bbcmusketeerskink

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round 3

Round 3

Welcome to the BBC The Musketeers kink meme

The lowdown: You post your prompt, anon or not. Someone else will hopefully fill it (also anon or not). Not for profit, just for fun. And in this case, for king and country.

Anon is on, IP logging is off.

Rules:
No wank
No kink-shaming
Be respectful to everyone
The mod is not your babysitter
Use the warnings
No prompts with characters under the age of 16 in sexual situations, please.
Please keep the discussions in the prompt post to a minimum. We have a discussion post

Mandatory trigger warnings/warnings for both prompts and fills:
non-con/dub-con
abuse (physical and mental)
issues such as racism, sexism, homo-/trans-/-bi-/ace-phobia etc
character death
suicide
self-harm
eating disorders
extreme physical or mental illness
substance abuse (alcohol, drugs, medication)
bullying
gore and horror

If this list misses anything, do let me know, though please understand that if absolutely everything is added this list will never end.

You are encouraged and advised to add additional warnings at your own discretion.

Please make use of the subject line.

If your prompt alludes to the book or any of the other adaptations, please let us know which one.

Lastly, prompt freezes (which I have to say I’m really not fond of) etc will be at the mod’s discretion. I will decide on a prompt cut-off point for prompt posts once I know how fast the meme moves.

Announcement: A blanket spoiler warning is necessary for prompts pertaining to season 2. Just season 2 Spoilers in the subject line will do.

Archive:
https://delicious.com/bbcmusketeers

Discussion post:
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/557.html

Official fill post (I strongly suggest you use it for better visibility of your fills):
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/418.html

Mod contact post
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/1356.html

Free For All Round 1
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/1823.html

Page 26 of 138

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Still loving this, and how their tailored confinement are affecting them.

Och! That was terrible, no wonder Aramis is so conflicted now. I'm still very interested in seeing where you take this story, but don't rush and feel constrained. As someone else said, this has been one of your better fics (though I have greatly also enjoyed your other ones!).

Finally got to read it. Very fun story. Athos's determination and Aramis being perfectly limp and difficult. Loved the "thank you" at the end.

Thanks again for filling this one.

Okay, really sorry, so I got this all messed up and out of order, so I decided to finish it off and post it on AO3

here's the link :

http://archiveofourown.org/works/2533643/chapters/5702228

hope you like it :)

OMG yes!!! :) haha I just saw this movie too!! Brilliant but crazy haha Someone should totally do one of these… or all of these :)

Good story.

Haven't read it yet, but I'm looking forward to it!

*cheers* Please! Oh please!

This would be interesting. Especially if the cardinal knows of the prophecy and the church requires that all members of the clergy must provide aid, should they need it.

Idea for a scene: on parade duty, or something similar, and the pups have followed them but hiding. Only the pups end up stopping an attack, assassination, etc.

Porthos goes to attack Bonnaire when he enters the room. Athos and d'Artagnan quickly leap in to hold him back. Aramis...well, Aramis just strolls in the room, glances over and carries on faffing with his gloves. Something about that moment always amuses me. Its only when Porthos rips his stitching does he really take note.

I would just quite like a 3+1 type fic of times when Aramis is quite content to just stand back and watch a fight and the one time he is forced to join in. No angst please. Just daftness. For example, he may be forced to intervene in the last one because one of the fighters accidently knocks THE hat off of his head. Nobody messes with the hat!

Want this!

Treville tries to help, but his limbs refuse to co-operate and he can feel that Aramis is struggling to keep them moving forward. His world narrows to the dull thud... thud of his heart in his chest.

This changes when they finally stagger into the surgeon's tent and he is instantly assailed by the stench and the noise. He bites his lip to withhold a groan as they set him down. Hands stained with the blood of countless men reach for the sash binding his leg, but Aramis is already there.

"I can do that."

Aramis unravels the cloth and exposes the wound to the surgeon's keen eye.

"Who stitched this?" the man asks brusquely.

"I did," says Aramis, quietly.

The surgeon makes a noise that could just as easily be approval as disapproval.

"Well, there's not much point me wasting my time re-sewing it, providing of course they hold." He looks toward the tent's entrance as two men enter, carrying a third between them.

The injured party is perhaps even younger than Aramis and as they lie him down on a makeshift pallet he cries out for his mother and begs them not to let him die.

All those present can see that it is inevitable. The lower half of the young man's body is a bloody mess. The wonder of it all is that he can speak, or that he continues to cling to consciousness.

