flicking at the joystick. The animated dragon roared as it’s chest was pierced with the magic sword, you and Dustin both screamed in delight. You wrapped both Steve and Dustin in a tight hug, happily giggling due to Dustin’s win.

You couldn’t stop staring at the screen, “We’ll have to get Jonathan to get a picture of this scoreboard” you directed towards Dustin and Steve, “I’ve tried about a million times to beat this game. Dustin, this is so cool.”

You and Dustin talked the whole ride back to his house, Steve popping into the conversation whenever he was mentioned or had a remark. And when the car pulled to a stop in the Henderson’s driveway, you opened your door before Steve could and hopped out, grabbing your bag and moving the seat up for Dustin. Once he got out, he bid a short wave and started the trek up his driveway.

“Wait, Dustin,” you chirped, pulling open the zipper on your bag, “I have a gift for you.” He excitedly scurried back, stopping just short of running into you. “I don’t know if you’ll like it, but I hope you do,” you added softly, handing him a photo that was in a plastic sleeve.

“What is this?” he asked, a confused laugh falling from his lips. He flipped the photo in his hands before letting out a shrill scream and pulling you to his chest. Steve’s eyes widened and tried asking Dustin what it was. “It’s....It’s signed by all three of them,” he stuttered out excitedly and handed the picture to Steve.

Past the plastic sleeve, Steve could see three people and a wookie. “Holy shit,” he awed, “Harrison, Mark, and Carrie signed this?”

“Yes!” Dustin blubbered again, pulling the photo back and hugging it close to his chest. “Thank you, so much,” he said, eyes raking over the picture, “I have to go put this somewhere safe.” He quickly pulled you and Steve into tight hugs and then started running up through the yard.

“Do you think he liked me?” You worried, biting at your lower lip and watching as the younger boy threw open the door to his house, picture tightly gripped in his free hand. Climbing back into your seat, you pulled your skateboard into your lap, your fingers spinning the wheels in attempt to ease your nerves.

“Of course, he does.” Steve asked simply, tilting his head to the side and smirking, “You’re perfect and you made his whole entire year today.”

“And if he ends up not liking me,” you asked more assured.

“He’s gotta love you because I do,” he hummed proudly, before adding with a laugh, “or I’m taking that fucking picture.”

[theblondeone-029]

Please check this out if you like the musketeers

[bwemph]

When Now Gets Here

Pairing: Aramis x Reader

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

Word count: 2,200

Warnings: Fluff, implied smut

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded with a shy grin. “Yes.”

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

She shook her head.

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

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

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

“What if you name him Fluffy?”

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

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

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

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

“Which book?”

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

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

“Would you mind getting it for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughed. “Hello, darling.”

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

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

“The monk life didn’t suit me.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you here to stay?”

He smiled. “I believe so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laughed softly. “I doubt it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled. “I love you too.”

“So, so much,” he finished for you.

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

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Phantom

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 3631

Part One of Three

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

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

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

More Musketeer imagines: HERE

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It couldn’t be true.

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

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

“We won’t.”

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

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

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

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

Aramis looked at the ground. 

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

Paradis.

Heaven. 

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naked. 

You erupted with laughter. 

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

“This is actually quite good,” he said. 

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

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

You nodded, beaming. 

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

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

“Tu es mon paradis.” 

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If I find Visage…” Porthos seethed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

You were waking up. 

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

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

Visage. 

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

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

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

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

How were you alive? 

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

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

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

You gasped. 

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

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

“Pinon.” 

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

Jeanne stiffened. 

“Do you know him?”

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

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

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

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

-

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

But not yet. Not now. 

Now, he had his rage. 

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

When that was finished, he moved onto his musket. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s moving,” D’Artagnan said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get out of my way!” 

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

“I have to do this,” he whispered. 

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

“I cannot ask you to join my fight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/F/N Y/L/N 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He rode off before they could ask anything else. 

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

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

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

[randomfandomimagine]

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

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

D’Artagnan x Gender Neutral Reader

_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[stardusttrashed]

Football Coach Part 20

Previous Part

Pairing: Calum x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k+

Warning: Angst

Weeks had passed since that night- the drunk decisions that piled on top of each other. Calum was practically attached to your hip. His hands made your body their new home, always settling on you intentionally and unintentionally. Evermore so since he officially moved in; boxes unpacked, apartment sold, the whole nine yards. 

