#guy of gisborne fanfic

[fizzyxcustard]

Anything Is Possible (3)

Masterlist of fan fiction

Part 1 | Part 2

Fandom: Robin Hood (BBC TV series)

Pairing: Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, brief smut, violence, mild sexual assault references.

Summary: From the imagine, “Imagine you and Guy are in love but you are to be married to someone else. It feels like everything is keeping you apart."

Comments: If you would like to be added to or removed from my tag list, please let me know. Lord Edmund is based off Arnold Vosloo (from The Mummy)

Guy made sure that evening that he was on hand near the main hall of the castle. This meant that he could keep an eye on you and be close by if things got out of hand between you and Lord Edmund, your husband-to-be. He was dressed in one of the guard's tunics and wore a helmet, disguising himself, and stood on the balcony which overlooked the hall. A guard was there at all times, so Guy had paid the normal guard, Abe, to disappear for the evening and treat himself to an ale and some pleasurable company down at the local tavern.

Finally the wooden doors opened and footsteps tapped on the stone floor, echoing around the huge room. Guy took a huge inhale and waited. His heart was racing, his jaw was clenched and his head was pounding in pain. The fear had completely overtaken him now.

You walked behind Edmund, remaining a few steps behind. The man was tall, broad and imposing. He was more muscular than Guy, considering that Guy was fairly well-toned.

You sat down next to Edmund, who was at the head of the table. He had pulled out your chair, beckoning for you to sit beside him. Foods of all varieties were lined up on the table; fruits, pastries, meat. Surely there would be plenty left over.

"The Sheriff was kind enough to let me occupy the hall tonight. Very nice of him, don't you think?" Edmund asked, his dark eyes feeling as if they were burrowing right down into your soul.

"Umm, yes," you said.

For a few seconds your eyes wandered around the room and fell upon the guard who was facing you high up on the balcony. The figure and posture of the guard looked familiar. Or were you imagining it? You saw that Edmund had still not looked up toward the balcony, but was more interested in your chest.

Suddenly you felt a hand on your thigh and jumped on impulse, shifting away. Edmund's face contorted into an expression of anger. His lips pursed together. "You are mine!" he hissed.

Tears began to well in your eyes as you stared at him in terror. Then your gaze flipped to the guard, who you noticed had stepped forward. His hand was now resting on the pommel of his sword. A gold clasp caught your eye. The guard had black leather gauntlets on, with gold clasps.

"Look at me!" Edmund demanded. "Guard! Leave!"

"I'm afraid I'm not allowed to leave my post under any circumstances, my Lord." You were certain now that you heard the voice that it was Guy. The voice was baritone and menacing, especially the way it said my Lord. The words dripped with venom. "I only answer to the Sheriff."

"Fine. Then we take this to my chamber," Edmund growled, and then smirked at you. "You had better be worth what I've paid for you."

Edmund shoved his chair back, the wooden legs screeching on the stone floor. He held out his hand for you to take. You took it reluctantly and got to your feet.

The two of you walked up the steps and onto the balcony. Edmund had your arm in his, making sure that you could not run.

You were on the side of the balcony nearest the wall which overlooked the hall, so as you drifted past Guy, you quickly grabbed his leather-clad hand and squeezed. Then as quickly as you had grabbed his hand, you let it go. Thankfully, Edmund never noticed.

Save me, Guy. Please, save me!

It felt like forever as you walked with Edmund up to his bed chamber. To think that you had been cleaning these rooms, readying the setting for Edmund to defile you. You knew that was what he was intending; you could see it in his eyes.

Edmund let you go in first, as if he was trying such feeble attempts to act like a gentleman. The whole room seemed to be closing in on you. Breath would not come to you and your whole body felt as if it were about give out. Your muscles felt weak and everything shook.

Your eyes darted around the room, falling upon two large metal goblets on the table. "Do you wish for a drink?" you asked, your voice only just keeping hold of some composure. You stepped towards the table, but felt an arm curl around your waist.

"The drink can wait. I wish to feast on other delights," Edmund chuckled.

You grabbed one of the metal goblets and quickly spun on your heel, hitting Edmund in the left temple. With a dull thump and a shout of pain, he fell to the floor.

As you dashed out of the room, you heard profanity pouring out of it from behind you.

You ran, lifting your dress up.

A hand suddenly grabbed yours from an adjoining corridor and pulled you down it.

"Guy!" you exclaimed in relief. You threw yourself into his arms, still shaking.

"We need to move," he insisted. The two of you ran, hand in hand, heading for the stair well which lead out through the back of the castle.

You raced through the kitchen, dodging serving women and cooks. Until you made it to the back door. Guy shoved the wooden door open, pulling you out into the chilled air.

By the time you had made it to the stables, you were completely spent of energy and breath.

"We can't stop now," Guy said.

You had fallen down onto a bale of hay. Your cheeks and forehead were bright red and full of sweat. Guy stopped beside you and then leaned down, kissing you.

Guy pressed his forehead to you and sighed. "You're everything to me," he sighed. "I won't let any harm come to you, I swear."

"I know you won't," you whispered. However, that fear still racked through you. You trusted Guy with every fibre of your being, but could he really keep you completely out of harm's way?

"Another girl, eh, Gisborne?" a sly voice came. "You know, I really am starting to get quite sick of the lengths you'll go to for women. They're really not worth it."

Guy turned on his heel only to see the Sheriff standing at the door of the stable, with Edmund beside him. Edmund had blood dripping down the side of his face and his dark eyes were glaring at you and Guy.

"Lord Edmund has already said he is quite happy to forgive you for this little mishap," the Sheriff said, grinning. "However, my dear, I don't think he'll be so forgiving if you try and do this again."

The Sheriff walked slowly towards both of you.

Guy held your hand tight.

"As for you, Gisborne, I think a change of job location may be in order. Just to be sure that nothing like this will happen again, and Edmund here won't have to worry about you two sneaking off together to roll in the hay."

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @xxbyimm @linasofia @middleearthpixie @knittastically @meganlpie @guardianofrivendell @asgardianhobbit98 @eunoiaastralwings @luna-xial @msjava1972 @rachel1959 @evenstaredits @lemond57 @quiall321 @missihart23 @mrsdurin @catthefearless @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @glassgulls @sazzlep @aliasauthor @solairewisteria

Guy of Gisborne tag list: @puggledy-huggledy-is-not-a-pig @whoooooisthis

#Guy of Gisborne #Richard Armitage #Robin Hood #Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader #Fanfic

[middleearthpixie]

Asks Master List

A Walk in the Woods - Thorin x reader (Post-BOTFA Where Everybody Lives)

Absolute Beginners ~ Thorin x reader (Post-BOTFA Where Everybody Lives)

In This Moment ~ Thorin x reader (Desolation of Smaug Slight AU)

Blind Date ~ Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover AU

Stroll ~ Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover AU Part 2

Dessert ~ Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover AU Part 3

Lockdown ~ Guy of Gisborne/ John Porter Crossover AU Part 4

Cake ~ Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover AU Part 5

Hot Apple Cider ~ Thorin Oakenshield x Reader (Post-BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives)

Fireworks ~ John Porter x Reader

The Fountain ~ Lindir x fem!reader

Moonlight ~ Lindir x elf!reader

The Escape ~ Thorin x ofc Carys Greenleaf

The Escape, Part Two ~ Thorin x ofc Carys Greenleaf

The Harp ~ Thorin x fem!reader

Fair Enough ~ Éomer x fem!reader

#Richard Armitage #John Porter #Guy of Gisborne #Thorin Oakenshield #The Hobbit #Strike Back #Robin Hood #The Hobbit fanfic #Strike Back fanfic #Asks #Robin Hood fanfic #Crossover Fics #Thorin x Reader #Thorin x you #Guy of Gisborne x you #Guy of Gisborne x reader #John Porter x Reader #John Porter x you

[haventdecidedyet]

Robin Hood AU: Guy kills the Sheriff at the end of s2

(Guy x Marian)

I feel weird entering the realm of fanfiction and probably a maximum of 2 people will read this but ok. I'll write more if I can be bothered. Remnants of the dead Robin Hood fandom please rise up

2.3k words

(here's PT 2) (and PT 3)

‘Your last chance to be a good man.’

Guy closed the door quietly behind him. The room was silent, and the Sheriff sat at the table at the opposite end, his back to Guy. Still and poised.

‘How is our leper friend?’ the Sheriff asked slowly. His tone was mocking, but that did not alert Guy to the Sheriff’s knowledge. He didn’t know that the Sheriff had carefully listened to his and Marian’s conversation through the door. The Sheriff was taking no risks; he couldn’t trust Marian and he certainly couldn’t trust the power Marian had over Gisborne.

What Guy also didn’t know was that the Sheriff sat with his sword positioned on his lap, perfectly upright, held tightly in his hands, in a pose which was somehow reminiscent of prayer. It was entirely out of Guy’s view as he stood a few feet away.

‘Whining, as usual,’ Guy said with a sneer, after taking a moment to compose this pretended response. He was glad that the Sheriff faced the opposite way. The tension in Guy’s body and the anxiety in his face went unnoticed. As he silently pulled his sword from his belt and held it out in front of him, Guy believed the Sheriff had no idea.

He turned his hand back and forth slowly, feeling his sword as if he had not swung it many times before. This strike could not go wrong. It would not come naturally either. The rhythm, the instinctive swing and precision seemed to have drained directly from his arm, leaving him an amateur. His stance too was uneasy. He repositioned his feet as quietly as he could.

The Sheriff said no more and he didn’t turn his head. But close to his chest, his fingers adjusted their grip on the hilt of his sword. It was almost amusing, waiting to see if Guy had the courage to strike. The Sheriff sat in genuine anticipation. He listened carefully for every movement behind him.

