#robin x marian gifs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toweroftickles · 2 months

Text

❤️ Valentine's Day Morsels ❤️

(A Whole Month Late 😅)

These were all supposed to be done for the holiday itself, but obviously that didn't happen. The problem is that I care way too much about my writing and try too hard to make it actually good. That's not why anybody reads this crap. Anywho, I've been in an anomalously sappy, romantic mood lately and whipped up some sugary, snack-sized tickle drabbles involving a few of my all-time-favorite (canon) fictional couples. :) Hope these are sweet enough! Disclaimer: this is all obviously just meant to be cute, silly fun.

Link/Zelda (utilizing "Wilds" era)

Whenever Purah developed a revolutionary new piece of tech for the Hylian Royal Family, she of course needed a volunteer to test it out. At those times, Princess Zelda was always on-hand to make sure she had one. And it was usually Link.

The Sheikah techie was putting the finishing touches on a new observation platform propulsion system...she called it a "Skyview Tower." The Hero of Hyrule stood in the center of the device, bracing for the upcoming vertical rush. It was somewhat against his will that he was being held in place by six clinking, clanking Guardian arms. He felt like a prisoner in the teeth of a hungry beast as they hooked him to the machine, but Purah just clicked away happily on her control Pad.

“How ya doin, Link? You comfy?” she asked him. He nodded reluctantly. "Ok, I'm gonna launch you in 10...9..."

Suddenly, at the sight of Link ensnared in the repurposed robot arms, Zelda bounced up and down and excitedly tapped her compatriot on the shoulder. “Oh! Oh! Purah, wait!”

Everything paused. The princess knelt and whispered excitedly into the inventor’s ear.

What they were talking about, Link couldn’t decipher, but he saw that in the midst of Zelda’s sentence, Purah’s smile stretched bigger and bigger. After a breathy exchange, both ladies were giggling to themselves. Uh-oh. He recognized that energetic sparkle in Purah’s eye…that only happened when she knew her tests were going to have “funny” results.

Beep. Four of the Guardian arms remained holding Link's wrists and ankles still, but the other two raised up and took on new purpose. The octopoid metal tendrils zipped around his torso, snapping their claws like hungry snakes. Their laser sights booped to life and swam their little red eyes all over him...targeting certain areas...and once Purah pressed that button again, they dove right in for the attack.

The little pincer claws skittered and tap-danced under his arms, across his stomach, between his ribs. At first he panicked. Then he grinned. Squirming and struggling, Link began to laugh.

“HHHHeh…Heheh…Heh-Heh Ha-Ha Ha-Ha! Z-Zeld…Heh! Haha!”

"See, I told you he was ticklish," the princess chuckled.

"Oooo, and you were right! This is fun! Look at him dance!"

"Heh-Heh, Heh-Heh Ha...Haha-Heh! Nn-Heh!" Bolts of Gerudo lightning didn't make Link jump around this much. It wasn’t until Zelda sauntered over and tickled him herself that the machine finally wound down.

And just like that, being shot out of an untested military-grade cannon didn't seem so bad.

******

Parzival/Art3mis (Ready Player One)

Spring Center Fortress was always a fun place in the OASIS for testosterone-soaked one-v-one games. Each arena in the cubist coliseum was a giant trampoline, regardless of size or layout, and combat was fast and frantic when no one could stand still. Only true acrobats thrived in the chaos there. Entering one of the battle boxes, Parzival and Art3mis removed their shoes and jackets and stepped barefoot onto the bouncy black floor.

"Choose your weapon, sir." Arty's declaration of war was cheekier than usual. She smirked, already sure of her victory, and make a flashy show of unveiling a fully-2D Airbender staff. Rare gear.

Parzival eagerly cycled through the digital blue pockets of his inventory...lots of options to choose from. Neither he nor Arty were pulling admin privileges and just dropping rare junk into their accounts; this loot had to be earned like everyone else’s. Oh, there was a good one...

"Toymaker Energy Bo," he finally announced. The glowing green stick popped from hammerspace and into his hands, extending four frog-like fingers from its tip that snapped and pinched at their target.

Art3mis nodded. She looked impressed. "Spy Kids 3D. Nice."

At the sound of the buzzer, a blade of cartoony wind sliced through the room and nearly split Parzival's staff in two. Their weapons clacked together as the couple danced and dodged on the springy terrain...the fight was a wild flurry of flips, leg sweeps, slides and parries. Dodging a strike at her knees, Art3mis bounced into a full backwards aerial somersault, a mere hair's breadth away from the Game Over bo's snapping claws. Just as she landed and stumbled back, the very tips of metal fingers pulled at her body, grazing against four particular spots along her torso that they couldn't quite snare.

One, on the right side of her neck. One deep in the hollow of her left armpit. One just above her hipbone. And one smack in the center of her right side, under the ribcage.

“BAH!!” Art3mis nearly slipped on the undulating floor, swiveling on her heel and pointing her finger at Wade, and had to catch her balance against the back wall. Her staff zipped off on an air current and glided away across the stadium. Disarmed. In her most stern, commanding voice, the Goddess of the Hunt blurted “Hey! No. ...Z. No tickling."

"Hey, come on, it was an accident," Parzival laughed.

For a moment everything was still, both anticipating the other's next move. But he'd seen the flash of panic on her face...blood was in the water now. Her eyes darted to her glider. Slowly, Parzival raised his staff again. Its four-pronged hand spun around and wiggled in Arty's direction, closer and closer, and the sight made her jaw clench.

“...God, sometimes I love these Boot Suits.”

“Wade, no. N...HHHA-Ha Ha-Ha! …Ng-Heh! Nuh...nonono, God n-HNN!!"

Art3mis' arms contracted, trying to block the ravenous mechanical fingers, but that only pinned them even more snugly to where they could feast on her ticklish ribs. Her trembling knees buckled. Soon she was wrestled flat onto her back and rolling around atop the rubbery floor, her leg weakly kicking at the air. The Spy Kids staff no longer attacked her...it was Parzival's own fingers that she felt clawing beneath her loose crop-top, squeezing her belly until the cackles burst out of her. The two were bouncing and wrestling and laughing until the floor squeaked. Streaks of charcoal soot blackened her soles…the trampoline's worn surface had almost-literally painted a target on her bare feet, a target which Parzival didn't ignore for long. Arty was surprised by how hard she was cracking up...and, despite the soreness in her cheeks, by how much fun she was having.

“What, what’s the matter? Ya n00b. Stop laughing.”

"Ha-Ha Ha-Ha! Uncle! Uncl-hle!"

The dull fingernails that had been scribbling beneath her toes retreated. Arty was free again. Up and down, the trampoline reverberated to the rhythm of her diaphragm's spasmodic wobbles. Even after all this time, it was still an out-of-body experience, to catch one's raspy breath as a digital avatar...when she was worn out inside the OASIS, her real-world meat puppet followed suit. Slowly she and the trampoline both calmed. She sat up, folding her arms across bent knees, and her middle finger dabbed at her eyelash.

"Ha......Ahhhhhhh Ha Ha....Huheh...Okay, okay, you got me," she chuckled. Her toes clenched up against the rubbery ground. She tried to affect a serious expression, but that wide-eyed grin of hers just wouldn't dissolve. “But don’t do that again!”

"Eh, can't make any promises," Z taunted, helping her stand. For that, he received a playful punch in the shoulder.

Like most of the OASIS, there were no real rules in Spring Center Fortress. The important thing was how you won.

******

Aang/Katara (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Waterbender training was going...as Sokka would put it...swimmingly. Aang and Katara stood ankle-deep in the waters of Chameleon Bay, practicing their stances. Liquid swirled around them, rising and falling like tides at their command.

"How's your octopus form?" Aang's teacher asked him.

Quickly, Aang struck the proper pose and focused. A stream of ocean foam snaked upward into the air and corkscrewed multiple arcs around his body. With a twist of his arm, the water coalesced into a near-solid tentacle, its rippling surface smoothed out, and he made it sway back and forth in a friendly wave. Katara giggled. She, meanwhile, was focused on maintaining six hovering spheres of water that orbited around a rock in front of her. Gesturing with her palm, she relaxed into a simple Single Whip posture, her right knee bent and arms outstretched, and the water balls merged into a lash. She was focused and precise...and totally oblivious to what her pupil was doing.

Guided by Aang's slow dance, a water tendril slithered across the bay and breached the surface. As soon as Katara wasn't looking, its tip rose up and wiggled against her tummy - right next to her belly button.

"Ah! Haha…Aang, stop it!" Laughing, she jumped in place and covered her ticklish spot with her hand. Instantly the Avatar’s octopus construct fizzled into droplets and splashed the flowing sea below. He stood there all sheepish and rubbed the back of his tattooed head, grinning like a buffoon.

"Heh...sorry. You were wide open." Aang couldn't escape his own mischievous nature. He was 12, after all.

There was a brief and fearful pang in his stomach...is Katara mad at me? But her smile was the brightest he'd seen on the waterbender's face all week. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he could've sworn she was starting to blush. Both benders just laughed shyly and turned to face the sandbank once more.

"Alright, let's keep going."

******

Gwen/Miles (Spider-Verse)

The multiversal headquarters of the Spiders didn't just have a lockup, a science lab, and a cafeteria (no bagels allowed). There was also quite a museum of trophies and mementos gathered from past battles, defeated villains, and fallen heroes from all across the cosmic web. It was like Batman's basement on the scale of the MoMA. And Gwen couldn't wait to show Miles all she'd learned there.

Clasping one another's hands they dashed through the halls, often pulling eagerly in opposite directions. Miles was a kid in a candy store, and every time his eyes lit up, it reminded Gwen of a thousand reasons why she liked him. After passing the wrecked granite namesake of one "Big Wheel 5000 BC," the two skidded to a stop, lured by an exhibit that stood out from the rest: a single hand, perched atop a pedestal.