Calum squeezed your hip, pulling himself closer to you, “I promise we don’t need to buy a whole new dresser, love.” 

“Mhm-- just like how we didn’t need to buy you extra hangers when you kept stealing mine. You’re so full of s-- stuff.” You looked down at D’artagnan with an apologetic smile, thankfully he paid no attention to your close slip up. 

“What ‘bout that one?” D’artagnan pointed at the chestnut dresser displayed in the quaint and cozy room display.  The sky blue decorations contrasted the primarily black furniture. 

You twisted yourself, turning to face Calum with an expectant look. His eyes roamed over the room before finally landing on the dresser. He was gorgeous under the Ikea lights- so relaxed and natural, domestic even. His peach lips parted just enough for a quiet sigh to slip past. The caterpillar brows forever resting on his face- furrowed in concentration. The bridge of his nose highlighted by the fluorescent lights hanging overhead. 

“It’s nice, good pick bubs.” Despite the encouraging smile on his face, you could detect the hesitation hidden in his chocolate eyes. “But maybe we should wait for a little-- y’ know to give mommy here time to make more room for me.”

“But it’s bigger than the one she has now,” D’artagnan pressed on, adamant on helping. Anything he could do to ensure Calum was completely settled into the house he did. He was probably the most excited out of the three of you that Calum was moving in. It was like a constant sleepover, interrupted by various kissing and ‘alone time’ between you and Calum, but still just as fun.

“I was thinkin’,” you interrupted D’artagnan in a gentle voice, “since you’re getting taller and all- why don’t you go pick out another bed?”

D’artagnan looked up at you beaming with excitement, “really?”

“Really really, Calum and I will be right behind you.” You held the basket steady and he clambered over to give you a quick kiss on the cheek before hopping out. You waited until he took off around down the aisle before completely turning to face Calum. “What’s up with you lately? You’ve been.. Distant.” You poked your finger into his chest as you looked up at him. 

“Distant eh,” Calum chuckled as he looked down, the space between you barely enough for a piece of paper. 

You groaned, rolling your eyes at his cocky grin.“You know exactly what I mean Calum. You hang back whenever we go out together where someone from the team might see. I try to get you to settle in, no more bags or boxes, and you put on this fake face like you’re only doing it to spare my feelings. You change the topic whenever I say we should tell D’artagnan and our families about our engagement. If-,” you let out a deep sigh to steel your nerves. “If you’re having second thoughts about moving in with us, just tell me. I can make up something so D’artagnan won’t know, just-.”

“No, no, no. It’s nothing like that.” He cupped your cheek gently, grazing your skin with his thumb as he pulled you closer. “I love living with you and I’m sorry. I was trying to find the right time or way to tell you but I got a call from my coach. Our season is supposed to start and he- well he wants me to be team captain.”

“That’s great news Calum!” 

Your beaming smile only made it harder to continue his announcement. Calum sighed and broke his gaze from your momentarily. “Pay wise, yeah it is- I’d be able to spoil you and D’artagnan more. But.. we’d, my team and I, we’d be going all around the country and if we make it far enough, out of the country.” You let out a quiet ‘oh’. “I have two days  to decide and our season starts next week.”

“What ‘bout the misfits?”

“I know-.”

“The tournament- who’d coach them Calum?”

“I don’t know. If I took the position I’d wouldn’t be able to coach them through the championship.”

As much as you wanted to avoid thinking selfishly, but you couldn’t help it. It had been nearly two weeks since that so-called phone call. “When were you going to tell me,” your voice wavered. “Or were you going to even tell me at all?” You narrowed your eyes at him, your heart teetering the line of being upset and being hurt. 

“Of course I was going to tell you-.”

“How silly of me, of course, you were- not like weeks had passed since you found out. Or like we’ve had plenty of alone time or anything.” A quiet scoff escaped your lips as you rolled your eyes. “Anything else you’ve ‘been meaning’ to tell me, or do I have to wait again.”

“Why are you overreacting like-” the words left his mouth before he could even completely process them. “Y/n, that’s not... I-.” He could see the hurt in your eyes slowly transform to an annoyance like a switch being flipped, your glare unwavering. 

“You’re completely right, I’m going to overreact over there,” you pointed in the direction D’artagnan had run off in for emphasis. “You’re welcome to join us, if not then I’ll just call you when we’re ready to leave.” You turned to leave before stopping yourself, “actually I’d probably have to think about when the right time to tell you would be.”