When Guy suddenly lunged, the Sheriff spun and his sword came up to meet Guy’s with a loud clash. The two of them locked eyes.

‘So she managed to sweet-talk you, did she?’ the Sheriff mused. ‘You really will do anything that woman asks you to.’ Guy’s face was stern. Surprised, but not afraid. The two blades pressed against each other, testing for the next move. Guy opened his mouth as if to reply, but stopped himself. His glare was harsh. The Sheriff could tell that his tease had not got under Guy’s skin in the way it might have once.

The Sheriff felt the beginnings of fear. If he couldn’t talk Gisborne out of the betrayal, if shame and condescension weren’t enough, he was not his match as a swordsman. There were no guards. It would be a desperate struggle for life.

Guy saw the rare look of panic illuminating the Sheriff’s face. He almost pitied it, but then it gave him satisfaction. He mentally watched his next move playing out: a quick flick of the sword and then the Sheriff’s death smoothly delivered. The silent room waited for him to do it. Guy thought of Marian too, behind the door, depending on him, testing him. He thought of leading her out and showing her the dead Sheriff and his hand trembled.

A swift movement, and it was done. Guy whipped his sword free and drove it into the base of the Sheriff’s neck. The wan flesh parted and gave way to bubbling blood. Guy found himself wondering how the Sheriff had managed to survive so long unwounded. Cowardice, he thought. A squeaky huff of air exited the Sheriff’s body and he sunk against the back of his chair, his eyes no longer on Guy’s face. Guy wondered if he’d speak and deliver some accusatory dying words.

Guy stepped forward, roughly lifting the Sheriff’s head, reckless now that the blow was delivered. Blood was gathering at the corners of the man’s mouth and his eyes were wide with the choking pain. His hand swatted Guy’s arm, then closed around it. Guy felt a growing horror at the sudden invalidity of his boss. He seemed such a pathetic, small figure; he was dying so quickly. He fixed Guy with distracted, drained eyes, and wouldn’t even blame him with a single word. Guy drew his sword out of the body sharply. It convulsed and then finally collapsed into total stillness.

Guy’s breathing was quick and uneven. He instinctively feared the presence of someone else, someone to bring him to justice for this murder – a murder that he had been capable of committing for so long, if loyalty hadn’t got in the way. But he calmed himself as he reasoned that there was no one here to avenge the Sheriff. In fact, it had been Guy’s role to protect the Sheriff here. And that was no more.

Suddenly Guy moved away, pacing across the stone floor to fling open the door to the back room where Marian was imprisoned. His heart raced, his eyes were quick and eager as he beheld Marian in her white dress, her back to him. She spun around abruptly, guessing, hoping, having heard what she thought could have been a confrontation through the wall. The relieved, triumphant look on Guy’s face confirmed her guesses. Marian felt herself rooted to the spot, unsure what to think or feel, holding down her own surging sense of victory. With the victory came something else, something she’d forced herself so many times not to feel: gratitude, compassion… love.

Guy approached her, with something wary in his manner. He realised he was still holding the sword which was branded with the Sheriff’s blood. He let it clatter to the floor behind him so it wouldn’t come between them. He reached out to cautiously take Marian’s hand from her side and cradle it in his own.

Marian breathed deeply. Her thoughts flew to the emerald ring, and Robin. Dead. It still made her feel sick and empty. The Sheriff had caused Robin’s death. Guy had condoned Robin’s death. He was gone and had given her no goodbye. She wanted to marry Robin, she had thought, she loved him, she had thought – they had been sweathearts for years and she was used to the idea of him as her husband. But she was confused and ashamed, because her grief for Robin seemed to lack the vital, desperate element of a lover’s grief. She had accepted his emerald ring and honestly envisioned their marriage. But since then, she had been pulled back to the castle and caught up in the turbulence of Guy’s affection, and hatred, and betrayal, and mercy, and the surprising despair she felt when she thought Guy no longer cared for her. And her own care, her desire for him to be what she saw he could be.

‘Marian,’ Guy said quietly. He was sure they were both thinking of the dead Sheriff but he didn’t want to mention it. He almost wished that this hadn’t had to come down to a bargain. A dead Sheriff for Marian’s hand in marriage. He almost scorned the soft hand in his and the service it had demanded. But, looking into Marian’s perfectly blue eyes, he repressed his pride and lowered himself onto one knee.

‘Marian, will you marry me?’

They looked at each other silently. Marian realised that she had no sure proof that the Sheriff was killed, except the bloodied sword, but the earnestness in Guy’s face was enough. She trusted him. Her throat constricted because she was so glad to trust him, and have him trust her, and though she knew he had proposed to her twice before this time it felt most honest. Her previous responses ran through her mind: things along the lines of I need time to think, it’s not that simple. What could hold her back now? The memory of all the bad Guy had done. The memory of Robin’s emerald engagement ring and his death. But neither seemed to be able to compete with the overwhelming feeling that she loved Guy, and it was something completely different to loving Robin.

‘I will, Guy of Gisborne,’ Marian whispered. She couldn’t help smiling, and Guy couldn’t help his stomach leaping at the sight of her pretty eyes crinkling, her lips tightening and the little dimples in her cheeks showing. She was smiling and she was smiling at him, but Guy remained rigid because he didn’t want to let himself believe her.

Marian saw his brows lowering by a fraction and the unmoved scowl of his mouth. He wasn’t allowing himself to be pleased, and that softened her heart further. She disengaged her hand from Guy’s so she could rest both palms over the leather on his shoulders. Then she bent down, tilting her head to meet his upturned face, and kissed him softly on the lips.

He kissed her back, slowly, and Marian moved her hands so they held the sides of his face, where she felt the black stubble that had been grown longer since they’d left for the Holy Land, and the soft hair that fell over his neck. When she pulled her mouth away she saw for a second the serenity on Guy’s face: his dark eyelashes lowered and the creases around his brown ironed out. He opened his eyes and the look of pure adoration made her skin burn.

Guy felt he could hardly compose himself, having been kissed so tenderly by Marian – could it really be her, the one who had spited him so? But he remembered when she had kissed him before in the castle, so hungrily, and he realised that since then he had always treasured some conviction that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

‘Marian – we have to –,’ Guy rose hurriedly, firmly enclosing both of Marian’s hands in his again, and spoke in a rush, ‘We must leave – the Sheriff is dead – he has some allies – and we must return to England – we must – we can be married there.’

Marian nodded solemnly.

‘You know, Guy,’ she said, ‘that with Robin dead–,’ she had to pause after voicing it, ‘– we have to make amends. You killed the Sheriff for a reason. We need to protect England… And there’s Prince John. Guy, I need to trust that you will work with me to do right.’

‘I will do anything for you, Marian,’ Guy replied, struggling to keep his voice steady.

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.

Together they left the room to confront the Sheriff’s body. Blood had begun to settle on the tiled floor and his hands were turning an alarming bluish colour.

‘I think we must leave him as he is,’ Guy said carefully. ‘It’s likely no one will question where he is for a while. And no one should question us leaving. That’s the good thing about being here in such secrecy.’

But, to Guy’s surprise, Marian had drawn close to the body and was touching the Sheriff’s arms. She held them up, and then bore the weight of the body, dragging it from the chair and lying the Sheriff out on his back. Guy was too repulsed to stop her. He watched her crouch down, her feet almost encroaching into the pool of blood, and gently cross the Sheriff’s arms over his chest. There was a look of sorrow on her face.

‘You pity him?’ Guy managed to croak out. He slowly came closer, and was relieved to see that the eyes were shut; he wouldn’t have been able to look upon the Sheriff’s face if he had felt he was being looked at in return.

‘Yes.’ Marian turned her face up to Guy’s. ‘Like him: no; respect him: no; but I can’t help but pity him.’ She paused. She was feeling the tendrils of guilt rising within her. She had commissioned the death of a man.

‘You did right,’ Guy said. He noticed blood being absorbed by the hem of Marian’s dress. White stained red. He wondered if his assertion of what was right had any meaning at all, considering how he had wandered the line between right and wrong.

‘You did right too. And I’m sure you feel pity too.’ Marian was studying Guy’s face carefully.

He was mortified by it but, as Marian’s gentle words registered, Guy felt tears gathering in his eyes.

‘I do,’ he murmured. It felt raw and humiliating to admit his weakness: the love he felt for the Sheriff, along with his resentment, and the regret and anger and guilt and frustration which tormented him. He turned away. He noticed the Sheriff’s sword on the floor and picked it up, then went to retrieve his sword too, while Marian held a moment of reflection over the body. When she stood, Guy offered her the Sheriff’s sword. Thinking of her skills with a sword both distressed him – with memories of spars with the Nightwatchman and the dagger he had plunged into her stomach – and made him pleasantly proud.

Marian took it, feeling somewhat privileged. As Guy sheathed his sword he noticed that she had nowhere to put hers, and felt guilty that she had been stripped of possessions and dignity while she had been held prisoner. He led her to the Sheriff’s room and let her in.

‘Equip yourself,’ he told her, ‘and I will arrange a carriage.’ He felt a strange, sharp pain on leaving her, now that he had really secured her to be his, but they parted to prepare for their escape.

#bbc robin hood #fanfic #guy x marian #guy of gisborne #marian of knighton #robin hood bbc #richard armitage #sir guy of gisborne #my writing

[beautyinsteadofashes]

#another side #mine #lu #lucia #guy #allan #robin hood #robin hood bbc #allan a dale #allan a'dale #guy of gisborne #richard armitage #galadriel #rings of power #fanfic #robin hood fanfic #bbc robin hood

[racefortheironthrone]

Any recommendations on where to start for someome who wants to know about Robin Hood?