An Infinity Gauntlet, this was not. It was a cheap canary opera glove, with long, fluffy white feathers glued to its digits in lieu of fingernails. The plastic plaque beneath declared in full voice to the pair:

“‘The Tickler?!’" Frog-mouthed in shock, Gwen doubled over, laughing wildly. “No. Freaking. Way."***

"Are you serious right now? Ha…Wow, they just get lamer…”

"Heheh-Heh! Ok, ok; you’ve gotta hear this: 'Crude homemade weapon retrieved from Whedon Winslow, Earth-57780.' Some name... 'Failed stand-up comedian who turned to larceny. Distracted victims and pursuant Spider Society with...'"

But Miles wasn’t paying attention to Gwen's narration. He was busy cracking his knuckles and reaching toward his distracted girlfriend from behind, trying to project confidence from a playful smile that was actually quite shy. He was gonna get her so good, he encouraged himself.

In the midst of Gwen's sentence, kneading fingertips hooked right into her sensitive, squishy waistline.

Her gasp was loud and shrill. The girl almost popped like a chocolatey toaster pastry, but a right forearm encircled her collarbone and held her firmly in place. Before she knew it, Gwen was immobilized in a tickle hug and fell straight into Miles' lap as the two collapsed to the floor.

"AH!! *gasp* Huhuh-Huhuh Heheh! *gasp* Ah Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha! St-HOP ihit! We're supposed to be quiet!!"

She screamed and elbowed Miles in the stomach, but he maintained his hold. Then she tried pulling on his wrists. No good. Gwen was the most squirmy, wiggly human being Miles had ever seen; champion swimmers didn't kick their legs as hard as she did. He might as well have been trying to hold onto a hagfish in an oil spill…even with sticky fingers, it was a challenge! But watching her smile and laugh like this was so worth it.

“Wait, hold up a minute!” Miles laughed as if Gwen would actually obey him (not that she had much choice). One THWIP! of spider-silk from his wrist, and The Tickler’s glove was yanked right off its perch and into his hand. Miles didn't put it on...all he needed to do was hold one of the fingers and wield the feather like a wand.

The quills prickled like thousands of tiny needles against the nape of Gwen's goosebumpy neck...right at the signal source from whence her Spider-Sense was screeching. Any measure of defiance left in her crumbled to dust. Both of her palms slapped over her face...anything to hide it from Miles. She could have fried an egg on her cheeks for how they sizzled.

“VVVVVVVFF-EEEE!!! *Yeek!* OmigodNO - N-no feath-hers, oh my GAWWD, no feahehther-her-hers…*SNORT* AHHHMilesstoppit!” she whined and cried. The feather stroked down across her collarbone, her shoulder blade, under her armpit...

It wasn't long before one of the nigh-innumerable Spider Society horde noticed the sound of embarrassed squeals echoing throughout the gallery and swooped in to investigate. But when this particular Peter Parker entered the hall, it was found vacant. Nothing but various museum exhibits, all undisturbed in their places. And so he left.

Miles, as it turns out, had been practicing a new technique. He wasn't the only person that he could turn invisible.

"Shhh!" he whispered. Gwen was absolutely trembling in his lap, even though the tickling had stopped - it took two hands to stifle her uncontrollable belly laughs. There, with his arms around her and feeling her heartbeat against his, a warmth washed over Miles. There were a million worries flapping around inside his brain...his future with the Spiders, his parents, and he & Gwen...was it right, how they felt about each other, what they were doing? But for a few quiet moments, where nobody could see them, none of that mattered.

He almost kissed the top of her head, but got too antsy.

Maybe next time.

******

*Note: Actual Spider-Man villain. Seriously. I did not make this up.

Victoria/Misto (Cats 2019)

The Egyptian Theater was warm and sleepy that evening. The old sun-shaped stage prop created the perfect napping spot for a young Jellicle, and the white cat lolled blissfully in its hollowed-out cradle. Her left leg dangled down off the side, pendulous and swaying like a metronome, right next to her boyfriend’s nearby head. Mr. Mistoffelees was kneeling there on the floorboards directly beneath, fumbling with a deck of cards.

Victoria peered over the side of her perch and smiled, unnoticed. Just laying beside her magician (well, a bit higher and to the right of him, anyway) carried her off in a cozy bubble of comfort. She just felt content around him. Her hands couldn’t reach to pet him…not from this angle…so instead, she held her slender leg out and, with her big toe, traced gentle crescents behind his ear.

His ear twitched. At first Misto instinctively ducked away from the impromptu scalp scratch, inquisitive chuckle aside ("Heh...what are you doing?"), but he soon came around to her affection and began to purr. His head rolled around across his shoulders, his back arched, and his ears flopped and wagged. Tori could tell the scritches were making him happy. Tufts of black fur shot up like grass between her marble toes, bristling the ball of her foot back and forth, until out of nowhere it made her shiver and pull away.

"Hmhm! Hmf..." she giggled sweetly through her nose. "Your fur tickles."

The tuxedo cat grinned and looked up at her. There was his opening. "Oh, it does?" he taunted. "It does?" With one quick yank, Victoria’s foot was down near his chest, and she was laughing and gripping the sunbeams with all her might. In her meek struggle for balance, that varnished wooden nest fought back with bumpy scrapes against her stomach and her thighs. Taking hold of his tail in his left hand, Misto started painting broad brushstrokes across Victoria’s foot with its fuzzy black tip, and she immediately began to fidget. “What about this?” Misto asked her.

"Heehee-Hih! *gasp* Hn-Hih! Th-hat's not fair, I'm stuck...Hee! It tihickles," the snow-white kitten’s jubilant squeaks bubbled up from inside her. Her ears flattened shyly. Why did this kind of thing happen to her so much? She didn’t hate being tickled, but lately it felt like she’d become something of a Jellicle magnet. If this kept up, she’d have to start wearing her ballet flats 24/7.

Almost as soon as it started, Misto let her go, and Victoria scurried her legs back up inside that little hovel, before turning around and facing him once more. She loved the chalky pink way his nose blushed, and that awkward, crooked smile of his, the one that popped up whenever he finally let himself be playful. He loved how her persimmon lips stood out against her face, and the way her head dropped timidly down to her shoulders when she giggled.

Soon the two were snuggling in each other's arms inside the heart of the sun, just waiting for the Jellicle Moon to rise again.

******

Vi/Caitlyn (Arcane)

The papery bandages around her forearms chafed against Vi's chin. Her elaborate clockwork tattoos peeked out through the rips on her sleeveless blue-hooded top. Pink-and-orange sunset streaked through the glass. She still wasn’t used to laying on a bed as big and comfy as Caitlyn’s.

"I haven't had a back rub in...probably forever," she mused, still a little apprehensive about this kind of intimate contact.

"It's really relaxing, I promise.”

Warm palms kneaded into the Trencher girl's scapula. Spindly fingers performed slow, smooth taffy-machine pulls on the muscles between her shoulders and neck. At first she resisted, but slowly surrendered to the touching and let herself sink deep into the soft mattress.

“Wow, your…you’re rock solid,” Caitlyn murmured, impressed. Under that jacket, Vi’s physique felt even buffer than it looked. And that intricate body art…Caitlyn was so busy admiring that she neglected to notice how her hands were moving faster, stroking in tandem with a nervous pulse.

Vi froze. Her fingers skittishly drummed against the bedsheet. Everything about Caitlyn's technique was wrong in precisely the right ways: the thumbs were rubbing a little too gently down her lats, the fingernails squeezing a smidge too firm between her ribs. It was clumsy, inelegant...ticklish. All it took was one especially-wrong nerve hit, and when she could no longer keep her mouth shut, Vi’s whole body shuddered.

“DAH, Huhuh-Heheh! Hey…watch it,” she laughed. "Careful back there."

“Sorry,” Cait replied, smirking. Her hands plunged back down.

Oh come on…not again. Vi felt like a grape in a wine press when twisting thumbs pushed down hard on her obliques. Her lumbars. Her hipbones. Every knot in her lower back. Her eyes widened, and all the air in her chest squeezed out from between her lips like a squished football deflating.

“Mmff…PFFFFTHnhn!” More wriggles. The bed whined from the kicking lower legs that thumped against it. Caitlyn was at a befuddled junction halfway between offense and joy, between pouting and grinning. Vi always made things difficult for her.

“I am trying to do something nice for you; could you just hold still?”

“GRRRR, stop tickling me!” Vi snapped.

No apology this time. Only a playful tsk, and then the massage resumed.

The fluttery rubbing sensation drilled down through Vi’s back until it scorched the inner wall of her stomach. Her frustrated, reddening facial features scrunched themselves tightly together. She repeatedly slapped the nearby pillow with the ferocity of a grunge drummer. If her bared teeth had ground any harder together, her gums would’ve bled.

“NGK! Nooo-hoho; Hng-Hn! Gkkkk…Sss-sss-st-hop i-hih-hit…! Kkkkk!!” The redhead choked on desperate glass-shard sniggers that scraped against the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t stop her angry tough-girl giggling, and it drove her nuts.

"C-hut it ouuut, I'm gonna punch you!!!"

That one wasn't a threat; it was a genuine, heartfelt warning. Caitlyn couldn’t help but flash a buck-toothed grin...that was probably enough, for both their sakes. She drew back her hands and watched Vi's quivering shoulders slow down, listened to her breath steady itself.

"Ugh...What the hell, Cait?"

“Sorry, it wasn't on purpose. You’re just…I think it’s very…*ahem* …" Now it was the cop's turn to be flustered and rosy-cheeked. "...adorable. How frustrated you get when you’re feeling ticklish.”

Caitlyn was expecting a tease, a playful slap, a snarky reprimand...some kind of retaliation...especially when she saw that smirk in the corner of Vi's mouth. But instead of payback, she got a pleasant surprise: Vi sat up, turned around, and shoved her lips into Caitlyn’s so hard and fast that the blue-haired Enforcer almost fell backward.

...Perhaps she'd have to try this again soon.

