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fandom-imagines-stories · 7 months

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Phantom

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 3631

Part One of Three

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

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

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

More Musketeer imagines: HERE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It couldn’t be true.

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

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

“We won’t.”

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

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

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

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

Aramis looked at the ground.

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

Paradis.

Heaven.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naked.

You erupted with laughter.

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

“This is actually quite good,” he said.

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

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

You nodded, beaming.

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

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

“Tu es mon paradis.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If I find Visage…” Porthos seethed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were waking up.

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

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

Visage.

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

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

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

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

How were you alive?

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

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

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

You gasped.

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

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

“Pinon.”

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

Jeanne stiffened.

“Do you know him?”

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

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

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

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

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

But not yet. Not now.

Now, he had his rage.

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

When that was finished, he moved onto his musket.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s moving,” D’Artagnan said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get out of my way!”

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

“I have to do this,” he whispered.

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

“I cannot ask you to join my fight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/F/N Y/L/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He rode off before they could ask anything else.

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

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

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

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

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backtothefanfiction · 1 month

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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.

#aramis imagine #aramis x reader #aramis musketeers #aramis bbc #aramis #bbc the musketeers #the musketeers imagine #the musketeers

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fictionaldogcompetition · 9 months

Text

Contestants!

Below the cut is the contestants and their matches!

Each poll will be 1 week long, and they'll go out 10 at a time. The exact date and time polls will start going up is a little up in the air right now, because I'm going out of town over the weekend. So they might begin as early as Monday 18th, but probably not later than Wednesday 20th. I'll let you know the night before.

Anyway, just think of this delay as time to write propaganda ahead of your dog's poll going up!

Ruff Ruffman (Fetch! With Ruff Ruffman) vs Muttley (Wacky Races)

Snowy (Tintin series) vs Dog (Columbo)

Maliketh, The Black Blade (Elden Ring) vs Wolfie (Until Dawn)

Unnamed Dog/The Imitator (The Thing) vs Whisper the Wolf (Sonic IDW comics)

Queen Teatinu (Healin Good Precure) vs Nigou/Tetsuya 2 (Kuroko no Basket)

Melody Amaranth (Super Lesbian Animal RPG) vs Pappy van Poodle (Rusty’s Real Deal Baseball)

Sunkist (HLVRAI) vs Dog that can Drive (Drawfee)

Hylian Retriever (Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom) vs Wolf (Minecraft)

Bee/Bay (Dragon Ball Z) vs Shadow (Homeward Bound)

Blue (Blue's Clues) vs Ein (Cowboy Bebop)

Snoopy (Peanuts) vs Clifford (Clifford the Big Red Dog)

Argos (The Odyssey) vs Barkspawn (Dragon Age)

Diogee (Milo Murphy's Law) vs Winston (Hannibal)

Good Boy (DuckTales) vs Bear (Person of Interest)

Daisy & Winnie (The Mistholme Museum Podcast) vs Heidi & Jackie (Hello from the Hallowoods)

Missile (Ghost Trick) vs Sparky (Frankenweenie)

Bond (Spy X Family) vs Goddard (Jimmy Neutron)

Scratch (Baldur’s Gate 3) vs Iggy (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

Cujo (Danny Phantom) vs Cujo (Cujo (1983))

Momiji Inubashiri (Touhou Project) vs Tequila/Ernesto Salas (Arknights)

The Hound of the Baskervilles (Sherlock Holmes) vs Scooby Doo (Scooby Doo media)

Shrimp (The Upturned) vs Holidog (Holiday World)

Rapunzel the Corgi (Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency) vs K9 (Doctor Who)

Blue (Wolf’s Rain) vs Shiba-Warrior Taro (Yu-Gi-Oh!)

Annoying Dog (Undertale) vs Old Dan & Little Ann (Where the Red Fern Grows)

Chou Chou (Shoujo Cosette (Les Miserables anime)) vs Porthos (Star Trek: Enterprise)

Pompompurin (Sanrio) vs Krypto (DC)

Sorry-oo (Moomin) vs Tau (Palia)

Jake the Dog (Adventure Time) vs Lesser dog (Undertale)

Noodle (Nona the Ninth/The Locked Tomb series) vs Nina Tucker/Alexander (FullMetal Alchemist)

Lucky the Pizza Dog (Marvel Comics) vs Seymour (Futurama)

Wishbone (Wishbone Series) vs Angelo (Final Fantasy VIII)

Ox (Dimension 20: Unsleeping City) vs Hewie (Haunting Ground)

Bingpup (The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System) vs Elena (Spiritfarer)

Barnaby B. Beagle (Welcome Home) vs Charlie B. Barkin (All Dogs Go to Heaven)

Polterpup (Luigi’s Mansion) vs Gromit (Wallace and Gromit)

Santa’s Little Helper (The Simpsons) vs Slink/Slinky Dog (Toy Story)

Courage (Courage the Cowardly Dog) vs Twig (Hilda)

Zosimos/Zozo (The Glass Scientists webcomic) vs The BTS Wolves (Midnight Burger)

Unnamed Dog (Teletubbies) vs Shigure Souma (Fruits basket)

Dachsbun (Pokemon) vs Hector J. Peabody (Mr. Peabody & Sherman)

Inuyasha (Inuyasha) vs Frank the Pug (Men in Black)

Sam (Sam and Max) vs Barnabas (The Sandman)

Duck Hunt Dog (Duck Hunt) vs Mira (Silent Hill 2)

Fairy (Mo Dao Zu Shi) vs Shiloh (Shiloh series)

Makkachin (Yuri!!! On Ice) vs Becquerel/Bec (Homestuck)

Rush (Mega Man) vs Dogmeat (Fallout 4)

Dog (Good Omens) vs Zamazenta (Pokemon)

#fictionaldogcompetition #tumblr polls #dogs #masterpost #edit: forgot to say this but if youve followed my other tourneys #you may notice some returning champs

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ultimate-good-dog · 1 year

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Ultimate Good Dog Official Bracket

Preliminaries are closed!

