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muiitoloko · 2 months

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11 o'clock girl

Summary: The sheriff notices you and makes you the 11 o'clock girl.

Pairing: Sheriff of Nottingham × Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, questionable consent, degradation.

Author Notes: Hey folks! First off, a big shoutout to all 150 of you wonderful followers! *pops open a bottle of budget-friendly champagne* Now, let me tell you about my recent dive into the cinematic masterpiece that is "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves." Can we just take a moment to appreciate Alan Rickman's brilliance in that movie? He practically swiped the spotlight from Costner like a pro pickpocket!

So, I decided to scribble down a few thoughts about the character, but fair warning, I might have taken some creative liberties here and there. So, if the Sheriff of Nottingham ends up doing something completely outlandish, just roll with it, okay? Oh, and I should probably mention that I didn't bother proofreading this gem. Hey, blame it on my laziness! But I promise I'll clean up the mess later. Cheers to that! 🥂

As a lowly servant in the castle of Nottingham, you've always known the dangers of catching the Sheriff's eye. His reputation for cruelty and ruthlessness precedes him, and you've seen firsthand the consequences of crossing him. But when the Sheriff notices you, it's not fear that grips your heart—it's a chilling sense of dread mixed with a strange fascination.

At first, it's just a fleeting glance, a passing acknowledgment of your presence as you go about your duties. But soon, those glances turn into lingering stares, his piercing brown eyes boring into your soul with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine.

You try to keep your distance, avoiding him whenever possible and praying that he'll lose interest and move on to someone else. But the Sheriff is relentless, his obsession with you growing with each passing day until it becomes impossible to ignore.

One night, as you're tidying up the Great Hall after a banquet, you feel his presence behind you, his breath hot against your neck as he leans in close. "You have a name, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice sending a chill down your spine.

You nod nervously, unable to speak as fear grips your throat like a vice. But the Sheriff doesn't seem to notice—or perhaps he just doesn't care—as he continues to hover close, his gaze burning into your skin with an intensity that makes you squirm.

"I want you," he said abruptly, his words sending shockwaves of terror through your body. The implication hung heavy in the air, leaving you trembling with fear at the thought of what he might do to you.

But before you could respond, the Sheriff gave you a chilling command. "Come to my quarters at 11," he instructed, his voice dripping with authority. "And don't be late."

You nodded numbly, too terrified to refuse as the Sheriff smiled contentedly to himself before leaving, leaving you shaking in his wake. As you stood alone in the Great Hall, the weight of his words settled over you like a suffocating blanket, filling you with a sense of dread and helplessness.

The thought of what awaited you in the Sheriff's quarters made your stomach churn with nausea, but you knew that disobeying him was not an option. With a heavy heart, you resigned yourself to your fate, knowing that you had no choice but to obey his command.

As the clock struck 11, you found yourself standing outside the Sheriff's quarters, your heart pounding in your chest as you knocked on the door with trembling hands. The seconds stretched into eternity as you waited, the anticipation building with each passing moment until finally, the door swung open, revealing the Sheriff standing before you.

He was dressed only in his pants, his black hair tousled and his brown eyes gleaming with amusement as he greeted you with a sly grin. "Ah, the 11 o'clock girl," he purred, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "Right on time, as always."

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry with fear as you stepped into his quarters, your eyes darting nervously around the room. But before you could utter a word, the Sheriff turned away from you, his attention drawn to the woman lying in his bed.

"Time to go, darling," he said casually, his tone dismissive as he addressed the woman who lay beside him. "You were the 10:45 girl, weren't you? Off you go now, before I lose interest."

The woman scrambled to get dressed, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she hurriedly gathered her belongings and fled the room, leaving you alone with the Sheriff once more. As the door closed behind her, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over you, the realization sinking in that you were not the only one he had summoned tonight.

But as you looked at the Sheriff, his gaze lingering on you with a hunger that sent a chill down your spine, you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. You had been summoned here for a reason, and now it was time to face whatever fate awaited you.

But as the Sheriff approached you with a predatory gleam in his eyes, a wave of doubt washed over you, your mind reeling with questions and uncertainties. Did you truly want this? Did you have any choice in the matter?

As he drew closer, his hands reaching out to touch you, you couldn't help but flinch, your body recoiling instinctively from his touch. But the Sheriff paid no mind to your hesitation, his eyes blazing with desire as he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a rough and possessive kiss.