******

Kiki/Tombo (Kiki's Delivery Service)

“Hey, Kiki, I was wondering…can witches call their broomsticks to them like a magnet?” Tombo asked studiously, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He and Kiki were relaxing on Ursula’s front porch with glasses of fizzy lemonade, the sticky kind that makes your spit hurt when you drink it. It was a foggy spring morning and the crows were flapping in the damp emerald lawn.

“Hm…I don’t know; I’ve never tried,” she observed. Spying her broom across the clearing, rested against a tree stump, the young courier witch reached out her right hand, poked her tongue out, and concentrated. Unfortunately, Star Wars hadn't been invented yet, so it didn't occur to her to make an Empire Strikes Back reference.

At first her flying stick merely turned. It rocked in the crook of the tree’s roots, but nothing more. Maybe she wasn’t concentrating hard enough? But no sooner had the idea entered her mind than the crude vehicle hoisted itself horizontally, hovered a few feet off the grass, and charged. An invisible hand threw the broom at Kiki like a chucked javelin, and it was soaring straight for her face.

"Whoa! Look out!" Tombo immediately sprung into action, and his quick dive shoved Kiki out of the way just in time for him to take the blow. The broom's handle shot into one sleeve and out the other, dragging the junior aviator off the porch and tossing him headlong to the ground before it finally twitched its last.

“Oh my gosh, Tombo! Are you ok?!” Panicking, Kiki rushed to pull her friend up out of the grass. The broom handle was caught against his neck, parallel to the red-and-white stripes on his chest. He wobbled a bit when he stood...a few green stains on his knees...but was otherwise unscraped.

"Um, yeah, I'm fine. Just a little crooked here," he reassured her, swinging his arms around like a weathervane.

“Oh, thank goodness...Heh...you know, you kind of look like a scarecrow that way."

She was right...he did...but the boy’s gangly T-pose did nothing to deter Ursula’s avian buddies. In fact, right on cue, several of them flocked to his outstretched forearms. One even pecked at his ear.

“Heh-Heh! Guess I’m not a very good one!” The two shared a chuckle, before Kiki helpfully flapped her arm and shooed the birds away. "Hey, thanks. Can you help me get this out? My arms are kinda stuck."

But Kiki wasn't interested in helping right away...his pose had given her other ideas. Before Tombo knew it, Kiki's fingers were strumming up and down his sides with gleeful abandon. She kept pinching his belly and in between his ribs and affectionately watched him wiggle.

"Heh! Heheh-Haha! Hey, cut it ou-howt! Heh! You know I'm ticklish!" Tombo's smile was wide and sunny and dorky as he jumped around in place. Kiki, meanwhile, was positively giddy. She only tickled for a few more seconds...any longer and she would've gotten much too embarrassed...before carefully extricating the misbehaving broom from Tombo's sleeves and throwing it out into the field. Crisis averted.

"Heehee-Hee! I'm sorry, I couldn't help it!"

The boy brushed his sandy hair back and grinned broadly as the two sat again. "Well, you know I can't just let you do that!"

Kiki glanced down. Slowly...making sure to stretch out each moment of tension to its unbearable limits...Tombo was reaching his hands towards her, performing a spidery midair dance with his fingers.

The teen witch was already in a fit of helpless giggles and starting to blush. “Hmhm! Oho no, please don’t do it…” But instead of fleeing or curling up like an armadillo, as Tombo expected, Kiki bent over and quickly slipped her shoes off…first left, then right…and then lifted her arms skyward. “Heehee! Oh my gohosh, no, please…please don't...”

Suddenly, an old door hinge groaned. Bare feet creaked on the cold grey porch step. When Kiki & Tombo turned to look at the source of the noise, there stood Ursula, grinning and tapping her fingers on a steaming blue coffee mug.

"Hey, what are you two doing out here?"

*******A Few Seconds Later*******

"AHHH, Ha-HAAAAA Haha! *gasp* Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha!" Kiki screamed.

"Heheh...Heh! Hng…Heheh-Haha Haha...Hng! Heh! Stop!" Tombo's turn.

Ursula was pinning both of her young friends down to the floorboards, aggressively wiggling her nimble fingers across their bellies and watching them squirm & kick in sync together. “Uh-ohhh; look out! I'm the world's most evil tummy tickler!” She laughed, they laughed; Ursula was clearly relishing her position.

That is, until Kiki and Tombo managed to grab the artist’s ankles amid their struggle, tripped her up, and tickled her feet with her own paintbrushes until she was completely out of breath from laughing.

Kiki often wound up in tickle fights with her friends back home. But she couldn't remember one that was this much fun.

******

Robin/Maid Marian (Robin Hood)

Cops and robbers, such as they were, didn't exist in 12th-century Britannia. So "Robin Hood vs. Prince John" was the game of choice for the rabbit brood. Skippy was playing Robin Hood, of course, which meant Sis & Tagalong were his cohorts. Maid Marian volunteered to be Prince John, so Lady Kluck had to be the Sheriff. That left Robin himself to portray the benevolent King Richard, and Toby Turtle as Sir Hiss.

“A pox on the phony king of England!” Robin cheered. At his command, his noble servants were chasing the “Prince” all over the castle courtyard. They all ran in wild circles over and over, laughing merrily, until Skippy and Tagalong managed to hop up and grab Marian by the wrists. The bunny siblings dangled off of her like bracelets swaying in the breeze, and she bent at the waist as she tried to keep walking.

"We've gotchu now, Prince John!" crowed Skippy. "Give up?"

"Oh no, what-EVER shall I do?" Marian giggled in her most over-dramatic performance yet. "Sir Hiss, seize these scoundrels!"

Toby's head - SHLUNK - sucked back into his shell. He certainly wasn't going to help. Eager to catch their dastardly villain, Sis took matters into her own hands. Jumping in front of the pack, the bunny girl reached up and pawed at the struggling Maid Marian's belly, and Skippy joined the fun by grabbing her side. Immediately, the vixen broke into breathy peals of soft, melodious laughter.

"Ohoho no...Oh no-ho-ho-ho! *gasp* Noooo; anything but tickling, Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha!"

She knew full well that a plea like that would only goad the rambunctious tykes on, but if she were being honest, she was having far too much fun to care. This was as close as she'd get to playing with kids of her own, at least for a little while. Letting loose an enthusiastic yip, Marian fell into the dandelions, and the wrath of the rabbit swarm rained down upon her.

A sextet of bunny hands and paws were grabbing and squeezing and scratching at her tummy. Their little fingers pulled through creases in the silky dress she wore; their feet slid and stomped along her sides and made her wiggle. The kids' squeaky machine-gun giggles were very contagious, and the already-helpless fox couldn't stop laughing herself silly. She jostled and squirmed and had to push Tagalong off of her stomach.

“Ah-Ha Ha-Ha! *gasp* Help! K-Klucky-Hee…Ro...Robin, Heh-Heh-Help!”

"Bawk! Milady! Yer noicest drrrrress!" Klucky honked.

Robin himself was busy chuckling at Marian’s misfortune. Quite clever of them, he thought. They'd make Merry Men yet. His yellow bycocket cap shifted atop his vulpine ears - and suddenly, his thoughts turned to the feather that adorned it. He removed the hat, pulled the long scarlet plume from its sheathe, and twisted it between his fingers, amused. "Ah, there we are..." the outlaw remarked to no one in particular, as if he'd made some unexpected discovery.

Kneeling down, Robin grasped Marian's right ankle and gingerly lifted her leg up out of the weeds. With that roguish, wry smile and an absentminded hum, he stared right into her eyes and swooshed the feather back and forth across the bottom of her foot.

"Oh!! *gasp* Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha!! *gasp*hic* Haha-Ha! Oh dohon't, please, I...I d-hon't think I can stand any more, Ha-Ha Ha!” she cried. Pools of pink stained her cheeks. Her long eyelashes were dripping wet.

"Hmm, I think the prisoner has learned their lesson, don't you, kids?" Robin declared. Despite a few protests and "awwww"s, everyone backed off, leaving the exhausted Marian alone in the grass to catch her breath. "The Prince has been vanquished!!"

"Long live Robin Hood!" Skippy cried, holding his wooden sword triumphantly aloft, cheered on by his adulating sisters. While the kids danced in a circle singing "Prince John the Worst" off-key, Robin traipsed through the flowerbed over to his lady fair and tenderly offered her his palm.

"Oh, my hero; you've come to rescue me," Marian sighed, still all atwitter and breathless and fanning herself.

But instead of taking his hand, Marian pulled Robin down into the sunny spring field with her. Robin sent her his most disarmingly handsome smolder, and when she shied away, he slowly kissed her cheek. Their embrace was perfectly accompanied by the sounds of Sis and Tagalong giggling at them in the background...and of Skippy pretending to vomit.

"Blech!" he mumbled. "...Sissy stuff."

******

Neytiri/Jake (Avatar)

Neytiri sat up and slowly pulled her feet from beneath the powdery white sand. Infinitesimal shards of salt and earth and coral and glass sifted through the gaps between her toes with a quiet hiss. Pandoran beaches were very soft.

Jake emerged from the water and strode over to her resting spot. The sand was so smooth that he didn't even leave footprints; the pale flecks of dust simply clung to his body. "You think we should get back?" he asked her. "Mo'at's probably gonna be pissed."

"Mmmm..." Neytiri sighed contentedly and closed her eyes. "Not yet. I am too relaxed to move."

“Well here…lemme help you.” Not waiting for a rebuttal, Jake immediately stepped over her reclining legs, turned his back, and plopped down right on her ankles, straddling them. Neytiri looked bemused by his antics.

"What? What are you...AHH!!!! HN...Huheh-HEEE Heehee-Hee! NO! No PLEASE; HA-HA HA-HA!!"

The Omatikaya princess’ loud shriek scattered the nearby flock of tetrapteron into the salty air. Her grin threatened to split her cheeks open. Jake's fingertips were mercilessly prodding and caressing underneath her toes, and every single touch made her want to scream.