The Bracket is done!

I did my best to seed the bracket but i'm p. new at it so like, i did my best

The matchups!

Side A

Cerberus (Greek Mythology) Vs Aralez (Armenian Mythology)

Cheedle (HunterxHunter) Vs Sam (Sam and Max)

Nina And Alexander (Fullmetal Alchemist) Vs The Husky (The Thing)

The Disreputable Dog Vs the Hound of Baskerville

Akamaru (Naruto) Vs Missile (Ghost Trick)

Mrs O'Leary (Percy Jackson) Vs Dog (Good Omens)

Ruff Ruffman (Fetch!) Vs Diogee (Milo Murphy's law)

This is Fine Dog (Gunshow) Vs Snoopy (Peanuts)

Terriermon (Digimon) Vs Growlithe (Pokemon)

Clifford (Clifford the big red dog) Vs Spot (Spot the dog)

Jake the Dog (adventure time) Vs Becquerel (Homestuck)

Bandit Heeler (bluey) Vs Bluey Heeler (bluey)

K-9 (looney Tunes) Vs K-9 (doctor Who)

Stitch Pelekai (Lilo and Stitch) Vs Blue (Blue's clues)

Seymour Asses (Futurama) Vs Balto (Balto)

Naga (Legend of Korra) Vs Wishbone (Wishbone)

Side B

Polterpup (Luigi's Mansion) Vs Pugsley (Paranormal Park)

Courage (Courage the cowardly dog) Vs Annoying Dog (Undertale)

Miss Rosa (Night in the Woods) Vs Dr Doppler (Treasure Planet)

Slinky Dog (Toy Story) Vs Monchie Mitchel (the Mitchels Vs the Machines)

Cerberus (Hades) Vs Hayabusa (Okami)

Toby (Ace Attourney) Vs Isabelle (Animal Crossing)

Toto (Wizard of Oz) Vs Perrito (Puss n Boots: the last wish)

Dug (Up) Vs Pongo & Perdita (101 Dalmations)

Odie (Garfield) Vs Dogmatix (Asterix)

Daikichi & Dog Ninja (Ensemble Stars & Rhythm Heaven) Vs Sunkist (Half Life but the AI are self aware)

Cujo (Danny Phantom) Vs Waffles (moonglow Bay)

Bond (SpyxFamily) Vs Koromaru (Persona 3)

Scrappy Doo (Scooby doo where are you) Vs Scooby Doo (Scooby doo where are you)

Bear (Person of Interest) Vs Rex (Inspector Rex)

Puppycat (Bee and Puppycat) Vs Grommit (Wallace and Grommit)

Porthos (Star Trek: Enterprise) Vs Queequeg (X-files)

#tumblr polls #ultimate good dog #tumblr tournament #mod doggo #tumblr bracket #dog bracket

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space-helen · 7 months

Text

Christmas Spirit

Words: 400

Pairing: Trip Tucker x Reader

A/N: I know it's a little early for Christmas stuff but...

Request: Okay, listen. I NEED Trip. I don't have any idea, I just need something cute with Trip as a partner. Maybe decorating for christmas and giving Portos the reindeer ears, which even makes T'Pol laugh... something like that, bc I love that man? 😥🤔🥰- @rosesandtheuniverse

______________________

“Hey Porthos, what do you think?” The man took a step backwards and admired his handy work. Met with silence he looked at the dog before looking back at the decorations he’d put up in the small corner of his quarters. “It’s something isn’t it?”

He plonked himself down on his bed before scratching the dog behind his ears. He loved the company of Porthos when he could get it. “She should be here any minute now.” reaching over he pulled out some reindeer ears on a headband and placed them on the dog. The sight before him distracted him so much he didn’t even hear you come in.

“Y/N.” he was slightly flustered and got to his feet straight away. You’d been dating for a little while but he still got giddy around you sometimes. A huge smile broke out on his face as he gestured to the small, slightly sad tree, with Christmas decorations covering it.

You smiled and looked back and forth between him and the tree. “You did this?”

“Well it’s in my quarters isn’t it? It’d be weird if T’Pol had snuck in here and done it.”

You playfully nudged him with your shoulder “You know what I meant.” sitting down on the bed you pet Porthos as Trip turned on the small Christmas tree lights.

The man sat beside you and you smiled wider “Trip, you’re genuinely the best.” leaning towards him you placed a kiss to his lips before pulling away.

“I knew you weren’t feeling great and knew you were down about the lack of Christmas spirit on the ship so I thought I’d bring you some.”

“How did you even get this stuff?”

He shrugged “I have a way. I am a man of miracles and mystery.”

“Some deep dark storage cupboard in the depths of the ship?”

He laughed, “That’s for me to know.”

You went to stand to admire the tree when Porthos jumped off the bed and out of Trips quarters, the two of you quickly went to go after him when you were intercepted by T’pol on the other side of the door. You couldn’t be sure but you could swear you could see a smile pulling at her lips for a split second.

“The dog appears to have grown a second set of ears.” she deadpanned as the two of you grinned back at her.

