#robb stark x you

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

A Snowy Wolf Pup

Paring: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 5.2k

Warnings: mild angst, reference to past abusive relationship, implied stalking, lots of fluff

Notes: Just a little flash forward holiday drabble for the modern!au, I'm sorry it's so short. Previous Main Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Catelyn wrapped her cardigan around her tighter as she descended the stairs. The morning was cold, and it seemed overnight as if a very light sprinkle of snow had turned into a heavy snowfall that now covered the property. As she had passed down the second floor, she knew her children would all still be fast asleep this early. It was rare southern holidays and northern holidays matched up, but there was one week in the peak of approaching winter that did it. And for a house which followed both faiths, it was a busy week with many late nights for her children.

Only noticing one specific bedroom door left slightly open and empty looking, she narrowed her brows as she realized now four people in the house were awake and yet there wasn’t a sound to indicate where they were. Though, already finding the kitchen having been in use, it was clear despite the early hour those four had been awake for some time. Not bothering to search far yet, she only begun preparing coffee when the front door opened.

Her eyes trailing over only to be greeted by Ned as he put something on the smaller table off to the side of the kitchen. A fond smile coming over her as she shook her head, “Every year I believe more and more you can sense when it snows in your sleep.” A deep chuckle left him, passing her by but not before leaving a kiss to the back of her head to grab a mug of his own. Bringing up your name she only asked in a casual manner, “Was she and the others already awake at whatever hour you woke up?”

Ned had a fond smile as he gestured his head somewhat to the other side of the house for her to take a look. Outside passed the glass door leading to the porch was even more heavy snow, but this one unlike the view from her bedroom window of the clear front year, the back was not so left pristine.

Four figures were outside, and from the looks of it, you all had been for some time now.

Kneeling down, your face was twisted into a playful frustration as you were in a fight of your life to keep the toy rope. Ghost was braced in front of you with a deep growl as he tried to pull back on the toy as you did the same against him. It had turned into a game of who would pull the other into the snow, and Ghost was happy to indulge. His fur made him look almost blending into the snow around you even as it continued to fall, save for his red eyes. You amusingly knew any else would feel fear at a direwolf growling as it tried to tear something from your grip, but you knew if you simply let go and gave up now, Ghost would stop and whine for you to keep playing.

It wasn’t the only sounds though. If you looked further down the backyard, you could see two mops of inky black curls, only one much shorter to the ground, as both attempted to make a snow castle.

Even now it never failed to astound you how quickly little Eddard had started to look exactly like his father. He had your green eyes, but everything else around him was so distinctly Jon and watching them side by side now was only ever more prominent. His hair was growing very quickly, quicker then you could recall Shireens hair at just a little over one year old. Just another thing he got from Jon, luckily. All of the best genes coming from his father.

Little Eddard had seen snow before, but only light flakes and sprinklings that typically covered thin across the grass in the morning and melted by the evening. This was the first time a true snowfall happened since he was born, and the moment he saw it as he woke up he wanted to go outside, and neither of you could bear to deny him that.

Jon had jested that he was only behaving long enough to eat breakfast because you were there, but even then the little one fidgeted in his highchair as his wide, bright eyes kept looking to the kitchen window where he could still see fat snowflakes falling down in droves.

Still barley able to walk, Jon had stayed close with him the moment you put him down onto the ground as he begun to excitedly crawl through the snow. Father and son now building a snow castle, you could somewhat hear Jons deep rasp even from here explaining that their home used to be a castle. Asking his son ideas on what it looked like. Never getting even slightly impatient as he got too excited and knocked down some of the towers trying to help. Jon could get him to giggle each time instead of little Eddard wanting to say sorry, “I don’t think that looked right either.” He would say whenever the wide look came on Eddards face as if to say sorry.

They hadn’t make significant progress for how long you both had been out here, but you were fine with that. Before now, you had just been sitting back and watching them as you ran your gloved hand over Ghosts fur before he too got rowdy. Running to the other side of the yard only to come back with rope in his mouth and you read his intent clearly. Not noticing the sound of the glass door sliding open and shut, or spotting as Ned leaned against the banister along the porch steps watching with a fondness at the sight.

Sensing Ghost gaining the upper hand, you tried to lean back a bit more better leverage. Only, a grand mistake was made, guessing incorrectly at how stable of a position you already were in and the moment Ghost tugged the rope once more, did it slide from your gloves grasp. The direwolf celebrating in victory didn’t even keep it, barking loudly and playfully before all but tackling you to the ground trying to lick your face. A laugh came over you, making breathing a struggle let alone getting the large, heavy canine off of you.

The commotion had grabbed Jon and little Eddards attention, Jon knowing Ghost was only playing grinned at the sight, but his son was one, and didn’t quite understand. His voice high pitched and worried sounding did your head turn to the side as did Ghosts at the sound of little Eddard shouting “Mama,”

Flopping more onto the ground, he immediately tried to crawl over as if to push the direwolf off you himself, but Jon had a better idea it seemed. Calling over, “Ghost, ease up.” Did the direwolf give you space again as you pushed up to pet him, muttering what a trouble maker he was. Only for little Eddard to shout again, frustrated at crawling was going to make it so far away. Quickly kneeling over to the not so far his son had gotten, Jon gently grabbed him and helped stand him up, Eddards face twisted upset as he pointed at you. His eyes screaming the message that said you needed help.

But Jon held him gently on his two feet, a warmth in his voice as he muttered just loud enough for you to hear. “How about you show your mother how much we’ve been practising, yeah?” Looking over at him with wide eyes, Jon pressed a kiss to his forehead before pulling back. “You’ll make her so proud if you walk over to save her life.”

That did little Eddard in. Jon knew possibly more then you did, how much your son wanted to do things like a grown up to make you proud. You were proud no matter what, but he always wanted to do things for you much like Jon. His hand coming up to his mouth almost in a nervous habit as he looked between you and Jon at the distance he’d have to walk on those waddling little legs. But Jon nodded, not yet taking his hands away so he felt the support. You pushed up, not standing but more laying half way across the ground so you could stand up easily at any time, but upright that your son understood you wanted him to come to you.

Jon learned he was more eager to learn to walk if Jon was there to do the encouraging, and the prize for walking a certain distance was to walk over into your arms, but this was the longest he’d have to try yet to make it. Nodding at Jon, it was all up to him now to start walking. Jons eyes gazed up passed you, spotting his father watching from the porch before letting his gaze turn back to his son. One last whisper for now only him to hear, “Don’t be scared if you can’t walk the whole way, your mother will be proud that you even tried.”

Nodding back at him, did he finally start to move. He took his time, waddling along and the snow didn’t help much with quickness. But perhaps it did his balance, having to focus a lot more to wade through it then walk without obstacle. Pushing now more up to sit on your heels with your hands waiting on your thighs, you watched little Eddard as intently as he watched you. Not wanting to look at his feet but make it to you no matter what.

If you were to ask him, this was the most perilous adventure, the highest of stakes he had ever faced in his short life. It was perhaps a little over five feet of a distance, but he was so small it looked double that in distance. Jon stayed crouched as he watched you both, his eyes flickering up once more to glance at his own father watching. He could read the signs that he wanted to speak to Jon about something but was waiting until this moment played out. Sometimes it intimidated him, wondering if his father was judging his own skills as a father, but if he only focused back on you both then he could ignore it for if only right now.

Closer and closer little Eddard waddled over, clearly growing tired and your own view could tell he was getting upset that he might not make it. Looking up at Jon, he read you as if you had asked him outloud. A smile and a nod, you leaned forward a little bit, prompting him to speed up as you let your arms hold out to entice him. “Come on, sweet boy, just a few steps more.”

A sound came from him, both you and Jon knew it too well. If he fell now and didn’t get to you, he might cry. Your poor son, only twelve months old put so much pressure on himself to do things for you and make you proud even though all he really wanted was to cuddle in your arms. Watching him speed up, your eyes trailed how much his feet were dragging.

Moving the second you knew he was going to trip, you pushed yourself forward just enough so that little Eddard fell into your own arms. A loud gasp coming from you, and truly, barley having to exaggerate in the slightest as you picked him up. Standing upright, you held him in the air a bit from you in a celebration, giggling right away as his hands tried wacking at you wanting to be held closer. Pulling him into your arms, close, you pressed a kiss to the top of his head as he cuddled close right away. Shifting so you held him more by your side so you could run a free hand over his thick curls he asked with bright eyes, “Mama?” He never said many words at once, but you could read him perfectly, his bright eyes were actually asking you if he did it.

A soft smile came over you, pulling him back to kiss the top of his head again before pulling back, “Yes you did, sweet boy.” Spotting as Jon came over, a hand running over little Eddards curls he muttered that he would be right back, nodding behind you. Half turning to see Ned standing and watching, before turning back. “Take your time.”

Instantly you carried little Eddard over to the snow castle, sitting him down as Ghost came up to his other side while you knelt there, asking him questions about his work so far, which he happily babbled some words, and mostly nonsense about what was what.

Jon approaching the steps gave his father a look to ask what was it, only to feel a concern rise in him as he only nodded towards the house. “I’ll show you.” Both kicking snow off their boots before taking them off, as if sensing Catelyn ready to round the corner telling them not to get the floor dirty and wet again. It sat on the couch nearby, a small wrapped gift with a card on top. Unopened, as Ned specified it came that way. “I haven’t opened it yet, I thought it was best if you were here to see it too.”

That feeling increased, first picking up the card he read in silence. Knowing his face gave it away when Jon put it together, who had sent this. An anger rose in his body, warming his blood as he felt himself, muscles and jaw tense up. “How?” Looking over to Ned, “How can he be allowed to send this when-”

Cutting him off, Ned already knew what Jon was going to ask. “All the information was sent through his father, so on paper it doesn’t appear as if he sent it. And there was no restriction for him not being allowed to speak to her.”

Low and cutting an edge, Jon felt no need to hide how he felt about this. His father knew too well that anger. “So he cheats, and finds a way to send something to her. Why?” If Jon looked more to the side he’d be able to see you and his son with bright smiles as you guided his hands around working on the castle yourselves. Out of all the time, his son had just reached his first nameday too. If his jaw could break from the force which he was clenching it tightly, it would’ve.

Helped no further by his fathers answer. “I don’t think it’s meant for her. He knows she lives here now with us, and we wouldn’t let her get a gift from him this way. I think he meant it for you.” The unspoken was understood between them, it was meant as a mock, whatever this was in the gift. The card already was barley anything, a lament about missing you and how much you’ve changed since you last saw each other since there was no chance he had not heard the news a year after you gave birth.

Slowly putting the card down, his eyes darkening did Jon pull at the ribbon keeping the modestly wrapped gift sealed. Every step as he did so felt it took ages, trying to contain whatever it was he’d find only to not be impressed. In fact, Jon could feel himself shake at his audacity. Ned leaned over and he could hear his father exhale roughly, knowing he matched in emotion. The rage in Jon made him want to drive to the Dreadfort now and do what he should’ve done the day they all saw you with a black eye.

A tiny pair of shoes. That’s all it was. A card for you, a gift for your son and all of the audacity of Ramsay Bolton to mock Jon by reaching out to you this time of year. He didn’t touch nor pick them up in any way, staring at them before all but roughly slamming the lid back onto the box. Looking at his father, a darker look shining in his own, both quiet wolves understood that this better be Ramsay’s only trick otherwise it would get very difficult to hold Jon back. “Don’t show this to her.” Both knew he meant you. “I don’t care what you do with it, but I don’t want her knowing he sent this, any of this. It’ll only upset her.”

Picking it up, the timing was lucky beyond belief as Ned just walked out of sight when he heard it. A hand running over his mouth trying to bring himself back down, did Jon hear the sliding door open and close. He loved how you looked. Snow still fresh in your hair as you held your son in your arms, snow in his curls that matched Jons. Only little Eddard was snuggled close to you with an adoring look he was fully aware Jon gave you all the time. Clearing his throat, he hoped you wouldn’t pick up on any of the tension he tried to now shake off.

Forcing himself to move to you as you carefully stepped out of your own boots Jon approached looking at his son. “Too cold, pup?” His son shook his head adamantly with a more serious, stern look on his face. “No?”

Little Eddard looked over at you, “Mama cold.” Your eyes closed for a moment as you huffed out a bemused sigh. Looking back with a playfully narrow eyed look, you muttered that you were fine staying out there as long as he wished, but little Eddard was not having it. “No.” Turning to look at Jon, and you must have known your word would lose against both of you. “Daddy. Mama cold.”

Looking you over, there was a shiver about you that begged to warm up, running a hand along your neck to cup your cheek, his hand inside from the warmth seeped into your cold skin as you leaned somewhat into his touch. Stepping close, Jon tilted your head better to look up at him, watching your eyes yet flutter closed as he leaned in. Letting his nose gently trace down the bridge of yours as he rasped, “You feel cold.” Opening your mouth to protest, Jon grinned. Sliding the hand on your cheek around to behind your neck, he pulled you forward more to press his lips to your forehead before resting his against yours. “Sorry, darling. You’ve been outvoted.”

Sighing deeply, you looked between them. “Honestly you two baby me,” turning specifically to little Eddard with a grin, “More then I baby you.” Leaning in very close it made him try to back away with a giggle before you matched Jons actions to you but to the baby, kissing his forehead. “Come on, let’s get you changed to something warm instead of this.”

Sometimes Jon had an urge to tell you that you should put him down and let him crawl when at least you both were here on the carpeted part of the house, but he struggled too. Telling you to put him down felt mean, it felt controlling even though he had heard Ned and Catelyn tell you that. But little Eddard snuggling into your arms, it felt unfair to deprive him of being so close to his mother, something Jon knew he never had. But too, it was the sight for him. The love of his life carrying the son you created together in your arms, it was something Jon would never get tired of, and he knew it.

You has gotten little Eddard changed into warmer clothes by the time he joined you both upstairs. Kneeling in front of the bed where you had him sitting, you were running a towel over his curls to dry them. “You can say you enjoy the cold all you like, until the day you get sick being out there for so long.”

Little Eddard shook his head, you simply working around him moving on you without bothering to gently tell him to sit still for you. Hearing his footsteps approach, you half turned to look up at him in time for Jon to sit gently on the bed beside his son, picking him up and sitting him cozy in his lap now as he looked down at him. Your own position not having changed, Jons eyes narrowed at you playfully. “What?”

Glancing to his hair and back, you knew the snow had much like in his sons curls, had begun to melt. Instead of saying a word, you pushed yourself upward, sighing as you climb behind both of them on the bed, kneeling being Jon as you didn’t bother saying a word as you gently ran the towel over him as well before water dripped all over the sheets.

A small giggle could be heard from in front of Jon, as well as is voice low and playful, “Whats so funny?” Little Eddard didn’t respond from what you could hear, but a giggle did get let out and almost a sort of yell to make him stop, Jon no doubt tickling him for laughing at him. As you leaned back on your heels, folding the towel before you bothered moving to get up, Jon turned halfway to look at you. “He gets this from you.”

About to gently place it on the side table, you turned back with your mouth partially open. Half blindly tossing it now as you moved back, your voice slightly raised as he could surely detect. “From me? If I’m not mistaken, I’m the one who when we were children, you kept referring to as a goody two shoes.” Only muttering with a smirk that he changed his mind, you mockingly huffed. Attempting to move up off the bed, only for Jon to move quicker.

Picking up the baby in one hand, holding him high on his chest as his other snatched at the edge of your sweater and yanked. Pulling you back into his lap with you giving out a small yelp, before landing in his warmth, and your son giggling endlessly. Instead of addressing Jon, you turned to the little one. Cupping both his cheeks gently you kissed his forehead and nose, muttering lowly but with a playful smile, “I think this is proof where you get being so silly from after all.” Pressing one more kiss to each of his cheeks as he giggled. Grabbing gently at your hair so you wouldn’t back away.

Jon didn’t bother trying to stop him, instead he only shifted on the bed enough so that you could rest against him more comfortably as he moved little Eddard to be more carried by you. The baby’s very small hand now clutching your loose hair as he held it close to his mouth, something he had done since nearly the first few days we was born. A sort of soothing act Maester Luwin had said it was, like one would clutch a stuffed animal or toy, but with something much closer to his mother.

Holding him closer, Eddard snuggled more into your shoulder. Jon ran his hand gentle through inky black locks that so closely resembled his, as the thought turned to words slipping from your mouth quietly before you could stop him. “At least he looks like you.” Jon hummed a question, your own head leaning back slightly into his, feeling Jon almost nuzzle into your hair as his son snuggled his face more into your neck and shoulder, all the action of the morning catching up to his small stature. “Eddard. At least if he’s like me, he looks just like you.”

Sighing into your hair, Jon pressed his lips to where they merely sat, as his other hand ran up and down your waist. “What does that mean? At least he looks like me?”

You didn’t say it with malice, nor insecurity or judgment, but perhaps to Jon you should’ve known he’d have taken it as such. “I’m glad. I’d rather he look like you any day then me.” Holding your waist a bit tighter, Jons voice was low, and a bit on edge as if needing to jump to your own defence as he muttered that there was nothing wrong with the baby looking like you.

It wasn’t easy, still shaking off those feelings that you’ve changed since giving birth to him. The feeling as if Jon just may look at others and wonder when you’d start looking more like then again. He never expressed the thought, but it permeated for weeks when you first came home from the hospital what a mess you must look in comparison. Sometimes now it flared up, and Jon was always on the defence whenever you might even trickle into such a train of thought again.

But, you knew he wouldn’t suspect what you meant, nor did you want to explain it plainly for his own ego. You simply said it, because looking down at your son, it was so clear. “It’s like a part of you is still here, even when you have to be away for so long.” Jon went quiet, and you knew him having to still work so many days away at a time in some instances was difficult on him. “He looks just like you, and no matter what you claim, he acts just like you. Even if you’re away, he still has me and I still have him, and in a way it’s like you never really left.”

He said nothing, nor did you expect him too. He wasn’t a man of easy words when emotions ran deep and by the long, shaking exhale he let out, there was some rawness in how he felt about that. Not that you meant anything specific by it, but when you had spent the better part of the morning looking at both of them together, it was hard to keep your mind off of how you may have gifted him a child he always wanted, but he gifted you something too. A way to never truly feel alone without him anymore.

You weren’t sure how long you both sat there. Eddard not quite asleep, but his eyes drooping and drifting off as if relaxed too much to care about anything else. And with Jons warmth behind you, it made the urge to get up no faster. But, eventually one by one doors opened and voices filled the hallway outside Jons room before directing downstairs.