"Not that! G-get AWAY from MEE-HEE!!!" But her mate said nothing. Grinning, Jake bent all ten of his fingers...those damn Sky People with their extra digits...and scratched them up and down on her massive sky-blue soles.

“J-Jake!! My JAHAY-HA-HA-HA!!!” Neytiri tried to beg, but couldn't get the words out. Her voice leapfrogged through the entire octave scale, from bird chirps all the way down to breathy hyucks erupting from deep in her belly. She thrashed around frantically, her butt bouncing against the sand, and left a flurry of stinging open-palm slaps across her husband's back; even he could barely wrestle her down. Braids and beads tangled themselves like seaweed across her screaming face...how undignified it was, to constantly spit out strands of dreadlocked hair in between her bouts of tearful hysteria.

Jake didn't quit torturing her until she managed to lurch herself forward...the crunch burned her elongated stomach...and threw both of her hands at his armpits. He laughed and jumped aside at the unexpected tickle, before spinning around and scooping Neytiri into his arms. In a moment she was flat on her back once again, with Jake hovering over her and blotting out the sun, a toruk in his own right. The tremors in her chest slowed down, but her anger only boiled hotter. The smug, dopey jarhead smile of his...why didn't she hate it?

"I...*huff*...will...make you suffer for this...*wheeze*...Jake Sully," she hissed at her mate, flashing jagged fangs.

Rather than fear her, or even apologize, Jake simply tweaked her nose and pecked her on the forehead. What an asshole.

Maybe she could let him off the hook. Just this once.

******

21 notes · View notes

crackships-and-manips · 10 months

Text

Caitlin Stasey and Luke Pasqualino

#crackship #crackship gif #caitlin stasey #caitlin stasey crackship #luke pasqualino #luke pasqualino crackship #caitlin stasey x luke pasqualino #reign #lady kenna #kenna de poitiers #the musketeers #the three musketeers #d'artagnan #robin hood #maid marian #au #crossover

32 notes · View notes

darklinaforever · 1 year

Text

You see, when people tell me stuff like that :

- Marian & Guy could not have ended up together, because normally it is Marian & Robin the iconic couple. (Whereas in the BBC version, Robin has as much charisma as an oyster... And I say that when I have a huge crush on the character of Robin Hood generally. Even in the movie where actor Alan Rickman, one of my ultimate celebrity crushes, plays the villainous crush for Lady Marian !)

Or ;

- Anya in the Broadway musical Anastasia couldn't have ended up with Gabe because normally Anya and Dimitri are the iconic couple. (While in this version, Dimitri loses everything that made him the interesting character he was, and that we love so much with Anya in the original)

youtube

Well I want to show Sabrina, who in the Netflix series doesn't end up with her original guy that we all know, I named Harvey (with whom they just form an iconic couple), but with Nick, the bad boy wizard... With whom I prefer her in this version, although I'm still a fan of the original Sabrina and Harvey. And it's not even the first time that Sabrina has been given another love interest, it seems to me ! This has already been done in a cartoon version.

youtube

So, if it's possible here, why couldn't it be for other so-called "classic" couples ? We are in fiction damn it... !

In the series Once Upon a Time, we even put Robin Hood with Regina, the evil queen, who had outright killed Marian !

youtube

8 notes · View notes

ludarklina-fan-spot · 10 months

Text

I live to cross over RH & S & B Gifs by @ladylrbloom

#netflix shadow and bone #my gifs #gifs #aleksander morovoza #ben barnes #the darkling #luda #lucy griffiths #bbc robin hood #lady marian #sir guy of gisborne #guy x marian #lusander #darluda

6 notes · View notes

fizzyxcustard · 11 months

Text

Why Did I Trust You?

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Robin Hood

Pairings: Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Sadness, angst, betrayal (sort of!), depression mention, fluff

Comments/Notes: Requested by @puggledy-huggledy-is-not-a-pig who is the biggest Guy fan that I know. From the prompt "They told me not to trust you but I didn't listen."

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Everyone kept telling you how Guy had always been taken with Marian, and that his heart still belonged to her. No one could get over lost love that easy. She had disappeared into Sherwood Forest with her lover, Robin Hood. Leaving Guy to pick up the pieces of a shattered heart. You had never met this Marian woman, but had heard plenty about her from the locals.

You had travelled to Nottingham in high hopes of better income, and thankfully, you had been given a roof over your head, alongside the work, for all for your trouble. Guy had sorted that out for you. After all, he knew your father, who worked as a fellow tax collector in the next town over and often visited Nottingham to report to the Sheriff.

Being a newcomer also meant that everyone was suspicious of you. And you had become aware of the rumours that people were spinning behind your back, despite being polite to your face. Snakes, all of them. Most days when you walked through the courtyard of the castle, heading in for your day of work, you’d see people gently shoulder each other. You’d see this action out of the corner of your eye, but as soon as they saw you’d noticed them, they would smile. Vipers!

By the time you had been there six months, you knew it was time to move on. Nottingham was not quite the charming place that you had been told by your old townsfolk. Maybe the stories had been spun from those assuming that due to Nottingham being a central stronghold for finances, that the streets were paved with gold. That couldn’t have been any further from the truth. Only the Sheriff’s personal chambers were lined with gold; everywhere else was run down and full of squalor.

The last arrangements were in place, and the following day, you were ready to return home. It would take you about a day to walk to your meeting point with your father, who was coming by horse and cart to collect you. Messenger pigeons had been flying between you and your father for the last month, as your depression had gotten deeper and beckoned you home.

The only good thing about the place was Guy. In fact, he was the only friend you had in this horrible place. The thought of leaving him was hitting you hard, and as you cleaned the larger chambers of the castle, you kept Guy’s until last.

Upon stepping inside the room, you saw the seat that you sat in most evenings, where you would share dinner with him. You would watch the candlelight dance across his pointed features, highlighting the sadness in his ice blue eyes. Was the sadness remnants of an unrequited love?

Tears kept threatening to fall down your cheeks as you cleaned the surfaces with a rag. At his bedside table, you moved the vase of flowers you had placed there three days ago, sweeping the dust beneath it. All you could feel was the painful, burning sensation of something lodged in your throat.

Don’t you cry. Don’t you dare cry!

As you made the bed and took one last sniff of his pillow, you realised that you had nothing of his. And you couldn’t leave Nottingham without at least one token from him, even if he had not given it you freely.

There was a jewellery box which you knew Guy kept in his wardrobe, just behind his boots, on the floor. You could remember him telling you about it, where he explained that no one else knew of its existence, but you.

Your hands were shaking as you approached the wardrobe, and slowly you opened the door, listening to it creak. The box was simple, with no inscription at all. It didn’t matter what it was that you took, as long as it was Guy’s; something to remember him by. Not that you could ever forget him in a hurry.

Blood was thumping in your ears as you opened the box and looked upon two gold rings inside. That was all the box held, these two gold rings. The first one was a simple band, with no jewels or inscriptions. The other was gold, but had a simple green stone upon broad shoulders. You snatched the ring with the green stone and slipped it into your apron pocket.

“What are you doing?” a deep voice came.

You gasped, stepping back at the sight of Guy. When had he come into the room? “P…please, it’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh, I know it was exactly what it looked like. You stealing one of my grandmother’s rings.” His eyes were so wide now, and you couldn’t help but swallow hard, feeling a rod of ice shoot down your spine. Guy was terrifying when angry, a trait that many a person had seen who lived in Nottingham. This was your first time of seeing his anger directed at you.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered. You pulled the ring back out of your pocket and placed it down on the table next to you. “It really is not what it looks like.”

Guy turned on his heel. “They told me not to trust you, but I didn’t listen.”

“Guy, please,” you pleaded, touching his shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” he growled. “I let you in. I offer my vulnerability to you, and I offer you so much, and this is how you value our relationship? By stealing from me?”

Tears fell down your cheeks. Your heart thundered, shattering even more with each beat. “I wanted something of yours, to remember you by.”

“Remember me by? What do you mean?” Guy asked, his voice less hostile now. Slowly, he turned back to face you.

Tears had begun to form in his eyes. His gaze was intense, and locked on you.

“I would never have betrayed your trust, Guy. Believe me. I value you more than you realise.”

“Yet you still plan to leave?”

Of course he knew what you had meant. “You have no idea how it’s pained me to complete my duties today, knowing it will be the last time we stand face to face.”

“Am I not enough to stay for?” The words only just came out of his mouth, broken by the breath that was struggling to get out. “I’m never enough.” Those words were despaired whisper.

“Guy, no!” you exclaimed. “Never think that.”

“But you’re leaving!” His voice had re-gained its power, and he stared at you. “I’ve been beside you in everything since you came here. Why am I not enough?”

You reached out and took Guy’s leather-clad hand. “You are enough. Why don’t you think you are? Is it because of Marian?”

Guy closed his eyes for a second and sighed. Then he focused his gaze back on you. “I see the townsfolk enjoy talking about me.”

“Don’t blame them. You’ve mentioned her before, and I guessed she’s the woman you love.”

“She isn’t. Not anymore. I did love her once and she left. Every woman I grow to love leaves me.”

Did that mean…? Breath caught in your throat, but you tried not to get above yourself in your want of him. “So other women before her have left?”

Guy smirked. “Don’t deny what’s right in front of you.” He whispered your name and came closer, his body so close to yours. He looked down from his taller height.

You placed both of your hands on his chest, wanting so much to feel his bare skin beneath the leather. Your gaze met his and you leaned up, placing a gentle kiss against his lips.

Guy opened his eyes, seeing uncertainty in your face. And gathering his confidence and love, he wound his arms around your waist and kissed you.

The kiss was full of love, passion and desperation. Your tongues met, and within a few more seconds, Guy’s lips were on your neck. He was panting, and you whimpering.

As you both slowed down, your breaths harsh, you embraced Guy.

“Is this now enough to make you stay?” he asked.

You looked up from his chest, and smiled. “What do you think?”