Treville thinks it might have been a kindness to end the boy's suffering on the battlefield.

The men who brought him in have already left. The surgeon looks tired and old as he peels the terrified boy's fingers from his clothing, but there is nothing he can do here, and he has other patients to attend to.

The boy's cries increase in volume as his lifts his head from the pallet and looks at his wounds.

Aramis moves swiftly to his side. Treville watches him grasp the boy's bloody fingers, curling his own around them.

"Don't look. Don't look," he tells the boy firmly.

"Please... I... don't... want... to ... die," the boy gasps wetly. "God, please... "

Aramis places his free hand against the boy's cheek. "God is waiting for you."

The boy emits a loud sob of denial and shakes his head.
Aramis holds the boy's terrified gaze, his own expression strangely calm.

"Do not be afraid. I will stay with you until it is time."

The boy continues to weep, but it is softer and less desperate than before.

"Would you like me to pray with you?" Aramis asks gently.

"P-please."

Aramis moves his hand from the boy's face and tugs a simple rosary out from beneath his shirt. He draws it over his head and wraps it carefully around their joined hands. Then he kneels.

Treville catches the occasional word of the prayer Aramis murmurs in fervent, flawless Latin.

At one point the boy's body arches from the pallet and he makes a hideous gurgling sound as he shudders through the pain. Aramis' voice falters briefly but he doesn't pause or pull away, and the boy sinks back down. His tears stop and he falls quiet, save for the noisy rattle of his breath. Eventually, that too fades to silence.

Aramis bows his head for a moment, before very carefully unravelling his rosary and placing it back around his neck. His fingers leave behind smudges of blood. He rises slowly to his feet and makes the sign of the cross. When he turns Treville sees his face is starkly pale, the dark eyes seemingly devoid of emotion. Aramis says not a word as he walks briskly from the tent.

Treville looks around him in agitation. He spies a discarded crutch on the far side of the tent.

"You. Bring me that," he snaps at a young man carrying a bucket of water.

The young man stares at him, round-eyed.

"Sir?"

"The crutch. Bring me the crutch," Treville growls, stabbing a finger in its direction.

The young man responds to the authoritative tone. He leaves his bucket and scurries to fetch it. He hold it out uncertainly.

"Do you need help, sir?"

"No," Treville snarls. He tries to stand and fails. "Yes, damn it all. Get me up."

The young man helps him to his feet and positions the crutch for him. Treville gives him a terse nod that is both thanks and a dismissal, and the young man backs away gratefully.

Treville grits his teeth and moves forward. He has to stop after one step, squeezing his eyes shut as the pain explodes behind his closed lids. He pants and forces them open. He takes another step. It doesn't hurt any less, but he is somewhat prepared for it.

It seems to take forever before he emerges into the brightness. His tension ebbs when he spies Aramis. Slowly and carefully he makes his way over to where he is standing. It is only when he gets close that he realises Aramis has been sick.

"Aramis?"

The young man wipes a visibly shaky hand across his mouth before he turns.

"Sir?"

Aramis' voice is watery and his eyes suspiciously bright, but his cheeks are dry as he stands stiffly to attention.
Treville tries to adjust his awkward grip on the crutch and staggers. Aramis reaches for him, but neither of them are able to prevent his descent, and he is obliged to let go of the crutch when it becomes apparent he will need both hands to brace himself as he falls.

He strikes the ground and his next breath lodges in his throat. There is a brief moment when he considers letting the darkness take him. He coughs and gasps, dragging in noisy gulps of air, and gradually the agony recedes.
As it does, he realises he is lying on his side with Aramis pressed up against him.

It feels horribly awkward, and he is about to pull away when he realises that Aramis is crying.

Treville cannot see his face, and he makes scarcely any noise. All the same, Treville knows. It is in the way Aramis curls toward him, clutching fistfuls of coat, fingers loosening and tightening as he shakes. He clings to Treville like a child caught up in a tempest. Treville has never been good at this, but he offers what comfort he can. He manages to work a hand free and uses it to rub slow circles between Aramis' shoulder blades.

Eventually, the tremors ease. Aramis keeps his head lowered as he draws away and sits up.

"I beg your pardon, sir."

"There is nothing to apologise for," says Treville, pushing himself up onto an elbow "Or do you think you are the first man to weep in the midst of a battle? Because if so, I can assure you that you are not."

"I shouldn't," Aramis mutters.

Treville is still addressing the crown of his head. "Why? Are you better than other men?"