Sure thing!

The thing about Robin Hood is that, because what we have are later written recordings and remixes of an older oral tradition, the sources are somewhat spread out between multiple texts. So what you want is a good collection of different sources, and preferably one that's a modern translation with regularized spelling (unless you like struggling with Middle English).

Waltz' The Gest of Robyn Hode: A Critical and Textual Commentary is a good place to start, because it not only has a modern translation of the Geste (the earliest written text of Robin Hood), but also a wealth of context and analysis.

Knight and Ohlgren's Robin Hood and Other Outlaw Tales also has a good selection of the Robin Hood ballads that introduced important characters like Guy of Gisborne, Maid Marian, Friar Tuck, and so forth to the narrative, as well as some of the 16th and 17th century Robin Hood plays that were responsible for the whole shift from the yeoman Robin Hood to the noble Robin (or Robert).

I can also recommend Ritson's Robin Hood: A Collection of All the Ancient Poems, Songs, and Ballads, Now Extant Relative to That Celebrated English Outlaw, which was the first scholarly attempt to collect and collate and make sense of the disparate historical texts and attempt to fit them into a coherent narrative.

Finally, you should probably read Walter Scott's Ivanhoe, which is the work of meta-fanfic that made Victorian medievalism the massive fandom that it was.

#robin hood #book recommendations

[buildarocketboys]

🍓 🛼 !!!

Thank youuuuu!!

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

I think I was actually kind of late getting into fanfiction/fandom age-wise (especially considering how into Doctor Who I was as a tween/young teenager, but the most fandom contact I had there was watching fanvids lol) - I didn't post my first fic until 2011 when I was 16, which was a Robin Hood BBC songfic 🙈 I'm not sure how I found out fanfiction was like, a thing - I was on a Robin Hood forum for a bit lol so it might have been through there, or I might have discovered the forum through posting my fic, I'm not sure. I've always liked writing (and been extremely autistic about loving media) so realising fanfic was like. A thing I could do? And post? And get nice comments on? (I don't think I ever got any mean ones despite my output at 16 being. Not great lol) Amazing.

Anyway here's my terrible Guy of Gisborne songfic post-Marian's death based on the song Four Winds (specifically The Killers' cover lmao) that I wrote when I was 16. I've posted it a couple of times before but it's always kind of fun to share lol: Four Winds

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

I did the tangled one already but here's the one that the tangled au is probably replacing:

🧒⏳🤫🚫👕

#aarlert #asks #ask meme

[foreignemotion]

you know the fixation is bad when a) you’ve made a character playlist and b) you’ve written over 3000 words of a fanfic that was just meant to be one scene of reader washing his hair but GODDAMMIT i’m too far in now so it’s (mild) enemies to lovers guy of gisborne you’re a menace but i love you

#rambles #bbc robin hood #guy of gisborne #richard armitage #this fic may never see the light of day but it’s being written i promise

[pursuitseternal]

Get To Know Me!

Thank you @myfavouritelunatic and @iamstartraveller776 ! This will be a fun thing to do to procrastinate work 😅

Part one:

Are you names after someone: my godmother I think… though mine is an inversion of her first and middle names.

The last time you cried: ummmm this morning 😅

Do you have kids: One sweet boy, the prince of my domain. Hopefully more someday.

Do you use sarcasm: *nooooooo never* (that was sarcasm!) honestly it’s my second language.

The first thing you notice about a person: their vibe. Some people give of good energy, some not so much.

What’s your eye color: rich, warm brown

Scary movies or happy endings: Happy endings every time.

Any special talents: Violin for 30+ years. Voice of an angel. Not perfect pitch, but I’ll get headaches when music is out of tune.

Where were you born: Boulder, CO

What are your hobbies: music, reading, writing, tea drinking, napping (that’s a hobby over thirty right) day dreaming… hiking.

Have any pets: we have four fish that we try to not to kill. Sometimes it’s successful. Other times not as much

What sports do you play/ have played: Sailing. That’s it really. But not for a long time.

How tall are you: 5 foot 5.5 inches.

Favorite subject in school: Orchestra and English.

Dream job: fanfic writing stay at home mom, honestly.

Part two:

First ship: Guy of Gisborne, Robin Hood bbc, Any Richard Armitage fans?

Three ships:Sauron/Galadriel, Darklina, last one is hard because I never got into the fandom formally, but Sherlock and Molly.

Last/ current song:

Last Movie: Ummm classic me in full obsessive mode… The Fellowship of the Ring, but just Galadriel’s intro like five times over.

Currently Reading: C. S. Lewis, Reflection on the Psalms.

Currently watching: Ted Lasso, season 1.

Currently consuming: my 90th ounce of water today. But it’s lemon ginger flavored..?

Currently craving: Chinese food. Or tacos. Whichever I get to first.

Tagging also with no pressure 😘

@jurassiclexie @buffyfan145 @coraleethroughthelookingglass @demonscantgothere @galstelperion @haladrielweek @jhalya

#about me #work procrastination #back to updating #back also to grading exams #Spotify

[meandrichard]

Things I thought of

This is just a list of stuff I thought about while writing the main post and then cut out because they weren’t directly relevant.   Fights that preceded my appearance and continued for quite a while after about raunchy Guy of Gisborne fanfic, in the wake of Armitage’s request — in turn provoked after a group of fans complained to him about the fans who wrote the problematic fiction — to keep…

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#desire #fandom #fans #fantasy #Richard Armitage

[fizzyxcustard]

Anything Is Possible (4)

Masterlist of fan fiction

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Fandom: Robin Hood (BBC TV series)

Pairing: Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, brief smut, violence, mild sexual assault references, graphic depictions of being burned alive.

Summary: From the imagine, “Imagine you and Guy are in love but you are to be married to someone else. It feels like everything is keeping you apart."

Comments: If you would like to be added to or removed from my tag list, please let me know. Lord Edmund is based off Arnold Vosloo (from The Mummy)

Your mother glared at your father in sheer anger and contempt at his lack of empathy. "All of this is because of you," she shouted. "You could have stood up to Edmund, you coward."

"How dare you! Edmund has kept us in comfort since offering to take her as his wife."

"You and money!" your mother spat.

"If we lose out on this then Edmund could do something much worse."

"Or we lose our daughter completely. I never liked Gisborne much before today, but he was more willing to fight for her happiness than you. He's the only one who has been ready to fight for her."

"Gisborne is a dog!" your father growled.

"And Edmund isn't? Gisborne has a heart. If it was up to me, I'd gladly let him take her hand. He's willing to fight for her, as is right."

*

Your mother and you remained side by side, your head on her shoulder, as you wept . The rain was falling heavy outside your window, mirroring you heart. "I would gladly take this burden off your shoulders, my sweet," your mother said softly. "I'm sorry I never spoke up sooner."

"Maybe if I pray hard enough then my words will make it through the rain and clouds, and up into heaven," you said softly.

*

Two days later and you sat by your window, imagining the times that Guy had visited. All you could see was his silver blue eyes, long nose, charming smirk and wavy, raven hair.

Wedding preparation was now underway. Seamstresses had taken your measurements and were beginning to make your gown. In fact, the head seamstress, Mary, was your mother's best friend of many years since childhood.

Each day seemed to disappear from your grasp, quicker than the blink of an eye, and all you could do was think of Guy. Would he come through and find some way to release you from this hell? You missed him so dearly that you forgot to eat, and felt as if all intensity had dissolved from the world. Everything felt empty, void of colour, taste or smell. All your senses had become dull.

As a child you never believed in love, thinking it to be some insane concept that people yearned for but never actually found. But how entirely wrong you had always been. Guy had made you see that you really could become besotted and need another person.

The first time Guy and you had kissed was when he was escorting you home after duties the previous summer. Townsfolk may have only seen his greed and hostility, which was driven by the Sheriff, but you saw a whole different face. Somehow he was changed when in your company, becoming empathetic, understanding. And now that your relationship had blossomed exponentially, Gisborne demonstrated how loyal he truly was. You knew of the sadness he had endured since a child, never having known true love. Now that someone loved him in return and his fierce loyalty was unleashed.

*

Guy sat on the edge of his bed one morning. As always, he was thinking of you. Prayer had never been something he resorted to, until now. In the buzz and chatter of his own anguish-riddled mind, Guy of Gisborne requested to commune with God. There was no immediate answer, and all he could do was wait, giving the reins over to a higher power, rather than rely on his own strength.

There was a whoosh as something was pushed under his door. He slipped across the room, barefoot, and picked up the envelope marked with his name. In the envelope was a piece of parchment, and his eyes were drawn immediately to your name, which was written in black ink. And Edmund's name followed. It was a wedding invitation.

Growling like a tortured animal, Guy tore the parchment apart and threw it onto his fire. In those moments and he imagined it was Edmund's face being thrown into the flames. Guy saw it all in his mind's eye: Edmund's eyes melting, skin bubbling, and his mouth open wide, screaming, but no words came as his throat disintegrated.

A tap came to his door. All thoughts were tangled and emotion became caught up, pulled into one big mess. "Come!" he shouted, his fist still clenched.

A guard entered the room and removed his helmet.

"What is it?" Guy snapped.

"I can get you to her without being seen. My wife is the head seamstress working on her gown, and she's longstanding friends with her mother."

"How?" Guy urged, shifting up to the guard. "The Sheriff has spies all over the place, we all know that."

*

After dark that night you lay in bed, only to hear your door creak open. You looked up to see your mother's face illuminated by moonlight. "Put on your cloak and shoes...quickly!"

