Holding a hand over your mouth to muffle your breathing, you peered out from behind the tree, seeing Robb slowly patrolling the forest, calling out after you.
“Y/N? I know you’re in here somewhere, and I know these woods better than you. I’ll find you, it’s only a matter of time. I’ll get you back for this morning!”
This morning, you’d awoken your lover with a pail of freezing water, rushing out of the room and fleeing into the woods to avoid his wrath, however harmless it could be.
He chased you to the Weirwood, but you managed to hide in between some of the trees, and had remained hidden for the better part of an hour, heart pounding against your chest. You could hear his footsteps cracking on branches and snow, growing closer by the second. In a last ditch effort, you sprung out from behind your tree, intending to dart across the clearing, but finding his arms around your waist in an instant.
Holding you tightly, and resisting your struggles, he laughed lowly in your ear. “You didn’t think I’d catch you?”
Still thrashing in his arms, you pounded futilely on his arms, demanding he release you, a wide and carefree smile on your face.
His fingers began to trace your waist, watching you erupt into uncontrollable laughter as he caressed your weak spots, tickling you into submission. “This’ll serve as a reminder when you want to wake me in future days!” He teased, feeling you shudder and twist in his arms.
“No! I surrender! Leave me be!” You pleaded, in between strings of laughter, tears building at the corners of your eyes. “Have you no mercy?”
Even when his vengeance was completed, he still held you in his arms, glad to be with you, even when you indulged in your more devious pastimes.
Your apartment in the aftermath of an argument with Robb was always a disaster area. Things strewn about, slammed doors, and messy or torn clothing. Tonight was meant to be dinner with his parents, and a disagreement had emerged over the length of your skirt, which had ended in his tearing of your dress, which had led to you storming off and locking yourself in the bathroom you shared.
You could hear his footsteps approaching the door. “Y/N…” he knocked twice. “We need to go if we’re going to beat traffic.”
You sniffled, wiping your nose, and smearing your makeup further. “I’m not going.” You spoke with determination, though your voice wavered slightly as you spoke.
“Don’t be a pain, we told them we’d meet them at the restaurant.” Your silence had him knocking again a few seconds later. “Y/N…”
“We’re not going until you apologize!” You demanded, throwing one of your heels against the door, vision blurred with tears. “You ruined my dress! You accused me of sleeping around! If you’re so ashamed to be with me, you can go by yourself!”
He sighed, twisting the knob again, letting his shoulders droop as he lowered his voice. “I just want them to like you. My family, they mean a lot to me, and after the last few girlfriends, they might think you’re just another fling, and I don’t want that.” He felt partially hopeful as he heard your pensive silence on the other side of the door. “Can you forgive me? I’ll help you pick out another dress.”
Slowly, very slowly, you approached the door, twisting the lock and leaning out into the hallway, staring at him with reddened eyes. “From now on, I wear what I want. They either like me or they don’t, I won’t pretend to be someone else for them.”
Excited at the prospect of moving past this, Robb agreed to your conditions wholeheartedly.
Robb’s back was resting against the lip of your bathtub, wringing his hands to keep from grabbing the small piece of plastic that determined whether or not you were starting a family together.
You were sitting on top of the toilet seat, resting your chin on your fist and rocking back and forth on your heels. The waiting was undoubtedly the worst part.
His phone chimed with a small rhythmic alarm, and his hand flew for the pregnancy test, but stopped just short. He glanced up at you with a nervous smile. “Do you want to look?”
Licking your lips, you reached down to grab the test, and glanced at the indicator, processing the positive result displayed on the small white screen. You glanced up at Robb, your eyes beginning to water, as you quietly remarked: “I think I’m pregnant.”
Robb felt a burst of elation in his chest, and he quickly pulled you to your feet and into his arms, engulfing you in an embrace. The moment was too perfect for words, but he buried his nose in your hair, and held you close, the way he intended to for the rest of his life.
{This is one of my favorite series to write at the moment, and since I’m flowing with inspiration at the moment, here’s part three.}
You could feel the tangle of his limbs with yours, and a slight nausea tickling the back of your throat as you rested in the shadow of your ‘reunion’.
Robb had proven a more than able lover, no different than the last time you’d laid together. His arms were snug around your waist as he kissed up your shoulder.
You felt unnerved at how easily he’d grown to trust you, forgetting weeks of torment and misery the moment you’d implied that you had any meaning behind your actions. It was easy being married to him, as easy as breathing, because he so badly wanted you to harmonize with him, he bent over backwards to achieve his intended bliss. In the afterglow, you had difficulty finding your words, but he was quicker to recover.