Tag List: (open)

Star Trek: @heyitsaloy @angel-with-wings-castiel @starfleet-imagines @captainsophiestark @perasperaadastrawriting

#star trek x reader #star trek ent x reader #trip x reader #trip tucker x reader

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thorin-is-a-cuddler · 1 year

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A little convincing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

„Ooooh, feisty!!“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

„Nohohoho, I swear!!“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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bullet-prooflove · 2 months

Text

The Musketeers Masterlist

Aramis Masterlist

Athos Masterlist

Captain Jean Treville Masterlist

Porthos Masterlist

#porthos #porthos x reader #porthos x you #captain treville #captain treville x reader #captain treville x you #athos #athos x reader #athos x you #aramis #aramis x reader #aramis x you #bbc musketeers #the musketeers #musketeers

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the-hinky-panda · 1 month

Text

The Fall Series: Part II

Taglist: @bullet-prooflove, @kmc1989, @trublu2u, @nsr-15

It’s in the middle of the night when Porthos kisses you in the forge.

The day had been long. You had shown the four men around the forge, pointed out where you had found your grandfather, the blood that had seeped between the stones of the floor still there. You walked the perimeter of the property, showed them the rabbit trails, garden area, and small stream. You walked them into the village proper, introduced them to some of the men who were clients and the women who were war widows, hopeful to catch a distinguished retired Musketeer’s eye.

Their reaction to your presence was different than all previous ones. They were still standoffish, uncomfortable in their conversation, but it was softened with pity now. There was an acknowledgement that you had lost your only friend. You were given baskets with bread, fresh vegetables, and eggs. They were heartfelt tokens of grief, well intentioned to bring you a small amount of peace, and you accepted them with a humble heart. Perhaps you could stay here after all. Perhaps they could learn to accept you.

You put the vegetables to good use when you return to the house, making a stew with them with some salted beef. It’s the best way you can think of to feed four soldiers. It’s different cooking for more than just two people but they seemed appreciative of your efforts. They were good houseguests as well. They helped both with setting up for the evening meal and cleaning it up afterwards. They were courteous, and surprisingly good company. For the first time since the murder, you didn’t feel so alone. The house felt more alive now too, not empty. It was like being part of a family.

Athos and Aramis took your grandfather’s room for the evening, while D’Artagnan slept in the living room on the settee that has seen better days. Porthos offered to stand guard just in case the killer returned to finish the job by killing you. Despite all the protection you could wish for, you’re still restless, still unable to sleep. You climb out of your bed, tie your skirts around your waist and grab a wool shawl before heading outside towards the forge.

Porthos is stationed outside the barn, sitting on a bale of straw, staring into the darkness. You’re two steps out of the house when his eyes zero in on you. His degree of vigilance is impressive and you understand why he’s part of the team that Treville sent to investigate your grandfather’s death. You give him a small wave as you make your way to the forge and aren’t surprised when he stands up and meets you there at the entrance.

“Everything alright?”

You nod. “Just restless, couldn’t sleep.”

“I get that.”

You pick up a couple pieces of firewood and place them in the forge itself. You pull some kindling out of a basket and place it under the logs, before using a fire striker to start the fire. You’ve been in charge of starting the fire in the forge since you were a child, still playing with dolls. There’s some comfort in continuing the practice, even if the smithy isn’t going to show.

“My grandfather used to say that if your mind is restless, it’s best to get up and do something with your hands. Wear out your mind, wear out your hands, sleep will come.”

“Wise words.” Porthos leans against the beam at the front of the forge. It still gives him a view of the front of the property but allows him to carry on a conversation with you. “We will find out who’s behind this.”

“I know.” You pick up a steel rod, one you had crafted as a poker for your grandfather. “Captain Treville and my grandfather have been close friends for many years. If anyone can help sort out this terrible mess, it’s him. He obviously has high regard for you all.”

“So you know the Captain well?”

“You could say that.” You give him a small smile. “The Captain is my godfather.”

“Really?” Porthos gives a quiet chuckle. “Just when you think you can’t be surprised by someone anymore.”

You stoke the fire, adding another piece of wood. There’s still a few more orders of horseshoes and some gardening tools that need mending. You feel most at peace here, like your grandfather is still here and will suddenly appear, asking why you’re chatting instead of working. It loosens your tongue and drops your guard when speaking to Porthos.

“I used to pretend he was my father. Whenever the Captain would come out to visit with my grandfather, I would always pretend he was my actual father returning from the battlefield, ready to take me home finally.” You feel tears prick the back of your eyes. “Then he would leave, and I would create this new adventure in my mind. Some new mission the King is sending him on and home will have to wait until next time. Pretty silly, huh?”

You chance a glance over at Porthos to find him completely focused on you and your story. His eyes once again hold that understanding, that acceptance, of what you’ve experienced, he has too.

“I don’t think that’s silly at all.” It’s his turn to give an uneasy smile, the one that always precedes the exposure of a personal piece of information. “I used to make up all kinds of stories about who my father really was, why he wasn’t with my mother and me. He was an explorer, captured by the Spanish. I even thought that maybe he had been robbed on his way home, hit over the head, and forgot where we lived. And one day, he would eventually find us again.”

“Did you ever find out who he was? What happened?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. Not yet. My mother died when I was about five. Grew up in the Court of Miracles, taken in by anyone who needed an extra hand. Anyone who knew anything about my father wasn’t going to say anything.”

“There’s still time, Porthos. You may get that answer yet. And who knows? You may even get to meet him.”

“Perhaps.” He clears his throat, a signal of wanting to change the subject. “What about you? Did you ever find out who your father was?”

“No, not yet. I have bits and pieces of information, but nothing substantial.” You lay out the tools you’ll need to fix some of the gardening tools. It’s a quieter job than hammering out horseshoes. “My mother kept a journal and saved some letters. All I have is an initial and I’m not sure if it’s a first name or last name, but my mother addressed the letters to ‘A.’”

“That’s more information than I have.”