Your stomach jolted in both anxiety and excitement. Your gut was telling you that something wonderful was about to happen.

As soon as you'd pulled on your thick cloak and shoes, you followed your mother out of the small house, trying hard not to make too much noise and wake your father. You heard snoring coming from your parents' room, and continued out into the open street.

Both you and your mother dashed into the field behind your house, hand in hand. It was fairly cold out, but the excitement and the rush warmed you.

Finally you made it to Farmer Henry's barn, where a guard was stood just outside, keeping watch. Your mother ushered you into the barn.

Guy looked up and saw you appear. He called out your name and raced to you. Both of you grabbed each other tight and kissed hard. As you stood in Guy's embrace with his forehead pressed to yours, you couldn't help but break down into sobs.

"I love you so much," you wept.

Guy kissed your brow and held you tight to him, desperate to keep you there.

Your mother watched for a few moments, seeing the sheer desperation in yours and Guy's actions. Then she shifted out of the barn, giving you privacy. With a sigh, she felt regret and guilt wrack through her. How could she ever let Edmund take you from Guy? What kind of mother would she be to submit her own child to a world of emotional, mental and physical torture by a man who should protect them? What kind of mother would she be for denying her child the chance to be happy?

The guard looked at your mother. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I can't let that wedding happen," she said, beginning to choke on tears. "If it means being imprisoned, or worse, then I'll fight for my daughter and Gisborne to be together."

***

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#Guy of Gisborne #Richard Armitage #Robin Hood #Guy of Gisborne x Reader #Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader #Fanfic

[middleearthpixie]

Lockdown

A/N: A Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover, part 4 

The police code here is one I found for my home state and while the first fifty ten-codes are generally used in all 50 states, they can still vary. I may have also taken a bit of license with what the procedure would be in the instance of a school shooting. 

10-20 - advise to location 

Summary:You and John Porter have broken up, but when tragedy hits a little close to home, you’re both rethinking your priorities

Characters: John Porter, Guy Gisborne, Reader, numerous eight graders 

Warnings: Some tension, hints of gun violence in a school setting

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,889

***

You sighed as you tapped your pen against the blank notebook page on the table in front of you. You were between classes, listening to the din coming from the hallways that was sixth, seventh, and eighth graders all changing classes. 

A yawn worked its way to your lips. You hadn’t been sleeping well and hadn’t been for weeks, now. Not since the night you and John broke up. You tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about him. But that was, of course, easier said than done. You’d met on a blind date set up by mutual friends who were a couple and so thought everyone should be paired off. Unlike most blind dates, this one ended on the highest of notes and in a blaze of sinful passion that was the start of one of the most wonderful relationships you’d ever had. 

Maybe you should have seen the end coming, but you didn’t. After all, he seemed so absolutely supportive of your decision to go back to school and get your Master’s in American History so you could maybe teach at the high school level as well. But then as your workload piled up and your free time shrank until it almost disappeared, it took its toll on both of you. You began fighting over the stupidest things, until finally, in a moment of utter frustration, you told him, “Look, we want different things I guess. Maybe we should just take a step back for now.”

“Okay, tell you what. When you decide I’m as important as—” He held up the book you had to finish; All That She Carried, the Journey of Ashley’s Sack, a Black Family Keepsake—“this, give me a call.”

“John, you were the one who told me what a great idea you thought this was, that you’d understand if things got crazy. Well guess what? They got crazy.”

To which he said, “Sounds good. Call me when you’ve decided you’ve got time for me again.”

With that parting shot, he stormed out of your apartment. It was the last time you saw or talked to him and that was almost six weeks ago. He’d left a couple of terse voicemails but you couldn’t bring yourself to call him back. You tried not to think about what he was doing. Angel told you over coffee a week ago that he’d started seeing someone else and both she and her fiancé, Guy hated this new woman. She and Guy were planning their wedding and trying, she’d confessed, to find a way to keep John’s new girlfriend from coming to it. That conversation left you dead inside. You were Angel’s maid of honor. You would have no choice but to see John with your replacement and the thought alone made you want to throw up. 

The bell rang and your students filed in, laughing, chatting, texting without looking up from their phones or bumping into anything—which amazed you as much as it horrified you—and as they took their seats, you stood. “Good morning! Phones away, we’ve got a lot to cover this morning, beginning with your paper topics. Have you all decided what you’re writing about?”

The voices rose as one loud buzz and you smiled. “Okay. Let me try that again. Who here does not have a topic yet?”

With that, the buzzing dulled and three hands went into the air. You smiled. “Okay. Lisa, Deja, and Tyler. Good. The rest of you, take a look the questions I’ve written on the board and start answering them. Lisa, why don’t you come up and we can talk about what you might want to do. Deja, next, and then Tyler.”

The others grumbled, and two of the girls took out their phones instead, to which you said, “Elena, Donna—up here with the phones and into the basket they go.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious, Donna. Let’s go.” You moved the wire basket that sat on the opposite corner of your desk to the other side of your desk. “You know the rules.”

They muttered under their breath, but each girl came up to drop her phone in the basket. “Anyone else think they might need to prevent themselves from becoming distracted?”

No one else moved and all phones went away. 

“Good. Now, get to work. Lisa, come on up and—”

The PA system crackled to life to interrupt you. “Good afternoon, students and staff. Brunswick High School is currently in a lockdown. Please lock all doors, shut off all lights, close all blinds, and move to the corner farthest from any doors and windows. Remain silent and mute or turn off all cell phones. This is not a drill. Again, Brunswick Hills High School is currently in a lockdown. Please lock all doors, close all blinds, and move to the corner farthest from any doors and windows. Remain silent and mute or turn off all cell phones. I repeat, this is not a drill.”  

You stood up. “You heard Principal Bailey. Phones off. Back corner, guys. And be quiet.” 

They stood almost as a unit and moved to the far corner of the room, where a low metal bookshelf stood just beneath the windows overlooking the courtyard. You skirted your desk to the door at the back of the room, pulled the shade, and then locked it, then flipped the lights off before moving to the door at the front of the room to lock it and pulled down that shade as well. Then, one by one, each window shade came down and the room sank into darkness.

It wasn’t a drill, but it also wasn't the first real lockdown you’d ever been through. Last year, there were two that wound up being nothing, so you weren’t really all that frightened. Your heart sped up a little, but you paid little attention to it as you moved over to where your students sat.

But then you heard it. 

Pop!

Pop!

Pop!

The noises were faint, but enough to make you jump and none of you needed to be told what you heard. And your heart sped up as you looked at the thirteen and fourteen year old faces in the corner. They knew it as well. 

“Keep quiet,” you whispered, putting a forefinger to your lips. “I’m sure the police are on the way, if they aren’t already here, and—”

“That sounds awful close,” Deja whispered.

More popping sounds. Louder this time. 

You looked around your room. You were on the second floor. The courtyard could only be accessed by way of the first floor, there was no exterior way into it. There were two cabinets that could hold two, maybe three of your kids each. That left fourteen students that would be sitting ducks. 

The commotion in the hallway grew louder. Boots sounded. Voices rose. The popping grew louder. Lisa let out a squeak, and Tyler clapped his hand over her mouth to quiet her. 

“It’s okay, guys,” you said, your voice far calmer than you actually felt. But you couldn't let them see you were scared as well. If you were outwardly calm, they would remain calm as well, and that was important. You knew the drill. You were ready. 

Of course, being ready didn't mean you weren’t scared as all fuck, because in truth? Your hands would be shaking like crazy if they weren’t balled against your thighs. You had to at least appear calm to keep them from panicking. You looked at those scared faces around you, some of whom had pulled their phones out and were texting like mad now, and you were supposed to confiscate the devices, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Stories of previous school shootings flashed through your mind. Columbine. Sandy Hook. Parkland. Some of those texts were the last words their parents would ever hear. 

A shadow passed the back door. Your heart stopped beating as the door handle rattled. And rattled again. 

A hand caught yours. You looked over. Tyler. He was such a sweet kid. He was new to the school and hadn’t quite figured out where he fit in just yet, but the others in class liked him and little by little, he was beginning to bloom.

You put a finger to your lips. He nodded. 

The shadow moved.

To the front door. 

You’d never heard a gunshot up close. It rang out and deafened you for a moment as glass sprayed inwards. A hand came through the hole that used to be a window. 

“Stay down.” You whispered this as you got up. Your heart hammered your ribs hard enough that black dots actually danced before your eyes. You’d never been so terrified in your life, and would have thought you’d freeze in this moment.

But you didn't freeze. You looked over your shoulder at the kids who were instead frozen in place, phones forgotten even as text bubbles popped up on screen after screen. 

“If something happens, do whatever you can to protect yourselves,” you whispered. “The police are coming.”

The hand caught the lock and turned it and you stood there, just waiting, barely breathing. Barely hearing anything over the rush of your own blood through your veins, through your temples. You heart raced. Your mouth was beyond dry. 

You waited.

John’s blood roared through his ears as he and Guy pulled up to John F. Kennedy Middle School. SWAT was already there. Paramedics and ambulances were also already there, just in case. He and Guy really didn't need to be, but as soon as he heard the alert go out, all he could think about was getting to the school. 

About getting to you.

“Shit,” he muttered at the sheer number of responders. Police. Ambulances. All with their flashers going but without any accompanying sirens. This was his first time responding to an active shooter in a school situation and that it was your school… 

He wanted to vomit. 

“Come on,” Guy tugged the keys from the ignition and thrust open his door, “let’s at least see if we can get a status update.”

“I should have called her last night. I wanted to,” John said as he climbed out of the car. “And I can’t explain why, because she’s made it clear to me she doesn’t want to talk to me. But I just had the urge to call her.”

