Round 3

Sep. 4th, 2014 10:29 pm
[personal profile] bbcmusketeerskink
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.

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:
abuse (physical and mental)
issues such as racism, sexism, homo-/trans-/-bi-/ace-phobia etc
character death
eating disorders
extreme physical or mental illness
substance abuse (alcohol, drugs, medication)
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.


Discussion post:

Official fill post (I strongly suggest you use it for better visibility of your fills):

Mod contact post

Free For All Round 1
From: (Anonymous)
I would like to see Aramis being the only one to know that D'Artagnan is a woman, and her loosing her virginity to him. If its in the heat of the moment, one of them almost dying or a calm night it doesn't really matter.
From: (Anonymous)
Ahh I spelt loss wrong in that prompt sorry.
From: (Anonymous)

It was not, as happens, a matter of great moment, or a moment of great matter when it happened. One night they were alone in Aramis' rooms, when the roar of the city and the horseplay of those who kept quarters at the garrison had offended both their ears - a different kind of noise from a country night for d’Artagnan, and Aramis had a refined and delicate soul, anyone could tell you that.

D’Artagnan looked up from the little table she'd commandeered, laid out with feathers and several reels of coloured thread, and paused with a half-wound fishing lure in her hands. From his chair near the fire, Aramis was watching her, still and calm.

She waggled her eyebrows in inquiry.

Aramis said delicately, “That matter we discussed earlier.” What was in his eyes was not delicate at all, though whether it was the lure or the hook d’Artagnan really could not say. "If it is still a thing that might please…”

"Does it please?” d'Artagnan rubbed her chin thoughtfully, where the bristles would never grow. "Hmm…”

"Or I still have a good book to pass the evening,” Aramis added cheerfully, displaying the item in question. "The plot is most engrossing.”

As she stood up D’Artagnan said something, in Occitan, so her companion was forced to guess the meaning. He didn't try.

Aramis put down his book and leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs. In one swift movement d’Artagnan straddled his thighs. When he settled his hands at her waist she jumped slightly. He moved his hands away and cocked one eyebrow. "Alright?” She caught his hands and set them back at the dip of her waist, ducking her head forward to kiss his nose. He grinned.


In a calm and blessedly rain free morning, Aramis leaned against the headboard of his bed, comfortable and easy in the pool of early morning sunshine. D’Artagnan, a warm weight settled between his legs, reclined her long body against his chest, the ends of her black hair brushing against his collarbone when she tipped back her head. He nuzzled the join where long neck met lithe shoulder and she breathed in sharply. "Tickles!” Then, "I didn't say stop.”

He eyed the angle of the sunlight and whispered, low and sweet in her ear, “Muster in thirty.” D’Artagnan swore. He stroked his hand down her flank, light and reassuring.

"You touch your horse like that," she remarked, resting her brown hand on his forearm and rubbing it with her thumb.

"Fidget is also a very dear Iady.”

She digested that briefly and then bounced upright. He rested on one elbow as she whirled about the room, hauling out his washbowl for a hurried wipedown with a cloth and fishing out her gear: her linen and breeches and jacket and sword belt.

"Alright?” she asked, one eyebrow lifted, as she hopped into one of her boots.

He let his smile grow. "This isn't a love story,” he warned again.

"Absolutely not,” she agreed. Then her solemnity toppled and she flashed a wide grin. "Muster in twenty,” she said, and clattered out the door.

Aramis knew a shortcut to the garrison. He gave himself another five minutes of lying warm and boneless in the sunlight.


So... yeah, the before and after rather than the main event. If someone wants to do their own version, I'll be here with popcorn.



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