“But then I wonder,” you lean back against the table where your tools are. “Is it worth finding out? I have a good life. My grandfather loved me, poured his life into me…” You can’t keep talking, tears overwhelming your throat and eyes. You may have had a good life but that’s all gone now, dead and buried with your grandfather. You’re alone now, alone to fend for yourself in a world built for men.

“Hey.”

You feel a light touch on your shoulder and you see Porthos has moved from his position at the front of the forge. It doesn’t take much, just the slightest invitation of open arms and you bury your face against the collar of his shirt. He makes soothing noises as he holds you loosely, rubbing circles against your back. It’s the first genuine comfort someone has offered you since the murder.

“When my mother died,” he says softly, “I felt so alone, like I was the only person left alive in Paris. I was so scared, wondering how I was going to make it without her.”

“That’s understandable,” you say into the cotton of his shirt that’s soaking up your tears. “You were five, still a small child. I’m…much more than five.”

You hear him laugh, and feel it too. It’s a deep, booming sound that comes from his chest. “Much more than five, indeed.” He quiets again. “But the feelings are still the same when you lose a parent. You’ve lost that protection, that safety.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. It feels like working around the forge without gloves or an apron. Or going into battle without a shield.”

“But listen to me,” he pulls away slightly, his hands coming up to hold your face between them so you’re looking directly into his eyes. “You’re not without protection. It’s just going to look different now. Different battle, different armor.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He wipes away your tears with his thumbs and you give him a shaky smile, but you can tell he doesn’t want to let go just yet. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t want him to either. You realize with a start that this is the first time a man has touched you in such an intimate way and you’re not sure if you want him to stop. Your fingers curl tighter into the soft material of his shirt and he takes that as a permission to lean forward and press his lips to yours.

It’s a slight brush at first, a test. But then you stretch up to your full height and give him no reason to doubt that you want this. Then it is like being devoured. His hands are in your hair and on your waist, strong but not overbearing. You keep hold of his shirt and match his movements. It’s exhilarating, intoxicating. You don’t want to let go, to stop.

“Elise!”

The two of you break apart, startled by Athos’ shout. At first you think it’s because he caught you and Porthos but you realize there’s another reason as he’s scanning the area for you. You smooth down your hair and straighten your shawl. Porthos is doing the same, tugging the wrinkles out of his shirt, but he gives you a small smile.

“I hate it when he interrupts.”

You laugh slightly. “So this happens often?”

A more serious look crosses his face. “Not that often, no.”

You take his hand, kissing the ridges of his knuckles. “That’s good to hear.”

Athos starts towards the barn. “Porthos!”

“Must be something serious,” Porthos says before stepping out of the forge. You follow a step behind. “Athos.”

The other Musketeer stops and turns on his heel when his eyes lock with yours. As he comes closer to you, he holds up a small sprig of flowers. “What is this?”

You look closer at it, wondering why he is so alarmed by some dried forget-me-nots.

#porthos x reader #porthos x you #porthos x ofc #porthos fic #porthos bbc musketeers #bbc musketeers #the musketeers

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wingsofhcpe · 7 months

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also Aramis was SO salty and jealous about Alice in that episode... babygirl your crush on Porthos is showing!

#'who'd look after you if i married her' yeah ok porthos we get it you two wanna kiss #the musketeers #bbc musketeers #porthos #aramis #porthos du vallon #rene d'herblay #aramis x porthos #porthos x aramis #portamis

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fandom-imagines-stories · 7 months

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Resurrection

Aramis x Reader

Words: 2968

Part One

Summary: With the shocking reveal made only to Athos, the musketeer struggles to keep the reader's survival a secret from his grieving companions. Her motivations for keeping Aramis away become more complicated than Athos initially thought. Aramis and the others hunt Visage.

Notes: Surprise surprise another one of my imagines had to be split up because I cannot write short form to save my life. I hope you guys enjoy!

More Musketeers imagines: HERE

The fine lines of the weapons matched only the motions of the swords themselves. You squinted against the warm, summer sun beaming down on the courtyard while the flurry of men before you laughed and clattered away with their practice.

Porthos lunged with his sword and Aramis expertly ducked out of the way. Your lover caught your eye and winked at you, flourishing his hand with victory. You set down your charcoal to applaud, but Porthos was quicker, landing a punch to his stomach when he wasn’t looking. Only half-strength, of course, but you could hear Aramis’s surprised grunt nonetheless.

“You’re proving to be quite the distraction you know,” a voice playfully scolded. Athos sat beside you with a brow raised in a teasing arch as he examined your work.

“All the better then,” you replied, finishing a sweep of motion on the page. “He should learn to not allow his mind to be taken from the fight, correct?”

Athos chuckled. “Right you are. In fact, Aramis should be thanking you. It’s an excellent learning opportunity.”

“You just enjoy seeing him lose.”

“Well,” he smirked, “only every once in a while.”

A giggle escaped your lips, making him laugh as well. “You’re terrible.”

“You’re the one sitting here with your sketches and your pretty smile, batting your eyelashes at him while he’s trying to focus,” Athos laughed.

“What are you two talking about?” Aramis called, holding his hand on his newly sore middle.

“Nothing, darling!” You waved.

He shrugged and resumed the practice, taking on D’Artagnan now.

“That’s very good,” Athos said, looking over your parchment. “The swords almost swing right off the page.”

“Well thank you, monsieur. That’s very kind.” You grimaced, watching Aramis take yet another blow from the youngest of them. “Are you sure this is all just for fun?”

“Oh yes. You have nothing to worry about, mademoiselle. He just needs help… concentrating.” His eyes followed yours, trying to hide his amusement. “I assure you, we shall return your paramore in one piece.”

“Perhaps I should go.”