The car ride home was dragged out due to the awkward air hanging- not even the radio could help. D’artagnan focused on the blur of buildings outside of the window, oblivious to the situation. Or maybe he was simply ignoring it. Calum thought maybe the air would be lighter once you arrived at the house but if anything it got worse. His mumbled sorry’s only added weight to the already heavy air. It was crushing him, drowning him. You simply held your breath- wallowing in the brutal atmosphere. It wasn’t even the fact that he said you were overreacting. You wallowed over the fact that he practically hid something from you. That he seemed okay leaving without a warning. What if he decided to do the same randomly? What if one day you wake up and he’s just not there anymore?

You sat on the bed with your knees to your chest. Your thoughts raced a thousand miles per second, flipping back and forth between the situation, what if’s, and desperate attempts to keep yourself from crying.

“I’m taking the spot,” Calum’s voice interrupted your train of thought. He leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom, his eyes scanning you for a reaction. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want you to make some sort of protest. Instead, all he received were your steady glassy eyes. He sighed and stepped into the room, trudging through the air that left him heavy-hearted and breathless. Your eyes focused on his movements, watching his hands move like slugs in syrup as he packed a small suitcase. “And I- I figured it’d be best to give you some space.”

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled under your breath. Calum brushed aside your actual words- far too relieved to hear your voice again. The simple hour or so felt like an eternity of solitude. “How am I supposed to sleep without your cuddles? And who’d  Dart quietly mess with when I don’t want to wake up?”

“I hadn’t even thought of that,” Calum chuckled nervously.

“Of  course you didn’t, idiot.” You crawled to the edge of the bed, pulling him towards you with the waistband of his pants. “I’m still not happy that you waited so long to tell me.”

“I know sweetheart and I promise I’ll make it up to you, starting now.” He nuzzled the tip of his nose against yours, his breath fanning over your lips. He could finally breathe again. Finally graced with your fragrance. He spent every single bit of his breath kissing you- drowning in the only way he felt was proper. “I love you… entirely.”

“Show me.” You melted into his kiss, determined to ingrain the feeling of him into every bit of your mind. Your mind took every piece of him it could, bottling it up to save for a rainy day. 

“I will sweetheart. I promise. But not until I tell  Bub, he deserves to know I’m leaving.”

“You’re what?!” 

You whipped your head toward the door just in time to see the stuffed animal D’artagnan was holding drop to the floor. 

“Is that why you were quiet in the car,” he shouted, the hurt in his eyes deepening with each passing second. “You can’t leave! You can’t! What about our team? We worked hard  like you said!”

Calum slowly walked over to him, squatting down to his eye level. “I don’t want to, but-.”

“Then don’t,” D’artagnan stated blatantly- his voice startling you and Calum. “We made it this far! We can’t give up.” He stared down Calum with glassy brown eyes, unable to form any more words. How could he? How could Calum lead the team this far and abandon them? How could he abandon him?

“You know you and the team mean so much to me.”

“Then don’t leave! You can stay here and coach us.”

“If I go then I’ll be able to take more care of you and your mummy. I can buy you more toys and take you on trips.”

“You can do that if you stay! I can sell my toys- I’ll-.”

“Dart,” you cooed sadly as you clamber over to him. His small frame felt so fragile in your arms. “We’ll make it work okay. If he goes we could go on trips and watch Calum play. Maybe you’d even meet some of your favorite players. Trust me he’s not doing it to hurt you or the team.”

“I-’m goin’ outside,” he mumbled as he slipped out of your arms, gently pushing you away. Without another word he walked off, eyes focused on his shuffling feet. The closing door brought a new wave of heavy silence. 

“Guess I’m on a roll with making you guys upset today, huh,” Calum awkwardly joked. You let a forced chuckle. “I can try to talk to him-- if you want.” He looked over at you with hopeful eyes. You knew seeing D’artagnan like this hurt him just as much as it did you. Calum loved him, sometimes more than he loved you.

“I got this one,” you finally replied after a minute. Each step you took toward the back door was like stepping with bricks tied to your feet. You had to be careful about how you went to him right now. 

“Wanna talk about it?” You plopped down beside him on the platform swing causing it to sway gently. His eyes shifted over to you as he shrugged nonchalantly. 