{As I was sifting through the mountain of requests that remain, I realized I’d hit a string of Robbs, so apologies if my blog seems a little Robb-centric as I finish up some older requests. The sequel to this has been long requested, so here it is!}
The indifference between the King and Queen of the North was palatable, and uncomfortable for all other parties involved in their extended lover’s spat. He treated you as a token of your father’s loyalty, one that even his tender heart exploited. You publicly questioned his decisions and ability as a leader, which was equally as damaging to his reputation.
The most recent example of this proverbial winter was a meeting of banner-men, during which, you were asked to leave, a first since your union months ago.
You lifted a brow and glanced briefly towards the men watching your reaction, including your father, and back to Robb. “What are you doing?”
He barely looked up from his maps, his posture stiff and unflinching. “I asked you to leave, Y/N. You have no business in our military proceedings.”
[Thanks for the request! Brief strong language warning. Hope you enjoy!]
§
Her sneer was unimaginably cold, and she glared at her father across the table. “What… strategy is this?” Her meal sat abandoned in front of her. “You would make me a hostage, a token of your submission? Marry me to some Stark brat?” She was more Bolton than she knew.
Anonymous requested: “I wonder if you could whip up another Robb Stark x Male Reader with smut please. Something along the lines of a royal visitor arrives at Winterfell with whom Robb is extremely taken with, the visitor likewise and they sneak off in the dead of night to do the deed.”
warnings: sexual thoughts and actions, sexual teasing and descriptions
You’d always had a weakness for the pretty ones. The first sons of Lords who had a veritable endless inheritance, but would bet it all on a single night of unfamiliar pleasure. It’d become a game for you. A few words, followed by a few glances, and if everything turned out well…
You were one of the lesser Tyrell cousins, little to inherit and even less expected of you, so you experienced a certain degree of freedom unusual for men of your standing. You’d begun a grand tour of Westeros, starting in King’s Landing and drifting through several other cities, before finding yourself in the temperate (to put it lightly) North.
The Stark family had treated you kindly, and invited you to stay as long as you’d like, and with their vision of an eldest son, you planned to be abusing their hospitality for a few weeks longer.
@andtheytoldustotellyouhello requested “Could I request a Robb x lannister!reader where they get married before the show/serious starts and how they react to the king’s visit to winterfell?”
[Warning: Some references to sex]
[I’m struggling a bit with writing the sequel to Pride, so I might post a few one shots while I’m feeling inspired. Requests are still open, and totally encouraged!]
§
His fingers traced over the exposed skin of her shoulders, his lips pressing light kisses to her neck.
Y/N shifted slightly in her sleep, her eyes fluttering open, and she spared him a small smile, usually reserved just for her Stark husband. Pressing her face against his chest, she drew deep breaths, sunlight streaming in through the open window.
@future-ll-evans requested: “What about a Targaryen!Reader and Robb Stark? Early ally? Dany sends her sister and Barristan (because he ain’t dead to me) secretly to gain the northern allies.”
Warnings: sexual content, mentions of pre-marital sex?
(Sorry for the wait! Summer vacation is quite hectic for me, and my update scedule is going to be patchy for the rest of July, but to tide you over, here’s a Robb Stark!)
—
You had quite a few nightmares as a child. Not about the Rebellion, no, you were too young to remember that, but other dangers from Esos stuck in your mind clearly, and served as fuel for some night terrors. Your brother Viserys’ cruel hand, an old beggar snarling at you when you’d reached for the coins he’d dropped, loud and raucous storms that seemed to shake your bed.
None of it compared to waking up knowing you had to leave your sister and set sail for Westeros, possibly to be killed or to never return.
You ate in silence, and met Ser Barristan down by the docks, accompanied by your sister, who’d come to see you off. You exchanged an embrace, she wished you safe travels and walked back to her palace discreetly.
You had to take a small fishing boat, to avoid suspicion from passing ships or employees at the docks. Your sister had sent ahead letters to respectable families, alerting them of your incoming arrival. You planned to sail to the Bite, and work your way North, they had seceded from the Crown, and could benefit from a strong alliance- regardless of what side they had taken in the Rebellion.
—
After meeting with Lysa Arryn, and traveling through the Neck, you arrived at Winterfell, hoping to convince the King of the North to bend the knee to your sister, or at least agree not to take up arms against her. From what you’d been told by other nobles, if Robb Stark agreed to an alliance, the other Northern houses would fall in line.