“She knows about Stephanie.” Guy slammed the driver’s side door shut. “Angel told her.”

“Knows what? There’s nothing to know. It’s not like she’s my girlfriend.” At Guy’s long look, John shook his head. “She’s not. I’ve done nothing with her.”

“Really? Not even a kiss?”

John almost smiled at the disbelief in Guy’s voice. “Not even a kiss. It’s just not there for me. I’m not the least bit interested in kissing her or anyone else.” John moved around to the trunk and popped it, then bent over to fish out the kevlar vests with the reflective letters BHPD and Police on them. “Here.”

Guy took his and eased it over his head. “Then fucking call your teacher already, will you? You’re miserable. She’s miserable. And Angel’s pissed at both of you, which means I’m always running the risk of being miserable as well.”

John adjusted the Velcro on his vest. “Guy, I just told you—she doesn’t want to talk to me. I’ve called her about half a dozen times since we broke up and have gotten only radio silence.”

The radio on his hip crackled. “We have the suspect pinned down. Second floor classroom. Two hundreds. He’s got a teacher and about fifteen kids trapped in a classroom. Over.”

Another voice came over. “Ten-twenty. Over.” 

“Room two-twelve. Over.”

Guy lifted his radio. “Unit Fifty-Seven reporting. We just arrived on scene. Status? Over.”

“Unit Fifty-Seven, stand by at this time. Repeat, Unit Fifty-Seven, stand by. We have officers in place. Over.”

“Copy.” Guy lowered the radio. “You okay?”

“No, I’m not fine. I want to storm in there and take this guy out and that I can’t is killing me, man. I have to trust these guys—” he gestured to all of the uniforms around them—“and that’s the last thing I’m really able to do right now. And what about you? You okay? I mean, Angel teaches here, too, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah. But she took a personal day. Wedding stuff. So, right now, she is at any given mall in the state trying to find whatever it was she was trying to find and don’t ask me what because I have no idea.”

John couldn't ignore the way his gut bubbled. “Do you know if she’s doing this wedding stuff alone? Maybe she needed her maid of honor with her?”

Guy just gave him a look. “She’s here, John. Sorry, man. Angel is solo on this one.”

“Shit.” He peered over the top of their car at the officers swarming into the building. School shootings were something he simply was not used to, would never get used to, and he’d be lying if he said otherwise and it took every bit of will he had to remain where he was, because in reality, all he wanted was to get to you.

The gunshots rang out and both he and Guy spun towards the building’s north wing. Their radios went wild at that moment, with officers shouting over the pop!pop! of gunfire and then everything went horribly silent. 

“Officer requesting medical assistance to room two-twelve,” a voice crackled. “Gunman breached the classroom door and just began firing. Over.”

“Copy that. How many victims? Over.”

“Two, but injuries do not appear life threatening. Repeat, injuries do not appear life threatening.”

“And the suspect?”

“Killed at the scene.”

With that, the first responders flooded the building and John was right behind them. He had to see you, and to make sure you were okay. That was all that mattered. 

Everywhere, uniforms swarmed, escorting kids and adults out of classroom after classroom in a relatively orderly fashion. They were all oddly silent, at first, but once they were outside the building, and they caught sight of their parents or other family members, they bolted. Students hugged students Teachers hugged groups of students. Teachers hugged one another. By now, civilians cars—parents, no doubt—lined Maple Street and as kids ran out, parents swept in. Reunions were tearful, with other officers trying to keep parents from going into the building itself.

He took a step toward the building and Guy’s hand met the middle of his chest. “Porter, wait here.”

“No, I’m going in.”

“You’re not. You know the drill. We aren’t needed and we wait right here.” 

“But—”

“Right here, John.”

He glared at Guy. “Would you be waiting if it was Angel in there? Because you know you wouldn’t.”

“No,” Guy shook his head, “I wouldn’t. But you’d make damn sure I did and you know it. Now, I know it sucks, but we wait. Right here.”

John knocked Guy’s hand from his chest and stepped back. Guy was right and John knew it, but that did nothing to calm his nerves at all. He couldn't stand still. He paced. Along the sidewalk to the end and then back, where he said,“Any word?”

Guy could only shake his head. “Not yet. But, they haven’t called for any more medical assistance. Just for the two and those were non-life threatening injuries, so she’s probably fine.”

John didn't reply. The words stuck in his throat. All he could think about was the last conversation the two of you had. He was pissed off because you were supposed to go to dinner and you canceled because your reading for school was piling up and you had to get caught up. He’d acted like a spoiled git because you needed to catch up on things. And why did you need to do so?

Because he demanded you put him first. 

“Okay, tell you what. When you decide I’m as important as—” He held up the book you had to finish; All That She Carried, the Journey of Ashley’s Sack, a Black Family Keepsake—“this, give me a call.”

“John, you were the one who told me what a great idea you thought this was, that you’d understand if things got crazy. Well guess what? They got crazy.”

He sighed now. “I should’ve never walked out. I should have stayed there and insisted we work it out. Fuck.”

“What?”

He looked over at Guy. “We broke up because I was jealous. She was going back to school and all of the sudden didn't have any time for me—at least as I saw it. And I got mad. Told her to get her priorities straight, meaning put me first. She rightfully told me to fuck off and here we are and Christ, now here we are and I don’t know if she’s one of the injured and I’m just supposed to sit here and wait?”

“Yeah, John,” Guy replied softly, “that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do…”

Your hands shook and Tyler tightened his about one of yours as he said, “We made it. We’re okay. It’s over.”

You couldn’t speak. Your throat seized up as you looked first at the hand wrapped about yours, and then at the kids still in the classroom. Lisa. Deja. Donna. Tyler. Suriya. Elena. Nicole. Cameron. Dante. Gil. Samantha. Cody. Jaxon. Mackenzie. They were all there, alive and well and in one piece physically. They all looked shaken up, pale and so very young. But you managed to smile. “Text your parents,” you said softly. “Tell them you’re all okay.”

“Are you all all right?” An officer came into the room. “Is anyone injured?”

“No,” you told him, shaking your head, tightened your hands into fists again to hold the shaking at bay. “We are all fine.”

“Okay. McMichaels,” he looked over his left shoulder, “escort them out to the main parking lot.”

“Got it.” A second uniform came into the room and you tried not to pay much attention to how they just stepped around the prone figure on the floor. Tried not to pay much attention to the blood pool that slowly widened under him. 

The gunman still lay on the floor, half in the classroom, half in the hallway. A small hole in the first window was the only evidence that a sharpshooter from across the courtyard had impressive aim.

“Come with me, guys,” you told them softly, catching Tyler’s hand to help him to his feet. “Don’t look at him. Just look straight ahead, okay? Go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

They followed McMichaels, and you followed them and you tried to ignore the controlled chaos around you of paramedics and stretchers, of shattered glass, expended shell casings, and the lingering acrid scent you assumed was from the gunfire. 

“Right this way.” McMichaels led you down the main staircase and past the main office, out into a deceptively sunny, beautiful November afternoon.

As you stepped outside, you saw John and your heart stopped. You’d never been so happy, so relieved to see someone. He was pacing like a caged tiger, but then he stopped and spun about and as his steel-blue eyes met yours, he made a beeline for you.

“Thank Christ,” he growled as he swept you into his arms, crushing you close, one hand buried in your hair, his other arm so tight about you, you could barely breathe. “You’re all right, love? Tell me you’re all right.”

“I’m fine. My kids are fine and I’m fine,” you managed to grit before your throat tightened and your eyes overflowed. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms about his neck and clung to him, breathing in the sinful scent he always carried—sandalwood, eucalyptus, cinnamon.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered back, squeezing you until you thought he might actually squash you. He lifted you off your feet briefly. “I’m so fucking sorry…”

“I’m okay,” you told him, sniffling as he set you down and you stepped back. “You didn't need to come—”

“Yeah, I did. As soon as the call came over, we were on our way.” He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs moving slightly along your cheeks in the soft caress that you loved so much. You just gazed up at him, at that handsome, angular face, into those pale blue eyes. He had a way of making you feel so tiny and delicate. Maybe it was his size—he was nearly six-foot-three and all broad shoulders and wide chest. Maybe it was that he was former military and just exuded that confidence about him. You didn’t know and you didn't care. All you knew was you’d missed him. 

“Can we talk?” he murmured. “I mean, once you’re cleared to leave?”

“Do we have anything to talk about?”

“I hope so. I’ve missed you.”

“Really.” You tried not to lose yourself in his beautiful blue eyes. “What about Stephanie?”

“She was a mistake. And will probably be very glad to never hear from me again because she knew my mind was on you the entire time.”

“Bullshit.”

“Ask Guy. I’ve been miserable. I don’t like sleeping alone any more. But, trouble is, the only woman I want to sleep with is you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that. “John—”

“I was an asshole, love,” he broke in softly. “And I do hope you’ll give me another chance. I promise you, I will make it up to you.”

“John, I—” You sighed softly. “No, you weren’t an asshole. At least, not entirely. I was, too, and I’m sorry. I expected you to just sit and wait until I had time and that’s not fair to you, either.”

“So, why don’t we start over?” He leaned in to brush your lips with his. “Want to grab dinner or something tonight?”

You smiled. “I’d like that, yes.”

“Good.” He swept a light kiss against your lips once more, then as he straightened up, he said, “Come on, let’s get you away from here.”

“Please,” you said, shaking as your adrenaline finally slowed up and a sudden wave of utter exhaustion slammed over you, “I just really want to go home now. Go home and have a strong drink.”

“Are you okay? Do you need one of the medics?”