That brings Aramis' chin up sharply. "No, of course not, but I-"

"-led a wounded man off a battlefield. Fought and killed three more, and eased the passing of another," says Treville. He moves the conversation swiftly along from the boy's death. "You saved my life today. I don't believe I have thanked you for that."

"There is no need-" Aramis begins.

"There is every need," says Treville. "I may be a soldier, but that does not mean I am eager to die. No doubt my wife would thank you also."

"You are married?" says Aramis, in obvious surprise. Colour rushes into his face; he quickly offers an apology. “My pardon, sir. It is none of my business."

"Don't be a fool," says Treville. His wound is making him irritable and this meek, penitent Aramis rouses his ire for some reason. "I told you, did I not?"

Aramis nods.

"Well then," says Treville, gruffly. "Now, how about you make yourself useful and take a look at my leg, I believe I may have torn some stitches."

Aramis' mouth thins in dismay. He quickly confirms that several of the stitches have broken and the wound is bleeding freely again.

"We need to get you back to the surgeon."

Treville shakes his head. "You still have your sewing implements?"

"Well, yes-"

"Then you do it."

Aramis looks bewildered. "But surely, the surgeon-"

"-Need not be troubled for the sake of a few stitches. You did well enough before."

"Not good enough. Or they would have held."

The self-loathing in Aramis' voice causes Treville to frown.

"The fault lies with me. I doubt any one's needlework could weather such abuse. Just sew the damn thing up again and I will take more care to remain upright."

Aramis hold his flask out. Treville takes a few long swigs before passing it back. He presses his fingers into the cool, damp earth and breathes harshly through his nose while Aramis works. In the distance they can hear the sounds of fighting - the loud, echoing boom of cannon fire and the fainter noise of men and horses.

Finally, Aramis ties off the thread.

"You should probably still go back to the tent and let the surgeon take a look at it."

"You can help me back to my own tent," says Treville firmly.

Aramis doesn't argue with him, thank God. Treville has no desire to return to the surgeon's tent, to lie surrounded by blood and flies.

He is sweating and shaking by the time they reach his tent. Even so, he insists upon sitting in a chair beside the bed pallet, waving away the young man's concern with a scowl.

"I'll not faint and fall, if that is what troubles you."

Aramis looks far from convinced. "If you will pardon me for saying so, sir. You have lost a lot of blood. It might be better if you were to lie down."

Treville shakes his head. "I cannot fight, but that doesn't mean I will lie useless. Now, hand me those." He gestures to his writing instruments. However, when Aramis gives them to him, he finds his hands are shaking too hard for him to grip the quill.

"Perhaps I could be of help?" says Aramis.

"Can you write?"

Aramis nods.

"Good. Sit there and write what I tell you." Treville nods at the bed pallet and waits for Aramis to settle himself before starting. After a few lines he glances across to verify the quality of Aramis' penmanship. He is getting used to being surprised by this young man; all the same, the elegant flowing script causes him to pause.

"Where did you learn to write like that?"

The quill hovers over the paper.

"I attended a seminary for a time," says Aramis, quietly.

"You wished to enter the church?"

"My parents wished it." Aramis glances up from the piece of paper he is holding. "But God it seems, had other plans for me."

"How old are you?"

"Does it matter?"

Treville’s lips quirk as he struggles to suppress a smile. "No, I suppose not."

Aramis’ attention returns to his task and Treville continues. He is loath to admit it, but he is starting to feel lightheaded.

“Do you still have that flask?”

Aramis looks up and frowns at what he sees. Rather than hand over his flask, he sets down his writing tools and hastens from the tent before Treville can demand to know where he is going.

He returns a short time later with a bucket of water, which he sets down beside the chair. Filling a cup, he ignores Treville’s trembling hands and deep scowl, holding the vessel steady while Treville drinks.

“Slowly, or you will be sick,” he cautions.

Treville continues to glower at Aramis as he drinks, but he cannot deny that the water tastes good. Once he has drained the cup, Aramis takes it from him and dampens a cloth, using it to cool Treville’s face and throat. He tries to bat the young man away, but Aramis refuses to be deterred.

“You have lost too much blood. You risk developing a fever. You need to drink and eat, and rest,” Aramis adds firmly. “Surely there are others who can take over your duties for you?”

“The men under my command are my responsibility.”

“I understand,” says Aramis, “but what good will it do them if you neglect your own health? If you want to stand and fight with them again, you must rest now and recover your strength.”