“And maybe I have more reason.” Guy reached across to the ring you had placed on his table and held it to you. “I want you to have this…and be my wife.”

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @xxbyimm @linasofia @knittastically @middleearthpixie @guardianofrivendell @meganlpie @luna-xial @asgardianhobbit98 @mrsdurin @rachel1959 @quiall321 @missihart23 @lemond57 @evenstaredits @catthefearless @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @glassgulls @sazzlep @aliasauthor @solairewisteria @littlebird-99 @court-jobi @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @albionscastle @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @bookworm-with-coffee @danzalladaggers

Guy of Gisborne tag list: @whoooooisthis @emmyspov @dumbassunderthemountain

#Robin Hood #BBC Robin Hood #Guy of Gisborne #Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader #Guy of Gisborne x Female Reader #Guy of Gisborne x You #Request #puggledly huggledy is not a pig #Richard Armitage

154 notes · View notes

patricksteelebodger · 3 months

Text

Happy Valentine's Day

Wishing a happy Valentine's Day to some of my fav cute couples!

Hiccstrid (Hiccup x Astrid)

Lumity (Luz x Amity)

Huntlow (Willow x Hunter)

Chaggie (Charlie x Vaggie)

Bumbleby (Yang x Blake)

Rayllum (Callum x Rayla)

Robin Hood x Maid Marian

Catradora (Adora x Catra)

Wildehopps (Judy x Nick)

Allurance (Lance x Allura)

32 notes · View notes

starsaroundmyscarsblog · 1 year

Text

Costume Party

Steven x Reader

Summary: You and Steven go to a party held by one of your friends as Milo and Kida.

Warnings: none. Pure Fluff.

When Gwen had called you last week, asking you to come to come to a costume party, you were going to say no. Parties weren't really your thing, let alone costume parties.

You tried to remember the last time you had dressed up at all, and that had been world book say when you were 10 years old. Not that you thought there was anything wrong with cosplaying as an adult, you just never had any reason to do it.

"Come on Y/N please. You can bring Steven with you. It's a couples thing. Well. Kinda. Well, not really. You can come alone, but I'm telling everyone who's not single to have their outfit match their partners. I'll even help you make your costume."

You sighed, looking over at Steven who was hunched over his desk. You weren't sure how he would react, if he'd ever even been to a party before.

"OK. But I'm only going if he goes."

"Yes!" Gwen cried " thank you, thank you, thank you. I'll text you the details, it's happening at Arthur's house. Arthur was your Gwen's boyfriend. You'd met him on occasion, and he seemed alright. She certainly seemed happy, at least.

"Wait. Who are you and him going as?"

"Well, it's kinda cliché but Robin Hood and Maid Marian."

"Not cliché. Cute.:

"Yeah, it was his idea, actually. Most people would expect him to go as King Arthur cause his name's Arthur, but he wanted to surprise people, and we couldn't think of anything else, lol."

After you finished talking to Gwen, you placed your phone down on the table and headed over to Steven, who sat hunched over on his desk, carefully highlighting pages of his books. He was currently in the first year of his PhD, while working another job at another museum, so he was a little busy. Often, you guys didn't see each other till late at night when he curled up beside you in bed, and you snuggled into his warm body

As if he could sense your prescence he looked up with a smile

"Hello love."

You felt your heart lift at his warmness, stepping forward, and Steven instinctively pulled you in, wrapping an arm around your waist, his head resting on your abdomen, and you played with his curls.

"What's up?"

"Nothing just....Gwen invited us to a party."

"Hmm." He mused, trying to remember her. "Work friend, black hair-

"In a bob, yeah."

"Mm." Steven replied, using his thumb to stroke your hip, and you blushed.

"I said I'd ask you first. You wanna go? I know how sometimes these things can be overwhelming for you, so it's up to you. We don't have to. I won't be disappointed or anything if you don't in fact we can-

"I'd love to go with you, Y/N." Steven almost blurted out. He knew sometimes his eagerness could be a little off-putting, especially when he was talking about Egypt, something he loved wholeheartedly. "That is, only if you want to, love." He looked up at you, a warm smile on yourface

"I'd love to go, only with you." You kissed his head of curls and Steven could feel the warmth spreading throughout his body, "Only thing is though, its a costume party."

Steven paused for a moment as you sat down on the desk

"Who would we go as?" He asked, now holding your hand.

"I don't know..."

"Maybe those geologists or whatever from Jurassic Park."

"Ellie Sattler and Alan Grant? Nah, someone else's taken them. So far, I think there are The flintstones, simpsons, pirates of the carribean couple, oh, and Mario and Princess Peach.

"Wow."

"Yeah just a bit of fun to be honest."

"Whose Gwen and Sam going as?"

"Maid Marian and Robin Hood."

Steven paused before spotting your dvd on the table in front of the TV.

"What about them?"

You picked up your old copy of Atlantis you had gotten as a child, going to sit back on his desk.

"Milo and Kida? You think I could pull her off?"

"I think you'd look ho-

Steven laughed as you raised an eyebrow. The blush was spreading on his face and it was hard not to smirk

"You look...amazing...in anything...Y/N." He turned back to his work, clearing his throat."When's the Party?"

"This coming Friday. Are you sure you can make it? You can spare some time? I can go alone if you can't, or just cancel."

Steven stood up, stretching and giving your forehead a kiss

"Wouldn't dream of missing it. And there's always time for you." He kissed your forehead again.

Now it was Thursday night, and you sat on the floor in Gwen's room, a mannequin out in front of you, and carefully cut fabric on the floor. You had requested the skirt to be floor length, only cause it got bloody cold and it was still winter. You'd gotten golden earrings, an amulet necklace, and an arm band, along with a white wig. Kida walked barefoot, but in London, that wasn't exactly advised, so you got some gold sandals. Lying there, the fabric looked so beautiful.

You were worried you were going to ruin it just by wearing it. Body image had never been something you had the best relationship with, and so coming to this place was way out of your comfort zone. Especially weemaring an outfit like Kida's.

Gwen had just measured you and cut the material, and now you were just sitting on the living room floor, watching a movie, eating popcorn and talking about work and other things. It was about 9 o'clock when you finally finished the outfit (you had lost a lot of time movie watching) and she made you try it on, wig and all.

Before you stepped out of the bathroom, you were coming up with excuses in your head, so you didn't have to show her. The dress didn't fit right, the wig was a little stuffy. To be honest, you thought you would look terrible, that's why you didn't look at yourself before you stepped out.

Gwen wolf-whistled when you came out

"Shit, Y/N you look hot. I wish I was Steven."

You blushed, "shut up."

"No but seriously, you do look really hot. Spin around for me."

You did so

"And the dress fits perfect. Eat shit Mrs Zimmer."

"Whose Mrs Zimmer?"

"My design and textiles teacher who used to tell me I was crap at this sort of stuff. Heck, Y/N you look damn good. I really should have pursued a career in fashion."

After you got changed back into your regular clothes, I was a little more confident for when Steven would see you tomorrow. Marc was fronting when you got back into the shared flat.

"Hey baby."

"Hey Marc."

"Is that your costume?" You blushed. You had tried to cover it up in your bag, still a little unsure of whether they would like it on you, but your bag was still open from when you gotten your keys.

"Yeah." You said hurrying towards your wardrobe

"Can I see it?" You shoved it inside.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Cause," you blushed, a grin on your face. "You'll see it tomorrow."

You stuffed it in the back of your wardrobe. When the morning came, you said goodbye to Steven and headed over to work. Gwen seemed very excited, and everyone at work wished he happy birthday, but your heart pounded in your throat all day. Even though you tried to act like you were happy for her. And you were. But you were also nervous. What if Steven and the boys hated it?

You pushed the thought away as you entered your flat, holding a bag of cans of fizzy drinks/soda. Steven came and met you at the door, already in full Milo cute. If it was possible, he looked even more cute and handsome (at the same time).

You grinned at him as he kissed your cheek and took the drinks you'd bought on Gwen's request.

"You look really, handsome Stevie."

"Thanks." He rubbed his arm a little. "I got this stuff thrifted, and I already had a ton of old looking notebooks, though." He explained before casting a grin."Where's your?"

"Oh uh, in the cupboard. I think I'll change later though." You smiled, trying to stall as much as possible "right before we leave."'

He nodded, and you felt the room was suddenly too hot even though it was the middle of winter. You opened a couple of windows, trying to calm yourself and dreading for whem he and the others would see you.

So, that's how you ended up hiding out in the bathroom before you were due to leave. You were in full Kida mode, and the skirt still hugged you the way it did before, but you still didn't know. Surmounting all your strength you finally looked up. Everything looked wrong on you, so wrong you wanted the ground to swallow you hope. You were gearing up to tell Steven you didn't want to go anymore when you heard a knock on the door

"Love," he said, opening the door "just letting you know that-

"don't open it!" You jumped but it was too late. He had already seen you. You wanted to run into bed and huddle up in the covers.

Steven stood their breathless, mesmerised. The blue was great against your skin tone, the dress long and flowing. Your eyes sparkled, glowing almost, the dress hugging your figure perfectly. Steven could've sworn that moment he first saw you lasted forever. He spent forever getting lost in your waters before submerging again

"Steven?" He blinked as you rubbed your arm sheepishly. Your call had brought him back to reality.

"Oh yeah." He shook his head and stepped forward, laying both of his hands over your arms. "Y/N. You look beautiful. Really. You do."

He lifted your chin up and kissed you deeply.

"Bloody Brilliant babes. " He winked at the end, and you could feel your insides melt.

The headspace certainly thought that too.

Jake wolf-whistled, 'Mierda, debería vestirse así más a menudo'

'Damn. You're one lucky guy, Steven. Wish I was fronting tonight.' Marc added

When you finally had gotten there, the music was already pumping. Steven held your hand tight as you walked up to Gwen's front door and rang it. As if she was waiting there, Gwen answered the door immediately, excited and slightly tipsy

"Hey, hey Steven. Hey Y/N! You brought the drinks!"