As the Sheriff pulled you into his embrace, his hands roaming over your trembling form, a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine. Despite your fear and uncertainty, there was something undeniably thrilling about being in the presence of such a powerful and commanding man.

"You're trembling, my dear," the Sheriff remarked, his voice dripping with amusement as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "Nervous, are we? Or perhaps just excited to finally be in my arms?"

You couldn't help but blush at his words, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you struggled to maintain your composure. But the Sheriff only chuckled darkly, his hands wandering lower as he pulled you closer, his touch sending sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

"Tell me, darling," he murmured, his voice low and husky as he trailed kisses down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you know why I summoned you here tonight? Or are you content to let me take what I want without a word of protest?"

His words sent a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through you, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. But before you could respond, the Sheriff silenced you with a searing kiss, his lips hungry and demanding as he claimed you as his own.

As his hands roamed over your body with a possessive urgency, you surrendered yourself to him completely, your mind clouded with desire as you lost yourself in the heat of the moment. And as the Sheriff guided you towards the bed with a predatory gleam in his eyes, you knew that there was no turning back now.

He paused for a moment, his fingers caressing your thigh with a disturbing mix of possessiveness and curiosity, he posed a question that made your heart race with apprehension.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked, his voice laced with a cruel edge as he studied your reaction.

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry with fear as you stuttered out a nervous "no." The truth was that servants like you were rarely virgins, your station in life leaving you with very few options and even fewer expectations of finding a husband.

The Sheriff nodded, his fingers trailing under your servant's dress, which was little more than a rag draped over your body. "How many men have you been with, then?" he inquired, his tone mocking and derisive.

You lowered your gaze respectfully, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks as you admitted, "Only one, milord. A stable boy here at the castle."

The Sheriff's brow quirked in amusement, a sardonic smile playing on his lips as he considered your response. "Ah, a stable boy," he remarked dryly. "Is he your betrothed, then? Your one true love?"

You shook your head quickly, your voice barely above a whisper as you denied his assumption. "No, milord. We were... merely acquaintances."

The Sheriff chuckled darkly at your response, his fingers continuing to roam over your trembling form as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Well, my dear, it seems you and I have something in common," he murmured, his voice dripping with malice. "Neither of us is meant for love, only for pleasure."

You shuddered at his words, a chill of dread creeping down your spine as you realized the true nature of your predicament. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you knew that there was no escape from the Sheriff's clutches—that you were nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game of power and desire.

And as he pressed his lips to yours once more, his touch hungry and possessive, you resigned yourself to your fate, knowing that there was no turning back now.

As the Sheriff of Nottingham stripped away your meager garment, revealing your naked form to him, a predatory grin spread across his lips, his brown eyes gleaming with a cruel hunger. His gaze lingered hungrily on your exposed body, savoring every curve and contour as if he were appraising a prized possession.

"You're beautiful, my dear," he remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he traced a finger along the curve of your hip. "Almost too beautiful to be a mere servant."

You flinched at his touch, feeling a chill of dread wash over you as you realized the true extent of your vulnerability. But before you could protest or beg for mercy, the Sheriff's hands were already moving with purpose, stripping away your last shred of modesty with callous disregard.

As he tossed your underwear aside, leaving you completely exposed before him, you couldn't help but tremble with fear and shame, your heart pounding in your chest as you braced yourself for what was to come.

The Sheriff's smile widened at the sight of your nakedness, his eyes devouring you with an insatiable hunger that made your skin crawl. He wasted no time in making his intentions clear, his movements rough and commanding as he positioned himself between your legs, his erection throbbing with anticipation.

With one hand gripping your thigh possessively, the Sheriff used his other hand to guide his throbbing member towards your entrance, his touch sending shockwaves of pain and pleasure coursing through your body.

"No, please, wait," you pleaded, your voice trembling with desperation as you tried in vain to reason with him. But the Sheriff paid no heed to your protests, his lustful desires driving him forward with relentless determination.

Ignoring your cries, he thrust himself into you with brutal force, causing you to cry out in agony as he stretched you beyond your limits. You were not ready for him, not prepared for the searing pain that tore through your body with each merciless thrust.

But the Sheriff showed no mercy, his movements relentless as he claimed you as his own, his grunts of pleasure mingling with your cries of pain. He was rough and demanding, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he pounded into you with a primal intensity.

"Ah, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice thick with lust as he reveled in the sensation of your warmth enveloping him. "That stable boy clearly didn't know what he was doing if he left you like this."