Leaning back into him, Jon pressed a kiss down to your neck, almost hiding against you on the other side of your neck and shoulder as Eddard, without even realizing. The sounds of breakfast downstairs starting, as meal times always made the echo in the Stark house loud, Jon muttered, “Do you want to join them? You didn’t have much earlier.���

You thought about it, and if he was suggesting it you knew Jon also could likely be hungry but you instead pulled back to run your hand over little Eddards curls. “What about you, sweet boy? Do you want to join everyone for breakfast?” Shaking his head no, you heard and felt Jon chuckle. A smile came over you, pushing your sons curls from out of his face more. “How about we get you something to eat in the kitchen, just the three of us?” He nodded at that.

You both knew why. When at proper meals, he hated being in the highchair. Only one of you could pay attention to him at a time, and you’d take turns so the other could eat and it never felt like a meal between you three that way. Whereas in the kitchen, you and Jon were much more liberal about where he could eat, and many times, he’d sit on your lap and eat as you would reach around his food to pick at yours.

Jons grip dropped to your waist, prompting you to stand up as he helped you so your hold on the baby didn’t jostle. Pausing, he looked at his son still grasping your hair. “Your mother won’t be able to eat if you’re holding onto her the whole time?” Shaking his head, as if your son was saying no he didn’t want to let go, but Jon knew. Walking to the other side of the room where his crib was, you turned to watch with a smile.

You knew exactly what he picked, and no matter how much he had now, toys or otherwise, it was still little Eddards favourite. His first toy. Jon gently cupped the side of his sons head, running a thumb over his cheek as he leaned to meet his eyes, holding up the small toy wolf plush in his other hand. “What about if your mother carries you, and you carry him? Will you let go of her hair then?”

Eddard slowly nodded, and even more slowly let your hair free as he grabbed at the wolf plush and pulled it very close to his chest, almost hiding his face in it comfortingly. Jon kissed the top of his head, before tilting your chin up to him. His thumb lightly brushed over your bottom lip before he met your lips in a kiss.

Sighing out right away, Jon captured the breath and didn’t release your kiss just yet. Instead, until you held no more breath to give, did he let go. Nothing but a slow, and chaste kiss that yet somehow left your lips tingling a bit, your eyes fluttered open far after Jons eyes opened to watch you. The words slipping from your lips without any hesitation. “I love you.”

Jon kissed you once more, muttering against them as his hot breath traced over your skin. “I love you too, darling.” Not another word was needed as he guided you both out of the hall and down the stairs.

Guiding you to the kitchen, Jon just barley could see the table everyone was sat around. Only catching Robbs curious eyes with a shake of his head to answer the silent question if he was joining. Only when Robb noticed little Eddard snuggled into your front did he nod with a smile. He knew too well not to interrupt his nephew when he was this warm and snuggling against you.

You stood in the back out of Jons way for a bit, his insistence to let him handle it as you muttered to the baby. “You did so well this morning, how far you walked? I’m so proud of you.” Snuggling closer, you pressed a kiss to the curls atop his head. Your eyes closed as you rested your head a little more comfortingly against him. He had come so far even at just a little over one.

Looking back to Jon, your own gaze softened. You had mulled over what gift to get him for the holidays for months, but in that moment you were fairly certain what you’d get him. What Jon would truly want more then anything else. You didn’t have it here and now, but you knew it would be a gift enough tonight after the baby was long asleep if you suggested it.

The question of whether or not it was too soon to start trying for a little girl.

[randommultifandomrants]

Being a girl is pt.2: deciding you’ve read enough fics for the moment and swiping out of the app just to re-open tumblr or open wattpad/ao3

[entitled-fangirl]

Game of Thrones Masterlist

Back to Main Masterlist

Cregan Stark

Cregan Stark masterlist.

Robb Stark

A change of sigil.

Jace Velaryon

I won’t burn you. SMUT

I can't promise that.

Unknown.

Staying warm. SMUT

Aemond Targaryen

I hate you.

The middle of war. Part 2

Thunder.

Reading late.

Chance. Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

The crown.

Gwayne Hightower

Lady Hightower.

Cheeky. SMUT

Never happier.

A good father.

Foolish.

Sweet nephew.

Benjicot Blackwood

Devotion.

Violence through his veins.

Aegon Targaryen II

A ratcatcher's wife.

Rumors and the bastards of one Aegon Targaryen II.

[missswritesalot]

Can i request some possessive, maybe even a little mean, Robb Stark nsfw? i need that man in a way that borders on obsession 😭

A/N hope you like it anon. Gets soft at the end. Will edit later for historical accuracy. Requests open.

"Your grace," you began nervously as your husband threw open your bedchamber door. Opening it was hard enough so thinking of the force it took to rattle the hinges made you wince. Perhaps you could finally see the King Robb that maidens swooned for and bards sang of.

"Like a dog? A beast? Numbskulled brute? Is that what you said?" He spat out. His anger, so hard to provoke but equally hard to quell. Now it was righteous too.

“I didn’t mean any of it,” you nervously said. “I only wished to entertain.”

Robb walked towards you and you took a step back. You were vulnerable, only wearing your shift.

“And what did you call yourself? Little more than a whore I paid two coppers for? A greedy little queen, at the mercy of the king?” Robb said. “I can’t even repeat what I heard. Yet you said it when I have done nothing but treat you gently with kindness.”

“It was only my ladies, and I didn’t wish to disappoint, husband.” You said. You placed your hand gently on his chest. “They dream of you, and I couldn’t appear jealous. I needed to show you didn’t lack passion in bed.”

“Wasn’t just the ladies. My men heard you recount your pleasure and now they’re the ones salivating.” He shouted.

“Cease this! It’s childish and I will speak as I wish.” You said, feigning annoyance.

Robb looked madder with each word out of your mouth. He gripped your wrists to the point of pain and spun you around. With a hand on your back, he pushed you face down onto the furs.

"You talk like a whore you get taken like one."

He pushed your chemise up and you felt his fingers find the most sensitive parts of you. He shoved two in roughly, making you scream. Thank the old gods, your plan worked better than expected.

“And what of my men guarding you? Did they have to hear your of escapades? Know how you enjoy in my chamber?” Robb demanded.

The twist of his fingers in your unprepared cunt made tears spring to your eyes.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked. You refused to reply. You shook your head.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” Robb yelled. He slapped your arse to make his point. No need to trigger him even more, you decided. “Who owns ye?” He asked again.

“You do,” you mumbled.

“And I am your King, and your husband. And you had better remember that.”

“Yes, husband.” You whispered. You heard the sounds of him undressing. You didn’t dare move.

Robb held your hips on either side of you and pushed you into the bed.

“Who’ll take you now?” He demanded.

“You, my lord and husband.” You replied submissive. His breathing behind you told you he was still furious.

His hands tightened around your hips and you felt the impossible thickness of his member at your entrance. He'd taken you before, he was your goddamn husband, but never in anger and never like this.

He began to push in, deaf to your cries.

"Robb," you pleaded, your will breaking. He was deep in you but not to the hilt yet. This new position was physically uncomfortable adding to your humiliation. "Please, please." You begged. You didn't know what you were asking for, for him to let you go or for a moment to adjust. But you were so hot you could barely see. You had never felt desire like this. You anticipated your release like Robb returning home.

"No," he said quietly. "You will accept this, wife." He sheathed himself to the hilt within your body. You were glad he'd let go of your arms, so you could twist your fingers into the furs on your bed.

He was deeper than before in this new position, you felt like you were being split open. You reminded yourself you were trying for this reaction. Some part of your heart hurt most of all, knowing that your husband didn't care about the pain he inflicted upon your body. He was mean.

He pulled out again and pushed back in slowly. The deep pleasure knocked the breath out of your lungs. It added to everything you felt from the stretch of his girth.

Your cries grew louder due to pleasure, and you were screaming in abandon at how good he made you feel.

“More, husband, Robb, please.” You begged incoherently. The snap of his hips against yours set a harsh pace.

He tried to stop, to tease you, but he couldn’t. He was too excited looking at your body beneath him.

It didn’t take long before you were clenched around his cock in your pleasure, and he spent in response to you.

Robb collapsed atop you. He rolled over to the side, breathing heavily. You took a moment to calm yourself down and turned to face him. You took his hand in yours carefully, you wanted to know if his anger had been quelled yet. You were pleased when he brought your hand to his lips to kiss it.

“I love you,” he said. “And I have no desire to share you. Not this. Not our time together when we get so little.” Robb confessed. Your heart broke for him. Perhaps you’d gone too far in seeking his passion.

His face grew tense as you didn’t reply. “Have I hurt you, love?” He asked, caressing your cheek. You leaned into his touch with a sigh.

“No, dear husband. I love you too,” you said softly, content.

[nationalanthcm]

Gold rush | Robb Stark

𝜗𝜚 "what must it be like to grow up that beautiful? with your hair falling into place like dominoes"

summary: robb loves spending his time simply admiring his wife. he just loves her so much, he can't help it. and now that she's pregnant with their firstborn...he wishes he could spend every second of his days with her

pairing: robb stark x pregnant!wife!reader

genre: fluff

side notes: english is not my native language, so i apologise in advance for any grammatical/spelling mistakes. if you find any error, feel free to correct me as long as you keep it respectful of course. this is my ever first piece of writing, so don't expect it to be a masterpiece lmao

"i see me padding 'cross your wooden floors, with my eagles t-shirt hanging from the door" 𝜗𝜚

The bright afternoon sunlight entered the room through the windows, bathing her in a soft, incandescent glow, making her almost like an angel designed by the Gods themselves. Robb has been standing there for quite a while, leaning against the doorway, simply staring at her as she read on the bed the two of them share.

This is something he often does, he usually finds himself admiring his wife from afar, simply staring at her as he wonders how she could be so beautiful, not only on the outside, but on the inside as well, and how he could've gotten so lucky that her heart chose to love him back.

Robb had known the woman that would eventually become his wife since he was young, he was about twelve when his eyes first laid on her. She had been padding around Winterfell, just outside the castle walls, her hands holding some sort of flower bouquet. It looked messy, and so did she, her dress was dirty with mud and her hair was a bit tangled, but he had been captivated by her nonetheless. He remembers that day as if it was yesterday, he remembers the way her cheeks got tinted with the lightest shade of pink when he spoke to her...he remembers it all as if it had been just yesterday. They both cherish that day a lot and often look back to it, as it was the day where their story started.

His wife's gentle voice snaps Robb out of his thoughts and his eyes refocus on her shape. She's staring at him, her book placed beside her, one of her hands pressed on the tiny bump in her belly. Robb can't help but smile at the sight. Gods, she really is beautiful. How could she be this beautiful? Robb really believes he could spend the rest of his day standing there, simply admiring the way she looks, even more so now that, on her belly, rests their firstborn, Robb's future heir. He also remembers the day she told him the news very clearly. He had been over the moon to find out they were expecting a baby.

"Forgive me, my love, I didn't notice you. How long have you been standing there? Not for too long, I hope." She says, sounding a little apologetic.

Robb's already walking up to the bed, settling down beside her, his body facing hers. Now that she's noticed him, he doesn't have to stand so far away, he can enjoy her presence from up close. He loves these moments before dinner, where he can relax after a long day of duties, simply enjoying the company of the woman he loves.

"Don't worry, beautiful, it hasn't been long and I was enjoying the sight of you as always." He answers, his tone equally soft, one of his large hands going to rest on top of her belly.

The girl only laughs quietly at his words, her head coming to rest on Robb's shoulder. She's aware of how much he likes to simply stare at her. She lost count of how many times she found her husband entranced by the sight of her, quietly watching her in the privacy of their chambers.

"How are you today? Has the little one been bothering you much?" Robb asks her after a beat of silence.

His wife can only smile at that, tilting her head to look up at him. She finds it endearing how he worries so much for her well being. She's only three months along in the pregnancy, the babe doesn't even move yet, but Robb always asks about her comfort, wanting to make sure she's as well as possible. They've both always been like that...always checking in on each other, making sure the other was okay, even back when they were younger and only shared a sweet, innocent friendship.

"I'm alright, my love, nothing's been too uncomfortable for now. I think it's far too early for that...my baby bump is barely even showing." She reassures, looking down at her belly.

Her baby bump is in fact barely noticeable, but it's there. Robb loves it, he loves to see the way her body is slowly changing, adapting to the small life that's growing inside. He didn't think it possible, but Robb finds himself loving her even more, because now she's not only his wife, but also the mother of his child.

"That's good, our little one is well behaved, doesn't make his mother suffer." Robb says jokingly, laughing quietly at his own joke. "Do you think it's a boy or a girl?"

Robb knows it's still too early to know that for certain the gender of the babe, but he finds himself wondering about that often and he's sure his wife does too. The maester says they'll be able to find out the gender soon enough.

"I don't know, I honestly have no idea. My mother says that some women have some sort of instinct but...I have no idea. I'm hoping it's a girl, though."

"A girl?" Robb wonders. When he wonders about it, Robb finds himself secretly wishing for a boy, but he'd also be fine with the babe being a little girl, of course. He just wants the pregnancy to go smoothly and for the babe to be healthy.

"Yes, just think about it...I'd be able to dress her up in the prettiest gowns, braid her hair..." His wife rambles, her voice filled with affection.

Robb can picture her words clearly in his mind. It's an endearing thought...to picture his wife tending to their young daughter. That thought alone almost makes him change his mind fully and solely wish for a girl.

"...I'd also be fine with a boy, of course...though I suppose he'd spend more time with you, training with swords and all..." She continues.

That brings a smile to Robb's face. He'd love that, to have a son to spend time with, to train him and teach him everything his own father taught him.

"What about you? Boy or girl?" His wife asks him, now staring up at him again.

"I'm fine with either of the two, but I've been hoping it's a boy."

She hums in acknowledgment to his words, her body resting against his. A comfortable silence falls upon the two of them and she picks up her book. Reading has always been her favourite thing to do, according to her own words. Robb goes back to doing one of his favourite things as well. He admires her quietly, watching the way her brows furrow in concentration. Once again, he finds himself thanking the Gods for sending him such a blessing. He has a beautiful, gentle wife and a child on the way...life couldn't be sweeter.

[sehaedazokla]

stark men and a tyrell reader

fem! reader terms and descriptions 

check this out for more cregan x tyrell!reader content: he that dares

a/n: this was supposed to be a brief, onetime thing but there’s just something about cregan and a tyrell reader that’s sitting with me…

robb is absolutely heart-eyed from the moment you step out of your carriage. you have the most beautiful light green and gold dress, pink roses embroidered onto the bodice above your gentle curves. you smell of roses and vanilla and honey and have the sweetest eyes and manners so robb is perhaps justifiably a little love struck at first.

but robb is observant and he sees things. you have made the entire castle love you which means the maids have the freshest linens brought to your room first and the chef bakes you all sorts of sweets. the other young lords of the north shower you with gifts and line up to dance with you at balls as you gaze down demurely and flutter your fan. you have acquired quite a large number of expensive gifts in such little time at winterfell.

and when robb is looking over battle plans and drafting mock strategy you elegantly peak over his shoulder and make a quiet suggestion that is absolutely ruthless and when robb plays out the scenario you have crushed the hypothetical opponent. he’s whipping around to ask you how you thought of that, but you have already wandered out the doors, light colored fabric swishing behind you. 

and the more he watches, the more he sees of you. a little eye roll when one of the other lords drops his hand too low during a dance, the way your long fingernails tap sharply yet quietly on the table when you hear someone say something stupid. a shake of your head and raise of your eyebrows when you turn away after having to be too sweet and too liked to get whatever it is you were after at that moment. and what he loves most of all is that look of absolutely judgmental irritation when you thought you’d been alone in the library and overheard some boys saying dirty things about one of the maids. 

and from that point on, robb is stubbornly determined - with that hardheaded resolve that men of the north all seem to have - to get to know the real you. but you have the sweet-as-a-flower act down to perfection and are not quick to break. you catch onto his little game, but against your better judgment you decide to play along. it’s endearing, almost. 

but one night at a feast you’ve been hounded all night by the incessant pining of a lord from a smaller house, who won’t let you get even a moment to breathe. and after an hour of sheer torture via the man’s slimy attempts to lure you into the hall, robb sweeps in to save you. his hand in yours as he guides you gently to the side of the room for a break. robb doesn’t say much, but with a gentleman’s smile pointedly makes a polite comment on the other man’s poor manners. and you are so annoyed and irritated you roll your eyes and utter the most scathing insult that you’ve been bottling up for the last hour.

the way his blue eyes light up would take your breath away, your lips parting slightly as he smiles at you like he’s been given a mountain of gold

“aye, there you are.”

he would say, an almost childishly proud grin on his face. 

—

cregan spots you above him on a balcony when he comes to king’s landing. it’s quiet, during the time when his army was keeping the court there. your elegantly arranged hair and delicately embroidered gown catch the stray sunlight from a window, bathing you in flecks of gold. 

the lord from the north stands below you as you gaze down with an unreadable expression - you had wanted to catch a glimpse of him to see what sort of man currently held power at the capital. what had intended to be a small scouting mission becomes a long gaze as you find yourself drawn in and cregan seems equally as enthralled. you tilt you chin down delicately, giving him a small curtsy before you slip off into the shadows of the balcony.

and it is an interesting game at play from then forth. cregan has many tasks to attend to at king’s landing, yet his eyes are constantly drawn to whatever area of the court you stand in when you are present with the other lords and ladies. you are quick to take advantage of this - introducing yourself, eyes gently on the ground as you curtsy in front of him. 

it’s a slow and sensual meeting - cregan takes his time with something for the first time since he left winterfell. his eyes fall to your lips, your collarbone, the curve of your chest that’s shamelessly lifted by your corset. and despite your intention to win him over for political reasons, you can’t help but pause a moment at the way your name is said, low and deep in his northern accent. and then he holds your gaze, even and steady, like he never wants to look anywhere else. the want is mutual and strong and both of you know it. 

cregan’s taking you in, eyes firmly trained on yours as he takes your hand in his own. but instead of kissing it as you expected, he simply lifts it slightly, thumb brushing over the pressure point on your wrist. 

“-no, i haven’t had the pleasure my lady.”

he murmurs, before you can finish your sentence. 

however, the thing with cregan is that you get what you see. he has that strong, unyielding sense of stark justice and it is everything to him, which he shows at court everyday. and you have been taught and raised to be more deceptive than that. to play your enemies with a bat of your eyelashes and a sweet smile upon your lips. your family expects you to win him over for their safety and security, and you love them more than anything.

but love lust is the death of duty, is it not? both of you have ‘good’ albeit different intentions - cregan is devoted to justice and you to your family. you two have a few things to teach each other about differing perspectives and upbringings.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Heirs

Pairing: Robb Stark x Baratheon/Lannister reader

Tags: NSFW, Arranged marriage, Robb is a bad boy in this one, corruption, innocent reader, first time, angst,

CH. 2 - He was the center of attention. The day's champion archer was charming the girls with his stories and teasing them with flirtatious gestures. Your blood started to boil as you watched him, oblivious to the fact that he was doing this just to taunt you.