Arthur came over to say hi as well, shaking Steven's hand and giving you a hug. You gave one to Gwen as well, and she took the drinks from you before ushering you inside with a wave of her hand.

"Drinks are on that table, food and shit on the other. Dump your stuff in my room," She handed a key "remember to lock it. Don't want any strays in there."

You hadn't brought much, expect a few essential items in your brought handbag. Steven came with you upstairs to make sure the door was locked (he said it was Marc's paranoia) but once you were done, he pulled you in by the waist, before moving the locks out of your face, and kissing you softly, then harder, and you did too. Even though you had spent the evening with him, every time you kissed it, it felt like you hadn't seen him in ages. Like you needed him.

You finally pulled away, when you felt like you were losing your breath, staring into Steven's eyes.

"I have to go to the bathroom." You pecked him on the cheeks."See you downstairs."

He nodded

"I'll get you a drink."

You headed over to bathroom, freshened up and then went back downstairs, looking for him. More people had arrived, and it was hard to see him over the masses. The music was pumping, and people were either dancing or huddled together talking. You decided to brave the crowd and go looking for Steven on foot, but before you could make it across the room, Gwen called your name.

"Oh Y/N! This is ny cousin Sam. Came as King Arthur. See if you can find him a woman to talk too. Bye!"

She waved goodbye and disappeared into the crowd again so quickly you had wondered whether she had ever been there

Sam laughed a little awkwardly

"I have to apologise for my cousin's behaviour. I went through a rough breakup a couple months ago and she's been trying to set me up ever since."

You smiled. "It's ok. Gwen likes to play matchmaker. She's still convinced she introduced me to my boyfriend, yet I'd met him before."

You hadn't told Gwen about the DID. You'd met Marc first, then Steven, and then finally Jake. It'd been a long time coming getting Marc to open up about his DID, and you didn't feel like it was your place to tell people without his or the other altars permission.

Sam rolled his eyes, releasing a pent up laug

"Yeah that sounds like her. She's trying to set me up. Said she invited a lot of sexy women for me to pick from."

You laughed

"OK she is definitely drunk."

"Very." Sam laughed, and your eyes scanned over his costume

"You're Arthur."

"What? Sorry."

"Arthur. You're King Arthur."

He blinked as his expression changed from confused to realising.

"Oh shit. Oh yeah." He laughed again

"You're just missing a Guinevere."

Sam smiled, before looking back at you.

"Honestly, I was hoping to find her tonight."

You moved to say something "Well maybe I can help, I've got a-

"Wait. Hold on. Sorry." He leaned closer to you."It's just, I wanna give you my full attention, and I can't see you properly if it's like this."

He moved a strand of white hair away from your cheek.

"There."

You stepped back a little, a blush rising in your cheeks, surprised and nervous at how forward his action was. A part of you sighed in relief once you had spotted Steven walking towards you.

Steven had been watching the whole exchange, drinking from a bottle of beer. He didn't even like beer. That was more of Marc's thing, but he kept drinking it either way. It wasn't that he didn't trust you was that he didn't trust the guy right next to you.

'Whose that guy?' Marc asked

'I don't know Marc. Friend of Gwen's maybe. She seems to know him.'

'Well, he's getting a little close.'

'De acuerdo. Si él la toca solo sabe, voy a patearle el trasero.'

'Jake, they're hardly kissing.' Steven chuckled, though his own insecurity was running high. He took another swig of beer. 'Besides, Y/N's not like that. She wouldn't cheat.'

'We know that, but it's not like this guy wouldn't try something.'

Steven didn't reply, instead choosing to watch, a little riled up.

He watched at how Sam seemed to make you laugh with every word that came out of your mouth and the bright smile that seemed to grace your features when you were talking to him. He even watched as Sam moved a piece of hair away from your face, something only he and the boys did.

Jake swore very loudly.

'El cabrón. Te dije que este tipo era un problema'

'Go get him, Steven.' Marc said, though the former had already started walking towards you.

You noticed Steven coming up to you and smiled at him, though he didn't see it, instead slipping an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. You blushed.

"This is my boyfriend Steven." He shook Sam's hand a little too tightly before placing his back on your waist. A silent reminder that you belonged to someone else

"Sam, yeah? He took a swig of his beer. "So what'd you do for a living? Make a lot of money."

"Steven." You raised your eyebrows a little, and Steven took another gulp of his drink

"What?"

Sam laughed "No it's alright. In just a software engineer. I make money to live on, but not as much as I'd like, you know?"

You nodded eagerly, and Steven wondered if you cared more about what Sam said than he did. You never seemed this eager whenever he told you about his interests. He wondered if he had been this blind all along. Of course you didn't care Egypt, people never cared about what he was into.

"Well, I better go find Gwen. See you around Y/N. Steven." Sam waved himself off.

'Good job Steven you scared him off.'

'Sí, nadie se lleva a nuestra chica.'

You turned towards him and smiled, though he looked away. Even though you hadn't done anything wrong, his actions made you feel a little guilty.

"Steven? Steven?"

"I just remembered, I've got some coursework to do. I'll see you at home, Y/N." He started moving to the front door.

"Wait, Steven. What's going on? I thought you were having a good time."

"Well, I'm not anymore."

"What? Why?"

He sighed, turning back around to face you.

"Y/N, come on, don't play dumb with me. He was flirting with you." He paused. "And you didn't exactly seem like you hated it."

"What? Steven, come on. Why would I enjoy him flirting with me?

"I don't know, you tell me." Those words stung a little, and you could feel yourself getting more pissed off. "You were the one flirting back."

"Flirting back? What do you mean flirting back?!"

"You were laughing, and whispering to him. I saw you. Then you let him touch you."

"I didn't let him do anything. I was about to tell him I had a boyfriend again, then you came up.

"Were you really? Looked like you were gonna exchange numbers to me."

"Steven." You stepped in closer to him, the strong scent of beer hitting your nostrils. "Baby, are you drunk? I promise you it wasn't like that. Don't you trust me?" You reached for him, and he pushed you hand away.

"No." He answered a little too quickly. "How can I trust a flirt?"

He turned back around to see your eyes brimming with tears, and reality suddenly hit him again.

"Oh shit, Y/N. Love, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-

You turned from him, and ran upstairs. There were people going into the room to dump their stuff so you took that as an opportunity to grab yours.

You walked past Steven.

"Y/N. Love, wait. You're right. I am drunk."

"Walk yourself home tonight, Grant."

'Nice going, Steven.'

He followed you out to the car.

"Y/N. Love. Wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it-

"Then why did you say it, Steven?!" You were still angry, but he could see the tears rolling down your cheeks "I love you all more than anything. Why would you say something like that?"

"I just didn't like it when..." he trails off at the end "When he touched you. It was our thing. And, you seemed so much more happy with him then you ever did with me. I was a little jealous I guess."

"A little?" You chuckled, wiping your eyes, and he knew he could approach you again. He wrapped his arms around you, slowly stroking your back, calming you down.

"Steven." You whispered once you had calmed down. He looked down below at you. "You make me happy. You, Marc, and Jake. More than anyone in the world. I know you think you're so flawed. But to me, you're all perfect. All of you."

You nuzzled his nose, leaning him

"I wouldn't trade a million you guys for one Sam."

"Technically it would be 3 million."

You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning into him

"Love you, Y/N." He replied, kissing your head

"Love you too, Stevie. And you Marc. And you, Jake."

"Can we go home?"

"Yeah, baby. We can go home."

#jake lockley #marc spector #marc spector x reader #steven grant #steven grant x reader #jake lockely x reader #moon boys #moon knight fic #moon knight system

145 notes · View notes

heliads · 2 years

Text

Who Could Stay

Based on this request: "Robin Hood AU, Newt x female reader. Ava Paige is King John. Janson is the sheriff of Nottingham. Reader is Robin Hood. Thomas, Minho, Gally, and Chuck are the Merry Men. Newt is Marian. He’s a nobleman who the reader falls in love with."

vibes off the charts

masterlist

The morning of the contest looms. Across the fair city, scores of archers are readying their bows, fletching their arrows, parading towards the grounds in waves of checkered cloaks and satin garments. The prize, a bag of coins, doesn’t mean much to them by way of money. They’re more interested in the fame it would bring to their title than anything else.

You, on the other hand, are distracted by something far more interesting than even the brightest compliment to your rank. Esteem is one thing, but gold? That’s of far more use to you. You are an outlaw, after all, and that means steady hours aren’t exactly your sort of thing.

Then again, you’re not just any outlaw. You’re the one that lingers in the rumors dotting town streets, the name whispered again and again over darkened thresholds and gossip mongers’ dens. You’re Robin Hood, and around here, that means something quite important.

No, you have no need for a title. You shucked that from your shoulders yourself when you chose to live in Sherwood Forest and spend the rest of your days on the run from the law. It’s not like you would ever want to retreat back to society, anyway; to take part in any action that might help the ruling class is strictly against your best wishes.

It hadn’t been like that all the time. There had once been a kind and fair leader over your people, King Alby, although the man hasn’t been seen in a very long time. You think some folk still harbor a belief that he might come back and save all of you, but you’ve long since accepted that such hope is worthless.

What matters now is trying to survive under the current regime. You’re sure that Queen Ava Paige ascended to the throne with at least the barest aspirations of doing good to her people, but those beliefs have long since been bled dry. Now, she terrorizes the towsfolk in search of more resources, more results, and never do the benefits ever reach the people they were supposed to help in the first place.

Additionally, her right hand man is something of a menace all by himself. Sheriff Janson of Nottingham is a foul, rattish man, given to seeking out people in need and leaving them even worse off than before. He’d kidnap or kill anyone he needed to if he thought it would get him a step ahead.

That’s why you left all of that behind. You live on the fringes of society, delving deep within Sherwood Forest every night to find a home far better than anything civilization could offer. When Ava and Janson’s men dare to venture within the bounds of your forest, you take their riches and redistribute them to those who could actually use the gilded trappings.