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to endure the agonizing pleasure, your mind clouded with a dizzying mix of pain and arousal. The Sheriff's thrusts were relentless, each one driving you closer to the edge of oblivion as he claimed you as his own.

And as he pressed your hand against your lower stomach, forcing you to feel the full extent of his penetration with each thrust, you realized with a sickening sense of despair that there was no escape from his clutches—that you were nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game of power and desire.

As the Sheriff continued to thrust into you with a relentless determination, his words became more cutting, his voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain.

"You like this, don't you?" he taunted, his breath hot against your ear as he reveled in your helpless submission. "A filthy little servant like you, enjoying being used like a common whore."

You whimpered at his words, a mixture of shame and arousal coursing through your veins as you struggled to reconcile your conflicting emotions. You knew you shouldn't be enjoying this, shouldn't be responding to his cruel words with such eagerness, but you couldn't help yourself.

With each thrust, the Sheriff seemed to find new ways to demean and degrade you, his words like daggers piercing your already fragile sense of self-worth.

"You're nothing but a plaything to me," he sneered, his tone laced with contempt as he continued to pound into you with a punishing rhythm. "A worthless little whore, good for nothing but spreading your legs and taking whatever I give you."

But instead of recoiling from his words, you found yourself growing more aroused with each insult, your body responding eagerly to his dominating presence. With a newfound sense of confidence, you reached out and grabbed the Sheriff's back, pulling him closer to you as you urged him to intensify his thrusts.

The Sheriff's eyes widened in surprise at your boldness, a dark grin spreading across his lips as he realized the depth of your depravity. "Well, well, it seems our little servant has a bit of a backbone after all," he chuckled, his voice tinged with amusement. "I like that. Let's see how much you can take, shall we?"

With a renewed sense of purpose, you gripped the Sheriff's ass firmly, urging him to thrust into you harder and faster as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure of the moment. Despite the pain and humiliation, there was something undeniably exhilarating about being dominated by such a powerful and commanding man.

And as the Sheriff chuckled darkly at your eagerness, his hands roaming over your trembling form with a possessive urgency, you knew that there was no turning back now—that you were his to command, body and soul. And strangely, in that moment, you wouldn't have it any other way.

As the Sheriff took your hand off his ass and pinned it to the bed above your head, you felt a surge of excitement coursing through your veins. His touch was rough yet electrifying, sending shivers of anticipation racing down your spine as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure of the moment.

Leaning down, the Sheriff pressed his lips to your neck, his kisses leaving a trail of fire in their wake as he trailed down to your collarbone. With effortless strength, he took your other hand and pinned them together above your head, his large hand easily holding them in place against the mattress.

You moaned with pleasure, the sound music to the Sheriff's ears as he reveled in the intoxicating power he held over you. With each thrust, he drove you to new heights of ecstasy, his movements relentless and commanding as he claimed you as his own.

As he kissed down your collarbone, the Sheriff couldn't help but marvel at the scent of soap on your skin, a stark contrast to the other women he had been with. "You smell divine," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration as he praised you for your cleanliness.

But you were lost in pleasure, your eyes closed and face contorted in ecstasy as you surrendered yourself completely to the Sheriff's desires. With each thrust, your back arched and your body writhed beneath him, the sensations overwhelming your senses as you neared the brink of climax.

The Sheriff watched you with a hunger that bordered on obsession, his brown eyes dark with desire as he imagined what it would be like to see you cum on his dick. It was a thought that had never crossed his mind before, the idea of giving pleasure to a woman rather than just taking what he needed.

But as he gazed down at you, lost in pleasure and utterly vulnerable beneath him, the Sheriff felt a strange sense of longing stirring within him. He wanted to see your expression as you reached the peak of ecstasy, to witness the raw, unbridled passion on your face as you surrendered yourself completely to him.

With a newfound sense of determination, the Sheriff quickened his pace, driving you towards the edge of oblivion with each powerful thrust. And as you cried out in ecstasy, your body convulsing beneath him as waves of pleasure washed over you, he knew that he would stop at nothing to make you his own.

For in that moment, as you lay beneath him, utterly vulnerable and completely surrendered to his desires, the Sheriff realized that he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side—to possess you body and soul, now and forever.