“I’m fine. Just shaken up. He never got into our room. He got the door opened and then a bullet came out of nowhere and—” The image flashed through your mind and you shuddered involuntarily, your gaze sweeping across the school lawns. You saw a few of your students still there, and your throat squeezed shut once more. “Thank God none of my kids was hurt.”

“From the looks of it, the injuries were all minor. You were all lucky.”

You nodded slowly. “I know, but still…”

“Come on.” He slid an arm about your shoulders and guided you away from the building, whose entrance was being cordoned off with crime scene tape. You had no idea how long it would be closed for, and you really didn't care at the moment. You just wanted to go home.

With John. 

***

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[haventdecidedyet]

Robin Hood AU: Guy kills the Sheriff PT 2

This has loosened me up to do more writing than I have in ages and for that reason I'm going with it

2.2k words. Guy of Gisborne and Guy x Marian orientated. Allan A Dale shows up. Lots of fun.

(this is PT 1) (and PT 3) (wow it was cool finding out how to do that)

Guy could move about the settlement unstopped by the Saracen guards. He was headed towards the house of the Sheriff’s accomplice, a Saracen man who had been preparing to pose as Salah al-Din’s messenger, with the intention of regaining the Sheriff’s carriage and horses which were stowed there. He strode through the sandy streets, a tall black figure contrasting with the square white buildings. Leather was certainly too hot to be wearing in the Holy Land.

Guy slowed his pace as he noticed an agitated group of Saracens blocking the road ahead. He could vaguely hear them talking in their own language and considered slipping into a side alley to pass them by, but his interest was drawn by the atmosphere of impending conflict. His steps quietened on the gravelly road surface so his approach was unnoticed.

Within a second the group of Saracens became hectically dispersed and Guy could see the thrashing of swords and arms as some violence broke out. It seemed a group of men had ambushed and were fighting their way through. There were a fair few of them, all causing men to fly outwards and collapse in states of injury.

Guy was preparing to duck into a side alley when he saw a fast-flying arrow knock down the nearmost Saracen. That was when his suspicion grew that he had been right when he thought the cries he heard were English-sounding. Many men were good with a bow and arrow but there was still one who especially sprung to mind. This only further encouraged Guy to slip into hiding.

Robin Hood and the outlaws, having beaten down that group of Saracens, were progressing along the street, walled in by white, their weapons readied. Robin led them; Much, Little John, Will, Djaq and Allan were rallied behind, and they were all determined to pass through this Saracen settlement and reach the King’s camp. Before the Sheriff did, they hoped.

Robin observed men ahead and sent John and Allan to check for alternate routes out through clearer alleys while the rest of the group assessed if they could pass on the central road. Allan slipped between two high walls, listening carefully for movement. He ran as quickly as he could, trying to note the labyrinthine winding of the alleys and find a break onto the open desert landscape.

With unexpected speed a man shot out from the shaded arch of a doorway. Allan felt himself thrown roughly back against a wall, his feet scuffing in the sand, and his head thrown back to observe the bright, close sky as a sword touched his neck. In the second afterwards, Allan became aware of the identity of his attacker.

‘Sir Guy,’ he said, his voice shaking slightly despite his efforts to adopt a light tone.

‘You’re a bit late,’ Guy snarled, his sword firmly retaining its position. He had been surprised to think Robin Hood might be here – Robin Hood, supposedly dead – but once he had accustomed himself to such a possibility Guy wasn’t so surprised that Allan A Dale would be with him. Where else would Allan have gone, when he ducked out of the quest to kill the King? But Guy had assumed that Allan was killed as soon as he reached Nottingham.

‘Look,’ Allan said, ‘I’m not on your side anymore, Guy. But please let me go. Robin will come after me, I can tell you.’

‘Robin Hood is here,’ Guy said flatly. ‘And alive. How?’

‘Well, not to take the credit, but I did help him out of his tight spot in Nottingham.’

‘By betraying me,’ replied Guy contemptuously.

‘I’m not being funny, but, you could hardly have not expected it.’ Allan swallowed uncertainly, feeling the sword’s pressure on his throat. ‘I mean, I betrayed Robin in the first place, so what was stopping me betraying you as well–’ As Guy’s face became angered, he stopped.

‘I don’t care that you betrayed me,’ Guy said evenly, after an exhalation, ‘I only care that you, and Robin Hood, leave me alone now.’

Allan shifted uncomfortably, his back straining against the wall. He wondered how long it would take for the others to turn up and find him.

‘Well, it’s alright you saying that, but Robin’s here to save the King, and so are we, and if you and that Sheriff are after him­–’

‘We’re not. The King is safe, and for once Robin Hood played no part in that.’ Guy smiled at his own mocking. ‘You can go along to Hood and tell him if you like, and he’ll disbelieve you, but tell him this: the Sheriff of Nottingham is dead.’

‘What?’ Guy lowered his sword and let Allan stand up straight now. ‘How’s the Sheriff dead?’ Allan demanded incredulously.

‘I killed him,’ Guy smiled, with a tilt of his head. Allan wasn’t sure he could believe that, but he didn’t want to challenge Guy, even with his own sword at his side.

‘And the King?’ Allan questioned.

‘I don’t want to kill him.’

Allan struggled to comprehend this reversal in plan, but kept his mouth shut. He weighed his options; taking his leave politely, making a dash for it, striking Guy with his sword. Then a thought suddenly came to mind:

‘Where’s Marian?’

A change came over Guy’s posture then; he stiffened, and his sword lifted slightly. Allan misinterpreted this and became fearful that Marian too had been unexpectedly done away with, and he almost cried out.

‘She is safe,’ Guy said, before Allan could become excessively panicked, though his tone showed irritation. ‘She’s with me.’ With me did not make it clear that Marian was his wife-to-be rather than his prisoner.

‘And,’ Allan suggested carefully, ‘you won’t part with her?’

‘She won’t part with me, I don’t think,’ Guy said indignantly. He didn’t want to have to share what had passed between him and Marian and he didn’t like remembering that Allan had been somewhat in league with her. More significantly, he had misgivings about Robin Hood seeking Marian. He would not like Marian to discover that Robin was in fact alive; Guy feared her enthusiasm for him may wane. He feared he was only second best.

‘Guy, listen,’ Allan said, falling into a friendly, confidential manner of speaking. ‘If everything you say about the Sheriff and the King is true, then still, Robin loves Marian – he’d die for her – he came here to save her too – and he won’t leave without her.’

It was as Guy feared. Would he have to kill Robin Hood too, to have Marian? He had tried before. He had tried many times. But this time it scared him, because he knew Marian would not want him to.

Guy discarded these thoughts and quickly pointed his sword at Allan’s chest again. Allan raised his eyebrows and jumped back, putting his palms up.

‘Stay away from Marian. Stay away from me.’ Guy spoke menacingly. Then he shrugged theatrically: ‘Or I might just have to kill the lot of you. So go to the King, stay until you’re sure he’s safe, if that pleases you. And I will have no further quarrel with Robin Hood.’

Decided, Guy shoved Allan back in the direction he’d come, and Allan complied, taking off at a run with his hand on his sword hilt. He was confused, fearful and desperate to join Robin and the others. What would Robin think about the Sheriff being dead? They would have to make sure. And what about Marian? It was clear they couldn’t leave her in Gisborne’s possessive clutches, and they would have to risk their lives to take her by force.

Guy was shaken but continued on his initial mission. He needed to leave for England as soon as possible – ahead of Robin Hood. When he came to the right Saracen house, he barged in without announcing himself and made his orders for the carriage to be returned. The Saracen man asked if they were going out to meet the King already.

‘The Sheriff has no more business with the King, or with you,’ Guy said sharply. ‘You are no longer needed. Bring the carriage round to our lodgings, employ a driver, and you will be paid generously.’

‘But, Salah al-Din’s messenger, the insignia – it is all unneeded?’

Guy reassured him that it was so, on the Sheriff’s orders. There was to be no assassination.

Guy went outside to watch the horses being brought out of their stables and prepared. He was almost amused by his power. All the things he had controlled as the Sheriff’s right-hand man, he could continue to control without anyone knowing the Sheriff was gone. He had some apprehensions about returning to England. He could become Sheriff of Nottingham. But the Black Knights would still stand and Marian would not allow it. How could she expect Guy to overthrow Prince John?

Meanwhile, Robin Hood was planning on meeting the King, putting him on his guard, then seeking out Gisborne and Marian.

‘But what would make Gisborne kill the Sheriff?’ Much said as he walked beside Robin. The desert was open around them, but in the distance the white and red canvas of the King’s camp was visible.

‘Power, I suppose,’ Allan interjected. ‘He’s desperate for it. Wants to be the new Sheriff of Nottingham, I reckon.’

‘But Gisborne could have killed the Sheriff any time,’ Much said.

‘Not so easily,’ Robin replied, ‘among the guards of Nottingham. What I can’t make out is why Gisborne wouldn’t choose to kill the King too.’

‘Maybe Gisborne’s joined our fight,’ Djaq offered brightly, only half serious. ‘He’s started protecting the King and England.’

‘After trying to kill the King once before,’ Robin said, ‘that would be a change of heart.’

That night Marian came across Guy tearing through the Sheriff’s room on his knees, emptying chests, strewing gowns and clashing metals. She stood in the doorway for a second unnoticed, silently admiring his body in his suit of leather. Then he lifted his head without turning it, froze, before leaping up and brandishing his sword. Marian was taken aback, and seeing the unfeeling, ferocious look in his eye she felt her stomach drop.

‘It’s only me, Guy.’

His dark hair swept over his eyes and he blinked at her through it.