Chapter tags: fingering, semi-public fingering, voyeurism, corruption kink,

The music from the instruments was loud, and the atmosphere in the tent was filled with excitement, but you sat in your spot, glaring.

You didn't care that you were the only one. It wasn't fair. In Westeros culture, men were not expected to remain virgins until marriage. Robb took great pleasure in this fact.

You tried to focus on the conversation your ladies were having around you, but your eyes kept drifting towards him across the room, surrounded by girls from all over the country.

He was the center of attention. The day's champion archer was charming the girls with his stories and teasing them with flirtatious gestures. Your blood started to boil as you watched him, oblivious to the fact that he was doing this just to taunt you.

One Northern girl boldly kissed Robb, baring her sharp canines while he laughed into her lips as another girl ran her arms around his barely covered torso. He turned and gave you a sly wink, running his tongue across his own sharp canine teeth, knowing that it would only infuriate you more. And it did.

From his point of view, the delicate princess sat wide-eyed, chest rising in her expensive dress as she inhaled and exhaled harshly through her flared nostrils. So responsive.

Robb enjoyed provoking you - he didn't know why yet. Perhaps he was doing it to see how you would react, testing your feelings for him, or because he was unsure how to express his growing attraction. When he winked at you, it was not just to anger you—he wanted to see you break your perfect demeanor, to understand if this was just duty for you or if you had feelings for him.

Your mother taught you that wives must be composed, no matter how foolish their husband's behaved and how their behavior humiliated them. She would glance at your father on occasion, chin up and confident pose, while her eyes betrayed the anger she felt. You now understood the patience your mother exercised as you were experiencing the same thing with the Stark Prince. Jealousy made you realize your feelings for Robb, despite his behavior. You were torn between your upbringing as a lady and your raw emotions when it came to him.

As the night progressed, Robb kept up his game. You had had enough. Jealousy rendering you unnable to look anymore.

You released a grumble of frustration before getting up, lifting your skirts in a less than ladylike fashion and storming out of the tent, leaving your friends behind calling your name in confusion.

The cool night air hit your face as you took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. Disregarding your safety, you wandered through the beach grounds, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You couldn't understand why Robb insisted on playing mind games with you.

It was just the second time you two had crossed paths, yet he somehow made you feel inferior.

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The previous morning

Robb Stark arrived in King’s Landing with a small Northern contingent for the summer tourney. You were seeing him for the first time in years, and it was immediately clear how much he’s grown—his transformation from the boy you once knew to the formidable man standing before you now. His physical growth and his commanding presence were evident.

You stood alongside your mother and siblings as he walked into the great hall alongside his bastard brother, Jon. The two were close in age, and both had formidable height and posture, that of trained soldiers. Jon seemed calmer than Robb, more inspective of his surroundings, while his older brother took confident strides.

Robb wore a leather jerkin, the dark material molding to his broad chest and wide shoulders, accentuating his muscular frame. Beneath it, a simple linen shirt was tucked into his trousers, and the sleeves rolled to his elbows to combat the heat, revealing strong, veiny forearms. A leather belt rested at his waist, bearing the Stark sigil and his sword at its sheath.

As you stood with the ladies of the court, their laughter and hushed conversations filled the air. Your attention was briefly stolen by the sight of Robb Stark entering the courtyard, his presence commanding the space effortlessly. The women around you fell silent for a moment before erupting into a flurry of excited whispers.

"Gods, look at him," one sighed.

"Have you seen those arms?" Another chimed in, leaning in to get a better view.

The first giggled, her gaze never leaving Robb as he moved through the courtyard and kneeled in front of the king. "He’s nothing like the men of the south... I wouldn’t mind being captured by a man like that."

You weren't sure if you wanted to agree or roll your eyes.

"Do get up, boy." Robert Baratheon drunkenly grinned at the young wolf. "Your father is like a brother to me, I dont need his eldest kissing my arse."

Robb stood up, offering a respectful nod. "As you say, your highness."

"You cheeky..." Your father shook his head, grasping Robb by his shoulders and laughing how he's changed since he was a boy. The two exchanged a few words about the Starks, including messages from Ned.

Then they both turned to look at you.

You felt your heart skip a beat. Those grey eyes, which you recalled as teasing, were now alight with something else as they roamed over your figure. Robb briefly glanced to your side where your personal guard stood. His eyes narrowed on him before blinking back to you.

You hoped to impress him with your wardrobe. Your gown was a rich velvet, dyed deep red. It clung to your frame in a way that accentuated your curves. The fabric cascaded softly around your hips and flared slightly at the hem, skirts flowing elegantly around your legs.

Your hair was woven with gold thread, pinned up in a way that highlighted your cheekbones and neck, a delicate chain with a small ruby resting against your chest, his eyes zeroed in on it.

Robb turned to say another word to the King, and you watched your father nod before dismissing the young man. Conversations arose in the court as your betrothed approached you.

"Princess," Robb offered a warm smile, bowing respectfully. "How lovely you've become."

"Thank you, Lord Stark," You offered a bow in return, hoping he didn't hear the gasp in your voice.

He regarded you with admiration, his eyes glancing condescendingly at your guard before falling back on you. He leaned down to wisper in your ear. "May I have a moment with you? Alone."

His lips skimmed the skin of your ear, his breath tickling your skin. You shuddered. You overheard your ladies giggle behind you as you nodded, straightening up and collecting yourself.

He held his hand for you to take, then walked you out of the room, Ser Oliver and Jon followed close behind.

You and Robb had a pleasant conversation about your time apart. Speaking about his training and your studies. He listened patiently as you spoke about the health properties of herbs and plants, grey eyes gazing intently as you passionately discussed your favorite topics.

At last, you guessed you've spoken long enough, asking him to tell you how his sisters were doing.

He chuckled, his eyes creasing. "At each other's throats. It can be quite amusing so long as you're not in the line of fire."

You nodded. "And your brothers?"

He turned back to Jon. "They like to watch as Jon and I spar and offer useless advice."

That image made you laugh. You've always wanted a big family to watch your kids grow to be friends as you saw the Stark children did.

Your eyes switched back to him, landing on his lips, full and framed by recently shaven stubble. You caught yourself staring, opened your mouth to respond when a young voice called out your name-

"Y/n!"

You turned in the direction where your sister, Myrcella called, running up to the two of you to grasp and pull at your skirt. "Sister! He's hurting the frogs again!"

You blinked, trying your best to understand what she was talking about.

"Joffrey!" Your youngest brother, Tommen, ran up to stand alongside his sister and pull you by your hand. "We were playing with them, and he started kicking them! You must help."

Robb saw you sigh and shut your eyes like this was not the first time. He turned back to exchange a look with Jon, who shrugged in turn.

You let them pull you, turning to offer Robb an apology. "Apologies, my lord. This will just be a moment."

"Take your time, princess. I do hope the frogs are alright." The corner of his mouth raised slightly when he said it.

So, Robb considered, this is what you were up to all day, mending small animals and nannying your siblings.

Jon walked to stand alongside his brother, watching you rush into the garden to stop Joffrey from crushing a frong with a rock, scolding him while carefully taking the injured animal in your hands. "Must you always hurt the poor animals, Joff?"

Joffrey gave you an ugly glare and spat, "Why do you care? You're going to be Stark's pet soon enough, anyway."

Myrcella gasped. Tommen stared between you and Joffrey awkwardly.

Both Robb and Jon both froze, exchanging a look of disbelief at the young boy's cruelty to his own sister. Even Arya never spoke this way to Sansa.

Despite Joffrey’s words, you remained calm toward him, shielding Tommen and Myrcella from his sneers. "This is not how a future king behaves, Joff. Very poor manners, especially in front of guests."

Joffrey rolled his eyes. "A king behaves however he wants."

You opened your mouth to speak again, but he got up and walked away. Your shoulders dropped with a huff of frustration.

"Can you treat it?" Tommen spoke. You followed his gaze down to the frog in your hand. The poor animal had a cut along its limb.

"If you hold him, I can try my best." You smiled at your brother, taking your small sewing kit from your sleeve.

Over the years, you had gotten quite good. Practicing by sewing up Joffrey's scraped knees when he would fall. Tommen gently held the frog as you washed the wound with water, sewed it shut, and wrapped a small amount of gauze around it.

Jon and Robb observed from their distance.

"That's our future king..." Robb murmered quietly. "And my future brother."

Jon, being naturally perceptive, quietly pointed out to Robb. "At least her and her other siblings' kindness contrasts with his."

Robb grimaced still.

"I notice the way you glowered at her guard." Jon added before teasing him. "Perhaps your feelings for her are more complicated than just familial duty?"

"Perhaps you should..." Robb turned to sass him off, but Jon’s observation lingered on his mind. "Perhaps we should step away. This seems to be a family matter."

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Jon stood by Robb’s side, serving as support. He noticed Robb’s distracted, jealous glances toward the royal stands where you sat, observing the archers beside your guard, occasionally exchanging a few comments with the man.

Jon nudged Robb, “Could you be more obvious?"

Robb tore his gaze away from you. "Sorry."

"You’ve faced worse foes than a well-dressed guard.” Jon spoke, assessing the archers stance and technique.

Robb pulled at his bowstring, typing it to his bow while speaking, "You were always the cool-headed one," he spoke quietly. "Sometimes I envy your ability not to get so... emotional."

"It comes with the title." Jon offered, referring to his bastard blood.

"Stop it, Jon." Robb shook his head. "You know we dont think of you that way."

Jon nodded, not responding to Rob's obvious lie. "Don’t mess this up. You're the best shot in Winterfell, besides me, of course."

Robb snorted, lightly shoving his brother.

Jon continued. "This will be target practice for you. It's easier than half the game you bring back home."

"Sure," Robb wasn't concerned with the Archery contest. In the slightest.

And surely enough, you sat in the Royal stands, watching him best the other archers, hitting the center of the target from multiple distances to cheers from the crowd.

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Present Time

You were hiding behind the flap of a tent, sneakily observing a knight kneeling in front of a courtesan from Essos.

He seemed to be kissing her sex. You were confused by the position. It defered from everything you'd learned about lovemaking. The women made sinful noises. You were curious as to why.

Your eyes narrowed. But surely that wasn't right.

"He's quite good." A male voice spoke close to you.

"Gods -" Gasping, you jumped at the sudden intrusion, turning to see Robb leaning beside you, hair disheveled and shirt undone at the top, a drunk bkush spread across his cheeks.

His words registering in your mind, you huffed. "As if you would know."

He chuckled, then took you by the arm and turning you to face him, your skirts swooshing between your legs as you came face to face with him, your lips a breath apart. Stormy eyes were focused on your lips with such intent that you found it hard to look. Visions of him embraced by the northern girls flooding your mind again. Your cheeks heated up so much that you had to back up away from him.

Only there was no room, and you were stuck between himself and one of the thick tent posts. The wooden surface hard against your back.

"Do I sense some hostility, princess?" He hummed.

She shushed him, whispering. "Be quiet. Let's go,"

"And miss the performance?"

"Robb!"

He laughed and let you slip under his arm to drag him away. By the time you had walked off into a more deserted area, you had reached the water's edge, away from the camp and the crowds. Your bodice clung to you as you took in much needed deep breaths to calm yourself.

"So," Robb cleared his throat behind you. "Are you gonna tell me what you were doing creeping up on the swordman coupling, princess?"

You screwd your eyes shut. "Dont you have two girls to get back to?" You tilted your head mockingly. "Or was it four?"

You heard a huff behind you. "Ah, so it did bother you." His lips were by your ear in instead to wisper. "Good."

"How much ale have you had?" You felt goosebumps running up your arm.

"Less than you think."

You rolled her eyes. "It would anger anyone."

He shook his head, his curls brushing against your locks. "It wouldn't anger an un-caring wife. I want my wife to be selfish over me."

Your breathes were speeding as his warm breath tickled your skin. His words tickled some other parts of you.

"So," he wispered. "Are you gonna tell me what you were you doing? Have you picked up an interest in the art of love-making?"

You chuckled. "If you can even call it that."

You felt his head tild behind you, as if confused. "You absolutely can."

You scoffed. "He wasn't even doing it right."

He chuckled, throwing her own words back at you, "As if you would know."

For some reason, that made you feel self-conscious, so you turned to glare at him.

He pursed his lips, throwing his hands up. "Apologies, princess. That was rude. What did he do wrong?"

You wrapped her arms around yourself. "He didn't even... he wasn't..."

He raised a brow, anticipating.

"Well," you insited, before finally, quietly saying. "... penetrate."

"Well. You can't simply begin from that." He said nonchalantly.

That made you pause. "What?"

"Princess," Robb grinned, bringing his hand to his temple as if rubbing at a headache.

You blushed, facing away from him. "You're laughing at me."

You couldnt see his eyes crease at the sides as he smiled down at your hair. "Darling, no."

"You are!" You turned back to him again, her skirts blowing with the small breaze, your eyes withholding tears. "I may not be experienced like you-" you pointed your finger at him. "-but I know enough! You can't have children by... through... what he was."

"You're right, you can't." He confirmed holding up his hands in surrender. "But who said children were the only outcome of sex?"

You remained quiet, now thoroughly confused.

"There is also pleasure." He hinted.

"Oh!" You nodded. "Well, sure, it can occur, but..."

"It must." He spoke like it was obvious. "You do know there are other ways to induce pleasure than mere penetration?" He asked.

You blinked at him.

A grin spread across his face, wolfish canines shines in the moonlight. "Oh, you're going to enjoy this study, princess."

Your mouth opened as if she wanted to say something but looked unsure.

"Trust me. The maesters won't-teach-you-this." He slurred slightly. "And if they do, that's bad. Then you have to tell me."

Curious eyes met confident grey ones, and you gave him a soft nod, taking his hand, letting him lead her down to an empty cove.

The two of you sat by the sand. At first, you took a seat side by side with him, but he pulled you to sit in front of him with you back to his chest. Never having been this close to someone of the opposite sex, you swallowed nervously.

"Breathe, princess. You're in good hands."

"The last time you said something like that, I fell out of consciousness."

"Well, this time don't. I'd hate for you to miss this." He ran his hands along the uncovered skin of your arms, you collarbone, shoulders, you skin tensing up everywhere he touched. "You shouldn't rush into things when giving pleasure."

You nodded. "Right,"

He leaned down and trailed, sticking kisses from your ear to your neck, sending a trail of goosebumps that made you gasp.

"There are other sensitive zones on your body, not just inside your cunt."

You nodded, your toes curling against the sand. "Okay,"

"Like your ears and neck," He spoke through kisses. His hands reached to her your bodice, unlacing the front exposing your breasts, giving your nipples light touches.

You gasped, arching your back against him. "Mhn,"

"Or your breasts," he continued to play with your hardened peaks, rolling and pinching them lightly. You closed her eyes, your hand eaching to grasp at the sand. His hand trailed down to your skirts, pulling them up to your waist and exposing you to the cool night air before palming your heat between your thighs.

You jumped at the feeling.

"Or this spot between your legs,"

"What is it?" You asked, voice trembling.

"It's your special spot," he replied, his fingers teasing you gently.

You couldn't hold back the whine that escaped as he continued to touch you just the right way. You had never experienced pleasure like this before, and it was intoxicating.

He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "you should explore your own body, princess. It's full of hidden treasure."

Your breaths quickened as he continued to rub you, faster, and faster. "I... oh-"

Unable to hold back any longer, your body tensed up and shook as you experienced the first orgasm you had ever felt. You were overcome with pleasure, and your body shook with the force of it. He pulled you by your hair, craning your neck towards himself, and kissed you roughly. You reciprocated the kiss with enthusiasm, still shaking as his hand teased you through your climax.

When you pulled apart, he was happy to see your eyes still glazed over.

Robb had struggled with his feelings for you, wondering if they might be desire, or duty, but he also questioned how much power he truly had over you.

Going from girl to girl in Winterfell was a norm, but something about you was not the same. He wanted to corrupt you, to introduce you to a world of pleasure that you had no idea existed. Hed wanted to be the first to deflower the heir to the throne. It had been a long time since he had felt this type of curiosity. The image of you writhing in pleasure, your body arching, and moans of his name filled his mind, making his eyes shut to take in the fantasy.

"Is it like this every time?" You wispered, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"It should be," he leaned down to nibble on your throat. This girl. He needed to see her come undone again.

"Princess!" A male voice called in the distance.

Robb cursed. That fucking guard...

"By the gods! What time is it?" You jumped up before rushing to lace your bodice and pat your skirts back into place, tidying up her hair. Robb leaned back on his arms and stared as you rushed off, his teeth grinding.

You hadn't even said anything. Just left as if you didn't just share an intimate moment together. He chuckled to himself, running his hand down his face and lying back against the sand.

[eccentricallygothic]

Husband!Robb ‘The Wolf’ Stark | Wife!You.

Warning(s): D/s dynamics, husband Robb Stark, fear kink, power imbalance, doggy style, rough sex, spanking, biting, mirror sex, mention of edging, dacryphilia. Minors do not interact.

“Is it true?” You were tinkering with some medicinal herbs when the children approached you before they crowded around you. You looked up from what you were doing, and then silently raised an eyebrow in question. “That your husband can turn into a wolf at night?” Your breath ceased for a couple moments, heat coursed through your veins and your consciousness drifted into a series of recollections. 

So many times, so many moments, so many nights. 

Different positions, various spots all over the estate and a myopic vision that you owed to the tears that would stain your face. 

And through that barely functional vision images of your parted panting mouth, bent and flush knees, pulled back head -due to the way your hair wrapped around the pale fingers of your eternal ravisher-, neck and breasts painted in purple fang marks, nipples inflamed from how they had been treated, buttocks covered in handprints and arms compliantly folded on the small of your back. Your form pushing face first into the mattress with breath stifling force before being pulled back with a limb tearing strength in such a rapid unceasing cycle that it caused for the brutish violator bent atop you to appear inhuman as he used you in his monstrous way that you could see through the body size mirror placed on the wall in front of your bed. 

Realization seeped through your brain cells. 

Man.

Man-Wolf.

Wolf-Man.

Wolf. 

The dark mop of messed up curls that graced your dear husband and cruel defiler's head was amess as the loose damp strands flew about, his nose flared to help with his panting, chiseled features stern under the dark coarse hairs of his manly beard, beastly muscles tense as he effortlessly held your submissive figure bent to his pleasure with one hand, the other holding one of your compliant legs up in the air in an obtuse angle, his skin covered in a shadowy brown vell in such a way that your opening that his cock had stretched open nearly to the size of a woman's in labor clenched around the man-creature's monstrous girth. The deafening sound of skin colliding against skin was on the verge of marring your eardrums, his piercing dark blue eyes watching you through the mirror all the while.

They watched you even now from across the room where your dear husband and Lord sat telling the stories of his recent expedition to everyone willing.

There were always hundreds if not thousands of those.

Words didn't always require a necessary exchange between the two of you.