Moments passed where the only thing that greeted your ears was the breeze and sounds of birds. You forced yourself to keep quiet, absentmindedly scratching the mesh on the swing. D’artagnan did the same, using the sound to keep his mind off the thought of Calum leaving. 

“I- is there something wrong with me?”

Your face twisted into a frown“Why would you ever think  such a thing baby?” 

He shrugged again, “I dunno.” He kept his eyes on the mesh. “Everyone seems to leave,” his voice wavered. “All the time.”

“I haven’t.”

“You’re different. I don’t know, it’s stupid. Nevermind.” He shook his head, his curls slapping his forehead. “I don’t want Papa to go, he promised he wouldn’t. I don’t want him to be like my dad… I like having Calum around.”

“And I like having you around.” Calum’s voice startled you both, nearly causing D’artagnan to fall off the swing. Calum let out a melodious laugh before running over to stabilize D’artagnan. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or interrupt. I just wanted to tell you I love you, Bub. I love you and your Mummy. You guys are definitely one of the best things that have happened to me. I don’t plan on leaving either of you any time soon, okay?” He took a break to kiss D’artagnan’s forehead. “And if you want me to I’ll stay here.”

D’artagnan shook his head, chewing on his bottom lip, “go.” The words took Calum off guard. He had prepared a whole speech expecting to have to call his coach and deny the position. “Just- just promise you’ll come back. Mummy can coach the team, we’ll be okay. And I can help around the house when you’re gone. But you gotta come back… please.”

Calum searched his wide brown eyes brimmed with tears. Was that really what he was worried about? What they worried about? “Always. I’m never going to abandon you or your Mummy,” he made sure to look at you briefly before refocusing on the kid. “You’re my family and I want to be there for you all I can.” 

Tears streamed down D’artagnan’s cheeks and were fighting to make their way out of your eyes as Calum wrapped his arms around the both of you. He felt like a blanket fresh out the dryer, his warmth providing a blanket of safety around the pair of you. His secure yet gentle hold tole you everything you needed to know. You felt foolish for doubting he’d stay earlier. He was here for you and D’artagnan, right now, tomorrow, and as long as he possibly could be. 

[leahxx129]

The Last Descendant (Sam Winchester x Reader) pt.5/Final Chapter

Disclaimer: Tumblr is being weird again so if you’re using the app, the ‘Keep Reading’ cut off line may not be visible inspite of the fact that I always insert one.

Hi everyone! I originally planned on posting this on Friday but your girl is a busy bee and had some personal stuff to take care of. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy the final part to this story, I had lots of fun writing it.

Summary to pt.5: You’ve managed to win a battle against Michael in the woods, but the war is not over just yet. He’s powerful - more than anyone you’ve ever encountered - but you also have some aces up your sleeve.  

Warnings: slight cursing, character death

Word count: 2.140-ish

PART 1.  PART 2.  PART 3.  PART 4.

As the angels have disappeared, the force holding you flat against the trees dissipates, causing you all to fall to your knees. The first thing you realize when you get up is that there’s only three of you left – Kaia’s taken off without prior notice. Your blood runs cold for a minute but then you find the spear in the tall grass where you threw it. Sam makes sure everyone is well enough to travel and following Jody’s suggestion, you drive to her place.

It’s already dark when you pull up in her driveway. Neither you nor Sam have said a single word throughout the ride and as the engine dies, you feel an urge to change this.

“Sam...” you put a hand on his thigh “I’m gonna do everything I can in order to replicate the spear and we’ll get him back, okay? I promise.”

He puts his large one over yours and squeezes it.

“I know, Y/N. Now, let’s get inside and take a look at your wound.”

The interior of Jody’s house reminds you of your childhood home, and a sense of nostalgia washes over you, mixed with hope that one day even you can have something like this. Maybe with Sam. Who knows?

“Alright, the guest room is ready.” Jody informs you, pulling you out of your thoughts. “A bathroom opens directly from it, clean towels can be found in the cabinet. And if you’re hungry there’s food in the fridge, knock yourself out.”

“Thanks, Jody.”

“As for you, Sam, I’m sorry, but I don’t have any more guest rooms, so you’re stuck with the couch.” she pouts.

“It’s okay, uhm, we’re kind of used to sleeping together.” Sam flashes an awkward smile.

Jody appears startled for a second but soon regaines composure.

“In that case, excuse me for a second. I need to prepare another set of pillows in the guest room.”