“No no.” He held back a laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Athos arrived at Pinon with a swimming mind and a cautious heart. He dismounted and handed his horse to the stablemen of the inn Y/N had written on the back of her letter. Allegedly. He’d already thought of the multitude of punishments for whoever plotted this if it all turned out to be a ploy.

The musketeer surveyed his surroundings and swallowed his discomfort. Memories flooded his thoughts, but he pushed them back. This wasn’t about him. This was for Y/N.

He pushed open the door. The small group inside all turned their heads. Athos scowled and didn’t say a word.

“Can I help you, monsieur?” A woman wiping her hands on a rag asked.

“I was sent a letter from a young woman,” he spoke slowly, his suspicion clear in his voice. “She told me to come here.”

The woman’s eyes grew wide, realizing who he was, and a dark glare overtook her features.

“This way, Comte,” she seethed.

He opened his mouth to object to the title, but she was already leading him up a set of stairs. Athos took a deep breath and reminded himself why he was there. A level head was required, especially with the three reckless mourners he left in Paris. He feared the only way to save Aramis from himself was a miracle.

If this was all a ruse…

“She asked for you, sir, because she trusted you to have done what she asked,” the young woman said. Her tone still held nothing but contempt for him. While he did not blame her, he knew no amount of frustration could make him even think of returning. She put a hand on the door and stayed there. “I have not been so hopeful,” she snapped. “This woman is in no condition to be caught up in any more musketeer problems. If you’ve done anything to upset her-”

“If you are stalling because of a lie, I promise, you will pay dearly for it,” he growled. His patience- and his hope- were waning thin.

Just then, the door swung open, pushed by a gloved hand, and every doubt was banished from his mind. Athos beheld you with a sigh of relief that was cut off by a sharp inhale of shock. The marks on your face had started to heal but were still very prominent. You crossed your arms so that your hands were hidden from him. To him, the worst of it was in your eyes. The brightness he’d once known, the fire and passion he’d always admired about you, had gone, replaced by a darkness he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemy.

He said a silent prayer that Aramis and the others found Visage soon, despite the dangers.

And made it hurt.

Aramis moved like a predator on the hunt, with a fury in his step that the other two almost struggled to keep up with. While they hadn’t the faintest idea where to start, Aramis led them toward Y/N’s old apartments, paid for by Madame de Visage before she died. Both had seen the humble, but comfortable establishment before. Now, it loomed over them like the shadow of death.

Whatever darkness they felt, however, didn’t seem to deter Aramis in the slightest. Instead of going to the door, he went to the side of the apartments where a younger man tended the small stable where Y/N’s horse awaited an owner who would never return.

Before the other two could stop him, Aramis took the young man by the scruff of his neck and threw him against the wall.

“You!” He boomed, arm at the other’s throat.

The young man gulped and a wave of terrified realization washed across his features. Porthos and D’Artagnan exchanged a glance but did not move to stop the interaction.

Aramis leaned, lowering his voice to a low, threatening hiss. “You lied to me. You told me that the woman you worked for- a woman who’d been nothing but kind and generous to you- had left to marry a man she hated. Why?”

“I-I don’t know anything-” The man stammered.

Aramis shoved away from him, took out his pistol, and fired. The brick beside the stableboy’s head burst in a cloud of stone dust. The young man screamed, ducking away from the blast. Aramis rushed him again, pinning him back.

“Tell me!” He demanded.

“Please, I-I don’t…”

Aramis fired again, this time at the ground by the man’s foot, close enough to graze the side of his boot. Tears flowed down the man’s face in terror.

“Aramis,” D’Artagnan said, stepping forward. “Maybe he doesn’t know anything.”

“He told me she left me,” Aramis growled. “He told me that Y/N had married Visage and wanted nothing more to do with Paris. He failed to mention that Visage killed her, but he knew. He’s working with the bastard and I want to know. Where. Is. Visage!”

The young man stared at him, wide-eyed and sniveling. He wiped his dripping nose on the back of his hand.

“I didn’t know he was going to kill her. I swear. He told me just to make sure she didn’t leave the room and to not let anyone in until he got there, and if you came looking to tell you she was gone. I didn’t know. I swear! I’ll help you, I promise. Just please. Please don’t kill me,” he sobbed.

Aramis froze and felt as if the man had stabbed him through the heart.

“She was alive?” He gasped. “She was there?”

“Y-yes, but Master Visage told me you were the one going to kill her. I thought I was protecting her, I swear, I would never do anything to hurt Mademoiselle Y/L/N.”

Aramis couldn’t hear him. He just stumbled back, clutching a wound to his chest that didn’t exist.

“If I hadn’t been so quick to believe…” He muttered. “If I had only looked and persisted and tried…”

Porthos reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Aramis-”

Aramis’s eyes snapped up, full of tears. “I could have saved her?”

These words sunk into the group like fangs into flesh. Aramis’s broken stare settled on the ground while Porthos and D’Artagnan paced behind him, keeping careful watch in case he reached for his weapon again.

“I-I might know where you can look for him,” the man whispered, drawing all of their attention. He gulped. “I may not know where he is, but I know where he talked of going with…”

“Spit it out then,” Porthos barked.

“He said something about finding the man Mademoiselle Y/L/N was, um, seeing-” His eyes flashed fearfully to Aramis. “And camping outside of the city for a few days while they searched for him to keep a low profile.”

“He could still be anywhere.” D’Artagnan kicked at the dirt.

“I’m sorry, that’s all I know. He said he would not rest until the musketeer died a slow and shameful death.” The man trembled as Aramis stepped toward him again. He loomed over the younger man, planting a fist against the wall.

“Then let him find me,” he seethed. “Let the coward come crawling and he’ll get what he wants.”

He turned on his heel and, as swiftly as he came, hurried off into the street with his worried companions running after him.