Ser Barristan at your side, you approached the gates of the great fortress, heavy snow pummeling your personage as a blizzard raged. A small brigade rushed to receive you, offering to help you down from your horse and tend to your luggage. You were quickly ushered inside and seated beside a fire, and a few minutes later, the King of the North arrived to greet you.
Concern was immediately apparent as you rose to meet him, and he insisted you remained by the fire, eyeing your bluing skin and silently wondering if you’d catch cold. “I apologize for the lack of preparation, we didn’t think you would brave the blizzard, and frankly, I’m not sure you should have.”
You laughed a little quietly, glad the feeling was returning to the tips of your fingers. “I suppose I underestimated just how severe the storm would be, I am not quite used to this Winter business, you Northerns must wear such heavy cloaks.” You griped, pawing at your blue cloak which seemed to disappear under a heavy wind.
He chuckled in return, taking a seat beside you on the fur throw. There was a beat of silence between you too as the conversation settled, until eventually, he spoke. “What is it like? Out East, I mean.”
You thought for a second. “I haven’t really been anywhere else, we left Westeros when I was small, and I don’t remember it well. But, it’s warm. I’ve seen a lot of the coast in our travels, and the water seems a little bluer there.” You gave a fond and homesick smile, watching the flames flicker in the hearth. “There’s a lot more sand.” You offered, a bit dismissively. You glanced over, examining his features fully for the first time, begrudgingly impressed by the strong cut of his jaw.
Robb pretended not to notice you staring, and thought on how to continue the conversation. “Your name, it’s Y/N, correct?”
You gave a nod, inwardly pleased that he hadn’t pronounced it incorrectly like other northerner’s had. Something about their accent made Valyrian sound… oddly forced rather than the smooth transition of syllables- as you’d been taught. “Would you prefer Robb, or Lord Stark?” You responded, not wishing to offend.
He thought for a moment. “Robb.” He said, with decision. “I don’t think I’m quite ready for Lord Stark.”
You smiled in return, and turned back to the fire.
—
Your quill touched the parchment lovingly as you penned your sister’s name, before dipping your quill back in the ink, ignoring the presence reading over your shoulder.
Daenerys,
Thus far, my travels have been pleasant. I’ve been received well at all the castles I’ve visited, and the nobles have been nothing short of polite, in particular-
His lips pressed a soft kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder, as he brushed your hair back to better access the skin.
You attempted to ignore his teasing and continued to write.
-in particular, the Starks have been most gracious hosts and agreed to hold Ser Barristan and I a few more weeks until the weather settles. The winters this far North are brutal, I’ve never seen so much snow in my life! But, the castle is warm and-
He bit down quickly, before soothing the area with a brush of his tongue, continuing on a trail up your neck. “Take a break.” He murmured.
You attempted to brush him off again. “I have to finish this-”
His hand moved to the straps of your slip, slowly removing the left and then the right and taking your exposed breasts in his hands. “She can wait a few minutes.”
You dropped the quill and began to move from the chair, when he swept you off your feet and tossed you onto the bed, a wolfish grin on his face. It seemed as though he’d been only a hair away from ravaging you anyways, and was simply waiting for you to deliver yourself to him.
—
Daenerys had been particularly surprised to hear of your courtship, and more so, your plan to wed, but supported you none the less. Strategically, the move was perfect, and if he truly made you happy, there was no downside. She urged you to elope privately, for her presence was still not fully welcome in Westeros, and her army built slowly as she conquered more and more slaving cities, but supported your wishes to marry as soon as you could.
As her ascension picked up steam, the Lannisters made moves to counter her, unknowing that the seeds of her revolt had already been planted in Westeros, and that the North already planned to rally behind her when the time came.
The war was brewing, but in your marital bed, your alliances grew only stronger.
Anonymous requested; “The Reader is the trueborn daughter of Robert and Cersei. She is betrothed to Robb at a young age and is sent to Winterfell soon after. She grows up beside her future husband and both are utterly in love. They get… physical a few years before they are supposed to marry and the reader falls pregnant. How do the families react?”
Warnings: pregnancy, mentions of pre-marital sex,
You’d loved Robb since you were a child. You’d loved him since the day he confronted you in the courtyard of Winterfell, thrusted three winter-roses into your hands and pressing an painfully awkward kiss to your cheek before scurrying back to Theon- red in the face.
The thorns had been digging into your palms, but all you could do was stare after him, floored.
It was a few months before you had garnered the courage to return the sentiment. A girl of three and ten, you weren’t yet inventive, but you’d caught him staring enough times to know that his feelings had not yet faded.
andtheytoldustotellyouhello 