It’s more far this way by a long shot. Over time, you started to gain more supporters, and your band of outlaws grew. Now, you call yourselves the Merry Men, and your numbers only rise by the month.

Your friends survive not just by your own resources, however, but by constantly dancing in and out of skirmishes with Janson’s soldiers. That’s why entering today's archery contest would be a terrible idea, yet you’re still doing it anyway. There’s no doubt in your mind that Sheriff Janson will be there looking for the one they call Robin Hood, but that’s precisely why you have to go in the first place.

There’s something to be said for the fun of outsmarting the Sheriff. It’s quite easy to do, actually, and the rewards feel all the more pleasant for it. Although Robin Hood is technically an outlaw, there are no rules on the entries to this particular contest, so of course you could enter. The only problem comes with escaping after the contest ends and you’re right in the Sheriff’s clutches.

Then again, if you were the kind of person to back down from a good challenge, you’d never have made it as far as you have. You enjoy a good bit of fun, and this contest seems like just the right avenue for it.

Besides, if you’re willing to admit it to yourself, you’d share that there’s one more reason that you’re inclined to attend this archery contest in particular, other than the thrill of a cash prize and humiliating Janson: namely, the young man you can just make out arriving at the scene of the contest, the sole nobleman you can’t find it in yourself to hate.

Lord Newt is well known throughout the town and surrounding lands for being a genuinely good person. He helps out those in need, he offers advice to those who come searching for it, he does everything in his power to make sure he uses his station to aid instead of harm.

He’s also way out of your league, even if you weren’t an outlaw. You’ve never had cause to meet him, obviously, but that doesn’t stop you from wishing you could. You lean against the trunk of a nearby tree, staring out at him as Newt crosses the field to greet some other nobles.

Behind you, a few of your Merry Men have noticed your distraction and feel it necessary to comment on the matter. Your newest arrival, Thomas, starts talking in a low voice.

“You know, I was so keen on figuring out how we were going to use that gold, but I’m starting to think that we might have to think more about getting our Robin Hood in line than anything else.”

The brusque voice of one of your best fighters, Minho, answers him soon enough. “You might have cause to worry after all, Thomas. Y/N’s not focused on her bow in the slightest, she’s too busy pining over some rich boy who’ll never pay her any attention. It’s a hopeless case.”

You respond to your friend’s retort without bothering to turn around. “Shut it, Minho, I’ve got enough skill with a bow to never have to practice. And besides, I wouldn’t exactly call my case hopeless.”

Minho lets out an obviously staged gasp of surprise. “Why’s that? Have you actually talked to him?”

You grin, and finally look over at him. “No, something better. He’s talked about me.”

Minho throws a hand in the air, whereas Thomas starts to laugh. “That’s not any indication of anything,” Minho says, “only that he’s aware of the local criminals. Everyone else is, too, does that mean the blacksmith is fond of you?”

“The blacksmith is incredibly fond of me,” you answer, eyes wide, “we give him ten gold pieces every time we see him.”

Another one of your Merry Men, Gally, snorts. “Well, if all it took to appease your nobleman were a few bribes, I’d say you’d better get to winning this contest. You’ll need every bit of that gold to attract someone so rich.”

“Ah, Gally,” you counter, “I don’t need money. I’ve got my dashing personality, and I don’t think there’s a soul alive who could resist that.”

“Even the Sheriff?” Gally asks, eyebrow raised.

“Even the Sheriff,” you grin, and reach up to pull the hood of your cloak over your face. It’s time to win this contest.

Despite your favoritism for causing a scene, you do know enough to keep your identity hidden. Entertaining a little bit of secrecy allows you to visit the town when you need to, especially when you’re not interested in leading the soldiers of Nottingham on a merry chase through the streets. You doubt any of the Sheriff’s men even know that you’re a girl. All they see is a deep green hooded cloak and nothing else.

You’re perfectly fine with staying hidden. Thus, when you arrive at the archery contest, hood casting your face in shadow, you don’t even have to say your name before the officiant announces in a surprised voice that Robin Hood has arrived to compete.

It does earn you your fair share of scathing remarks from your competitors as you take a position in front of an available target, but you could give less of a damn about what some nobleman’s useless sons think about you.

Instead, you allow yourself to glance casually over at the audience, where a certain someone resides in the box reserved for the wealthy. Lord Newt is already looking at you, and flushes a quiet scarlet when you flash him a quick smile. Looks like Minho doesn’t know what he’s talking about in the slightest.

The contest starts soon enough, forcing you to divert your attention away from Newt once more. As the officiant drones on about the rules, you notice something strange about your target. You swear it looks further away than the others, and the surface of the painted circles looks strange. The other competitors have hay bales with canvas stretched over them, but you could swear that yours is of a different material, likely not as easy to hit.

It wouldn’t surprise you that the Sheriff would resort to such tactics. He’s looking to humiliate you by taking away your skill with the bow. It’s a shame, then, that you’re used to practicing in far worse conditions. It’s almost fun to see the look on his face when you hit the dead center of the target anyway, despite all his meddling.

What’s less fun is when the Sheriff doesn’t even wait for the end of the contest before calling his soldiers to attack you. You were waiting for a trap, of course, but that doesn’t mean your escape isn’t fairly difficult to achieve. Within an hour, though, you’re meeting your Merry Men in the outskirts of the forest as planned, only a little worse for wear than before.

You’re ready to head back into the depths of the forest and lose any soldiers that might still be following you, but just as you’re turning to leave, Thomas gestures behind you with a jerk of his chin.

When you turn around, you’re surprised to see Newt standing there before you. If anything, he looks just as confused about the whole thing, but pulls out a bag from beneath his cloak before you have the chance to ask him what he’s doing. Judging by the way it clinks with every movement, you have a guess as to what it contains.

Newt explains anyway, clearly glad for some script to follow. “I know the contest was interrupted, but you still won fair and square. Figured you would be more deserving of the prize than if it just disappeared back into the Sheriff’s coffers.”

He holds out the bag to you, but you just grin. “I didn’t think you were in the habit of talking to criminals.”

Newt’s face flushes again, and when he speaks, his words are clipped, precisely controlled. It’s a very sharp contrast to the easy words of you and your men. “I’m not.”

You chuckle. “I can tell. Hideous accent. Atrocious. You sound like a nobleman.”

Newt blinks at you in surprise. “That’s because I am.”

You shrug. “Figures. Anyway, are you coming or not?”

“Am I coming?” Newt repeats, “What are you talking about?”

You allow yourself a small smile. “Back to our camp, of course. If you’re bringing us money, you’re clearly our friend. Maybe you could use a chance to get to know some of us petty thieves. Besides, if you’re having doubts please know that I will be leaving you with the money, and if you don’t follow us to hand it over that might be considered stealing.”

Newt stares at you a second longer, then starts to laugh. It’s a good look on him, you can admit it freely. “I think I can see why the Sheriff wants you dead.”

You grin back at him. “What, because of my winning temperament?”

“Something like that,” Newt says, and falls in line with the rest of you.

Thomas and Minho exchange surprised looks over your shoulder, but you’re not taken aback by Newt’s sudden decision in the slightest. Every time you’ve seen Newt out with the other noblemen, he looks distinctly uncomfortable, as if he’s more than aware that he isn’t quite like the others. It seems that your men might not be the only ones who want more from society than they’re going to get.

As it turns out, your hunch is spot on. It only takes a few minutes before Newt’s conversing with your friends as if he’d known them his entire life. He even manages to befriend Gally, a task that took you several weeks and the others ranging up to a few months. Newt’s just a nice guy, that’s all, and you certainly don’t mind his company in the slightest.

Newt’s position as an inhabitant of Sherwood Forest only seems to grow more permanent as the weeks pass by. He ends up visiting at least every couple of days to bring food, supplies, and news of the Sheriff. Newt’s basically a spy on the inside, and his information proves to be quite valuable on more than a few occasions.

Thanks to his warnings, you and your Merry Men are able to avoid traps and ambushes, even despite Sheriff Janson’s best attempts to catch you. You can tell that it’s driving the man insane, even without Newt’s laughing stories about how Janson looks one minute from a heart attack.

Yes, Newt fits in quite well with your band of thieves. He even ends up bringing his younger sister, Lady Sonya, and her good friend, Lady Harriet one day, to the enjoyment of the whole party. Your newest addition, Aris, is particularly delighted to see them. As it turns out, he’s been friends with Sonya and Harriet for quite some time.

Aris had been a nobleman’s son before he joined your ranks. Just like you, the hypocrisy and inequality of it all got to him and he decided to run away. Aris hadn’t had much of a chance to warn Sonya and Harriet about his whereabouts, but they’re all certainly happy to catch each other up on all that’s happened in his absence.

You find Newt standing by the edge of your camp one night, watching the three kids talk. He’s just on the outskirts of the campfire, more in shadow than in light. All the same, you’re still able to see the quiet emotion flickering across his face as he listens to Aris regale the girls with stories of his newfound freedom. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that it was almost envy.

“You could do it too, you know,” you whisper, “Join us. Leave the rich and their self serving gambles to someone else.”

Newt sighs. “I wish I could. More than anything.”

You get the sense that he truly means it. “Then do it, Newt. You’ve heard Aris talk, he was able to make the trip. I know our way of life isn’t all velvet cloaks and grand palaces, but it’s worth something, too.”

Newt looks at you dead on, and you’re startled by the bleak hopelessness in his gaze. “It was feasible for Aris, but not for me. Aris is different, he doesn’t have as many people surrounding him all the time. I’m more chained up than Aris ever was, I couldn’t possibly be able to leave forever.”

Newt speaks quickly, the words hastened out of his mouth by something that could even be guilt. You’ve never wanted your friend to suffer, so you ease his burden as best you can.

“It’s not your fault,” you reply, “Besides, you are rather useful in your information. We wouldn’t know about half the attacks if you weren’t here.”