When everything’s all set you decide to scrub off the combination of dirt, blood and sweat that’s defiling your body. Usually you shower with an almost boiling hot water, but this time you must settle for medium temperature as the scars and bruises don’t really appreciate the heat. You nearly punch Sam in the face when he pulls the floral shower curtain open, but realizing it’s him, you’re able to stop yourself in time.

“God, Sam, do not do that again! I ain’t the screaming kind of scared, I’m the might-break-your-nose kind of scared.”

“Noted!” he smiles, stepping into the bathtub.

You don’t question what he’s doing in there with you. Maybe for the first time ever in your life, you let someone else take control of a situation, and to much of your surprise, you discover it’s not that bad. He gently cleanses every inch of your body, with special attention to the scars.

“You know, I really think your shoulder could use a couple of stitches.” he whispers. You can hear a little worry in his tone.

“Nah, I’ve had worse I didn’t patch up and I’m still around.” you reply, swiping aside a wet strand of hair that was sticking to his forehead and you kiss him softly.

When you’re all finished, you dress up in the clothes Jody left you on the foot of the bed and pick up the spear from the corner of the room.

“Whoah, what are you doing?” Sam asks incredulously.

“Well, what does it look like I’m doing?” he opens his mouth to speak but you continue “You know what, don’t answer that. I’m gonna go to the garage and try to replicate this.”

“No, you’re not. Look, sweetheart, let’s be sensible here. You haven’t slept in a long time and I can assure you that the world’s not gonna end in those few hours when you do. I talked to Cas and he was able to track down Michael in Missouri. If anything happens, we’ll know firsthand. You need to be strong both mentally and phyisically to do what you’re about to… you know I’m right, so don’t fight it!” he delivers a lecture while taking the weapon out of your hand.

You pull a face but give in to his reasoning anyway. This time you manage to get three full hours of sleep before the nightmares start tainting your subconscious. Terrifying images you haven’t seen in a long time flood your mind, and you successfully wake the whole house up with your screams. You can hear Sam’s soothing vocie and Jody’s nervous inquiries about your well-being before you fully come around.

“I’m…I’m alright. I’m fine, really.” you stutter unconvincingly while running a hand through your hair. “Uhm, Jody?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you please show me your garage? I’ll collect the tools from Sam’s car and get right down to work.”

The weapon contains an ancient magic you’ve never encountered before, or even anything similar to it. The runes carved into the shaft belong to a language uknown to you, making your job all the more difficult.  Nevertheless, you try your best, as always. First, you recreate the shape of the spear and its head, then join the two together. Replicating the runes requires the most time – you only realize just how much when the first lights of morning illuminate the garage and Sam brings you breakfast. You take a few bites of your toast and drink your coffee in one gulp.

“Okay, so here goes everything…” you mutter as you begin performing a spell, which should transfer some of the magic from the original weapon into the replica. The incantation you recite next supposedly enhances the transferred magic.

“It looks like the same to me.” Sam states when you show them your work.

“Yeah, and it also possesses that creepy vibe the original one does.” Jody nods in agreement.

“Good. Hopefully, it’ll work just as well, too. Let’s visit Missouri and kick some archangel ass, shall we?” you propose.

You must give it to Michael – he has exceptionally good taste. Both the exterior and interior of the building he chose as temporary residence radiates elegance. You meet up with Cas and a boy in the underground parking lot. You furrow your brows.

“Who’s the kid?” you glance between Sam and the angel, the latter moving infront of the boy as you speak.

“Uhm, his name is Jack. Also, he happens to be the son of satan.” Cas replies.

Out of reflex, you touch the side of your overknee boots looking for your knife but ease off almost immediately and extend an arm towards the boy. Cas eyes you with suspicion.

“Don’t worry, Castiel, I’m not gonna attcak him.”

He seems hesitant but eventually steps aside, allowing you to shake Jack’s hand.

“I’m Y/N. Y/N Colt.”

His eyes widen.

“Colt? Are you related to Samuel Colt?” your nod sends him over the edge “Oh, wow! This is soo cool! I’m Jack! You must have some awesome stories to tell! When this is over, could you tell me all of them?”

“I’d absolutely love to, Jack!” you smile at his child-like enthusiasm, doubting that a sweet kid like him could be related to the Devil himself.

“Alright, I think we should go over the plan one more time.” Sam changes the subject.