You were frozen, despite the rush of relief in your chest, and found yourself leaning against the bedpost for support. The pair of piercing blue eyes across the room stared into yours in shock. You’d welcomed him into the room with a silent nod and the two of you had stood like this for what felt like an hour. Eventually, you both worked up the courage to speak, words tumbling over the other’s.

“Athos-” You started, cut off by his stunned exhale.

“You’re alive.”

You stood for a moment longer, feeling the nerves in your limbs replaced by elation.

With the tension between you ceased you hurried to close the space between you, throwing your arms around the reserved musketeer. Athos held you cautiously, afraid that if he moved, you’d disappear.

“Oh, Athos, I can’t begin to tell you how nice it is to see a familiar face,” you cried against his chest.

When you pulled back, your face, though bruised, brought joy to his heart. You may have been a broken image compared to how he once knew you, but you were alive. You were here. Putting his own relief aside, he thought of Aramis. His friend’s suffering did not have to continue. Athos knew that, once Aramis saw you and held you in his arms, he would be whole again.

As if reading his mind, you stiffened in his embrace. “You came alone, didn’t you? The others, they don’t… he doesn’t know?”

“Though I can’t understand your insistence on keeping Aramis away,” Athos sighed, “I didn’t tell anyone of your letter. He, Porthos, and D’Artagnan are likely still hunting down Visage as we speak.”

“You didn’t try to stop him?” You gasped. “Visage has countless men at his disposal and all of his mother’s fortune, not to mention he’s the foulest creature I’ve ever met.”

“Which is exactly why it would be pointless trying to talk Aramis out of it. We hardly convinced him to let us go along as it is. Visage has already tried to kill him once- an ambush at the edge of the city- and fled when we arrived. I’m hoping his cowardice will not wear off before we return and we can have the upper hand.”

You stepped away, beginning a restless pace back and forth across the room. Your fingers fiddled with the gloves on your hands, a habit you’d swiftly developed since putting them on.

“Athos, I’m not sure that I can… that I’m ready to…” You trailed off, eyes trained out of the window at the graying sky.

Athos tried to hide his shock. “You don’t want to go back?”

Your head lowered. He observed scratches on the back of your neck from when you’d been pinned against the tree. He also noticed your attention to your hands and how they trembled.

“What about Aramis?” Athos asked. “If you had any idea what this has done to him-”

“And I would do anything in my power to save him from that pain, I would,” you cried.

“But you can!” He stepped toward you, allowing his frustration to get the better of him.

You stepped away, shoulders hunched and face contorted with a flash of fear. It was only for a moment, but it was enough for the guilt to hit him.

Athos sighed, composing himself. “If he could only see that you’re safe…”

“But I’m not safe, am I?” You crossed your arms, more protective than defiant. “I may have survived, but I’m not safe. Not from what he’s done to me.”

He nodded, letting an understanding silence fall between you, and held out his hands to take yours.

You gulped, slowly removing your gloves one finger at a time.

Though more healed now, the flesh of the back of your hands was still scabbed over and a dark, bruised color. Two of your fingers had reset slightly crooked. To anyone else, it wouldn’t have been noticeable, but for you, it felt monstrous. As if Visage had taken your body, the very tools of your heart, and turned them into something ugly and wrong.

Athos placed your hand between his, holding it just tightly enough for you to feel the emphasis of his words.

“He will pay for what he’s done,” he said. “And we will never let anything happen to you. I promise you that.”

He again pulled you into his arms. When you parted this time, you sat on the edge of the bed, pulling your sketchbook into your lap. You gazed down at the image of Aramis, with his dark eyes and loving smile.

“Things used to be so simple,” you sighed.

“I’m afraid it’s never simple,” Athos chuckled. “Especially when it comes to loving a musketeer.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Speaking of Aramis…”

You ran the tip of your finger over the paper and set the book aside with an exhale. “He’s going to do something stupid, isn’t he?”

“I imagine so.”

Putting your gloves back on, you grabbed the pistol you’d gotten from Jeanne. You held it with a fire in your eyes that Athos knew would find its mark.

“Then we’d better go help him.”

“He will be here soon,” you whined, burying your face in the crook of your lover’s neck. You wanted nothing more than to stay tucked in his arms for forever, but your patron had insisted that you meet her only surviving family.

Aramis chuckled, pushing you back to kiss your forehead. The two of you were tucked in a corner of the library in Madam de Visage’s Paris estate. You thought that the lighting here would be perfect for a painting you were working on. Aramis had gladly joined to have a break from training.

“I’m sure it will be fine. You’re fond of Madame de Visage, aren’t you? Surely her child can’t be too dreadful.”

“But he isn’t a child. He’s a rich young man who is looking for a wife.” You raised a brow. “And his mother has made more than enough hints as to whom she’d like to see him marry.”

“Ah, and you think, because she has been such a good patroness to you, she expects you to return the favor?” He moved around the back of you, wrapping his arms around your waist while he watched you paint. “You could just tell her about us.”

“Excellent idea,” you snorted. “Delphine, I’ve put that apartment you rent for me to good use for frequent rendezvouses with a musketeer. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

“You make it sound so unromantic,” Aramis pouted, his mustache tickling the skin of your neck as he trailed kisses from the nape of your neck to your shoulder. “Just play nice with the son, make it clear you aren’t interested in marrying him, and I’m sure things will return to normal.”

You set your brush aside, unable to focus on the painting with your growing nerves. “That’s easy for you to say. Your entire existence doesn’t depend on someone else.” You took a seat on the chaise, letting your head fall into your hands. “Every day, I worry that she’ll bore of me, that she’ll find I’m not as talented as she once thought, and that she’ll decide to stop providing me with the life that I have. And then another part of me realizes how ridiculous I sound. I’m a poor painter living like a duchess. What right have I to complain?”