#sheriff of nottingham #alan rickman #robin hood #Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves #sheriff of Nottingham x reader #alan rickman x reader

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roseunspindle · 8 months

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Alan Rickman: What I've Seen Him in

Die Hard - Hans Gruber

Quigley Down Under - Elliot Marston

Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves - Sheriff of Nottingham

Sense and Sensibility - Colonel Brandon

Galaxy Quest - Alexander Dane

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone - Severus Snape

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets - Sverus Snape

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - Severus Snape/Boggart

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - Severus Snape

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Marvin the Paranoid Android

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - Severus Snape

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street: Judge Turpin

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - Severus Snape

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 & 2

Alice in Wonderland - Absolem the Caterpillar

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starry-eyesanddaydreams · 3 months

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NSFW Alphabet - Sheriff of Nottingham

Alright. Taking the plunge. First instalment of Rickman's NSFW Alphabet. Starting with George of Nottingham (who was ridiculously easy to write for, the sexy bastard) Enjoy! These are gonna be reader insert too.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He never really cared before, when he was done he was done. But you brought out the softest hidden in that stony heart of his and he wants to make sure you’re properly cared for. He’ll bath with you and sooth any aches you have. Back in bed, he’ll wrap you both in soft warm furs and blankets and hold you against his chest, skin to skin, as you fall asleep.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For himself, he likes his profile. The most amount of care he spends on personal grooming is keeping his beard trimmed nicely. For you, he's a classic tits and ass man. He loves how soft you feel to hold and touch.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

With this dirty bastard? Pretty much anything goes. He'll cum in you, on you, he's filthy.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He daydreams about having sex with you in front of the church alter. He’s got to do something to entertain his mind while attending a church he doesn’t believe to keep up appearances for the villagers. And the thought of stripping you both naked and taking you on all fours in their precious church, defiling their holy place with your pagan lust, is such a delicious daydream.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very. He likes sex and has had pick of women for a long time. Although these days the only one he wants is you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl. He likes to be able to watch and touch you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can be playful and he loves to tease.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It's not something he bothers to much about, he has more important things to focus on.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s not a very romantic person, but you are precious to him. You’re the only sweetness in his life and he makes sure you know it. No matter how rough the sex is, he’ll make you feel loved. Whispered and grunted words of love in your ear while he thrusts inside you. A kiss pressed to your palm as he pins your hands to the bed.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't really have a need to. He'd much rather find you for a quicky if he's in the mood.

K = Kink

Manhandling. He’s bigger and stronger than you and he loves to use that. Carrying you to your shared chambers over his shoulder, pinning you to the wall with your legs around his waist, ripping your clothes off. And along with that he also likes a bit of dub-con. Persuit and conquest. Of course, you both know you’re a very willing participant and it turns you on as much as it does him.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Your chambers, usually. In bed or in front of the fireplace. But when the mood strikes, you could end up in an alcove in the castle or up against a tree in the forest.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you’re in public together, like going to church with him, and you look so proper and ladylike, but he knows that underneath your neat, modest clothes is a body that he’s explored and debauched in every conceivable way and how your sweet, demure voice can scream and curse as he overwhelms you with pleasure.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing that would cause you permanent damage or actual pain. Spanks and love bites are one thing, but he won’t do anything that would make you bleed, scar or put you in real pain. You’re his to protect and keep safe.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers to receive. But still enjoys tasting you and making you squirm and scream.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the mood. If he's stressed or particularly horny, he's fast and rough. Or in a more playful or loving mood, he can really take his time.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers to take his time and properly enjoy it, but sometimes he just needs you now, either because he’s horny or frustrated and needs to take the edge off.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As horny as he is, of course he's up to experimenting. Only thing he's not into is anything voyeuristic. Not that he cares about himself, but he won't have anyone else seeing you like that.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

A couple is usually enough, but he can go four or so if he wants.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He has no need for toys. His hands, mouth and dick are well up to the task.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

When has way too much fun winding you up and making you beg.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not overly loud, but he grunts and groans and definitely makes you know how much pleasure he's feeling.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's actually got a very needy, soft heart under all that bluster. He hid it at first, but you eventually worked him out. When he opens up enough to allow it, he loves being sweetly loved and cared for by you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

That codpiece hides nothing. Big and thick and can stretch you out perfectly.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. His solution to everything is sex. Whether he's happy, angry, stressed, the answer is sex.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He falls asleep fairly quickly after sex, you both do, as you’ve well and truly worn each other out.