Your cheeks threatened to bubble up from the heat compressing itself underneath them. Your fingers had ceased from crushing the herbs between the mortar and pestle long ago. A hot drop of meek arousal sizzled past your covered opening -which blinked in response- and coursed down the insides of your thighs. Your breath hitched as you laboriously swallowed and licked your lips. 

“Mhm” was all you could let out in your shy state that he had influenced with a mere stare. You looked up at the children before you proceeded to nod your head politely so as to not stir the sanctity of your Lord's presence with too harsh a gesture. The children gasped and whimpered before scurrying off, too young and afraid to say it out loud but in their naive minds extremely terrified for your wellbeing. 

The longer you felt The Wolf staring at you the more you sensed yourself sharing the sentiments of the young ones. 

You bit your lip and dared not look up from your work. 

Because you were always tortured cruelly before your taking solely for the purpose of His Lordship's amusement if the eagerness in your eyes was too visible.

And it was always embarrassingly visible.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Marriage was often used as a tool of convenience - be it to upgrade one's own social status, get some much needed silver and gold, or to just get one leg up over your enemies, it really did not matter in the end.

Like it or not, you were tied to that person till death did you part.

That was a chant that has been sung to you ever since you came out of your weeping mother's womb. As the daughter of the household, it was natural for you to wed one day. However, the family was one of average standing, it had no special titles tacked onto it nor did it have any grotesque reputation which could sully it to the darkness and back. In its own way, it was oddly blissful, being invisible like that. No one expected you to act like a stuck up lady who would be locked away deep in a tower and you were also safe from becoming a measley wench who would be forced to spend the rest of her miserable days stuck rolling around in the mud, selling her body to all sorts of horrific strangers just in order to eat for a day.

You had the privilege of being born into a happy life. Perhaps a slightly dull one sometimes but regardless, a good one at that. You were content with everything which was given to you, perhaps even happy.

However, all things come to an end, and your end came in the form of a man riding on horseback.

He was strong, capable, handsome... But you kept that thought to yourself as you helped the wounded stranger get back on his feet, his midnight black steed happily trotting away somewhere as it accidentally shook the rider off its back once it locked eyes on you, a stranger in the woods.

"And who might you be?" asked the dark haired man, his curly hair framing his pale face so wonderfully that it took the breath from your lungs away.

You held onto him tightly and pressed him close to your body, the odor of blood and sweat covering him from top to bottom but you couldn't be bothered to care. He wore simple clothing which made you think that he was in a similar position like yourself in terms of finance, which gave you a slight glimmer of hope.

It was embarrassing how much you were swooning over the stranger.

Taking him back to your hut took longer than expected but all was well in the end. The handsome stranger had a name, Robb he said it was, and you couldn't hide the adoration in your voice whenever he would speak to you. The night flew by like a summer breeze - too fast and too sweet. Come first daylight he had to leave, which you understood.

That didn't stop you from feeling a little blue.

He mounted his horse like a knight in shining armor, its mane tussling proudly in the bitter north wind as Robb looked down at you, his warm blue eyes desperate to tell you many stories and secrets, but time was cruel and scarce.

He would come back to you, he promised.

And you gave him a smile sweeter than any juicy fruit, telling him that you would gladly wait for him.

He rode away all the while looking back at you, sending you a heart stopping smile which could make anyone weak in the knees. The horse left large hoofprints in the snow and you focused your attention on that, rather than the bitter stabs of pain in your heart.

There would never be a day when you'd see Robb ever again.

You were due to leave for the South in a few weeks time, in order to finally be wed off. The fantasy of Robb was saccharine and enchanting, many hours of sleep were lost due to him. Even if you barely knew him, the matters of the heart were reckless and stupid.

The heart wants what it wants and your heart ached for Robb.

All the while, you hadn't a clue of him and his plans. The men in Winterfell grew tired of his constant ramblings of this lovely woman he met, this sweet little thing which made his heart sing like no one else. He would walk in the corridors with a pep in his step as he thought of all the ways he could take you back to his home and give you the life you deserved.

His candied tirade quickly came to an abrupt halt once his mother had informed him of the grave news, that you had been promised to another man.

Robb was furious.

Who was this man?! Who did he think he is?! Ever the meticulous man, he got to work immediately. In less than a few days he had managed to gather all the information he could on this mystery fiance of yours, all the papers sprawled across his massive table. The candles in his chambers glimmered gently, the shimmering light a stark contrast to the raging flames in his heart.

If he could have his way, he'd be out for blood. Robb was too much of a jealous man for his own good but he needed to think, he needed to prepare if he wanted to do this right.

In less than a day, he had everything set up. If the man wasn't willing to take the gold he was offering him, he was not above using any scare tactics. His anger ended up getting the better of him though, so a bizarre combination of both was used.

The way in which your fiance left you made your heart sink. How were you going to break the news to your parents? Whatever could you have done so wrong to earn the ire of this lord whom you haven't even met yet...

You weep in your room, staining the mattress with your salty tears, completely oblivious to the small cavalry with House Stark banners raging on your front door.

Robb Stark had come for his bride. And she had no idea what sort of future awaited her...

[luvinescent]

Entangled Fates

Pairing: Robb Stark x fem!Targaryen!Reader

Summary: The Targaryen name has brought nothing but misery to Y/N— her half-blood placing a curse upon her. She's observed the toll her presence takes on the people she loves; no longer wanting to form a close tie with anyone. Nevertheless, her heart steered its own course. And it steered towards a certain man.

Warnings: angst. allusion to r*pe and death, nothing descriptive. a steamy make-out scene but nothing crazy. not really book or show accurate but f it we ball. also fluff. also reader has dark hair so just pretend u do if u don't xoxo.

Word count: 10.1K (beginning just has lots of background lore pls bear w/ me)

In life, there are those destined for lavish living and those made to struggle to see their next day. From a young age, Dorea knew she fell into the second category. She grew up orphaned; never knowing the love of a mother or a father. Despite the fact, Dorea was strong willed; she found her own kind of love. Love for herself, love for her friends, and love for her life. She knows that she did not have the best life; her dresses had holes in them, she had to work from dawn to dusk, and she often would need to go days without eating. That ultimately changed the day a close friend of hers had come to her with a new line of work.

“One of the castles maids was executed, so her position is open to take”.

Looking back, she should’ve said no from the way a chill went up her spine. She had heard the rumors of the king having gone mad; but at the time, that was not her problem. Being a castle maid sounded a lot better than being a candle maker. All she had to do was clean the chambers and mind her business and pay would be given to her. The task sounded easy— it should’ve been easy. Dorea had ways of not drawing attention to herself. That is how she has made it this far in her life; from hiding. The peace of obscurity brought her comfort; being anonymous was a safe refuge that protected her from prying eyes and the entanglements of wicked connections. The girl was pure and innocent.

Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of irony, had other plans.

She truly had done all she could to stay out of the eyes of the royal family. She should’ve been more careful, more attentive, more aware of the eyes that followed her unknowingly when she walked the halls. Her foolishness had caught up to her one day when a guard had dragged her to the throne room; thrown to the ground to kneel in front of the king, Aerys II Targaryen. Dorea was ready to open her mouth and beg for forgiveness on whatever crimes she had committed but was silenced in fear. “You will meet me in my chambers tonight”, he said. Dorea could do nothing but nod as she could not go against the kings’ words. The only thing she could do was look to the Hand of the King for some form of help, but they stood muted. Moments later, she was whisked away by some female servants— some of them her own friends— and was prepared for the event. She was washed and dressed properly; never have been so physically clean yet so dirty internally.

Later that night, her virtue and gaiety of life was destroyed when the king came and took her. She had prayed to the Gods that it was only a one-time thing. But the Gods seemed to find her plea a joke. The king would request her presence many more times and many more nights afterwards. Her position as a maid in the castle vanished overnight. Now, she stood as something different; still, she did not know exactly what. All Dorea knew was she felt shame as those working in the castle started to treat her different, with more respect and caution. She dreamt every night for this nightmare to end, but it only continued.

“The girl is pregnant, your grace”. The maestar told the king. Both fear and relief spread through her body. Fear in the sense that the king would have her eliminated to hide such sin, and relief that he might just send her away forever. It had to be one or the other; from what she has seen, the queen is currently pregnant as well and due in a few moons. Furthermore, he already had two children born, why would he need her? Her thoughts were interrupted by the third alternative she had feared the most, “You will continue to stay here. You will have the child”. Later that night, Dorea prayed once more for all this suffering to end. Finally, her prayer had been answered in the worst way possible.

She had heard the talks of the rebellion, but she never thought it would come to where she resigned. The king’s heir was now dead, along with his wife and children. The queen was now dead; dying from childbirth. The middle child and newest member of the royal family had been sent to exile. And the Mad King was now dead as well; stabbed by a member of his own Kingsguard.

Death and misery surrounded Dorea everywhere.

For her own safety, and her chance once again at freedom, she did what she knew she had to do. She ran away.

Dorea took refuge in a small village that resided in the Reach. Selling all the gifts and jewelry the king had bestowed upon her; she and her unborn child were set for life. A few moons later, Dorea gave birth during a warm summer night. As she held the newborn in her arms, she thought the Gods had finally decided to take pity on her and grant her some kindness. For starters, she had given birth to a girl. Dorea was thankful in the sense that the child would not be seen as a threat to the line of succession of the Iron throne. Additionally, the babe had no features of a Targaryen. Caressing the small amount of hair on her daughter’s hair, she was given hair as dark as night instead of the silvery-gold feature of her biological father. Dorea let out a sigh of relief once the girl opened her eyes— no violet eyes either. Pulling the babe closer to her chest, she gave a quick prayer and smiled down at the sleeping babe.

Dorea named her Y/N.

As time passed, Y/N quickly grew before her mothers’ eyes. Both her and her mother were beloved by the village folks— Dorea giving money to those who were in need, and her daughter who was tenderhearted and befriended all. No one in the village had known about Doreas’ past or Y/N true linage. And Dorea wanted to keep it that way. She, however, knew that one day it would all come back to bite her. Despite having run away, she knew that there were some people who knew of their existence. It did not help her case more when Y/N had begun to show a great fascination with fire; something the mothers of the village made jokes about, but Dorea knew the truth.

“You have dragon blood within you”, Dorea had whispered to her daughter one quiet night. “You are part Targaryen, but you must keep this a secret. I am only telling you this for your own safety. There are people in this world who will want to hurt you, to take you away from me. Do you understand darling?”. At just the age of eight, Y/N was smarter and brighter than her peers. Hearing such solemness in her mothers’ voice, she nodded, “Yes mother”.

Such a topic was dropped and never brought up again— that was until Y/N turned ten. Since Dorea had the funds, she had hired a tutor for the young girl. Y/N’s instructor was a retired tutor who had taught many kids from noble homes before moving to their village. The old man was just supposed to teach her simple things like language, arts, music, and maths.  Without her mothers’ knowledge, Y/N brought up the topic of history to her teacher, particularly the history of the Targaryen household. And that’s where everything started.

It was one calm afternoon in their shared bedroom when Y/N had asked the question. “Mother, am I cursed?”. Dorea, puzzled, stopped brushing her daughter’s hair and turned towards her, “What kind of question is that?”. Y/N looked sheepishly to the side and confessed everything, “I have been learning history with my tutor. Targaryen history”. Before Dorea could respond, the young girl continued, “You say I am half Targaryen, and based upon their history, I must be cursed”. Dorea questioned what she meant and then let out a loud laugh at her daughters’ answer: “I have black hair mother”.

Dorea caressed her daughters face, smiling and shaking her head, “Darling, your hair color does not mean anyth- “.

“But its true mother!” Y/N exclaimed, “It is shown all over their history. Rhaenyra Targaryen’s eldest sons were born with dark hair, and they all died before they could reach adulthood. Rhaenys Targaryen was known as the “Queen Who Never Was” and saw the death of her two children in her lifetime. Rhaegar Targaryen’s daughter was killed in the sack of Kings Landing. Valarr Targaryen was- “.

“What does any of that have to do with you?!”, Dorea shouted out, startling Y/N. The young girl felt tears come to her eyes as she hid herself in her mothers’ embrace, muffling her words, “They were not pure Targaryen. I am not a pure Targaryen, mother. I do not wish to fall to such misfortunes”. Dorea felt her heart break at the sound and thoughts of her daughters’ troubles. Shaking her head, Dorea raised Y/Ns’ head and looked straight into her eyes, “You are not cursed. Their misfortunes are not yours. Do you hear me girl? This is your life, and you control it”. Y/N could do nothing but continue to cry. "It's okay, sweetheart," her mother whispered, her voice a tender melody that carried reassurance. Dorea cradled the young girl, whose sobs softened but still lingered, the remnants of a storm that had raged within her fragile heart. “I will protect you no matter what”, she declared.

Y/N would forever remember that loving moment, amongst the many others she shared with her mother. While Dorea had said she would do anything to protect her, Y/N should’ve said the same thing back. Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of irony, had other plans for the daughter. Not even a month later, Y/Ns’ mother died, succumbing to a mysterious illness that took her in a matter of days. It felt as though the moment she acknowledged the said “curse”, her world only came to be filled with hurt.

Being only ten years old and now orphaned, the people in the village were kind enough to take the girl in. Specifically, it was a family of three that consisted of a father and mother and a son her age who took her into their home. The boy, named Tomas, had always been a close friend of Y/N. The two would spend many days together, playing and running around in the meadows. He would pick flowers for her and in return she would do the same. There was even one early morning when the two stood by their village’s lake and shared a kiss with each other. Despite still being a child, Y/N felt as though she was feeling the love that was described in the fairytale stories her mother used to read to her.

Sadly, that love was taken from her as well. At the young age of one and three, Tomas had somehow fallen and drowned in that same lake. Y/N had never heard such a devasting scream as Edith, Tomas’s mother, held her dead son in her arms. The village was both in mourning and in query; Tomas had been taught to swim at the age of four, how could this have happened? No explanations were thought of, but Y/N had her own belief.

I’m cursed, she would toss in turn in her bed at night, I am cursed.

Two more years would pass by, and no other unfortunate incidents would have occurred. But there is always calm before the storm. One day, something within Y/N had made her go explore the small forest that was near her village. It was nothing out of the ordinary; she had done it many times before. Yet, she stayed exploring for hours before that same voice within her told her to return. Upon seeing her village within the distance, Y/N should’ve never listened to that voice. She wishes she could’ve stayed back and continue being ignorant of everything. Her village— the homes, the crops, the trees, everything, was up in flames. Running down the dirt paths, Y/N did not have time (nor did she want to) to acknowledge all slaughtered men, women, and children that laid on the grounds. A small amount of hope had sparked within her when she saw that her home was not ablaze. That hope died upon entering the residence— Y/N crying out in distress at the sight of Edith, the women she had come to see as her second mother, dead on the ground. Her sadness was turned to fear when she spotted a large man in the corner, angry and hungry for blood. Before the crazed man could run at her, he was tackled to the ground by Lance— Edith’s husband and her adopted father. He was clearly injured; covered in blood from head to toe but still had the strength in him to scream at Y/N, desperation laced in his voice, “Run girl! Run and do not look back!”. Y/N, not wanting to witness his clear end, quickly listened to his order and ran out the door, trying her best to stay out of sight of all the other savage men as she made her way out the village.

She must’ve ran for hours before she knew she was no longer in danger. A day or two of traveling passed by before she took residence in a small city. That same night, under a dirty bridge, she finally acknowledged all hell that had occurred to her within the past forty-eight hours. The dams broke as she cried and screamed out in sorrow and pain. She cried, and cried, and cried until she had no more tears to let out; now consumed by numbness. Her mother, her first love, her caretakers, her childhood friends, her home; had all been taken from her. What had she done to deserve this? With her heart broken into millions of pieces, Y/N decided that she wouldn’t live like this. Never would she fall in love and never would she form a deep connection with anyone again. She wasn’t going to let herself be tied to the Targaryen name, to its blood, nor its curse. She wasn’t going to let this curse win and see her suffer again.

And so, she did; well, she tried her best at least. With the little money she had on her, Y/N jumped from village to village, city to city, and made sure not to socialize with anyone. There were some instances of people trying to get to know her, boys trying to court her, but she wouldn’t stay very long and would be gone the next day. It was a lonely life, a life she despised but knew she had to endure. That changed a bit when she came face to face with a woman with a fair complexion and silver hair.

Daenerys Targaryen. The “Mother of Dragons”. Her older half-sister.

Daenerys had always known about her half-sister’s existence; her older brother one day rambling that the throne belongs to a true Targaryen and not the current usurper, nor the “Targaryen-bastard filth” their father left behind. At first, Y/N was wary of the girl but soon found herself becoming fond of her presence. Daenerys felt the same way; with no family left on either girl’s end, they quickly found solace in each other— treating one another as the sisters they are. It was strange at first for Y/N; getting used to now having family once again and the companionship of dragons that came with it. Initially, she was terrified at the sight of the foreign creatures but quickly came to love them and their beautiful nature. She became quite close with the one called Rhaegal, favoring the dragon over the overs. Rhaegal doted and protected the girl the same; but still recognized Daenerys as its’ rightful mother. Y/N could say she just held the title of “favorite aunt” now amongst the creatures.

The thought of the curse still weighed heavy in the back of her mind, but Y/N hypothesized that whatever superstition was out to get her would not harm her sister; a true (and last) Targaryen. Y/N immediately recognized Daenerys as her queen and vowed to help her reclaim her throne. For some time, Y/N felt happiness once again entering her life as she spent more time with her sister and her allies. That bliss, however, turned out to be false hope.

“When the time comes and I reclaim my throne, I will legitimize you as a Targaryen”, Daenerys spoke to her one night. Y/N wanted to decline right away; she was content with not having a household name and did not want to be associated with the Targaryen name. Before Y/N could speak, Daenerys looked shamefully down while holding her sister’s hand, “There is a reason why I came looking for...”. Y/N felt a chill run up her spine and quickly encouraged the Mother of Dragons to continue. “I am unable to have my own children. When the time is right, I will need you to find a man, any man of your choosing..”, Daenerys sternly said as she looked into Y/N eyes, “I will need an heir to inherit the throne and continue my family name. Do you understand sister?”. Daenerys felt guilt creep up inside her as she finally confessed her true intentions from the start of meeting Y/N. She was asking too much of Y/N but, she, however, was on a mission to reclaim her birthright no matter what. Y/N stared agape at her, no words coming from her mouth. She wanted to decline even more— but, looking into Daenerys eyes, she saw the graveness within them and the true tone behind her words. She was not asking this of her as her sister. She was commanding this of her as her queen. And Y/N would do anything for her rightful queen.

“Yes, sister. I understand”. Y/N now found herself tied to the Targaryen name. Something she vowed never to be but couldn’t escape.