‘You shouldn’t be out of your room unattended, Marian,’ he said to her, sounding like his teeth were gritted. Marian felt sickened, disorientated; it was like he was looking at her as a prisoner again. There was no affection in his demeanour and the fond longing which had encouraged her to seek out his company faded within her.

‘I’m not a prisoner,’ she said coldly, ‘and I can look after myself.’

‘No.’ Guy sheathed his sword. His voice rose, became almost condescending, as he said, ‘There are dangerous men – criminals – around, and you are in an unfamiliar land, and you are still a vulnerable, beautiful woman. You don’t know how many men would take you and use you if they could.’

Marian did not like having her femininity used against her.

‘I’m not so defenceless, and you should know that, Guy.’

Guy sighed and came towards her. He gently put one arm around her waist, resting his gloveless hand on her lower back.

‘Allow me to protect you. For my sake at least.’ He glanced back over his shoulder at the mess of the room. He had been trying to gather anything to defend himself against Robin Hood; whether it be a weapon, or a valuable to bargain with. He couldn’t tell Marian how on edge he was with Hood at large. When she had appeared behind him he had feared she was some outlaw intruder.

Marian was surprised by the attraction she felt as Guy held her. Although she found his coddling irritating she was willing to forget it if he would pull her closer. But he seemed distracted and would not even look into her face. She lifted one hand so she could touch the hair which was fallen across his forehead. She carefully pushed it back and aside, stroking his brow with her fingertips. This was enough to make his eyes meet hers and their mildly aggressive look appeared to be directed towards her. It was a familiar situation. He had tried to kiss her from this position of fierce possessiveness before, though his lips themselves were always tentative. Marian watched his lips now.

Guy stepped back, breaking the stillness and shifting his hand to enclose Marian’s forearm.

‘I will take you back to your room. And you can stay there until I fetch you in the morning.’

He escorted her out with his hold on her arm. In her room, he loosened his hold, but then impulsively lifted her arm and bent to kiss the inside of her bare wrist. Guy did not anticipate the flame of longing which would be ignited just by indulging this impulse. He let his mouth linger on Marian’s skin, his head ducked. Rushed ideas of undressing her and staying the night crossed his mind. But the image of Robin Hood’s arrow piercing the Saracen’s body earlier that day pervaded. He would eliminate the threat of Robin’s proximity first, to make his victory greater.

Marian’s disappointment was strong as Guy gave her a strange lustful look and slipped out of the room. He locked the door behind him.

#bbc robin hood #robin hood bbc #guy of gisborne #sir guy of gisborne #marian of knighton #guy x marian #allan a dale #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing

[roadsterguysblog]

I have been so incredibly buried and haven’t been on here at all, but I have missed it and all of you lovelies a lot! I haven’t done my Advent fic calendar because *points upwards*, but I wanted some Robin Hood holiday fluff.  Snippet: "Glad to hear you finally say that."  Allan's words made Guy tear his eyes away from the fire and from his own dark thoughts.  "You should be here on Christmas, boss.  We missed you earlier."  His eyes continued to sparkle in the light.  "The room just isn't the same without you sitting in the corner and glowering."

#BBC Robin Hood #robin hood #Sir Guy of Gisborne #marian of knighton #alan a dale #fanfiction #fanfic #christmas

[thefanficmistress]

30 Day Writing Challenge : Day 4 - Guy of Gisborne

♔ GUY AND THE LADY ELENA IV♔

@deepestfirefun

Pairing : Guy & Elena

Gif Prompts.

***

“God! I'm in love with her.” Guy said to himself. With frustration, he slammed his hands down on the wooden table before him. His face washing bowl slightly tipping over, water spilled over the edge. His head hung low, and his black locks fell over his shoulder. “What am I to do?”

“You could start by getting dressed m’lord.” said a voice behind him.  

Guy held his head up to see Collette, his head housekeeper, standing at his door with a basket of linens hanging from her hip. She was not terribly old, but her body had aged passed her years so much so that she wore the wizened features of an old crone. The occasional strand of her once golden hair could still be seen though the grey mane that limply framed her face. Her forehead was wrinkled by many peaks and trenches - caused by years of consistent scowling - which unflatteringly crowned eyes that permanently harbored a mother’s glare, shadowing their beautifully unique shade of blue. She was still very beautiful, and most of her stress was caused by Guy. But she was always there for him. Always loved him. Treated him like her own son, which was comforting to Guy. After losing his mother, he was robbed of a mother’s love and guidance.

He met Collette one winter when she was visiting Nottingham looking for work after her husband died. She was lost, and Guy took her in. His kind gesture for the year. He loved having her around, and she ran his house. He trusted her with everything. Even his own life. She never judged him by the many evil things the sheriff forced him to do, and she always reminded him that he was a good man.

Guy turned around so that he was facing her and sat back against the table. He crossed his ankle over the other and crossed his arms over his chest. He smiled at the old women.

“She never leaves my mind” he confessed, looked down at the floor.  “I’m in love with her and I can’t believe that she is actually here. “

“Well now that you have a proper title, you can ask her to marry you. “

“Ask her to marry me?” he chuckled. “What makes you think she would marry me after what I’ve done?”

Collette smiled at him, placed the basket on his bed, and started her daily chores in his room. She crossed the room and opened the curtains, letting in the brilliance of the light. His large Master bedroom filling with golden rays.

“She will m’lord.” She said turning to look at him. Guys face was so innocent, like that of a child that had no faith in himself. She smiled and walked over to him. Placing both hands on his face, she looked him in his sky-blue eyes and said “You are not that man anymore. The Sheriff has no power over you.”

“He may not have power of me, but I’m still his dog. Hunting and killing his enemies. Our enemies.”

“Not dog.” She said firmly. “You have become the guardian of this city. You may be a devil to everyone else, but they are blind not to see your wings. Wings of an angel. A dark angel. “

The feeling of her warmth was so strange; it stretches throughout his whole body. Overwhelming yet made him feel complete. It had no bound nor length nor depth; it’s just absolute. Her love. A mothers’ love.

She kissed his cheek and released him.

As Collette made her way around the room, cleaning, putting up clothes, and dusting. She started to hum a soft tune. Something so subtle, but strong enough to make him look at the small silver box on his bedside table. That silver box was his most prized possession.

Yes. He got them. Every single damned letter she wrote, every poem, every apology. Every page holding her confession of love, and tears in ink. Every perfume scented page. He knew that she loved him. He knew.

 Often reading them over and over, and over again, just to feel her near him. Falling asleep with them in his bed. Waking to find his fingers still gripping the pages. Some of them ripped. He never wanted to guess where she was in the realm, because he didn’t want to look for her. He didn’t want to be broken if she were married to another man. He who got to touch her. Kiss her. Providing him children. Children that should be his. So, he never wrote back.  

Elena had that shy look young women often wear, but he knew something else lurked behind her honey colored eyes. He knew since they were children that she would turn into a beautiful woman and he knew that he wanted to marry her from the first day he saw her, no matter what his father thought. He still wanted to now.

 “I saw something flicker in her eyes last night. Something that I never wanted to go away.”

“And what did you see?”

Guy didn’t speak but looked at her with a charming smirk.

“What did you do to that poor girl?” She tossed him a clean black shirt that was washed the day before and went back to cleaning his room.

“Nothing she didn’t want me to. “he said with confidence. “But I assure you, I was somewhat of a gentleman.” With a wickedly delicious smile he pulled the black shirt over his head and down over his naked chest. He racked both hands through his hair.

“She isn’t a tavern girl, is she?” She asked, with a look of disgust.

“I promise you Collette, she is not.” He said, closing his eyes, and placing his right hand over his heart.  

“Good! I will not tolerate that in this Manor. This house needs a proper lady.” She turned, giving him his back.

“Some people are worth the wait and she is.” The words slipped from his lips, so softy, but she heard him and said.

“Either way, no one will ever be good for my son.” Collette finished while she was folding up the sheets on his bed.

 When she said that, Gus eyes lined with silver.

Pushing off the table, he ran behind her and wrapped his arms around her. His big arms holding her own arms close to her body. She let out a shocked cry and laughed. She positioned her aging hand on his. Her fingers rubbing the back of his palms. Guy burned his face between her shoulder and neck and took in a deep breath. She smelled of lavender, and lemons.

Collette leaned into his hug, and they began to sway.  

“What if she finds out what I’ve done?”

“You are a good man Guy. She will love you. Just as I do.”

Guy felt his heart fill with so much joy at her words. He squeezed he a little tighter.

“Thank you, mother. “

#30 days writing challenge by deepestfirefun #richard armitage #richard armitage imagine #richard armitage x #richard armitage x reader #richard armitage x oc #imagine #imagines #richard armitage imagines #imagines richard armitage #richard armitage drabble #drabble richard armitage #robin hood #robin hood bbc #guy of gisborne #guy of gisborne darbble #guy of gisborne imagines #guys of gisborne fluff #guy of gisborne fanfic #fanfic #robin hood fanfic

[lathalea]

Little Bird

This is my first entry for the Armitage Summer Splash event. I'm really excited to share it with you - it's my first attempt at writing this particular character. Hope you'll enjoy it!

WEEK 1 - PROMPT 1

Trope: Enemies to lovers Quote: “Did we make a mistake?” Relationships: Guy de Gisborne x OC (sort of... ;)) Rating: T

You can find this fic on AO3.

Little Bird

“Did we make a mistake?” Little Bird’s whisper reaches him in the darkness. 