#I'm not that used to writing anything lemon related #But I think this turned out okay #alan rickman #george of nottingham #Sheriff of Nottingham #Robin hood: prince of thieves #Reader x george of nottingham #N S F W Alphabet

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atomic-chronoscaph · 1 year

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Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves production and publicity photographs by David James (1991)

#robin hood: prince of thieves #david james #kevin costner #alan rickman #behind the scenes #90s adventure movies #sean connery #morgan freeman #christian slater #kevin reynolds #sheriff of nottingham #will scarlett #publicity stills #photography #90s movies #1990s #1991

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perioddramapolls · 1 month

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Period dramas dresses tournament: Orange dresses Round 1- Group D: Maid Marian, Robin Hood: prince of thieves (pics set) vs Maid Jean, The court jester (pics set)

Propaganda for Marian's dress (written by a submitter):

This dress appears a few times but is notable for both the deceptively simplistic cut (front view shows triangles in the design) to the incredible detailing in the cloak and edges of her veil. I was transfixed by this as a child.

#period drama dresses tournament #tournament poll #tumblr tournament #polls #fashion poll #maid marian #robin hood: prince of thieves #robin hood prince of thieves #maid jean #the court jester #orange r1

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nkp1981 · 9 months

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Alan Rickman photographed whilst filming "Die Hard".

#alan rickman #die hard #galaxy quest #robin hood: prince of thieves #harry potter and the philosopher's stone

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didanagy · 7 months

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Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991)

dir. kevin reynolds

#robin hood: prince of thieves #kevin costner #alan rickman #mary elizabeth mastrantonio #morgan freeman #christian slater #geraldine mcewan

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ladiesofcinema · 1 year

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I have no interest in life at court. All that gossip-mongering and currying favor. MARY ELIZABETH MASTRANTONIO as Lady Marian in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991)

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myers-meadow · 8 months

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Sheriff of Nottingham x reader: Dream

Title: Dream

Pairing: Sheriff of Nottingham x Guy of Gisbourne's wife.

Wordcount: 551

Warnings: some angst and pining. Nothing about reader's appearance is mentioned, only that she's a woman.

Written as part of self-indulgent September, for the prompt 'dream'. This is not strictly a self-ship drabble, but I thought I'd publish it anyway :)). Hope you enjoy!

Divider by saradika.

Sheriff woke with a start. No tolling of the church bells, no yelling guards, no clatter of sword fighting, no crying women. The night was quiet and dark. Above his bed, to the left, was a small window and silver moonlight streamed in. The only sounds he heard were the blowing of the wind and the rustling of his sheets as threw them off to sit at the edge of his bed. The fireplace crackled in the corner of the room, keeping the room warm enough during the cold late summer nights.

He sighed deeply. Just a dream... Another dream of her. Another one with a bitter ending, one that left him with his chest heaving and the sheets soaked with sweat. Looking at the window, it was still before the end of first sleep, so he got up and stretched. Mortiana would advice him if he asked, but nothing could help with the feeling he was left with after a dream like this.

During it, the secret apple of his eye was struck down by a wayward arrow from one of his terribly incompetent men. He saw his cousin Guy scream, run to her, kneel down and sob as he held her, blood flowing down her dress onto the stone ground. And George could only sit and stare from atop his horse, not knowing what to do - until rage made it's way to the surface, and he brutally cut down that failure of a marksman.

He closed his eyes, reliving the dream as its fragments already split apart like a pane of glass breaking. If only his cousin would perish in battle, and he'd be the shoulder his widow came to cry on. He'd be so gentle with her, so sweet. He'd wrap her in a warmth she's not seen while being with Guy, show her a life she could have only dream of.

He knew how wrong it was, and more than that he felt shame, he knew that it could affect his reputatin. If he played his cards wrong, both would suffer the consequences of that. She deserved better than a messy start of their relationship. After all, that's all he dreamt of. Of ways he could give her the world. She'd be his queen. She'd enjoy luxuries beyond compare, as long as she'd remain by his side. He knew she would. He tried it, before her and Guy were married, he tried seducing her, but she only had eyes for his cousin.

Thinking of that time, how it was for him those years ago, set his temper ablaze yet again. The unfairness of it! He went to the fireplace, taking the poker and stabbed the logs restlessly, a deep frown in between his brows. How could she prefer Guy over him? That stupid good-for-nothing idiot! Guy just got to her first... Well, George is the one who would last. And once he's planned something to get rid of Guy, once it's all through, she'd be glad that place in his arms was still free. The fire roared, before calming down, and George stared at it, hoping the rest of his sleep would be dreamless. It's already enough for her to plague his waking hours and he'd need the rest if he wanted his plan to be foolproof.