Treville glares.

Aramis stares back without flinching.

They are at an impasse; however, Treville has not got where he has by being a fool. He knows the young man speaks sense.

“Very well. I will follow your advice and lie down for a while before I resume my duties. Does that satisfy you?” Treville asks, dryly.

“If you agree to eat something when you wake, and not to take up your duties until your head no longer aches. Yes.”

“How did you know that my head troubles me?”

“You are squinting, and you have rubbed your temples six times in the past hour.”

“I thought you attended a seminary. Or are you a healer too?”

“I merely pay attention,” says Aramis.

Treville grumbles wordlessly, but he allows Aramis to help him out of the chair and assist in the removal of his coat, boots, and scabbard. His pistol and sword, he realises with a pang of regret, are out there on the battlefield, lost when he fell.

His stomach lurches unpleasantly when he is moving to lie down; though it settles quickly once he shuts his eyes and remains still.

“I will take me leave then, sir. Unless there is anything else you require?”

“Thank you, no.”

There is the faint rustle of movement as Aramis heads toward the tent opening.

“God keep you, sir.”

Treville opens his eyes, intending to offer a response, but Aramis has already gone.

******

The years drift pass. Treville takes great care in selecting men for the newly formed musketeer regiment. He reads reports and recommendations, he tours the barracks and listens to personal accounts.

On this day his gaze finds a familiar face, haloed by curls. Treville searches his memory and smiles.

“Aramis.”

Sorry for the delay in getting this last part posted. I was struggling with the ending. Apologies for not I working the d'Artagnan part in. I hope you liked it anyway, anon.

I'll post it to AO3 at some point.

deacertes~

Not OP.

Lovely prompt and a lovely story. I'm not at all surprised to find out who wrote it as I thought I recognised the style. Looking forward to it going on AO3 so I can put it on my kindle for re-reading.

Thank you. I should really be working on my other wip's, but I needed a break and this snippet was fun to write.

I've posted it over there now.

Very good story. Enjoyable from beginning to end.

Lovely prompt. Seconded. :)

AN Sorry for the wait on the update, but the extended edition of the Hobbit came out Tuesday and I`m a Hobbit-holic!, and Lord of the rings-holic!.

Fill

The surgeon Milady brought to view d`Artagnan and Aramis was clearly more a butcher than physician.

The kind of blood stained brute who wore a leather apron and wrenched teeth out of peoples heads in the market place, breaking their jaws in the process!, a man who spent a good deal of time drunk and set broken limbs so badly they would need to be amputated, a stinking mass of unwashed flesh that carried a vast amount of filth and sweat upon him person so infection was bound to set into any wound he treated.

"I need t`examin `em" the man grunted, spitting onto the floor, feel where the baby is, so I know where t`cut", Milady nodded, and with a snap of her fingers had two of her men going and grabbing d`Artagnan.

Naturally d`Artagnan was`nt going anywhere without a fight, which the men soon realized when they were met with his swinging fists and feet as they got near, and then his teeth sinking into their flesh as they tried to manhandle him!
"You little bastard!" one of the men bellowed holding his bitten and bleeding face with one hand while backhanding d`Artagnan with the other, Aramis of course was joining in with the fighting, pummeling the men from behind as they managed to get d`Artagnan into a bear hug and cart him across the room to lay him across the floor on the back, laying their full weight on his legs and chest to keep him down!
"Hurry up!, bastards stronger than he looks!" one of the yelled
"Can`t we just knock him out!" the other asked Milady who opened her mouth to reply but was beaten to it by Aramis
"Knock him out and I`ll knock your teeth out!" he snarled his cheek smarting from a back hand across the face
"Just hold him still" Milady sighed rubbing her temple as if a head ache was coming on.

D`Artagnan continued to squirm and fight under the mans hands as his swollen belly was groped and squeezed by crude untrained hands, "He`s not far of droppin` I`d say!" the surgeon grunted "Give it another week or so, and the nipper`ll have a good chance outside his belly"
"One week" Milady stipulated "I`ve a buyer lined up for whatevers in there!"
"You evil bitch!" d`Artagnan snarled at her "Not even Satan himself will welcome you to his hall!, he`ll cast you out in disgust for your crimes!"
"I hope he does!" Milady said with a smirk "Because I`m done serving any master but myself!", nodding to the men she had d`Artagnan taken back and trussed up again, only to go through another beating this time from Aramis as he was pulled across the room, landing a good blow with his foot knocking out half of the mans teeth with a powerful kick!.