As time passed by, Y/N kept her promise and stood by Daenerys side as she continued her conquest; now finding herself at Dragonstone, her sister’s ancestral home. The preparations and campaign for Daenerys claim to the Iron Throne was in full effect but was interrupted momentarily.

“The King in the North?”, Daenerys questioned one of her advisors who came bearing news. “Yes my Queen. He sent a raven— detailing that he wishes to speak with you”. Y/N, standing off to the side, expressed her thoughts and question, “I had heard that the King in the North was dead”.

“As did I”, Daenerys said sharply. The man before them nodded his head, “Yes. There was an incident that had occurred that made everyone believe he was dead. But he is very much alive”. Daenerys raised her eyebrows up, skeptical about this so called “King in the North”— “And he trusts me with the information of his false death?”

“Well, according to his letter, yes.”

Y/N and Daenerys turned, staring into each other’s eyes, speaking with them. Not much emotion was shown behind Y/N eyes, but she was able to express with them, “What harm is there in seeing what he wants”. Sighing, Daenerys nodded her head and agreed with her sister.

“Send a message back. Invite him here and let him know I agree to speak with him”.

A few days later, Y/N stood on the shores, waiting to welcome her guests on the request of Daenerys. Once she saw the boats pull up on the beach, she made her way but stopped in amazement. Out from one of the boats came a large, thick furred animal— a dire wolf. She had only ever heard about the mythical creatures and now she was in close distance with one. Dragons and now dire wolves; she held a small smile on her face at the uniqueness that was the world. Clearing their throats, the two guards behind her had snapped her out of her daydream, reminding her of the task. Standing tall, Y/N put on her best welcoming smile and stood in front of the party, “Welcome to Dragonstone. I have been sent by our rightful Queen to give our greetings”.

Y/N voice had started loud and clear, but slightly quieted down towards the end as she made eye contact with a man. A very handsome man to be exact, she thought to herself. He stood tall and strong, a lean build with dark curls and blue eyes as blue as the water behind them. He smiled at her and before he could open his mouth, the older man next to him spoke up. “I present Robb Stark. Heir to the Stark household and King of the North”. Y/N raised her eyebrows at the discovery of the handsome stranger being the King in the North. Turning to him, she held a sort of mischief but harsh attitude in her voice, “Is the King in the North unable to speak for himself?”

The men in front of her were clearly taken back. Except for Robb Stark who let out a small laugh. “Forgive me, my lady, I am very capable of speaking. I am Robb Stark”. He held out his hand and was charmed when she firmly grasped it and shook it; opting out of giving her his hand to kiss.  

“I am not a lady. Please, call me Y/N”. Robb was preparing himself to compliment her name but was cut off by the same man next to him. “She’s the Targaryen bastard, your grace”. Though it was meant to be a whisper for only Robb to hear, Y/N was in close enough proximity to have heard it as well. Robb swiftly turned to his advisor next to him, giving him a crude look before turning back to the girl, “Forgive the rudeness of- “

“No, it is quite alright” she waved her hand, “It is all true anyway. I am THAT Targaryen bastard”. Robb nodded, gulping as he tried to ease the tension, “I have heard a lot about you...and your sister too, of course”. Y/N wanted to let out a chuckle at the sight before her; a gorgeous man trying his best not to insult her. “And I have heard very little about you,” Y/N voiced, “Other than the fact that you were supposedly dead, which I can see you are very much alive”, looking him up and down with her eyes. Robb smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, “It is a long story”. Y/N let out a “hmm” sound, looking off towards the side to the dire wolf. “Is he yours?”

“Yes. His name is Grey Wind. I’ve had him since he was a pup”. Y/N nodded once more, noticing just how well behaved the wolf was, “He’s very beautiful”. Robb thanked her for the compliment, grinning widely, “I can see you are fond of animals. Do you have any of your own?”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head, “No. I have children.”

Robb was clearly taken back by her words, a stuttering mess as he questioned her statement. “O-oh? You have children?”. Y/N could sense some disappointment in his voice towards the end as it cracked. Smiling, she shook her head. “No. But I do consider them children. Just not mine. I am just an aunt”. All the guests in front of her were puzzled by her words but ducked down in fear at the sound of a roar from above. Looking up, she smiled at the sight of Rhaegal and Drogon patrolling the skies.

“Seven hells!” she heard one of Robbs’ men yell out. Turning back, she playfully spoke “My children. Beautiful, aren’t they?”. None of Robbs’ men were able to agree or speak; still in shock. Robb, still looking up to the sky, laughed earnestly, “Well, they sure are an eccentric sight to see”. Y/N smiled more at his honesty, clapping her hands together, turning and speaking to the entire party, “Well. I believe that is a sufficient way to welcome you all here. Now, I must welcome you into the castle. Please come, the Queen is curious to known what it is you wish to speak about”.

Upon greeting the Queen, Robb Starks’ words and terms were clear to her. He wishes to ally with her in her conquest to take the throne and create a fairer and just realm. “We both have a clear enemy,” he spoke, “I want the Lannisters dead for what they have done to my family, and you want them off the throne entirely”. Every so often, Robb would cast his eyes off to the side to look at Y/N; something she tried her best to hide her reddening face from. “My men, though small numbers, will be yours to use. We ask that in return, once you take your rule, you allow the North to maintain a degree of self-rule. We will recognize you as the rightful Queen, but we wish to keep the North the way it is”. Daenerys nodded her head, asking her advisors for their views on the matter, and taking Y/N by surprise when she asked her as well. “As I perceive it, the North is biggest land piece in Westeros. It would be better to keep them as allies instead of fighting them off. They recognize you as Queen, and the Stark household keeps the North in check for you, sister”. Daenerys responded with another nod, showing to be clear in thought at all the opinions given to her. The Queen stood up, still not fully convinced, but could not deny all the positives of the compromise, “Very well. I will continue to think about the matter. I will let you know that my thoughts are leaning more toward yes than it is no. For now, your men must be tired. Allow my people to escort them to rest”.

Later that night, Y/N made her way down the dark halls to the one place in the castle that brought her peace. She almost let out a small scream at the tall shadow that appeared around the corner, “My lady?”. Placing her hand to her chest to control her tachycardic heart, she saw that the dark shadow was Robb Stark. “Your grace. You almost scared me to death”, Y/N laughed, “And please, I am not a lady of noble birth. Call me by my first name”. Robb returned her laugh with his own, apologizing for scaring her. “Forgive me, my lad- Y/N. I was just curious as to why you are out so late”. She nodded her head in the direction she was originally heading in, “I can not sleep so I was heading to the library to bore myself with some reading” she joked, “Is it not late for you to be awake as well?”. Robb gave a similar answer; unable to sleep and practically full of energy. Y/N looked down at the ground for a mere second before glancing into his eyes, “Would you like to join me?”. He agreed to her invite, thankful for the darkness of the night hiding his blushed face.

Dimly lit by flickering candlelight, the shelves towered, laid with books that held centuries of knowledge and wisdom. Robb made himself comfortable at one of the chairs available while Y/N opted for the window nook. “Do you come in here often?” Robb asked. Y/n offered a silent yes, trailing her fingers against the rim of the book she had chosen, “I have not been here that long, but yes. I come here every night; I tend to have trouble sleeping”.

“Why is that?” Robb questioned.

“Nightmares”, Y/N replied. Her dreams were always filled with visions of her dead loved ones.

After a pause, Robb gave a “hmm”; silently admiring the girl for not being afraid to show vulnerability. “That’s something we both have in common” he gave a warm smile. Another quiet pause passed by until Y/N looked up at him, “You say that you being alive is a long story— can I listen to it?”. Robb gave a slight nod, standing up to sit next to her in a close but comfortable proximity.

“I was to marry the daughter of someone who I thought was my ally. I agreed initially but something within me told me not to carry out my word”. He slowly reached over for the book that was in her hands, both hands brushing slightly as he took it out of her grasp, now distracting himself with it. “The wedding still went on; I supplied another man in my place. But, there was bloodshed, and I was betrayed. I barely made it out alive, along with a few other men of mine”. Inhaling sharply, he continued with his outpour, “And I’m thankful I did. I have sources that tell me that even if I went along with the wedding, I was to be killed no matter what. The Lannisters long ago forming allies with the people I thought I could trust”. Coming close to a finish, he looked into Y/N eyes, softly smiling, “I guess it was fate that saved me somehow”.

Breaking eye contact, Y/N scoffed at his words. “Fate” she said with repugnance. Her reply caught him off guard, raising his eyebrows in surprise, “You do not believe in fate?”.

Y/N took in a long sigh, shaking her head, “No I believe in it”, she gently whispered the last part, “We just never have seen eye to eye. My fate only brings me bad luck”. Robb took in her words, trying to calculate what he should say next. “I believe fate can bring both good and bad luck”, he began with, “One can say it was my fathers’ fate to have been killed, or my sisters’ fates to be held captive”, Robb swallowed thickly before continuing, “But, it is my fate to avenge and save them. It is fate that has brought me this far; that has brought me here and to you”, he slowly spoke while staring deep into Y/N eyes. She quickly looked away, hoping her face wasn’t red and was successful in controlling her facial expression. Clearing her throat, she spoke firmly, “You must be confused; I believe you are trying to woo the wrong sister, Stark. Is it not my sister who you need as your ally?”.

Robb let out a low laugh, grinning widely, “That may be true, but”, he slowly scanned the room in a playful manner, “I believe that I don’t see your sister in here at all. So, no, I am not confused. I am speaking to the right sister”. A third pause passed by as the two continued staring, wating for one of them to speak or do something. Y/N was the first— standing abruptly, she moved her hair behind her ear and let out an awkward ahem. “I believe I must retire for the night. It was nice speaking to you Stark”. Before she could make her way out the door, he called out to her.

“It’s Robb”. Turning, she questioned what he meant. Smiling, he spoke, “You can call me Robb. You say you come here every night?”. Y/N nodded her head. “Would you allow me to see you here again tomorrow? Or even spend some time with you come morning?”.

Y/N wanted to say no. She needed to stop whatever friendship (or relationship) was forming between the two before she got too close. Before her curse got to him. He had already suffered enough. Despite the fact, deep down, her own selfish desires won over. She hadn’t felt like this in forever— she wanted this feeling to last forever.

“Yes. Of course, Robb”.

Come morning, they spent the entire day together, including the night. The next day was the same. Daenerys had granted Robb and his men a longer stay as there was much to discuss. It was late in the morning that he and Y/N were walking along the shores, discussing the most random of topics. Both were making a great effort to make the other one laugh: sprouting different jokes and funny stories. They both loved hearing the sound of laughter coming out of each another’s mouths. A gentle breeze roamed the air, blowing through Y/Ns’ dark hair. Robb stood silently still, stuck in a daze and awestruck by her appearance. Swiftly, he removed his fur cloak and placed it upon her exposed shoulders. Robb gestured to the area around them as Y/N looked at him in confusion, “I thought you might be cold”. She let out a small chuckle, shaking her head but not returning his cloak back. It provided her with a sense of ease. “No,” she confessed, “I don’t run cold that easily”. Resuming their walk, Robb gave her a look of admiration, “You would do great in the North then. Have you ever been there?”.

She answered with a clear no, stopping in her path to match Robb’s sudden cease of movement. Slowly, he placed his hands upon the cloak, further wrapping it securely around her. “I believe you would love it there. Maybe one day, you can come with me to Winterfell. I would love to give you a tour and introduce you to my mother, and hopefully my sisters too. I’m sure they would love you”. No further sounds were made; the distant sound of crashing waves serving as the only soundtrack to their wordless communion. Y/N leaned slightly into him — his closeness felt like a forbidden sanctuary, a place where she found solace and belonging but knew she shouldn’t enter. Y/N only response was a gentle nod and smile.

Many heart-fluttering moments continued to happen between the two. Stolen glances from across the table, hands brushing as they took their walks, laughter and smiles shared in the dark of night. There was an occurrence in the library when Robb had urged the girl to go to bed; taking notice of her eyebags forming from their long night of talking. “I can’t go to sleep that easily. And even if I can, I just have bad dreams I can’t wake up from”, she disclosed. They sat intimately close, sharing an intense gaze, both their features illuminated by the light of the candles in the room. Y/N could see every detail, every pore, every small scar that graced his beautiful face. She was caught by surprise, her breath hitching when he gently grabbed her hand, drawing small patterns into it.

“You can sleep here if you wish. I will watch over you and wake you at any sign of discomfort”. She wanted to decline, but there was something in his eyes that was persuading her. Y/N then found herself in his warm embrace, laying her head gently on his chest. She could hear every breath he took, every beat his heart made. Sealing her eyelids, he was the sole occupant of her dreams. She had never slept better.

Daenerys was no fool to what was happening before her very eyes. Sharing a private dinner with her sister, she brought up the topic.

“So, you and the Northern have been spending some time together”. Y/N nodded; not being able to lie since there was clear evidence in front of Daenerys. “He is a good man,” she smiled, “Very kind to his men, to his wolf”, she smiled even further at the memory of Robb introducing her properly to Grey Wind. She could still hear his laughter and the concern that replaced it when Grey Wind had tackled her to the ground with wet kisses. “We don’t want to get that pretty face all slobbered up now, do we?” fondness had colored his expression as he helped her back up. The smile upon her face slipped away, a frown and more serious look taking over.

“He’s very kind to me…I don’t think I will be spending much time with him anymore though”, she held her fork tightly in her hand. Daenerys questioned what she meant by her words. “Personal reasons”, Y/N said in a somber tone, “He will be leaving soon, and I plan to stay by your side”. Daenerys nodded her head, a part of her knowing that Y/Ns’ excuse was not the full truth. It’s not an exaggeration— Daenerys wasn’t a fool. She was well aware of Y/N’s standoffish attitude; practically a hermit as she kept to herself, or Daenerys. She saw the reasoning behind it— having an understanding of her past hardships. Additionally, Daenerys once tried to comfort Y/N during a nightmare of hers, hearing the word “curse” coming out of her mouth every few seconds. She badly wanted to comfort her sister, let her know that she was not cursed— life was just not fair to everyone. Daenerys, however, said nothing. Y/N was the only family she had left, and she did not want to lose her so soon, especially to some man. Forcing a smile upon her face, Daenerys tried to hide the distaste she felt towards her own selfishness. “That is good. Family must stick together”.

As the hours slipped away, Y/N and Robb were spending their last night together in the library. Robb and his men were set to leave tomorrow— all discussions and plans made with Daenerys were finalized. Robb, sitting across the room, was enamored as Y/N read to him out loud. It was a couple nights ago that they created this little routine; Y/N would read to him, and he would give his input at certain scenes. Right now, however, he was not paying attention to what was happening in the story. He was trying to memorize her gentle sweet voice, the way her lips moved with each syllable she said. Finishing a passage, Y/N put the book down to ask Robb his view.

“I can not lie to you. I was not paying attention”. Mouth agape, she pretended to be upset, throwing the small pillow she had next to her. Robb caught the cushion, letting out a hearty laugh that rumbled deep within his chest. Standing up, he walked across the room to her, placing the pillow behind her back. He knew she liked to read in comfort. Y/Ns’ smile was warm, spreading even more across her face at the words Robb spoke next, “You have a pretty voice”. Shyly looking down, she quietly thanked him. Robb’s compliments towards her only continued, “And a beautiful face”.

Biting her lip, she was readying herself to change the topic, but he only continued more. “I remember when I saw you for the first time”, he sat down beside her, sharing body warmth now, “I truly thought I had never seen a more beautiful woman before in my life”. Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes softly and replying in a joking matter “And then you saw my sister and I was the second most beautiful woman you had seen in your life”. Her heart quickened up when she looked up at him, no humor present on his face, only showing seriousness. “No”, he whispered, “you were still the most captivating and breathtaking beauty I’d seen”. Silence filled the room. Without a word, he reached out, his fingers interlacing with hers. “I leave tomorrow”, he spoke of the one thing they both had refused to acknowledge. “That you are”, Y/N said, her main focus placed upon their hands. Drawing small comforting circles into her skin, he asked her what she had planned for her future.

“My future is a mystery”, Y/N sighed heavily, “Regardless, I will continue to stand by Daenerys and be with her when she retakes the throne. She told me that she was going to bestow the Targaryen name upon me, but I’m not sure that is what I want”. Confusion etched Robbs’ features, questioning her meaning. Her face gave away a gloomy look, “I have never really been fond of my Targaryen blood. Daenerys is the only good thing that has come out of it”, she said truthfully, “I’ve gone long enough without a household name, so I don’t see the point in having one”. A smile graced her lips as she looked at him, “I won’t lie, it is a small yearn of mine. To belong somewhere and become a part of something special”.

A pregnant pause filled the room. The only sound being heard was the burning of the fireplace. Y/Ns’ laughter echoed through the room; Robbs’ next statement finding humor within her.

“You can become a Stark”.

Shaking her head, almost wanting to wipe the imaginary tears in her eyes, she continued her fits of giggles. “And how can I do that- “

Robbs’ next sentence caused all laughter within her to cease, her breath getting stuck in her chest. “By marrying me”, he said.

Another pregnant pause. Y/N stared at him in shock, becoming a stuttering mess, “R-Robb, I…”. Before she could finish, he cut her off, taking both her hands into his now, “I plead that you allow me to speak first”, he smiled but looked ready to cry, “I have never felt the way I have when I am with you. You truly have stolen my heart, and I don’t plan on asking for it back. Come with me to Winterfell— become my wife, my queen”. With affection, he raised her hand and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on it, “Grant me the wish to spend the rest of my life with you”. Robb had poured his emotions out into his speech, mistakenly only imagining what he wanted her reply to be. He was not prepared for what Y/N said next.

“No.”

Furrowing his eyes, he dropped one of her hands but still held the other. Shaking his head, he began to apologize profoundly, “I-I’m sorry. I thought maybe there was something between us. Did I ask too soon?”, he looked desperate in front of her, “I can take back the proposal. I can court you properly if that is what you wish – “

“No. No, Robb”, Y/N let her hand drop from his, both now becoming colder by the second, “I can’t marry you”.

The tension crackled in the air as Y/N words hung between them, heavy and unresolved. The room felt suffocating, each second stretching into an eternity. Robb’s jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the ground, struggling to contain his emotions and appear unaffected, “Can I ask why?”. Y/N bit her lip, her own emotions consuming her, never wanting more than to cry. “Robb,” she sobbed, “marrying me— being with me would only bring you hell”. Shaking his head, Robb grabbed ahold of her face, staring into her eyes, “What nonsense do you speak of? That can be far from the truth”. Y/N wanted to push his hands off her but was brought warmth by his touch, “But it’s the truth. My presence alone carries a curse. All those I have cherished have been harmed and taken from me”, he delicately removed the tears that were dropping from her eyes, “I’m not supposed to fall in love with you”.