Newt smiles softly. “It is pretty fun, I can admit that. All the spying makes one feel rather daring.”

You laugh at that. “See, what did I tell you? We’ll make an outlaw of you yet.”

Before Newt can respond to that, you hear something, a sound carried over the whisper of the wind. You hold up a hand to ask for silence and listen hard. A moment later, your eyes widen as you realize just what’s coming for you.

“Soldiers!” You shout to your friends, “Everybody, run!”

There’s just enough time for your friends to register your words before the horses are upon you. They break into the clearing, hoofs rearing as armored men leap down at you. Newt grabs at your arm, dragging you away. This is no time for a fight, you’ve been heavily outnumbered and taken by surprise. You can see the others making the same choice as you, melting away into the forest before the soldiers can spot them.

Newt’s breath is harsh in your ear. “What do we do? Where do we go?”

You pull at your arms, still intertwined, and start to run in a northerly direction. “We established a safe location some time ago, everyone knows to meet there. Follow me.”

“As if I was going to leave you,” Newt mumbles under his breath, and runs after you.

The flight through the trees is dark and full of danger. Although you’ve always known Sherwood Forest well, it seems even more perilous now that you’re being pursued. The sounds of baying hounds and shouting men echo behind you, driving you forward as fast as you can. Branches whip at your face, roots seem to lunge towards your feet, but you and Newt fight on anyway.

Eventually, you gesture for him to come to a stop. This is the safe haven, a spring hidden deep in the crevices of a rock face. Only your Merry Men would be aware of its existence.

The two of you pause to catch your breath and wait for the others to arrive. Now that the danger is past, Newt glances at you, and his hand raises unconsciously to your face.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, gently wiping away a scarlet smear with his thumb.

You freeze there for a second, his hand still on your cheek. Neither Newt nor you appear willing to move. Why should you, anyway, when you’re so deeply cloaked in darkness that neither of you could be seen? The moonlight is soft, dappling his hair such that it seems more silver than gold. Perhaps the two of you will stay here forever, locked into place, twin statues that could never be separated. It is certainly a better fate than any that might befall you.

A crashing sound from the forest is the only thing capable of breaking the two of you apart. Within moments, Thomas is skidding to a stop in front of you, Gally and Chuck right behind him. Sonya and Harriet emerge from the woods a few paces back, looking just as worse for wear as the rest of you.

“Everyone here?” Thomas asks. Evidently, he had taken as many people as he could and just ran.

You start to do a head count, then panic. “Where’s Minho?”

Chuck’s eyes are wide. “He told me to run, and that he was going to distract a captain who was charging at us. Has he not come back yet?”

Your blood runs cold. “Not yet, but that doesn’t have to mean anything. Maybe he had to take a looping way here and he’ll show up later.”

A few hours later, though, even you have to admit that Minho won’t be coming. He’s likely been captured, something Newt confirms when he risks a trip into town to check it out for himself. Apparently the Sheriff is holding him hostage in one of the prisons. Minho himself is a little battered, but not too bad.

It’s a pretty obvious trap. The Sheriff is clearly waiting for you, but even in the face of such terrible odds, you know just as well as the rest of your friends that you’ll be coming for Minho anyway. Minho is one of your eldest friends, your bravest fighter. You’ll save him even if it damns you.

Newt still tries to talk you out of it, just in case. “Don’t go, Y/N. The rest of us can sneak around a lot easier than you can. Sheriff Janson’s got scores of men combing the streets in search of you, it’s not worth it.”

“It is,” you say simply, “Minho’s family. Besides, no one knows that I’m a girl. I’ll just act like a normal townsperson and we’ll be out of there in no time.”

Newt doesn’t seem convinced, but he can tell that you’ve already made your mind up. “I’m helping too,” he replies, “and don’t even think about trying to talk me out of it.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” you grin, and Newt smiles at last.

Thus the plan unfolds: you and your Merry Men will wear disguises into town, as if you were nothing more than ordinary citizens of Nottingham. You’ll divert the guards and rescue Minho before Janson realizes that his infamous Robin Hood is a teenage girl. After that, you’ll have to keep your heads down for a while, but at least you’ll all be out.

The first part of the plan goes well enough. You and your friends enter Nottingham from different points, slowly but surely converging on the prison. You’re able to enter the jail under the guise of serving food to the prisoners, but that’s where it all goes wrong.

For one thing, the jail is empty. You check and double check the cells, but it’s true. Minho isn’t there. When you try to leave, soldiers arrive to block the doors. Obviously, they’ve been expecting someone would try to spring Minho, and the only ones who wouldn’t know about the switch would be you and your allies.

You’re able to fight off the soldiers reasonably well with the help of Gally and Thomas, but the element of surprise is gone. Newt races up to you, sharing through deep breaths that he heard Minho is being held at Queen Ava’s palace instead. The reward of capturing Robin Hood would be enough to even involve royalty. It would be a wonderful compliment were it not for the fact that you’re terrified you won’t be able to save Minho.

Newt knows secret passageways into and out of the castle thanks to all the hours he had to spend there in his youth, and is able to lead you and your friends to one of them. He does caution you about jumping out of windows any taller than the ground floor, and points to his leg with a wry grin.

“Got bored of a stuffy banquet and tried to escape,” he whispers, “Didn’t end too well. Now I’ve got a limp for life and not a whole lot to say for it.”

With that warning in mind, your group sets off. You don’t entirely know where Minho is being held within the bounds of the castle, so you split up into groups of two. All parties involved have the directions to head to the safe haven in the forest should anything happen, and then the searching begins.

You’re working with Newt, and the two of you check every room on your designated sector, the third floor, before coming up blank. As you’re turning around to head back out, your path is blocked by one of Ava Paige’s knights. You’ve heard a lot about this man in particular; a more dastardly blackguard has never been seen.

He’s even a worse foe than the Sheriff. This knight has spread his cruelty over the lands like a virus, infecting the minds of otherwise rational men with the urge to pay him off, to commit crimes in his name and give this treacherous man as much leverage as he could possibly have in the palace. He’s even been given a nickname by those unfortunate to come in contact with him: the Flare, for how he burns his way through civilized society.

Newt stretches an arm in front of you, as if to keep himself in between you and the Flare. The knight cocks his head to the side, evidently curious as to what’s happening.

“Lord Newt, I haven’t seen you in quite some time. You know, I was hoping we’d meet. I hear we might have much in common.”

Newt shakes his head slowly. “I fear our meeting will have to be delayed a little longer. I must be off.”

The Flare’s eyes narrow. “You’d deny me my right? To induct good men such as yourself into my ranks, as my status allows?”

Newt’s gaze flickers briefly to you, and you can see the warning written there, clear as day. The Flare’s attention drifts to you now. “And who’s this lovely lady with you? You know, I’ve heard rumors that Robin Hood might not have the face we expected. You wouldn’t happen to know about that, would you?”

You and Newt start to make for a nearby exit, but the Flare draws his sword, stepping calmly in front of it. “I think the two of you know more than you’re letting on. I’m going to have to stop you there.”

Newt’s hand drifts to his sword, but you can see how this battle would turn out even before they cross blades for the first time. The enemy knight is armored, ready for a fight, not held back by something as foolish as a conscience. Were they to come in contact with each other, the Flare would kill Newt without a second’s hesitation, and you will not allow that to happen.

Instead, you grab Newt by the hand and sprint in the other direction, pulling him towards a nearby stairwell. The fact that neither of you are in armor does give you the advantage of speed, and you and Newt hurdle headlong down the stairs as fast as you can. Newt leads you through a whirlwind of quick turns, doubling back a few times just to make sure nobody could follow you.

When you’re certain that the Flare is nowhere to be seen, you and Newt slow down at last. You’re met by Thomas and Minho by the entrance, both of them bent double and gasping for breath.

“What happened?” You ask, fighting the wave of relief that crashes over you at the sight of your friend.

Thomas leans back against the wall. “Found Minho, but nearly got myself locked up instead. Janson had me, I swear it, and he was ready to kill me. He left the room for a minute, but Ava Paige let me go. It sounds strange, but it’s true.”

Newt frowns in bewilderment. “Queen Ava? What would she do that for?”

Thomas shrugs. “Beats me. Maybe she had a brief glimpse of a conscience or something. Anyway, we’re all out, I sent Gally and Aris out ahead of us to track down Sonya and Harriet. They all seemed fine. How about you guys?”

You smile grimly. “Nearly got murdered by a sickeningly bad knight, but other than that, we’re all good. Shall we leave this place before our luck runs out?”

“Sounds great to me,” Minho says fervently, and the four of you head for the forest.

Luckily, you encounter no further resistance on your troop back through the city. As you reach the edge of Sherwood Forest, however, Newt’s footsteps start to slow. You look back at him, and realize that he’s stopped walking altogether. He stares up at the horizon, where the outline of the palace is just visible amongst the tops of the nearby cottages.

You walk back to him, signaling for Minho and Thomas to continue without you. “What’s wrong, Newt?”

Newt shakes his head slowly. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking about how glad I am to leave that place.”

You stare at him, a slow realization dawning upon you. “What does that mean?”

Newt glances back at you at last, smiling as brightly as the morning sun. “I think you know perfectly well what it means.”

“Spell it out just in case, why don’t you?” You say faintly, “I don’t want to get my hopes up for nothing.”

“Very well,” Newt replies, “I’m leaving Nottingham for good. I hereby pledge myself to be one of the Merry Men, to fight by your side as long as we both shall live. How’s that for an explanation?”

You beam at him. “It sounds perfectly alright to me. You really mean it? You’re leaving your old life for good?”

Newt nods solemnly. “I want this life, Y/N. I have for a while. It feels more real than anything I ever had before. The only question is if you’ll have me.”

You get the feeling he’s asking a different thing than just if you’ll let him be one of the Merry Men. So, you nod, and answer his unspoken question by kissing him. It seems an excellent answer to both of you.

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria

requested by @thornyrose463, who also made this moodboard!