Like an enraged tiger, Aramis fought lashing out wildly, his elbows lodging in the ribs of the mans behind him trying to pin him down, and his teeth sinking into the flesh of his forearm, and then twisted round to punch him in the face!.

The man who`s teeth he`d knocked out was wisely staying out of the way clutching his bleeding destroyed mouth, had they been alone, Aramis might well have been able to make an escape, freed d`Artagnan , and got them out of there, but Milady and the Surgeon were the obsticles now, and Aramis heard the unmistakable click of a pistol cocking and froze as Milady trained the gun not on him, but on his swollen belly
"Stay still or I`ll kill your bastard brat!" she spat at him
"You fucking whore!" d`Artagnan screamed wrenching his arms painfully as he struggled against the ropes holding him.

Aramis felt sweat trickling down his back, and tremours running through his hands, hands which longed to protect his swollen belly, to save his child from this madwoman, a glance out of the corner of his eye gave him enough sight of her resolute face to know she would pull the trigger without a second thought, she wanted the baby to sell yes, but she`s just as soon kill it inside him and leave him to bleed to death in agony while d`Artagnan watched helplessly.

While it sickened him to do so, Aramis lay compliant under the surgeons hands, never taking his eyes off Milady and her gun as she kept it trained on him
"Well?" she sighed at the surgeon
"Need another month for sure, baby`s too small, won`t survive" he replied
"A month!, I can`t wait that long!" she cried "Surely it can be nursed?, a good wet nurse?"
"It`ll be too small to suckle, y`want it t`live, wait another month, or it`ll die within a week of birth"
"Milady cursed and nodded her head "So be it" she snapped "At least one of them will be dealt with before then!".

Aramis did not put up a fight going back into the ropes, not while Milady kept the gun trained on him, he might have felt elated, a month was a long time, long enough for rescue to arrive, long enough to work a plan of escape, however he was horribly reminded that they only had a week, one week, and then d`Artagnan would be butchered and the baby stolen.

Athos was sat clutching a bottle of wine in his hands, but not drinking from it, instead he was gazing at it, a broken and empty expression on his face as he and Porthos sat in Porthos and Aramis`s apartments.

The melancholic expression, and empty gaze had Porthos wishing he was drinking, at least then he`d know Athos was still alive, now if it wer`nt for the shuddering sighs that came every few minutes he would think the man dead!.

They had sent out Musketeers, Red Guards, Des Essarts guards, men, women, and children from the Court of Miracles curtsey of Flea.
The strong independant woman was still very fond of Porthos, and while not knowing Aramis well would not allow anything to happen to him for Porthos sake, nore d`Artagnan, especially not since they were having babies and she had a soft spot for children herself hoping to become a mother one day in more than just adopting the strays in the court.

So far nothing had turned up, though every inch of Paris was being searched with a fine tooth comb, and they were expanding outwards slowly so as not to miss a thing.

Treville had sent both men home to rest, since they were both exhausted and in no fit state to be joining the search, while they had protested, he had pointed out that they needed to be rested and at the top of their game fr dealing with Milady, which like this they were not.

Going to Porthos and Aramis`s apartments had been Porthos idea, but now he regretted it, since seeing his home, Aramis`s clothing, the nursery, the unfinished knitting and sewing laying about, the scent of his mate in the air was worse than a knife to the gut, every time he closed his eyes for a second he would see Aramis`s bright face and shining eyes, hear his laughter, or a sweet Spanish lullabye being sung, he could picture Aramis laying back on the bed, naked and caressing his growing belly while singing to the baby within as he or she kicked and wriggled to the tune.

He knew he would not survive it if he lost Aramis and the baby, his heart would be torn out, his body would linger for a time in a lifeless state before finally succumbing to death, what Milady ahd planned for d`Artagnan and Aramis he could not begin to guess, but his mind supplied him with pleanty of images that were enough to him sick in heart and body.