Robb didn’t know what to say, how exactly to comfort her. His only reply being, “there is no such thing as a curse”, which angered her to some extent. Standing abruptly, she screamed out in sorrow, “Yes there is! My mother, my first love, my home— everyone suffered because of me!”, she started hyperventilating, burying her face in her hands, sobs echoing through the room, “You have suffered enough Robb. I do not wish to cause you more misery”. Robb sprang up quickly and encircled her with an arm, drawing her in for a reassuring embrace. As she cried, he felt her body quiver against his chest. He rubbed her back in gentle circles, giving her a feeling of comfort and safety. “Shhh…”, he tried soothing her, “Even if there is a curse, I won’t let it get to me, or you. I will protect you with entire life; you will never be subjected to such pain”, he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her head, “I can’t let you go— living out the rest of my life thinking “what if?”.

Shaking her head, she gently pushed him away, “No, Robb”. Y/N stared at him, her eyes reflecting her inner sadness, “This is for my protection and yours. I would not have the strength in me to live if something happened to you”. Walking swiftly towards the door, she ceased her movements when Robb called out to her.

“Y/N. You deserve better”, he spoke truthfully and with sorrow, “You can’t live like this. Someone as extraordinary as you deserves to be happy. To be loved”.

She gripped the door handle, almost hurting her own hand from the pressure. Turning her head, she offered him a pained smile, “Maybe you’re right”, she opened the door, “But such fine things were not made for me in this lifetime”. And she was gone.

Y/N was unable to sleep the rest of the night, tossing and turning in her bed. Come morning, she mentally prepared herself for a conversation she knew she had to make. Standing in front of the chamber rooms Robb occupied, she knocked. A few seconds later, he opened the door, clear surprise on his face at her presence.

“Hi”, she spoke softly. Robb did not verbally reply to her greeting; opting to nod to her instead. “May I come in?”, she asked, and Robb moved to the side to allow her to enter. Looking at him, his tunic was unlaced— a clear indication she had interrupted him in the middle of dressing up. Y/N was informed that Robb and his men were to leave early morning; all they had to do was suit up and prepare their ships, and then he would be gone.

Facing him entirely, she gestured to his packed supplies in the corner, “I came to wish you a safe journey. I enjoyed our time together”. Robb registered her words, taking a deep breath, “Thank you, my lady”. She didn’t have the strength to correct him. All the while, Robb was struggling to tie up the last laces of his tunic. His hands were shaking. Walking slowly to him, she reached for his hands, moving them away to replace them with hers, “Allow me”.  Robb felt a fire ignite inside him as her gentle touch sent a chill down his spine. Focused on her work, Y/N laced up the complex pattern, her breath quickening as her fingertips touched his bare chest. Finishing up the last lace, she patted his chest and smiled up at him, “There. All done”. She only took one step back before Robb wrapped his arm around her waist, pushing her back to him. Y/N gaze softened, a silent acknowledgement passing between them. Slowly and hesitantly, she placed her hand upon his cheek, caressing him. Stretching her neck, she placed a small kiss on his lips, pulling away in mere seconds before either of them could comprehend it. Robb did the same; the two now sharing their second kiss.

For a while, they stood in each other’s embrace in silence. Robb took the next step, closing the small distance and cupping her face in his hands. With a mixture of yearning and desire, she leaned into his touch, gazing up at him as her heart ached. Reaching down, he kissed her with longing and tenderness. Y/N reciprocated right away, moving her mouth with his to match his rhythm. This kiss was longer, both wanting to savor the moment a bit more. The kiss had started off slowly but quickly came alive as they both deepened it. Robb fingers wove into her hair, pulling her closer to him; despite being as physically close as possible. Y/Ns’ body felt on fire; Robb’s touch both gentle yet firm as he traced her body with his other hand. Gasping into his mouth, she was taken by surprise (but did not fight off) at Robb picking her up by the thighs— walking to the small table in his room and dropping her on it. Opening her legs widely, he stood between them, both breathing heavily as they’re lips continued pressing together. Y/N did not know what to do with her hands, moving them all across his body and landing upon his hair, tugging slightly at his roots. Robb was the same; still opting to trace his hands across her thighs and up her breasts— igniting a moan out of her moth that he swallowed with his. Both their lips parted slightly, allowing them to slip their tongues into each other’s.

The room was heating up by the second. The only sounds that could be heard were their muffled groans and heavy breathing. Parting away, Y/N went to work to unlace his tunic— undoing her work. There was some urgency in the way her hands moved, Robb staring at her, intoxicated by her face contoured in rapture. He went straight for her dress, moving the fabric down to expose her shoulders, planting kisses on her. Y/N let out a loud whimper; the feeling of Robb biting into her neck sending a jolt of pleasure and goosebumps over her body. Grabbing his jaw, she returned her attack on his lips; their kiss now getting sloppier by the second, teeth almost clashing against. Y/N was readying herself to further pull her dress down but was interfered by Robb pulling away. Almost desperate like, she chased his lips but was denied.

“No,” Robb spoke, almost sounding to be in pain. His breath was ragged, chest moving up and down and fist clenched to his side, “Not like this”. Y/Ns’ common sense returned, slightly embarrassed that her hunger for him had taken over her completely. She was thankful that Robb had the strength and respect to keep her virtue safe. A few moments passed and their breathing became stable once again. Y/N watched as Robb gazed down at her, his lips red and bruised. Taking a hold of her face in his hand, Robb placed his forehead against her, “I love you”. Y/N could do nothing but nod, wrapping her arms around his torso, “I know”.

He smiled sheepishly at her, caressing her cheek, “Write to me at least. Please. Write to me about anything…even if you have nothing to talk about. I will always send a reply back. I promise”.  She gave him a tight-lipped smile, kissing his hand lightly, “I’ll try”. Robb knew she was lying. As they held each other’s gaze, time appeared to stop and the outside world became less significant. With one last kiss to her temple, Robb picked up his belongings and went out the door.

Y/N waited a decent number of minutes to pass before she exited the room— making sure there were no prying eyes around. She was hurrying towards her own chambers; wanting to be alone and allowed let all her tears fall free. She didn’t make it far, stopping in her movements at the sound of someone calling her name.

“Y/N”, Daenerys called out at the end of the hallway. Approaching her, she offered her sister a happy smile, “I was looking all over for you. I came to see if you wanted to bid the North men a goodbye- “, Daenerys stopped talking momentarily. Her eyes taking in Y/N disheveled appearance, and the obvious love mark on her neck. “But I can see you must’ve already given your farewell to the King in the North”, she teased.

Y/N nodding, staring down at the ground with her hands picking at the skin around her nails, “Yes, I have. So, I have no need to bid them a further goodbye. If you excuse me, I will retire for the day”. She was barley able to turn her body around before Daenerys grabbed hold of her forearm. “Hold on”, Daenerys said letting out a low chuckle, “It is still early morning. Why would you retire so soon- “. Her amusement dwindled into silence, fully grasping the emotions displayed on her little sisters’ face. “What’s wrong? What happened?”, she inquired anxiously and hastily, “Did that Stark boy do something to you?”, now anger appearing in her voice. Y/N was quick to deny her accusations, “No. He did nothing. It’s what I’ve done to him”. The queen placed a comforting embrace around her sisters’ figure, soothing her hair. “He offered me a marriage proposal, Dany” she sobbed into her shoulders, “And I told him no. I broke his heart”. Daenerys said nothing to the information given to her.  A short interval of silence ensured; disrupted by Daenerys taking in a deep breath.

“Do you love him?”.

She hadn’t expected such a direct question from Daenerys, especially about something she had been trying to conceal. Y/N hesitated for a moment— deciding there was no use in denying it, “I do”.

The older sister pulled away, smiling down lovingly at her, “Then why not go be with him?”. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, stumbling over her words, “Because I promised to stick by your side. To help you,” she defended. Staring back at the floor, Y/N inhaled deeply, “Because I am cursed- “

“That is a load of shit”, Daenerys cut in. Y/N gaped at her older sister in disbelief for her vulgar language directed at her. Daenerys persisted with her speech, “You are not cursed, Y/N. Our history might show that our ancestors without the inherited Targaryen traits suffered greatly, but that does not mean all of them will”. Putting both hands on her shoulder, she reassured Y/N, “I know that in their lives they were still able to experience contentment and love. And you should too”.

Whispering softly, Daenerys hold on her sister tightened, “You've gone through a lot, and life has made it difficult to look past your own suffering, I won't deny that. But you need not forget the positive impact that you have on others around you. You undoubtedly brought happiness and love into the lives of your mother as well as those from your pas, and me toot. I'm even more positive that you introduced that into Robb Starks' life as well”.

Daenerys took a moment to recover after her extended address; watching Y/N register every world she spoke. Placing a gentle hand on her face, Daenerys gave her final say, “So, why not go be with him?”.

Y/N expression mirrored her surprise at what she heard. Shaking her head, she repudiated, “B-But what about you? My promise to you- “. She was cut off once again. “I’ve been thinking it over”, Daenerys began, “And I’ve asked too much from you. You are my only family and I wish to keep you by me, but your life is not mine. You control it”. Y/N held her breath, a small tear forming in her eyes. A sense of déjà vu had come to her— those were similar words her own mother had told her. Daenerys smiled widely at her, taking both her hands into her own, “If I am to be a good queen and rule with fairness”, she gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “I should let you live your life. As your queen, I give you the order to go live a life of happiness with the man you love”. She sustained the cheerful curve of her lips, “Go to him— go be with him in the North. A change of scenery can be good, don’t you think?”.

Y/N didn’t answer her question; instead, she sprang and encircled her sister in a warm hug. “Thank you, Dany,”, she expressed her heartfelt thanks. Daenerys words had opened her eyes; Y/N was not brought into this world to fear it— she was brought in it to appreciate its gifts. The gifts being family, happiness, and love. Daenerys suppressed a laugh that wanted to escape her lips. Pushing the girl slightly, she encouraged her further, “Now go and tell him. Rhaegal will be sad but he’ll live”. Y/N was quick to turn and follow after Robb, but stopped abruptly at Daenerys calling out to her.

“Don’t marry him too soon”. Panic coiled in the pit of her stomach at the thought that Daenerys was taking back what she said. The older sister waved her hand, shooing the girl away, “I just meant that I wish to be present at the wedding. Now, go”.

Robb stood beside a couple of his men and advisor at Dragonstone’s port. He watched his men load up the ships, trying to listen to what his advisor was saying but his mind was elsewhere. He came here to acquire the Dragon Queen as his ally— and now he leaves with that success and a broken heart. He traced back the memory of their times together, the warmth of her hands completely enclosing his, the way her eyes sparkled with every grin. A longing buried deep in his chest arose with every thought of Y/N. It was a bittersweet anguish. His advisor next to him cleared his throat, grabbing his attention when he nudged Robbs’ side, “Your grace”. Following the direction of his advisor’s eyesight, his own landed on Y/N— clearly out of breath and showing urgency.

“Y/N”, he called out. Robb was quick to grab ahold of her forearms, inspecting her body for any signs of injury, “Are you okay? Is there something wrong?” he asked, concern shown deep in his eyes. Y/N nodded her head, calming down her breathing as she watched his men leave to give them privacy. Staring up at him, she confessed, “I will not write to you”. Robbs’ brows drew together in a frown, feeling as though she was taking a jab at his sorrows. A normal reaction would be to spit fire back, but he was too in love with her.

Swallowing thickly, he responded, “I figured that already- “

“No, let me finish” she interrupted him, “I will not write to you…because I am coming with you”. His eyes widened in disbelief at the statement— not given time to properly respond once again. Swallowing the lump in her throat, her palms grw clammy, “Robb…I love you”. At last, he managed to respond, "You do?" with a tone that hinted at both surprise and joy. Y/N nodded, vulnerability showing in the blush of her cheeks and grabbing a hold of his hand, “Yes. I should’ve told you from the start and I should’ve said yes to your proposal- “, she sucked in a trembling breath, “I care about you deeply and I’ve never felt this much love for anyone”. Y/Ns’ heart raced as her words lingered in the crisp morning air. With a subtle shake of her head, she redirected the conversation. “Though I’ve come to see the foolishness in it; I still don’t know if my curse is real or not. All I know is that I wish to spend every minute— every second of my life with you”. Biting her lip gently, she broke eye contact with him, “It is a big risk, I kno- “.

“A risk I am willing to take”, Robb finally cut her off, “I would do anything for you.” In their moment of confession, they wrapped each other in a tight embrace. With their foreheads resting against each other's, a warm yet hesitant smile spread across Y/N face. “So,” she spoke shyly, “is that tour of Winterfell still up for grabs?”

Robb reciprocated her smile with his own, gently lifting his hands to touch her bottom lip. “Yes. It still is” he breathed out, “And my proposal too”. With a gentle tilt of her head, Y/N moved in closer, “Then I say you take me to Winterfell and make me your wife”. Their lips meet in a tender and heartfelt kiss— all their troubles now resolved. A quiet vow of eternity was spoken as their lips moved in rhythm. A familiar roar was heard; Y/N breaking the kiss and laughing as she took notice of Rhaegal in the sky. Robb found himself smiling even more at the sight of her joy; pulling her closer to him.

A cheeky grin formed across her face, “I think Lady of Winterfell has a nice ring to it, don’t you?”

Robb chuckled, caressing her face, “I think Queen of Winterfell sounds nicer. I also think the title of “Robb Starks’ Wife” suits you even more”. Y/N jokingly jabbed her elbow into his side, slightly squeaking as Robb reclaimed her lips in his. They both were filled with excitement and anticipation for what their future together awaited.

[bumblesimagines]