#sheriff of nottingham x reader #sheriff of nottingham #george of nottingham #george of nottingham x reader #robin hood: prince of thieves #robin hood (1991)

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headspacedad · 7 months

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since we're on a tear

youtube

yes, the movie was cheesy. But I will abide NO disparagement of just how damn HARD this soundtrack went.

Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves

#robin hood: prince of thieves #robin hood prince of thieves #sound on #trust me on this one #robin hood #Youtube

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angelbubble · 2 months

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have you ever heard a Butterfly scream?

#Alan Rickman #My Angel Butterfly #lol #Sheriff Of Nottingham #Robin Hood: Prince Of Thieves

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meadow-selfship · 8 months

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Bewitched: ch. 1 (Sheriff of Nottingham x s/i)

Title: Mass

Pairing: George, sheriff of Nottingham x s/i Hadewych van Heiden.

Summary: During mass, they meet for the first time. Plans are set in motion, strategies are formed, the witch has divined her prophecies.

Warnings: None. Yet

Divider by @/saradika

Mass. The sheriff disliked it, but he’d be a fool to forget it’s political significance, so he made his way through the small crowd of needful people and into the church building. He took his usual spot at the front, his cousin at his side, and bowed his head in respect. The priest’s voice droned on, and soon the sheriff found himself restless.

As he usually did during this time, he looked over to where the pretty maid Marian sat. Instead caught sight of another, a young woman he hadn’t seen before. The light from one of the stained glass windows hit her, making her stand out. As if chosen by god. For a moment, the priest’s voice faded away. It felt like there was only her and him in the church. A modest black dress over white, and a silk scarf rested gently on her head. Yet; everything about her was in colour. She wasn’t beautiful, not like Marian, or some of the other girls he liked to enjoy, but something about her captivated him. Feeling his eyes on her, she looked up. Their eyes locked.

The world brightened. Colours swam around her. She was the sole focus. Even though they were many metres away, he swore he could discern the intricate floral pattern on her scarf, the colour of her eyes, the soft hairs that pulled free from her crown braid during the horse ride here. Logically, he knew he shouldn’t be able to see that from this distance, but he did. He could even smell the way in which she smelled like lady Marian, fainty of perfume, faintly of hay; and of an innocence that was purely her; of sweetness, like candy that leaves a stickiness on one’s lips.

Lady Marian who sat at her left, bumped into her, which broke their eye contact and the moment was gone.

After mass, the sheriff was glad to see the unknown woman followed lady Marian to pray to Mary in one of the alcoves, and not leave right away. The priest had a word with him, and he caught the pair just as they made for the door.

“Lady Marian, how lovely to see you again,” he greeted, with a kiss to her knuckles, before he moved on to the unknown lady. “And who is your companion?”

Swiftly, and with the most charming smile, he took her hand and repeated the gesture, letting his lips linger over her bare knuckles. His breath tickled her wrist, the scratch of his beard, her soft skin under his lips making it more intimate than it did with Marian, who kept her hands covered.

“Sheriff, this is lady Hadewych, my friend from the continent,” said Marian with a tight-lipped smile.

Hadewych made a small curtesy. Marian’s hand rested, protective, impatient, on her shoulder.

“A pleasure to meet you, sire,” she said. George delighted in the sound of her voice, high and innocent, yet pleasant. Her accent was difficult to place, but foreign.

“You are not from here? Then I simply must welcome you to Nottingham properly.” he said, arms extended in a jovial gesture.

Seemingly not noticing Marian’s discomfort as her hand tightened on her shoulder, Hadewych smiled warmly. “Thank you, sire.”

“Both of you, dine with me tomorrow,” the sheriff said, his voice smooth, pleased with her receptiveness. “I’ll show you around the town, my castle. I’ll have a duck slaughtered for the occasion.”

“Sheriff, that’s truly very kind, but tomorrow… that’s rather short notice,” interjected Maria, worry etched in the lines of her forehead.

Hadewych leaned in to speak softly to her friend. “Why not? I’d like to go.”

George’s smile turned smug at the whispered words. “I insist. What other welcome can I offer but my personal attention? Especially with those rogues running around the place. No, my lady Hadewych, you deserve to see what good Nottingham has to offer.”