Guy feels the weight of her head resting on his chest. His fingers run through her tousled hair as he ponders the question. He does not know whether she refers to the day it all started – or yesterday. Perhaps she is thinking of those months when he chased her through the woods when he had thought her to be just another outlaw poaching in the king’s forest. Perhaps she even recalls that stormy night when he hid in one of the caves only to wake up to her blade pressed against his throat, but the only thing he could think of was the rich waves of her copper hair spilling down her shoulders. She must remember how her elegant beauty took his breath away. He recalls the astonishment he felt when he realised that she was the king’s niece, used to having the whole world at her command and taking what she wanted. And so this Little Bird of his commandeered the only thing Guy had never known he had. His heart, or rather – what was left of it. He still remembers how she smelled of rain and how her kisses tasted like peppermint that night. No, that was not a mistake. That night – and many others that followed whenever they could meet under the cover of the night – was like taking the first breath of air after staying under the water’s surface for too long. And that air was sweet and intoxicating, even more so due to their circumstances. 

They were too alike to stop these new, intense feelings that grew between them even though their dalliance was a dangerous game to play. Guy was ruthless, doing the Sheriff’s bidding without a blink of an eye, never wavering. Robinette was doing what she thought was right – without remorse. In the king’s forest, she hunted the game so that the local villagers would not starve – and sometimes the game turned out to be tax collectors or the Sheriff’s men. Yes, it complicated things between them, but it was not a mistake. He was certain.

She must be thinking about yesterday. To hell with yesterday. That muddy road, his stubborn horse, and the Sheriff complaining about the weather. The pitter-patter of the raindrops against the leaves. The whooshing sound of arrows piercing the air. It was an ambush and the forest outlaws were behind it. A fight ensued. Some of the soldiers escaped, but Guy stayed on even when an arrow hit his right shoulder. At that very moment, he heard a cry of anger and a hooded figure emerged from among the trees, a stray, copper lock of hair escaping from under the hood. His Little Bird. Lady Robinette of Brittany. Or rather, Robin Hood, as the peasants call their mysterious protector these days. It is a man’s world, after all. 

After that, the time seemed to speed up into a wild gallop. Guy will never forget the sound of Robinette’s sword clanking against the Sheriff’s blade. Warm blood trickled down from his own shoulder. A crossbow lay in the mud at the Sheriff’s feet. And then a sinking feeling grasped his throat when he noticed that a crossbow bolt was lodged in his flesh, not an outlaw arrow.

It was indeed fortunate for Guy that he knew how to fence using his left, uninjured arm. It was, however, not so fortunate for the Sheriff. The treacherous man fell into the mud with two gaping wounds in his body – one in his chest, the other one in his back. Guy exchanged a skewed smile with Robinette as they sheathed their swords. No words were needed.

And now Little Bird is in his arms again, soft and warm. Her hair smells like thyme and woodsmoke, and he takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with her scent. Her question echoes in his ears and a wave of certainty washes over him.

“If we did make a mistake,” he hears his own voice. “We have to make amends.”

“What do you have in mind?” Robinette lifts her head, searching his face. “Shall we give ourselves up to the law? Shall we flee?”

“Marry me, Little Bird. Marry me and I…” he never finishes the sentence. 

Her lips taste like peppermint again.

💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

📜 Searching for more stories to read? Here is the masterlist for Week 1 for the Armitage Summer Splash event. 📜

General taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed): @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings​ @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @amelia307 @anyaspidergirl-blog @jotink78 @rachel1959 @saltwater-in-the-afternoon @linasofia @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @legolasbadass @yourqueenunderthemountain @reblogunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @xmly-xo @tschrist1 @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry  @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000 @kami-chan1512  @ragsweas @enchantzz @aduialel @myselfandfantasy @thewhiteladyofrohan @elliepie1226 @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @blairsanne @fckmini @clumsy-wonderland @wormsmith @mailinsblogofstuff @medusas-hairband @xxbyimm

#out of my comfort zone #armitage summer splash #richard armitage #guy of gisborne #fanfic #robin hood

[buildarocketboys]

Next Round's On Me

Found this little half finished Allan and Marian fic in my phone notes and thought it was worth finishing for @mygangtome 2021! Hope you enjoy!

They're sitting in the back room of a tavern, on the outskirts of Nottingham. Allan has been coming here since he first turned informant for Guy, and Marian...well, Marian likes to have somewhere she can mostly be herself, somewhere she can escape to, someone who understands what it's like, being a spy, even if Allan's ostensibly on the other side. Ostensibly.

"Will told me you let that jester take the key from your belt," she says over a tankard of ale. Before they started meeting like this, Allan would never have guessed fancy Lady Marian drank ale, but there were a lot of things people didn't know about Lady Marian. On some days, Allan thinks he probably knows her better than anyone - Robin, Guy, her father before he kicked it - none of them know the ale-drinking, morally grey Marian who can match Allan pint for pint if she so chooses. Then again, on other days he feels he doesn't know her at all, and more, that she prefers it that way. More than a match for Robin and Guy, and that's the truth of it.

He takes a long draught from his tankard before he answers. "I don't want Will to die. He was my best mate. I'm not that heartless."

"I know," she says, a rare acknowledgement of Allan's good side when she usually pretends to hate him for working with the enemy. Well, he thinks it's mostly pretence. She looks thoughtful now though. "Why did you betray them in the first place?"

Allan splutters in indignation. "Guy caught me! I was hardly given a choice in the matter."

"Everything is a choice. Everything we do," Marian says, as if quoting something.

Allan snorts. "Yeah, a choice between dying and betraying my friends. Not much of a choice."

"Robin would have saved you," Marian says, with all the blind loyalty of the devoted. It's strange, for all her talk of independence and coldness to Robin when he first returned from the Holy Land, her belief is as fierce as Much's.

Allan shakes his head. "How do you know that?"

Marian's face softens instantly. "What happened with your brother...wasn't Robin's fault."

"No. But it proved he can't save everyone."

"Then why stay with Guy? Why not cut and run?"

Allan laughs. "That's rich, coming from you."

Marian scoffs. "You can hardly compare the situations."

"Can't I? Aren't you doing exactly the same thing to him as I did to the Gang?"

"For the greater good! Anyway, he deserves it."

"Isn't that a bit heartless? For all his faults, Guy would do anything for you."

"What, so I should just open my heart and my legs to him, let him do what he wants with me?"

Allan chokes on his beer. "No, but you could try and have a little empathy. You're playing with his heart. That's dangerous, if nothing else."

"Only if he ever finds out. Which he won't."

"So, what, you're gonna pretend to be Gisborne's girl for the rest of your life?"

"No! But when the King returns..."

"What? Everything will be better? Maybe for your lot, but there wasn't a lot of difference for the poor when Richard was in charge. That's the problem with all you nobles, you, Robin, the Sheriff, all of you - you only care about the Greater Good. As long as the right people are in charge, you don't care about the little people."

"That's not true! I help people all the time, as the Nightwatchman. Or I try to," Marian mutters, sipping on her ale, obviously angry about her house arrest. Not that she exactly finds it difficult to escape, thinks Allan.

"I know," Allan admits with a sigh. Even he has been impressed by Marian's antics as the Nightwatchman. She's been doing for years what Robin and his Gang were doing now, but without the credit. "But would you do the same thing if the Sheriff was ousted and someone you approved of was in his place?"

"If I saw people suffering, of course," Marian says quietly, after a pause. "I'm not as naive as you seem to think I am, Allan."

Allan snorts. "I wouldn't exactly call you naive," he says, recalling vividly her earlier comment about opening her legs to Guy. "Privileged, more like."

"Maybe so," she says pensively. "But at least I made the choice to do what's right."

"Meaning?"

Marian sighs, leaning back in her chair. It's not exactly comfortable, but this is a kind of freedom she very rarely feels these days. Between the castle and the forest, she's not sure that 'privileged' isn't just another word for 'caged'. "Meaning nothing. I'm sorry, Allan. Let's just have another drink," she says, polishing off her pint. Allan looks in his tankard - he's only halfway through his!

The apology sounds genuine. But then, he's been around Marian long enough to know that she's very good at sounding sincere even when she doesn't mean it. And he isn't ready to let this go just yet. "No," he says. "I know what you meant. You meant that I chose to act like this. You've already said it, there's no point denying it Marian."

"I wasn't talking about you specifically," Marian says tiredly. She doesn't want to have this argument, not with Allan. Not when he's her only friend in Nottingham, if they can even be called friends. The only person she feels like she can be honest with. But then maybe that's the point, Marian thinks. He wants her honesty.

"Alright," she says. "Yes. I think you made choices, bad choices, and yes, maybe you felt trapped and didn't know what else to do, and maybe I'm judging you from my mountain of privilege," she says, rolling her eyes, "but you still made those choices. You can't deny that, Allan."

"Yeah," says Allan. "You're right. I made those choices, and some of them I'll regret and wish I could take back for the rest of my life. But some of them I don't." He shrugs. "And I made good choices too. Like helping Will," he points out.

"True," she concedes. Then in a softer voice, she adds, "and helping me."

"Well," Allan says, puffing out his cheeks then releasing the air in a big exhale. "I'm not sure I won't live to regret that choice."

Marian huffs out a laugh. " Don't," she says, reaching out and awkwardly patting his hand. "I'm truly grateful. And I suppose you're not the only one who's made poor choices."

Allan raises his eyebrows. "Am I hearing right? The infallible Lady Marian admitting she has flaws?"

Marian gives him a sly half smile. "Oh, I didn't say I had made poor choices," she says archly, but ruins the effect by snorting out a giggle. Allan laughs too, before ordering another round.

"Next round's on me, then," he says.

#my gang to me 2021 #Robin Hood bbc #bbc robin hood #allan a dale #lady marian #marian #guy of gisborne #my writing #fanfic #'oh look a frank turner lyric title how unlike you han' said nobody