What right have I to deny her son? You thought, but couldn’t bring yourself to say.

“Oh, darling,” Aramis sighed, draping an arm over your shoulders and pulling you to his chest. “Regardless of what Madame de Visage feels, you are without a doubt the most talented artist in Paris. And you will always have a place, even if it means I have to use months of my commission to ensure it.”

You nestled closer to him. “That’s very sweet of you, but I have bought your dinner more times than I can count, my love. I don’t think we would fare well on our own.”

He opened his mouth in mock offense and you laughed, pulling his lips to yours. He had one thing right. You’d always have a place in his heart and he in yours as long as you both lived.

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

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kybercvnt · 1 month

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Pet Empathy

Pairing – Jonathan Archer x GN!Reader

Summary – Based on S2E5 “A Night In Sickbay”, as a crew member of the Enterprise, Captain Archer calls you–another pet-lover to console him in his time of need.

Word Count – 806

Jonathan Archer was sleepless and starting to get agitated with all of Doctor Phlox’s late-night antics. He could barely get an hour's worth of sleep before he was up and ripping the curtain open in sickbay to Phlox feeding another one of his chirping creatures. Not only Phlox, but it was also Captain Archer’s anxiety and concern towards his beloved dog–Porthos–that was chewing into his subconscious. He wasn’t sure how much more he could handle.

As soon as he brought up his quarrel with T’pol, Phlox decided to point out sexual tension–a common phenomenon going on between all crew before then, which is when Archer’s mind raced to think of you.

For once, his mind wasn’t preoccupied with his beagle, but instead with you–his loyal and devoted crew member. He remembered you were one of the few exceptions, like himself, to bring on board an Earth pet to look after in your quarters.

You always showed responsibility with your care to your animal, and Archer made sure to be friendly with someone like-minded when it came to animals, so it was no doubt he was familiar with you.

When it came time to his frustration he commed you, in the early hours of the night. When you came running into the sickbay in your sleepwear, you first caught sight of the sickly dog laying in his box, then second to your captain.

“Captain Archer, I’m so terribly sorry to hear what happened to Porthos,” you said.

“It’s… Definitely a tragedy, L/N, but I want to apologise for any disturbance I’ve caused this late at night, I just… don’t know who else to contact,” he grovelled.

“It’s alright, Captain, I completely understand if he were mine.”

“I knew you would,” he chuckled.

“How’s she doing?” You asked, walking up to the box, stroking the corner of the glass as if he could feel it.

“We should know within a couple of hours,” Archer repeated, as he continued to say to everyone.

Silence filled the air. Phlox was busy doing his duties with other species and medicine, still eavesdropping on your conversation with the captain. There wasn’t much to say to your captain without it possibly being deemed inappropriate, although, being summoned in your sleepwear in front of your superior was already inappropriate, you didn’t want to extend it any further by saying something unprofessional.

“As someone who loves their animals just as much as I do, what should I do in this situation, crewman?” He asked, head low, ashamed that he felt he must ask for support.

“I find it endearing that you stick by your companion’s side while he is sick, Captain…” As you say that, your eyes catch Phlox’s gaze, while he gives you a fascinated ‘hm,’ “...But I think that it might cause you more harm than good, might disrupt your sleep and therefore your mental health, affecting the crew, Captain. Why don’t we return to your quarters for a short while, take your mind off things,” you suggested.

He looked over to Phlox, “Oh, it’s quite alright, Captain, he is in a stable condition. I’ll let you know if anything dire happens.”

The captain’s quarters were quiet without Porthos, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the empty dog bed.

“If the Kreetassan even tried to look over the data, Porthos wouldn’t be in this mess,” he complained, pacing the room. The hot tea you retrieved for him was sitting on the table alone, losing steam with every second that passed.

“I’m sure there is always someone to blame, but on this mission, there is always the risk that we might lose our loved ones, especially those in our crew, and the ship,” you tried to explain.

“You’re right,” Archer said after a moment of thought, “I should’ve never risked Porthos on an alien planet.”

“No, Captain.” He stopped to look at you, who asserted their position as they stood up. “Your decisions come with consequences, but now is the time to be optimistic.”

He looked puzzled, so you walked up to him. Really close. Close enough so he could watch your lips while you talked.

“You trust your doctor, yes?”

“Yes, but I can’t he–”

“Then trust he has it under control. There is still a chance to redeem this ship of embarrassment with the Kreetassan,” you tell him. But you’re so close to him, he heard every word you said, but also ignored it all. He couldn’t stop looking at you.

“You’re right… L/N.” Then, he leaned down and kissed you. Without any self-control or professionalism, in the privacy of his quarters, he kissed you.

When he pulled back, you straightened yourself out. “I’m… sorry L/N. That was–”

“It’s okay, Captain. It was your decision. I guess us pet owners are highly empathetic.”

“I guess so,” he laughed.

#star trek x reader #star trek x you #star trek x y/n #star trek enterprise x reader #star trek enterprise x you #star trek enterprise x y/n #jonathan archer x reader #jonathan archer x you #jonathan archer x y/n #star trek fanfiction #star trek reader insert #my fics

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nocturnalstarlet · 3 months

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— 𝑾𝑯𝑶 𝑰 𝑾𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑬 𝑭𝑶𝑹 🪐

— 𝑨 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑻 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑬𝑺 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑹𝑶𝑺𝑬𝑺

🪐 ›› cassian, azriel, nesta archeron, elain archeron, feyre archeron, lucien vanserra, eris vanserra.

ships i'd write for: cassian x nesta , elain x azriel , gwyn x azriel , and elain x lucien.