After they exited, George pulled his right hand man, Guy of Gisbourne, aside. Guy gave a meaningful raise of his eyebrows, aimed at the two women making their way to their horses.

“Marian’s new friend sure looks sweet,” Guy grinned, the gravel in his voice making the word ‘sweet’ sound filthy.

George glared at him, but saw little reason to argue. Before he got ideas in his head, he needed information. “Guy, my cousin…” Holding him by the arm, he led him to the stables to talk away from prying eyes. “I want you to see if you can bribe one of Marian’s servants – her lady in waiting perhaps – to see what you can find about lady Hadewych. Anything is useful, where she’s from, how long she’ll be staying, who her family is, what are her previous loyalties, why is she here, anything. Got it?”

“What about Robin Hood?”

The sheriff’s expression darkened. “Leave him to me. I expect you back soon enough. Now go.”

Once home, he went straight down to the dungeons, the echo of his footsteps on the stone stairway only emphasising the silence of this part of the castle. It grew colder the deeper he went.

“Mortiana!” was George’s only greeting as he entered, making his way over to Mortiana’s altar, the upside down hanging cross a familiar sight. It was always colder here, but his guardian didn’t seem to mind. He hugged his thick cloak around his shoulders.

“You seem chipper today,” she said, appearing from behind a stone pillar on the other side of the room. Always just where he didn’t expect her to be, yet always in those damn dungeons. She approached him, taking a good look at him with her mismatched eyes. She was a good deal shorter than him, but made up for it with an intimidating aura. A woman who wasn’t scared of any man.

“You met someone,” she said, “and that’s why you’re here.”

“Indeed, madam.” George nodded at her, respectful. “Lady Marian brought a friend today… Lady Hadewych is her name. What can you tell me about her?” his lip curled at the mention of the word ‘friend’, but before he even got the words out, Mortiana’s face twisted in a smile.

“Let us see…” and she cleared the table by swiping everything rudely to the side. Taking a ladle, she scooped from the pot that was brewing and put it on a plate. Boiled pine needles. With her long nails, she scooped a few out of the hot water, and chewed them, looking displeased. George watched her, impatient, and worried at seeing her reaction. She spit them back out, onto a spoon, and cracked an egg. The yolk was orange, with a film of blood. Taking the spoon, she mixed them, and then looked up to her protégé with a grin.

“I see her, in your future. She has great potential for you, sire.” She poked her ring finger nail in the gross mixture, and tasted it. “Her life trajectory is entwined with Nottingham, now that she’s come here…” Her sinister giggle echoed through the dungeons. “Innocent, yes, but not quite… With a careful guiding hand - from you, she can be pivotal in playing an important role for us. Another household, she is close to. That could be your link.”

“Who?”

“Someone of royal birth… That would be that pretty lady,” the witch grinned.

“Aah, the King’s cousin,” said George, a pleased grin forming on his face. “That would make things a lot easier, as I can’t control Marian if she stays outside the city’s walls.”

“But you should take care, sire. This situation requires a… gentle hand.”

“As if I can’t be gentle,” George scoffs, but even the word sounds strange from his tongue.

After his talk with Mortiana, the sheriff felt a sense of optimism. Perhaps having a friend inside Marian’s household would help keep an eye on things. And then there was… the moment they shared. Did she feel drawn to him similarly? Was it fate guiding their eyes towards the other? He was sure that, with Mortiana said, it will all unfold soon enough.

Hadewych seemed… innocent. Young, but not much younger than Marian. It would be easy to have her wrapped around his finger – and he’d enjoy indulging in the spoils of his efforts. Now with Guy elsewhere, finally giving him some peace and quiet, he had all the time to think. The lack of information about this potential new pawn was frustrating.

The way she looked at him… even now it sent a shiver down his spine, that unpleasant churning sensation following right after. Her innocence… He couldn’t help but imagine her, charmed by him. See those doe eyes stare up at him, laying on the furs in front of the fireplace. It’d be easy – a maiden like her wouldn’t know the touch of a man and even the smallest of affections would make her heart race.

After dinner he summoned a servant girl to his chambers – to practice his gentler hand. When the wench grew mouthy, he lost his patience and slapped her to shut her up. The only voice he could bear to hear, was Hadewych’s. He sent the girl away, who left in tears, clutching her chemise, and he sighed deeply. Alone again, even more frustrated than before. He laid himself on the furs, hand outstretched to the fire, letting it warm him, and stared into the flames for a long time.

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