The Wolf's Guard

Request: Yes or No

Summary: The love between a wolf and their darling is unbreakable, even if that darling is a Bolton.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

~~~

If the Starks were known for anything, it was their honor, duty, and family values. Everyone in all of Westeros knew it, from the poor to the rest of the Great Houses, as many had bore witness to those traits at play. The wolves of the north, the pack that'd once been called Kings, had bent the knee willingly during Aegon's Conquest and from then on, were known as Wardens of the North.

The glorious House Stark of Winterfell. Robb still vividly remembered the days in which he and his bastard brother, Jon Snow, were taught the history of their ancestors. Brandon the Boisterous, Cregan Stark, Rodwell Stark, Rickard Stark... Robb knew their names well, knew the significance of their importance to his bloodline. They were his ancestors, warriors with wolf's blood coursing through their veins, and blood that ran through his. Just like them, Robb is heir to Winterfell, the firstborn son of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark. And while Robb's heart valued honor, duty, and family over all else, there were times when he wished he hadn't been born first.

The first time he took his mind off his duty as heir (a duty everyone constantly reminded him of every waking moment) was when Roose Bolton brought his second-born son, (Y/N) Bolton, to Winterfell when they were children to become a ward under Eddard Stark. He'd heard about the stories and rumors surrounding the family and their ancestral home, the Dreadfort. Their history was as lengthy as the Starks, with their own ancestors having been once called the Red Kings. While Starks were honorable, Boltons were cruel, cunning, and dishonorable with a tradition of flaying their enemies that they were forced to give up upon being bannermen for the Starks. However, there were rumors they still flayed their prisoners after days and weeks of torture.

Robb and Jon exchanged whispers while their father spoke with Roose Bolton, an unremarkably ordinary-looking man despite the eerie aura that surrounded him and his sons. His eyes were striking, a color so pale and odd that they made shivers run down the spines of the two boys when he looked in their direction. But the prickle of uneasiness that poked at Robb vanished when (Y/N) looked toward him. Jon immediately ducked behind the barrel they'd chosen to hide behind but Robb held his gaze and was rewarded with a grin. 

"Robb," His father had called out, "Come."

Robb immediately obeyed, jumping out from behind the barrel and striding over to his brother. At the age of seven, Robb knew his place as heir very well so he made every attempt at showing everyone the manners and way of nobles he'd been taught. Ned placed a comforting hand over his shoulder and smiled down at his son. "Why don't you show (Y/N) around Winterfell, Robb? His father and I have much to discuss." 

"Yes, Father." Robb nodded, his auburn curls bouncing off his forehead. Domeric Bolton, eldest son of Roose and heir to the Dreadfort, similarly set his hand over his younger brother's shoulder. (Y/N) peered up at his father and then at his brother, lingering even after Roose gave him an approving nod. 

"Go on," Domeric murmured gently and (Y/N) looked back at Robb with a growing smile. 

Robb spent the rest of the day showing (Y/N) around Winterfell, his chest puffing out with pride each time (Y/N) seemed impressed about something. Jon and Theon trailed after them, providing input that (Y/N) largely ignored in favor of giving Robb his full attention, something surprisingly made him squirm. He finished the tour by introducing (Y/N) to his mother and his younger sister, Sansa. Catelyn greeted (Y/N) politely, more kindly than she treated Jon at least, and offered to get some sweets for them after dinner while Sansa clung to her skirts and watched them.

It wasn't until a few days later, when the boys were giggling on a stack of haybale after their latest mischief that Robb had a thought that would continue to emerge: 'I wish he were a girl.'

As they grew and reached their fifteenth name days, they both began showcasing the faithful traits of their house. Robb grew gentler, less mischievous, and showed a strong sense of honor. He continued reading his histories and studied faithfully under the septa, training nearly every day with Ser Rodrick Cassel and accompanying his father whenever he ventured out on hunts or to meet with others. (Y/N) seemingly grew a taste for blood, something that emerged during training. He went easier on Robb than the others, incredibly apparent as Theon and Jon would end up bruised and bloody by the end of each session. But despite Theon's complaints and Jon's worries about (Y/N) fatally injuring someone, Robb could never shake the astonished, fluttery feeling whenever he saw (Y/N). 

"Come on, boy," Ser Rodrick called to the staggering Jon and Robb couldn't help but wince at the trickle of blood going down his nose. Jon wiped it away, his black hair clinging to his dirt-speckled sweaty face. Nobody had to look at Theon to know the boy likely looked pale as winter snow. (Y/N) pointed the - thankfully - wooden sword at Jon and cocked his head to the side, a wide grin across his face. 

"What's wrong, Snow?" (Y/N) taunted, and Jon glared at him, throwing aside his sword and marching right up to (Y/N). The Bolton laughed when Jon grabbed the sides of his chest armor, his teeth digging into his bottom lip before he rammed the end of the sword into Jon's temple. Jon cursed loudly and released him to grab the side of his head, the blow working as intended when (Y/N) slammed his foot into Jon's chest piece and knocked him back. 

"I believe that's enough, aye, lad?" Robb straightened up at the sound of his father's voice, craning his neck to watch Ned step out of the nearby building and approach them with a grimace. He gently clapped the back of (Y/N)'s shoulder to congratulate him, his eyes remaining locked on his bastard son's panting form. "Go see Maester Luwin, Jon."

"May I have a word in private, Lord Stark?" Ser Rodrick asked, earning a curt nod in response. (Y/N)'s eyes followed the two older men as they walked further away from them, their voices drowned out by the hustle and bustle of servants working and guests chatting. His lips formed a noticeable pout, one that made Robb chuckle as he helped take the chest piece off him. 

"They're going to send me home." (Y/N) muttered bitterly.

"They won't," Robb assured him, handing the piece off to a nearby servant and giving them a thankful smile. (Y/N) huffed, the air coming out in a small cloud, and he tossed the sword aside into the dirt beside them. Robb caught a brief look at the knitted brow, sullen expression on his face before (Y/N) turned on his heel and stormed away. Immediately, Robb followed without a second thought, keeping his eyes focused on the boy until they reached the Godswood. 

"Leave me alone, Robb." (Y/N) muttered grumpily, slumping down on the ground beside the water and roughly tugging blades of grass from the ground. 

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," Robb responded, taking a seat beside him and gazing out into the water. The Godswood had always been a place to seek peace or advice from the Old Gods, a place Robb could visit to clear his mind or simply escape for a brief moment. (Y/N) pursed his lips and Robb smiled, pressing his fingertip against (Y/N)'s cheek and gigging softly when he swatted at his hand. "Come on, tell me." 

"Nobody here likes me. They're scared of me." (Y/N) said quietly, tugging more grass out of the dirt. "Lord Eddard is going to send me home to the Dreadfort, I know he is. Father's going to be mad at me but at least Dom will be there."

Robb stared at him, noticing the way he pressed his lips together to stop them from quivering. "I like you." He revealed softly and (Y/N) tilted his head toward him, eyes flickering between Robb's vibrant blue eyes. Robb's stomach twisted and turned, heat rising up his neck and covering his ears like fire. 

"How much?"

"A lot." He admitted, the branches above them gently rustling together with the wind. The sound eased his nerves, eased the dread threatening to bubble up and consume him. "If you were a lady, I would ask Father to let us wed."

(Y/N)'s lips curled up at that. "The Old Gods do not care if we're both men, Robb." He reminded him, that familiar grin working its way onto his face. Robb smiled again, setting his hand over (Y/N)'s and putting an end to his constant grass tearing. "Would you kill for me, Robb?"

"To protect you, yes," Robb answered immediately, no poundering needed. He'd kill to protect any of his loved ones. His parents, Jon, Theon, Sansa, little Arya and Bran. His father spilled blood for his late sister, Lyanna, during the rebellion and Robb doubted his father wouldn't do it all over again for her. "Would you?"

"If you asked." Then, (Y/N) leaned forward and clumsily mushed their lips together, sending a jolt down Robb's spine and a heat throughout his face. He'd kissed a young lady once or twice in secret and out of curiosity but despite his brief experience, he moved nervously and just as clumsily. 

Things rapidly changed from then on, behind closed doors at least. To the servants and residents of Winterfell, the two remained the same close friends as always, but away from prying eyes and curious ears, they were inseparable lovers. Robb's lingering stares grew and any ladies his mother asked him about were brushed away for one excuse or another. The sneaking around, the subtle touches, and innocent gestures, it was all exciting for them but Robb grew to prefer how hungry (Y/N) always seemed for him. It felt good to be wanted, felt good when he whispered loving confessions and laughed at (Y/N)'s eye rolls and flustered smiles. 

Until, as quickly as their relationship began, they were just as quickly swept away from each other. 

Not long after (Y/N) sixteenth name day, news arrived at Winterfell of Domeric Bolton's death. An illness in the stomach, the first letter from Maester Uthor read, but the letter from Roose informed him of a new family member who'd potentially caused the death of his brother: a half-brother by the name of Ramsay Snow—a bastard of the North. With Domeric dead, the title of heir fell on (Y/N)'s shoulders and took him away from Winterfell and back to the Dreadfort. Jon and Theon eased with his absence but Robb's heart broke into pieces. As a secondborn, (Y/N) could do as he pleased and remain by Robb's side forever if he wished, but as an heir?

As much as his absence pained him, Robb ensured to write (Y/N) many letters, most with secret messages only the two of them could understand. He detailed any events that'd gone on, small or big, silly or tragic. He wrote to him about the pups found by Jon and the one he'd claimed, about the royal visit at Winterfell and his father's new position as Hand, Jon joining the Night's Watch, the saddening news of his sister's wolf being killed. The letters stopped when Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell called the bannermen to war. 

Robb focused on the war, on avenging his father and bringing his beloved sisters home before they could be harmed by the Lannisters. The Bolton's joined the effort, of course, but Robb hardly saw (Y/N) during the start. They both had their duties, their own men to command, and many more things to worry about. But, the reunion had Robb nearly collapsing. 

He'd seen him, caught a brief glance during a battle with Lannister's army. It'd been enough to make him fight even harder, and they'd won in the end, returning back to camp to treat their wounded and count the dead. Robb had been swept away, his new title as King of the North forcing even more responsibilities onto his lap, but he managed to keep his racing mind focused enough to manage the tasks at hand, nearly forgetting about the glimpse until that night. 

Dragging the wet rag over his sword, Robb thought about his father. He thought about all the things Ned would say to him, the advice he'd give to him. His father knew of battles and rebellions, he knew of war. Robb only knew what he learned as the war progressed. Sure, there were many older men who'd fought alongside his father, who still had the taste of war in their mouths, but none would compare to the knowledge of Eddard Stark. He sighed quietly, gazing over his reflection and failing to hear the person entering his tent. 

"King of the North, aye? Has a pretty ring to it." He tensed immediately, first due to surprise and then because of that familiar voice. His head whirled around, eyes wide and heart pleading. (Y/N) grinned at him, splatters of blood still covering his skin and clothes from a battle the Boltons and few others had ridden out to, but it suited him perfectly. The sword fell with a loud clatter and Robb darted up from his seat, unable to restrain himself from flying into (Y/N)'s embrace. "Missed me, hm?" He laughed.

"Of course, I missed you, you bastard." Robb exhaled, leaning back to grasp the sides of his face, disregarding the blood that smeared onto his palms before he crashed their lips together. An almost animalistic growl-like noise emitted from (Y/N) throat and he kissed him back more roughly, as were most things with (Y/N). The Bolton backed him up until Robb fell back onto the bed, briefly knocking the air out of him. (Y/N) hovered above him, eyes glinting with a familiar look that sent heat rushing to his stomach.

"Sorry 'bout Lord Eddard, Robb." He murmured, dipping down to brush his lips over Robb's cheek and down to his throat where he dug his teeth lightly into him. 

"I heard of your half-brother, (Y/N)." Robb sighed again, the familiarity of it all making him lightheaded. His beloved had always been all tongue and teeth. (Y/N) snorted softly into his throat, a short chuckle leaving him at the mention of Ramsay's demise. He'd died in his sleep, or so Lord Bolton had said. 

"Never liked him, anyway." (Y/N) told him, rising back up to press their lips tightly together, teeth digging into Robb's bottom lip and tugging lightly. "I have news, Robb."

"Can it wait?" Robb knew the answer but he hoped pulling (Y/N) closer would change his mind. (Y/N) chuckled again and moved his hips, a lazy smirk spreading across his face when Robb cursed softly under his breath and reached down to fumble with their pants. 

"No, My King."

"Gods, you're the worst."

A sadistic little bastard but Robb loved him anyway. (Y/N)'s amusement faded away and he inhaled heavily, planting his hands on the sides of Robb's head and staring down at him. The seriousness made Robb straighten up, despite their rather compromising position, and he nodded for (Y/N) to continue. "My father plans on betraying you, Robb. Your rejection of Walder Frey's girls gave way for Father. He plans on marrying one of his daughters for an alliance. He wants to kill you." Robb's blood ran icy cold. War always had its fair share of traitors and cowardly, slimy men.

"Are you certain?" Robb sat up in the bed, forcing (Y/N) to lean back and stand again. A traitor in their midst and Walder Frey's ego. Two problems Robb hardly had time to deal with. (Y/N) reached out, fingers dipping under Robb's chin and tilting his head up.

"Give me your command and I'll bring his head to you by early morrow." 

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

Masterlist

Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn)

Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Pre Series Content and Extras:

Scattered Memories of the Starks

Shadows of their Hatred

The Quiet Wolf's Reminisce

The Stag and The Young Wolf

The Lost Chapters of Jon Snow

A New Life's Darkened Lust

Interlude of Jealous Desires

The Trials of Resurrection

The Injured and the Perverse

NSFW Alphabet (contains spoilers for part 3 and 4)

Woes of a Modern Day Love (a modern!au)

Fresh Heals of Old Pain (a modern!au part 2)

The Aftermath of Envy (a modern!au part 3)

Stoking the Flames (a modern!au part 4)

Then Came the Explosion (a modern!au part 5)

A Family Conflicted (a modern!au part 6)

A Small Bundles Flash Forward (a modern!au part 6.5)

A Snowy Wolf Pup (a modern!au holiday drabble)

Part 1:

Wolves of the Lone Stag

Mouth of the Lion's Den

An Intrigue Drenched in Blood

Standing Behind a Betrayal

A War of Tragic Beginning

Part 2:

King and Queen in the North

Shadow of a Fiery Stag

Reunion of New Enemies

Pleasure of Conflicted Desire

The Sanctity of Children

What Lies Beyond The Veil

Part 3:

The Cost of Our Sins

Dragged Through the Violence

Only the Cold

Fire for the King's Blood

Part 4:

Ashes of Various Grey

Plans of Pain and Horror

Afraid of a Ravens Flight

Trust in the Gentle Rasps

Visions in Eyes and Flames

A Bastard or The White Wolf

Part 5:

Home of Bloodsoaked Stone

Blazing Fire of Storming Ice

Ghostly Dreams of Old

Sailing Through the Glow

The Last Dragon

The Winter Rose

Part 6:

The Clash of Three Kings

Shrouded Truth in Sickness

Winged Shadow in the Sky

Light in the Darkest Storms

Peeking the Realms Woes

Blood, Roses and All Lies

Broken Love of the Dead

The Souls Tethered in Death

Wolves of the Past and Back

The Crows and The Sight

Part 7:

A Brewing of New Mystery

Great Wolves of White Mists

Darkness Heavy in a World

Past Becomes the Present

The Thing in the Night

Waving Tides of Turmoil

Greenish White Boodraven

Dark Blood of Blinding Light

And Wait for the Snows

Part 8:

Into the Haunted Forest

Fist of the First Men

Through the Frost Fangs

News From the South

Lies Within the Sunlight

Night of Two Distances

Screams of Cracking Ice

The Final Marching Trek

Fear Overtakes a Night

Wolves Teeth and Claws

Part 9:

Forcing Past Our Safety

One Whirlwind to the Next

Court of the North

Glimpse into the Rains

Scattered Pieces of Truth

Reunions and Realizations

Laws of Gods and Men

A Mockingbirds End

The Cold and the Rats

Blood Filled Danger

Memories of a Dead Past

[dipperscavern]

the way i just know robb is a giant gentleman. sigh thinking about him tying your dress for u before he escorts you to the feast

he’s the firstborn of the most honorable man in the seven kingdoms, heir to winterfell, the man was raised solid.

he doesn’t have to know the girl to be respectful towards her, but it only increases tenfold when it comes to you. you’ve grown up alongside the starks, and robb’s been smitten with you ever since he could read. robb quite literally gives you princess treatment—he thinks you deserve nothing less, and if he was giving you anything less, he’d rather feed himself to greywind.

theres a feast tonight, celebrating robert baratheons arrival to winterfell. catelyn insists everyone must look their best, having the three men shave (much to robb’s dismay), you & sansa’s hair braided, and even arya was not exempt from dressing appropriately. robb was buttoning his shirt up when you knocked at his door.

you stepped in after knocking, both of you having abandoned curtesy with each other long ago. his expression softens at seeing you, your presence quickly doing wonders to lift his sour mood. you’re beautiful (as always), long hair fastened into a braid that falls behind your back, dress hugging your curves—extenuating all the right parts of you. his heart skips a beat at the sight of you. his brows furrow, taking note of how one of your hands is behind your dress.

“what’s all that?” he says, nodding his head towards you. “theon tie your hands behind your back, again?”

“robb stark, everybody. the most hilarious man in the seven kingdoms.” you say, pushing the door closed behind you, making your way to him.

“handsome. you forgot handsome.”

you roll your eyes, suppressing your smile.

“i can’t reach, tie me?” you say, referring to your dress. robb nods, hands moving to your waist, turning you around in front of him. he moves your braid to fall in front of your shoulder, the brush of his hand against the back of your neck sending shivers down your spine. he swallows thickly, seeing the exposed skin of your back. he does it without thinking, knuckles running across the indent of your defined shoulder blades. your eyes flutter shut at his touch, hating how he can pull you apart so easy.

“robb..”

your voice is quiet, barely audible as you whisper his name. he knows what you’re saying, truly. you won’t be able to function properly at the feast if he keeps touching you like that. he chuckles, voice crawling up your spine as he stops his wandering hands, moving to tie your dress. he goes from lace to lace, having figured out young how to tie a ladies dress—from you asking his help when you couldn’t figure it out yourself. goosebumps trail along your skin from the ghost of his hands against your back, not fully touching, but only lightly brushing along as he moves the strings along one another.

the dress grows tighter as he finishes, tying the last one. his hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer, as he leans his head onto your shoulder. one of your hands lay over his, the other resting on the back of his neck. your sigh is a shaky exhale, content to stay in his arms for the rest of the night. they wouldn’t notice, right?

“don’t want to go.”

your voice is quiet, trying not to complain about things that were expected of you.

“i know. have some fun, yeah?”

you swallow, nodding. robb senses your hesitance, removing his head from your shoulder.

“hey. you’re goin’ with me, are you trying to say i’m not fun?” he says, turning you to face him. your brows furrow, smile going upside down at his accusation. your lack of response only makes him playfully roll his eyes, tsk’ing you as he shakes his head. he places a hand on the small of your back, gently guiding you towards the door.

“hurtin’ my feelings, missy.” you both walk down the hallway, your hand on his bicep as he escorts you to the feast.

“it’s a gift.”

“right you are.”

shoutout to the seamstress for making this dress 4 me to wear.. and shoutout to robb stark cause he’s gonna be takin it owaff of me later tonight! winks

[entitled-fangirl]

Luck. (P2)

Cregan Stark x reader; Robb Stark x reader

Summary: the reader finds herself back with Cregan, and she's beginning to feel something for the past Wolf of the North.

Warnings: unwanted advances, talk of gore, consensual kissing that leads to the start of... some other stuff

Part 1, Part 3

Masterlist

...................................................

Two weeks back with Robb, and it seemed that she was beginning to forget about the interactions with Cregan entirely.

She had hit her head, after all. Maybe her mind had simply messed with her. 

Robb had noted that something was amiss with her, but he knew better than to pry. When she was ready, perhaps she'd come to him.

"The History of the Wolf. That's an ancient book, that is." Robb mused with a grin as he entered the library.

She turned her head and snapped the book shut in surprise. "Oh… I… I had no idea."

Robb's smile grows and he walks to her, "Interested in Stark history, are you?"

Her face showed a look as if she'd been caught in a crime. "I… I just wish to know more about you and your house is all." 

"That's admirable," Robb said. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, his stubble scraping her as he did so.

"You must shave," she said instinctively with a laugh. "It is like rubbing sand across my face, Robb."

He chuckled. It was the first time in two weeks that she had jested with him like she had before that day in the Godswood. He loved her most like this. 

He brought at hand to his face, "Shave? Or perhaps I shall grow it into a great beard!"

She laughed and took his face in her hand, "Only when I am long gone will you have a beard, Stark."

He tilted his head playfully and a tint came to his eyes, "Or perhaps I will just make you watch the hairs grow by the day."

Her hands moved to his chest with a playful shove, "Don't torture me so!"

His smirk grew, "I will torture you how I see fit, my love."

"You shan't catch me then!"

Abandoning the book in her hands, she began to sprint from the library. 

Robb watched her go with a playful grin before willing his legs to run as well.

She held her skirt up in one hand, rounding each corridor half—hazardly. 

Robb had longer legs, but he had to admit she was a quick little thing.

She made the mistake of turning around once to see where he was, only to find him a few paces behind. 

She let out a surprised laugh, and quickly set herself on track again. 

Even as they ran passed the staff, the servants paid no heed.

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell were much in love, and seeing such things were common. 

Finally down one corridor, she looked over her shoulder. 

She had managed just a bit of distance from Robb.

She grinned wickedly as she rounded the corner from him.