— 𝑩𝑩𝑪 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑲𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑬𝑹𝑺

🪐 ›› aramis, porthos.

— 𝑩𝑹𝑰𝑫𝑮𝑬𝑹𝑻𝑶𝑵

🪐 ›› anthony bridgerton, daphne bridgerton, benedict bridgerton, colin bridgerton, king george iii.

— 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑽𝑨𝑳 / 𝑶𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑼𝑷𝑶𝑵 𝑨 𝑩𝑹𝑶𝑲𝑬𝑵 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻

🪐 ›› legend, julien santos, scarlett dragna, donatella dragna, jacks/prince of hearts.

— 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑴𝑬𝑫

🪐 ›› phoebe halliwell, paige matthews, wyatt halliwell, chris halliwell.

— 𝑫𝑨𝑰𝑺𝒀 𝑱𝑶𝑵𝑬𝑺 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑰𝑿

🪐 ›› warren rojas, eddie roundtree, graham dunne, camila alvarez, karen sirko, daisy jones, simone jackson.

— 𝑭𝑨𝑺𝑻 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑭𝑼𝑹𝑰𝑶𝑼𝑺

🪐 ›› dominic toretto, brian o'conner, letty ortiz, mia toretto, roman pearce, deckard shaw, tej parker, han lue.

ships i'd write for: dom x letty.

— 𝑮𝑨𝑴𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑬𝑺 / 𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑺𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑫𝑹𝑨𝑮𝑶𝑵

🪐 ›› tormund giantsbane, podrick payne, sansa stark, robb stark, jorah mormont, theon greyjoy, sandor clegane, samwell tarly, rhaegar targaryen, daenerys targaryen.

🪐 ›› aemond targaryen, jacaerys velaryon, alicent hightower, daemon targaryen.

— 𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑹𝒀 𝑷𝑶𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹

🪐 ›› ron weasley, hermione granger, dean thomas, blaise zabini, luna lovegood, neville longbottom, cedric diggory, viktor krum.

🪐 ›› james potter, lily evans, narcissa black, regulus black, andromeda black, sirius black, remus lupin, frank longbottom, peter pettigrew, lucius malfoy, pandora lovegood, alice fortescue, marlene mckinnon, mary macdonald, emmeline vance, dorcas meadows.

🪐 ›› theseus scammander

🪐 ›› teddy lupin

🪐 ›› godrick gryffindor, rowena ravenclaw, helga hufflepuff, salazar slytherin

**a very big fuck you to jkr. this account is HEAVILY anti jkr and always will be. **while some of the fics for these characters may occur during their time at hogwarts, the characters will be assumed to be 18+ regardless of fic type.

— 𝑰𝑻

🪐 ›› richie tozier, stanley uris, ben hascom, mike hanlon.

**none of my writing for these characters will take place in the first film. i may instead do college!fics for this. everything else will come from when they're adults.

— 𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑽𝑬𝑳 / 𝑿-𝑴𝑬𝑵

🪐 ›› steve rogers, james buchanan "bucky" barnes, natasha romanoff, yelena belova, wanda maximoff, pietro maximoff, thor odinson, loki laufeyson, bruce banner, druig.

🪐 ›› john allerdyce (pyro), bobby drake (iceman), peter rasputin (colossus), scott summers (cyclops), alex summers (havoc), anna marie lebeau (rogue), logan howlett (wolverine), ororo munroe (storm), peter maximoff (quicksilver), charles xavier, erik lehnsherr.

— 𝑶𝑼𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑩𝑨𝑵𝑲𝑺

🪐 ›› pope heyward, sarah cameron, kiara carrera, jj maybank, john b routledge, rafe cameron, topper thornton.

— 𝑷𝑬𝑨𝑲𝒀 𝑩𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑺

🪐 ›› thomas shelby, arthur shelby, john shelby, michael gray, finn shelby.

— 𝑺𝑨𝑳𝑻𝑩𝑼𝑹𝑵

🪐 ›› felix catton, venetia catton, farleigh start.

— 𝑺𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴

🪐 ›› tara carpenter, sam carpenter, chad meeks-martin, mindy meeks-martin, ethan landry.

— 𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝑬

🪐 ›› aaron warner, kenji kishimoto, juliette ferrars.

— 𝑻𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝑾𝑶𝑳𝑭

🪐 ›› derek hale, peter hale, stiles stilinski, isaac lahey, lydia martin, scott mccall.

— 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑯𝑼𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑹 𝑮𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑺

🪐 ›› finnick odair, haymitch abernathy.

ships i'd write for: finnick x annie

— 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑽𝑨𝑴𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑫𝑰𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑺 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬

🪐 ›› elijah mikaelson, marcel gerard, klaus mikaelson, kol mikaelson, rebekah mikaelson, bonnie bennett, enzo st. john, stefan salvatore, damon salvatore, jeremy gilbert, caroline forbes, elena gilbert.

— 𝑻𝑹𝑼𝑬 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫

🪐 ›› eric northman, jason stackhouse, alcide herveaux , jessica hamby.

— 𝑻𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻

🪐 ›› charlie swan, carlisle cullen, emmett cullen, rosalie hale, alice cullen, sam uley, paul lahote, jared cameron.

— 𝑾𝑬𝑫𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑫𝑨𝒀 / 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑨𝑫𝑫𝑨𝑴𝑺 𝑭𝑨𝑴𝑰𝑳𝒀

🪐 ›› morticia frump, gomez addams, wednesday addams, enid sinclair, bianca barclay.

ships i'd write for: morticia x gomez.

— 𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑪𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑬𝑶𝑼𝑺

🪐 ›› ransom drysdale (knives out), andy barber (defending jacob), killian jones (ounce upon a time).

don't see what you're looking for? feel free to ask if i know a fandom/ship/character and if am willing to write what you're looking for!!

19 notes · View notes