You talk everything over one last time - including the intel on the monsters Sam got from a friend named Garth - and enter the elevator that takes you to the top floor. You feel like the tension could be cut with a knife.

An empty, silent hall welcomes you as you exit.

“Michael is the only one I can sense.” Cas whispers.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.” you whisper back.

You all take feather light steps until you reach a double-winged door and Cas nods, confirming the archangel’s location. Sam kicks in the door in a blink of an eye. A well-dressed Michael is staring out the window, holding a glass of some probably expensive booze.

“Welcome!” he greets, turning to your direction. “Well, well, well… what do we have here? The Three Muskateers? If so, I have to admit, Y/N, you are the loveliest d’Artagnan I have ever laid my eyes upon.”

“Oh my God, just cut the crap or else I’m gonna vomit!” the words slip out before you could think them through.

As a result, Michael’s face hardens even more and he extends an arm in the height where your neck would be, casting an invisible force that pulls you straight into his grip.

Sam yells out your name in desperation.

“Oh, don’t worry, Samuel. I am not going to snap her pretty little neck. Although, my fingers may leave a bruise.” Michael exclaims innocently then averts his gaze back to you.

You find it hard not to try stripping his fingers from your neck with both hands, but there’s no other way. One hand is on his but with the other one you sign three behind your back – the catcher singal for a slider in baseball. Sam catches on, takes the spear out of Castiel’s trenchcoat and throws it to you. But before you could sink the tip in Michael’s body, he snatches the weapon and breaks it in half with one hand.

“Did you honestly believe it was going to be that easy to take me down?” he asks with utter disbelief. “The way you underestimate me is quite offensive.”

“Let her go, Michael.” Jack speaks up.

“I don’t think so, child. In fact, here’s what’s going to happen!” he looks right into your eyes “I am going to kill all of them – in which order, that’s your call – and then I will release my monster army on this city with you by my side. I think this vessel is handsome enough, you’ll grow used to him, darling.”

“Yeah, he may be handsome… but I kinda have a thing for his brother, asshole!”

Before he can react, you stab him in the chest with the knife from your boots. He looks down at the shaft smiling but it soon fades into an expression of sheer panic. He lets go of you and tries to pull the weapon out.

“Did you honestly believe we didn’t have a plan B? The way you underestimate us is quite offensive...” you retort.

“What’s happening?! I demand to know!” he bellows, confused.

“I upgraded my favorite blade a little. Now it has the magic of the spear from that other dimension, too. You like it?”

He screams out in agony while his whole body is lighting up with a blue-ish white blaze. You take a couple of steps back and bump into Sam, who envelopes you in a shielding embrace. Cas and Jack try to cover their eyes as the brightness has risen to an extent that’s almost blinding. Michael’s shrieking finally dies out with a huge energy explosion that busts out all the windows in the suite.

He is gone and the only thing he left behind is a very much so bleeding Dean Winchester on the floor.

Dean is slowly opening his eyes. The fluorescent neon lights, the white walls and the beeping of machines tip him off regarding his whereabouts – he’s in a hospital. He tries to rip the needle out of his arm, but Sam prevents him from doing so.

“Hey, no! Stop!”

“Sam? Wha- what happened? Where am I?”

“Uhm, long story short, Y/N killed Michael and injured you in the process, so you are in a private clinic in Missouri.”

“Private clinic? You know damn well we can’t afford that stuff!”

“You may not be able to, but I can.” you appear in the door with two cups of coffee, one of which you hand to Sam while sitting down on a chair next to him.

“Uhm, we appreciate the offer, really, but we can’t accept it.” Dean says in protest without a beat.

“Hey… I almost killed you, I believe this is the least I can do.”

There’s a stare-down between the brothers and Dean’s the one to break the connection first.

“Alright, thank you.” he mumbles eventually, then checks his bandage by looking down the inside of his hospital robe.

“Uhm, question. Based on the place of the wound, how am I not dead right now?”

“Well, I know how to stab someone without killing them... Which is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever said to anyone, so let’s pretend it never left my mouth, please.”

Both men chuckle lightly, and you feel a little heat rise to your cheeks.

“Hot, feisty and funny? Sam, you better not mess this up or I’ll snatch her right out of your hands.” Dean comments jokingly and this time, it’s your turn to laugh and Sam’s to blush.

“Don’t worry about that, Dean…” he intertwines his fingers with yours “I won’t. I kinda have a thing for her…”