Into a stone wall it seemed.

She fell onto the ground from the force.

"Gods, my love," a voice commented.

Cregan Stark.

He knelt down and quickly brought a hand to the back of her head. He was holding back a chuckle, "That was quite a hit. Are you alright?"

She nodded quickly, "Fine." Her hand came up to her forehead, "Just fine."

"Let's get you up then," he chuckled. "I can't have the staff whispering of why the Lord and Lady were on the dirt ridden floor of the corridor." 

He helped her up, keeping a hand under one arm to guarantee her balance. When she was indeed balanced, he let go, "Running from Brandon, I assume? A game of some sorts?"

She took a few steps back to look down the corridor she had just run down.

Robb was gone. 

"Yes," she lied. "I'm to be hiding."

"Well," he smiled. "I can't have him catching you, can I?" He held out his arm for her to take.

With one last look to the place Robb had once stood, she took Cregan's arm.

…

After an hour or two of enjoying the other's company over a light lunch, Cregan gave a light sigh and stood from the chair. "I must attend to the people. I shall come collect you-"

She reached out and grabbed his hand, "May I accompany you?"

"You wish to… accompany me out?" He was a bit shocked from her request.

"Please, my lord. I truly wish to."

That seemed to make something wash over Cregan. He blinked suddenly and nodded, "Get in something warmer. There's quite a heavy chill out there."

…

The two had journeyed out of the Winterfell walls. 

Cregan had promised to help a farmer days before, and was now making true to his promise. 

A Stark never breaks an oath, after all.

So the two on his horse, as well as some ten men behind them set out to the man's farm. 

The man was welcoming and kind, beyond grateful for the help. He was an older man and held a deep regard for the younger Stark man.

As they entered his home, Cregan grimaced, "What exactly do you believe the problem to be?"

The man shrugged, "I wanted to believe wildlings, my lord. But… wildlings do not kill as viciously as these deaths have been. No man is willing to work for me because of it."

Cregan's eyes wandered over to her, who had distracted herself with the man's dog- a long haired shepherd dog who had no idea that one of the most influential woman in the North was the one scratching behind his ears.

"You said the East side of your land?" Cregan asked.

"Yes, my lord."

"Very well." Cregan turned to his men. "Go saddle up. Have your swords at the ready." He turned to the older man, "You'll lead us there."

The man nodded, "On my honor, my lord."

She stood now, her attention lost from the dog to Cregan.

"No," he began as soon as they made eye contact. "You'll stay here. I'll not have you out in that."

"Cregan," she sighed. "I'll be with you. That's as safe as-"

"-My lady," the older man began. "If I may. I found one of my men without a throat in that field. We shan't have that for our lady."

Cregan nodded along with him, "You're to stay, my love."

She nodded, "That's fine."

"If it helps, my older son should come around soon. He'll keep you company," the older man said. 

She nodded again with a forced smile, "That sounds lovely. I shall remain."

Cregan gave a soft sigh, "Just for a few hours." He pulled her to him and placed a kiss to the crown of her head. 

…

The man's son did come after an hour or two, walking into his home sweaty and tired.

It took him a while to notice the lady's presence. 

He immediately began to apologize, "Lady Stark. Forgive me… I did not-"

She laughed lightly, "-There is nothing to forgive. I am the stranger in your home, not the other way around."

He nodded. He then took a moment to see her in front of him. "Believe me or not, I've never seen the lady of Winterfell before. And now that I have, I've not seen a pretty lady in all of the North."

His words took her by surprise. "Oh. Those are quite flattering words."

He smiled and shrugged, "I would not lie to a lady. You're lovely. Lord Stark has been blessed by the gods to have you."

"How did you know it was I if you've never seen me?" She asked with a teasing smile.

"Your cloak, my lady." He pointed to it, "Stark sigil on it."

She looked down to indeed to the pin on it with the wolf of Stark on it. "Ah. I see."

"Tell me, my lady, why you are in our home unaccompanied?"

"My husband and his men are with your father dealing with your… problem. In the east field, I believe?"

The man's eyes lit with recognition, "Is he? I had no idea he'd be here today or I would have welcomed him. And accompanied him as well. I do apologize."

She shrugged, "Cregan does not care for propriety. Do not worry yourself."

"Perhaps I may just… keep you company here then until their return?"

She smiled, "I'd like that."

…

The man, who she had learned was named Johnathan Glover, was lovely at first. Easy to converse with, and not overbearing towards her. 

But it quickly shifted. 

He had slowly moved his chair closer to her. His hands would wander. His eyes grew sultry. 

And soon, she was becoming uncomfortable. 

"Something wrong, my lady?" He asked. 

"No. Worried for Cregan, is all."

"You seem so tense." He sighed. Johnathan stood up and rounded her chair to stand behind her. His hand moved to her shoulders and she immediately tensed more. 

"You need to relax," he whispered in her ear. He began to massage her shoulder, pushing a little too harshly into her shoulder blades. 

"He… he will return at any moment," she had tried to reason. 

The man smiled, "I know."

A kiss was placed on her neck. 

She froze in place for a moment. 

This man would die at Cregan's hand. 

Robb was a merciful man, but the man's payment would have been just the same under his watch.

"Stop," she commanded.

"This is what I'm speaking of," the man continued with another kiss to her neck, "So tense."

She moved to stand, but he held her down by her shoulders.

The door swung open suddenly and Cregan stood in the doorway. 

Bloody and caked in dirt, Cregan Stark stood with a set jaw at the sight before him. 

She stood this time, managing to get away from the man's hands and goes to Cregan, "Are you hurt?"

But his eyes didn't move from Johnathan's. His voice was low, "I'm fine." His gloved hands covered in grime grabbed her wrist. "Let's go."

He pulled her from the home with no words uttered to anyone except a whisper to one of his men. The man nodded and moved into the house as the Starks left. 

…

"I leave you to slay wolves and yet I had left you in the jaws of one," Cregan huffed as he pulled off his boots. 

"It is alright. I am fine, Cregan." She tried to reason.

"No. No, do not give me pity. I left you alone there. I should have known better."

She sighed as she began to pull at her corset strings. "You could not have known that. You were tending to your people, as you should."

Cregan paused at her words, his hands gripping the bottom of his tunic. "I should be tending to you."

She pulled off her corset with a tug, "Then do so."

His eyes darkened as his eyes roamed over her body, "So I shall."

Cregan neared her, carefully and slowly pulling her various garments from her until she was left in nothing but her shift. 

He smiled and let his hands grip her waist, "You are a Stark." His thumbs traced lightly, "I can't have others believing otherwise."

She stepped a bit closer, nearing her face with his, "I will always be a Stark."

He leaned in the rest of the way, connecting their lips in a soft kiss.

But he paused for moment, "I'm filthy, my love. Perhaps we should wait-"

But she had pulled him to her, cutting him off with a kiss once more.

The kiss was everything that Cregan wasn't- soft, delicate, careful, and needy. 

He let out a soft groan when she pulled the hair at the back of his neck. 

Cregan led the two towards the bed, carefully placing her on the furs. Only then did their lips part, and his began to trace down her face. His voice was soft as he spoke, "I'll banish any trace of that man from you."

She hummed as he kissed down her neck, exactly where the man had kissed her only hours before. But unlike then, she was completely relaxed under Cregan's gaze. 

She could feel his smile against her neck. 

"May I have you tonight, my love?" He asked softly.

She paused her thoughts for a moment. 

She was stuck in time with Cregan. Her husband. 

Was it wrong to Robb?

He noted her hesitation and pushed himself up to look at her, "Don't fret about it. I won't be upset with you."

Her hesitation continued.

He nodded and one of his hands wandered down her body, "May I pleasure you, at least?"

He wanted to…

She felt herself nod before she could register why.

His smile was bright, "Thank you, my love."

Much like Cregan himself, his kisses became calculated and neat. He did nothing on a whim. The kisses began to trail down her body, over her clothing.

When they reached lower, he grabbed her thighs and pulled her legs up. 

A final look into her eyes, "You're sure?"

Another nod from her, "Please, Cregan."

His hand began to pull her thin shift up, "Of course, pretty."

With her shift stretched across her thighs, she couldn't see Cregan once he disappeared behind it. His touch on her thighs left for a moment.

She closed her eyes and waited for the feeling to begin.

But instead she felt a cold chill run down her. 

And the sound of the door opening. 

Her eyes shot open. 

Robb ran in, panting. She paused when he saw her and his jaw dropped a bit. 

His beautiful wife in nothing but her shift, legs open on the furs of their bed. 

"So, this is where you ran off to, is it?" He grinned. 

When she didn't answer from shock, he continued, "I don't know how you managed this so quickly, but you shall hear no complaint from me." He stepped toward her like a predator, "My wife just waiting for me to catch her? So eagerly waiting on me?"

Robb approached the foot of the bed. He grabbed the top of her thighs, "Well, guess what, my love?" He pulled her down the bed and to him. His voice lowered, "I've caught you."

"You have." She finally managed to pant out. 

His eyes roamed over her completely, "So pretty," he muttered. "And all mine." He caressed her face, "Who do you belong to?"

"I…" she paused, thrown off by his question. 

His voice became a heated growl, "Who do you belong to, love?"

"The… the Wolf of the North." She whispered to him.

He grinned, "Yes, you do."

But she couldn't help but remember the feeling of Cregan's hands on her not only moments ago.

...................................................................

A/N: I think I'm about to start doing some Aemond x reader stuff- comment if you want on that tag list! Or the tag list for this fic since I'm guessing I'll be doing a part 3

Taglist: @rlblackbarbie, @rebeccawinters

[missswritesalot]

Can I request something with Robb stark x shy reader. She is very quiet and a good wife too rob, but she loves seeing him be a true king to his people so when someone comes along and tries to knock him down a few pegs she speaks up and reminds said person of who they are speaking to leaving Robb speechless and a little turned on. You can end it there or add in a little smut if you want. Thank youuu

A/N requests open! Hope you enjoy, anon! There is just a sprinkle of nsfw at the end, but I tagged it with smut just to be safe ;) i think i used the word shy like a million times. Reblog/Comment if you want more!

You and your husband, Robb, were touring the North and providing supplies to the smallfolk to support them through the Winter. There were many grievances to address and you held court at all the small towns.

You hated the attention, and it was a small mercy that you rarely had to speak. Even when Robb needed your counsel, he asked for it in private so you weren’t embarrassed. The eyes of the people on you were enough to mortify you, yet you bore your discomfort silently and stood by his side.

At one such hearing, Robb ordered the Lords of the lesser Northern houses to visit. You were seated next to him on your throne, Greywind sleeping on the raised floor at your feet.

“The old ways have served the North fruitfully for years. Listen carefully, one war does not make a boy a man and you are yet to know the ways of the world.” Lord Karstark said, wagging a wrinkled finger at Robb.

It was the third time he had questioned your husband in front of his Council. You were furious.

All Robb had suggested was reducing the great burden of supporting lesser houses with tithes from the peasants. Many smallfolks families were missing men and weapons due to the war, and winter was coming. It would be his first Winter as King of the North and he wanted all his subjects to survive, not just the noblemen.

You thought it was admirable. You also knew how hard he worked, spending almost all nights this week pouring over papers and accounts.

“Don’t forget yourself, I am the King,” Robb chided him. Greywind woke up and went to him, a silent threat.

“No man that calls himself King is a true-“ Lord Karstark began in his crotchety old voice. Anger coursed through your veins. How dare this senile old man try to insult your husband.

You cleared your throat. The hall fell silent. Robb frowned and turned to look at you. His wife was a woman of few words but they were all worth hearing.

“My King husband would have no need of repeating his station if you would remember it, my Lord. And if you cannot, then perhaps in the evening of one’s life we must accept our limitations and resign to things we are capable of.” You said calmly, yet sharply. Robb’s jaw dropped in awe.

It took Karstark’s slow mind a moment longer to process.

“Control your tongue, woman,” he said said, eyes wild, pointing to you.

“Disrespect the Queen and you will feel my blade,” Robb yelled, stepping down from the throne and pulling out Ice, just as the direwolf by his side leapt into action.

Karstark did not know when to keep hush. He retorted back sarcastically, and the altercation ended with him being dragged to the dungeons for his impunity. The other lords were also greatly displeased with him, for now they had no chance of changing the King’s mind about restoring their allowances.

You were glad to see the end of the day, and walked into the chambers of your current abode with Robb trailing behind you.

“Lord Karstark demands hot oil for his feet, did you hear it, darling?” Robb said, crushing the piece of correspondence he read. “To send his demands with servants even when imprisoned. The gall of him.” He chuckled.

“I’ve had it up to here with that old bastard,” you said angrily. You let your hair down and started running your fingers through it roughly. The more you thought of it, the more your anger flared.

“How dare he set foot in your court, dine and dwell in our hospitality, and feel entitled to disrespect you like that? I will not stand for it, Robb.” You said, tugging at the lacing and stepping out of your gray court dress.

“Age does not guarantee wisdom, darling. Experience does. And the old fool has none.” Robb said, walking up to you and resting his hands on your shoulders. He pushed your hair to the side and kissed up your neck from your shoulders to your ear.

You tilted your head to give him more access. After a while he turned you around and kissed your mouth. You savored his languid kisses. His hands slowly pushed your chemise over your shoulders till it hung just above your breasts.

You pulled away, and leaned back, his strong arms holding you up.

“I’m sorry for speaking out of turn, love” you said shyly. You were bold in your anger but the shyness was starting to creep in now. “I love you, and I cannot bear to see you insulted after you pour your soul into this Kingdom.”

“Don’t be sorry, you were fantastic,” Robb said, apparently unable to keep his lips off of you. You gasped as he nipped at the bottom of your throat. “I would like to see the wolf in my little wife more often.”

You giggled at his words, and he walked you backwards till your calves hit the bed. Your chemise dropped to your hips and his hands made quick work of finding your breasts.

Your hands came up to cover yourself.

“Robb, the candles,” you said, eyes wide. His own blue ones lit up with mirth.

“I know now that you are not shy, let me see what is mine, darling.” He whispered, pushing your chemise to the floor. You stepped out of it, naked as the day you were born. Your skin felt hot under his hungry gaze.

“Lie back, Y/N,” he said, licking his lips and pushing you down on the bed. “I wish to show you some of my appreciation.” He knelt before you with a wink.

Robbs hands found your knees and he spread them apart. Your hands twisted into his auburn hair in surprise.

And there was nothing shy about the sounds you made that night.

[intoxicated-chan]

Be With Me

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Robb Stark x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ When Robb over hears of your potential marriage, he cannot stand the idea of loosing you to some random lord.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Be with Me” by Ramin Djawadi. It was heavily inspired by the cave scene with Jon and Yigrette. P.S… IM BACK!!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, sexual content, swearing, injuries, mentions of death, oral (male receiving), discussion of marriage…

(I’m saying it again! This was heavily inspired by the cave scene that involved Jon and Yigrette!!)

You walk out of the medic tent with a limp, It’s more than obvious that you were injured, and you feel the stares from other soldiers as your eyes are narrowed.

Robb caught up to you, grabbing your shoulder to make you turn around, “What was that?” Robb immediately said, “You thought it best to throw yourself into a fight?”

“A sword was coming from behind, you were too bothered to even notice.” You shake his hand off your shoulder and continue walking.

Robb grumbles a couple of words before speeding up to catch you, “I saved your life.” He piped up.

“No, I did.” You corrected him, you kept your eyes forward as you walked to your tent, “If I didn’t throw myself into the battle… You know I’d die for you.”

It makes Robb scoff rather loudly, ignoring your last words, “Let’s say you saved me. What about the other time or the other one?” Robb lifts an eyebrow, “You still owe me two more.”

“I owe you quite a lot, my lord.” You tell him, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to check the horses.”

He grabs your cloak tightly and pulls you back, nearly making you fall to the ground. You look up at him confused and angry.

He suddenly snatches your sword out of your scabbard, “I’ll take your sword as payment.” He then scurries away, you can hear him laughing.

“W-What?” You stand shocked for a moment before realizing what is happening, “Robb! Come back here, dammit!” You shout, chasing after him, “Robb fucking Stark! Give me my sword!”

You run after him, tumbling on a few rocks but don’t fall… Somehow. As much as you’re a fighter, Robb was a runner.

He ran so easily and didn’t take a second to look back and stop to give you some kind of better start.

“If you want it back, you’ll have to steal it back!” He runs from the camp and into a random cave. A random cave to you. You didn’t know the North like he did.

The cave is heated by a natural hot spring, which forms a waterfall and a pool. The rocks glistening from the humidity from the water and the light shining through.

Robb sets his sword against the rocks and begins to undo his armor. He starts with his gloves, crumbling them up and tossing them besides the sword.

Your peer your head into the cave, you rush into the cave when hear him, “Seven fucking hells, Robb-!” You loudly shout, but stop in your tracks.

“I heard from my mother that you were supposed to marry some random Lord.” He spoke with a hint of venom in his voice, he pulls off his brown leather boots, “Which means you’re a maiden.”

You choke on your words as you feel your face become warm at his bluntness.

He unties and unbuttons his armor, setting it down carefully, “I always wanted to beat the lord dead, just imagining you in his grasp made me feel so angry.”

Robb turns his back to your as his arms cross and grab the hem of his dirty shirt, he’s swift and impatient, tearing free from the constraints of fighting and riding.

His hands come to the strings of his breeches, “I wanted to be the one to marry you… To kiss you…” Until his breeches drop to the ground. He steps out of them, “To love you…”

Robb turns back to you, he is completely bare in front of you. You could see light bruises and scrapes on his body but little scars. They were faded but still there, it added to his muscular body. He was so beautiful… So perfect… So flawless…

Your eyes flicker around the cave and your eyes only set sights on him once. They move to the ground and you hear his soft steps against the wet stone.

He slowly closes the space in between you both until his face his near yours.

You feel Robb’s breath, one of his hands comes to your cheeks and cups it. But when he leans into you for a kiss, you pull back.

You swallow thickly and turn your head, “We shouldn’t, Robb.” You mumble under your breath, “We can’t be doing this.”

“Then look me in the eyes and say it. Tell me that you don’t want to go any further.” He says, and he slowly turns his head to eventually look at him, “Go on, tell me.”

You knew what was waiting for you back at home, you knew that the second you stepped foot back into your home, your life would be over, even more if your parents found out.

“Do you want to marry that lord?” Robb whispers in your ear, “Do you want a marry a man with selfish desires?” You could hear the pain in his voice, “Because my heart would not stand the idea of it… My heart is yours, it has been from the start, ever since your mother met mine, ever since you watched me train that day. Do you feel as I do?”

“I do.” You shakily answer him. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close and then you feel his lips on yours.

As your eyes shut and kiss him, you can feel yourself crying. You don’t know but he sees it, he does his best to keep you distracted and focused on him.

But you seem to have other ideas…

Once you manage to calm down and enjoy the kiss for a few more minutes, taking a couple of seconds to catch your breath before returning… Your hands move down his body and you slowly begin to kneel, planting kisses down his chest.

Robb chuckles, “Come back up, I wanna-” A sudden moan leaves his mouth when he feels your mouth wrap around his hard cock.

He throws his head back and allows himself to moan loudly. He was confined in the cave, just with you and no one else to see or hear. He closes his eyes and his hand comes to your head to move faster.

“F-Fuck!” His voice cracks as he curses, “H-How are you so-” He grunts and hisses, watching you close as you get him off.

Moments later, Robb is lying on the warm stone ground with you by his side… His fingers graze over your skin as he listens to the water pouring, feeling the warmth coming from the hot spring beside them.

Robb looks down at you with a grin, “How did you know to do that?” He questions you with an eyebrow raised.

You shrug, “I didn't learn it from anyone, I just wanted to. You looked like you enjoyed it.” You drag your nails over his chest.

“Surely there must’ve been a man you practice with.” Robb sits up, he’s genuinely curious but still playful, “Was it Theon? Or Jon?”

You swat at his leg and he snickers in response, “I swear, Robb. There wasn’t any other man.”

“So you are a maiden or were.” Robb stands and grabs your hand to help you up, “Join me, would you?” You didn’t need to say anything, he could see the answer in your eyes.

He leads you into the hot spring, feeling the warm water make contact with your skin. You wrap your arms around his waist and lay your head on his chest.

“They may be looking for us.” You tell him, unsure what to do now as you are held in his arms.

“I know.” Robb huffs as he rubs your back, “But let’s stay for a little longer…. I don’t wish to leave.” He holds you even tighter and places a kiss on the top of your head, “I do not wish to lose you once this is all over.”

“I… I’m sure I can convince my parents somehow. My mother could easily be swayed, but my father-”

“I’ll deal with him.” Robb interrupts you, “I’ll talk to my mother about it. There’s no way I cannot lose you to that man.”

Robb then moves to cup your face, swiping his thumb over his cheek, “Let’s not leave for a little longer.” He pulls you into another kiss, adjusting you comfortably on his lap.

You shudder and shiver, feeling his cock enter once more, “Don’t let me go.” You say to him, your hands hold grab his shoulders, keeping yourself up.

Once he was sheathed inside of you, Robb finally answers, “There’s no way I’ll let you go. Even if they try to pry my dead body off you, I’ll never let you go.”

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.