"This is my fault" Athos whispered thickly, the first words he`d spoken in hours "My failing, my fault"
"No, no it`s not" Porthos said blinking and shifting on his stool "This is her doing, not yours"
"And yet if I had killed her when I had the chance none of this would now be happening" Athos replied bitterly "I failed again, and now d`Artagnan and Aramis........."
"Will be fine!" Porthos said getting to his feet certainty in his voice "They`ll be fine because we won`t allow it to be otherwise"
"They could already be dead!" Athos whispered making Porthos gut clench painfully "She could have killed them already!, and all we`ll find is their bodies torn apart and the babies......!"
"ENOUGH!" Porthos bellowed his foot kicking the stool across the room and startling Athos out of his melancholic trance "You don`t speak like that, you don`t think like that, d`you hear me Athos?" Porthos snarled at him grabbing the man by the collar and hauling him up onto his feet "They will be fine and we will find them, and destroy Milady for good, now stop feeling sorry for yourself!, focus on d`Artagnan and your baby!, not on anything else, d`you understand?" Porthos gave Athos a slight shake to get his words through "They are alive and we will find them, no other option is acceptable"
"We`ll find them" Athos repeated nodding his head "We will, and I`ll make her pay for this, once and for all".

Oh yes, it`s sounds so cute and adorable!!!

I`m a sucker for these types of fics, I love arranged marriages where both parties are wary and unsure of each other, or even hate each other to begin with and then fall in love, Yeah I know I`m a sap!!!.

This is a big AU prompt and can include mpreg if the filler chooses it`s up to them but I do have a weakness for that too.

Gascony has been at War with Northern France for decades, neither side really achieving any victory, until finally a fragile peace is agreed.

To strengthen this peace treaty, a marriage is needed with candidates from either side.
Normally it would be royalty who filled this role, but Gascony has no royals and all of the Royal family of France is already wed or far too young for marriage.

So senior Nobility is chosen in place of a royal marriage.

For Northern France the widowed Comte de la Fere Olivier d`Athos is selected, a former soldier of the King who fought in the wars with his only friend and "Valet" Porthos, who only has the title on name sake alone since he is the one who pours Athos into bed after his nightly drinking, gets him his bucket in the morning, sees he eats at least one meal a day, and dos`nt hang himself!.

Athos failed marriage and murderous wife whom he had executed for killing his brother is well known about through the whole of France and Gascony, as is Athos reclusive and self destructive nature.

Gascony`s candidate is the sixteen year old son of the Comte d`Artagnan, Charles d`Batz, who brings with him his life long friend, pistol and fencing tutor Aramis.
Alexandre d`Batz Comte D`Artagnan is not happy about the marriage, not with Athos reputation, and the fact his son is so young, but he is powerless to stop it going ahead and has to give his only child in marriage to Athos.

After an uncertain start, love begins to blossom between d`Artagnan and Athos as they settle into being husbands, their friends Porthos and Aramis growing closer and following in suite as their unexpected friendship becomes much more.

However not everyone in either Gascony, or Northern France is happy about the match, and certainly not a certain Ex-Wife who`s not as dead as everyone thinks she is......

AN

As I said Mpreg is optional, and you can make this Omegaverse if you so wish, so long as I get my fill!!!!!, (Go`s away cackling dementedly!)

Seriously great work! This whole fic is now part of my head-cannon for Aramis.

+1 Sounds interesting!

Can I beg and offer up cookies?

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 26 of 138

Round 3

OP Re: Fill: Individualized punishments/imprisonment (non con, violence, slavery) 3/?

Re: Fill More than blood 9

Re: OP Re: Fill: Athos + Unconscious Aramis 2/2

[Fill] Modern AU - Aramis walks into a bank… AO3

Re: d'Aratgnan and Grey (Snowpiercer) character mashup

Re: Fill: Athos + Unconscious Aramis 2/2

Re: [Fill] Modern AU - Aramis walks into a bank… AO3

Re: Unexpected Developments Alpha/Omega verse Mpreg TW attempted Non con violence Historical sexism

Re: Calling all Angels AU OT4

Re: Musketeers adopt wolf pups!!!!

Its fine- you fight all you want to

Re: Its fine- you fight all you want to

FILL: Soldier Boy 3/3 (warning for oc death scene)

author note - soldier boy

Re: author note - soldier boy

Re: author note - soldier boy

OP Re: FILL: Soldier Boy 3/3 (warning for oc death scene)

Re: Its fine- you fight all you want to

Fill Making a family 22

Fill Making a family 23

Re: Musketeers adopt wolf pups!!!! OP

Arranged Marriage/Political Alliance AU Athos/d`Artagnan Porthos/Aramis

Re: FILL: Soldier Boy 3/3 (warning for oc death scene)

Re: Arranged Marriage/Political Alliance AU Athos/d`Artagnan Porthos/Aramis

Re: Arranged Marriage/Political Alliance AU Athos/d`Artagnan Porthos/Aramis