GoT One-Shots!

Wildlings Love Too (Tormund x fem!Stark reader)

(a/n: This is my first time writing Tormund so I ask that you please be kind. SPOILERS for season 6!)

You held your breath as the gates of Castle Black swung open. You rode in just in front of Brienne and Podrick. Your eyes scanned the crowd of people until they landed on the one person you hoped most to see. "Jon," you whispered softly. You watched his face change from surprise to a wide smile. You dismounted your horse and ran over to your brother. "Jon!" you cried, wrapping your arms around him. "Y/N. I was worried about you. Is Sansa not with you?" he asked, pulling away from the hug to look at your solemn expression. "She refused to leave King's Landing."

Jon sighed but smiled as he pulled you to him yet again. "I've missed you, Jon." You pulled away again when Brienne cleared her throat. You scoffed playfully. "Yes, Brienne. I know. I swear you are worse than Old Nan sometimes," you quipped. Jon looked you over and laughed, "If Old Nan could see you now, she'd probably throw a fit seeing how you're dressed." You joined his laughter. It was true.

You were wearing trousers and a tunic. You wore boots and a sword strapped to your hip. Since leaving Winterfell, you had trained with a blade and were actually very skilled now. You could take care of yourself when needed and even Brienne was impressed. "Come on. Let's get you warmed up and get something to eat," Jon said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. Brienne and Podrick followed close behind as well as a tall red haired man. A wildling.

In a hushed conversation, Jon explained that his name was Tormund and he lead the wildling tribe that helped Jon fight the White Walkers. You were instantly intrigued by the man. He sat across from you while you ate and you caught him staring at you several times. It would have been unnerving, but you had to admit that you were staring sometimes too. At one point, Brienne leaned in to whisper, "The wildling is staring again, my lady. Perhaps we should go." You chuckled at her nervousness, but nodded all the same. You wanted to get a bit of training in anyway.

As reluctant as Brienne was about being at Castle Black, she would never turn down a chance to train. She followed you to the training yard and the two of you began an intense workout, unaware of the eyes that were watching you. Jon had noticed Tormund's lingering gazes at you and approached the wildling. Tormund wouldn't even pretend to stop staring. "She will fight with us," Jon declared as he watched you with Tormund.

"The blonde? A warrior no doubt, but she does not fight as the free folk," Tormund stated as if it were obvious. Jon chuckled and shook his head before he replied, "No. Y/N. She's stubborn and will refuse to stay away from the battle." Tormund returned his gaze to your form. You were fighting, yes, but it seemed as though you were dancing. Every move was graceful and even somewhat delicate, but there was still a ferocity to your attacks that Tormund admired.

*time skip to the battle*

Jon had been right. There was no way you were going to stay away from the battle. So, when Jon had his small army of Northern Houses and Wildlings prepared to charge, you were on the front lines, between Tormund and Ser Davos. You were gripping the reins tightly as Ramsay Bolton moved forward. You could barely make out a figure standing next to him. Jon glanced back at you and from the look on his face, you knew it was Rickon.

Tormund watched as you bit your lip. He could sense your nervousness. The small figure of your youngest brother was running forward as Jon raced to him on his horse. You stifled a scream as an arrow sank into Rickon's flesh. He was stumbling along with the characteristic Stark determination when the second arrow pierced his back. This time, you did scream. Jon was no longer on his horse. You tried to suppress your sobs to no avail. Your baby brother was dead.

As your emotions overwhelmed you, you felt yourself sliding from your saddle. You never hit the ground as Tormund caught you. "Yer alright," he whispered. He wasn't used to being a comforting presence. The free folk didn't often cry when they lost loved ones. It was simply the way of the world. Tormund did recognize that you were in no shape to fight. He turned to a couple of his men and ordered them to escort you back to camp. Before they took you away, you turned to the wildling. "B-be safe." Tormund fought a smile. He now had a new reason to fight. He would fight for you and help retake Winterfell for your family.

*another time skip (sorry)*

The battle was won and Winterfell was retaken. It was bittersweet for you as you rode into Winterfell. Yes, you had your family's home again, but Rickon was dead. You quickly dismounted and ran to Jon who embraced you. "Thank the gods, you're alive! Forgive my weakness, Jon," you whispered. He pressed a kiss to your hair and replied, "There is nothing to forgive, Y/N." You let him go and gazed around the courtyard.

The first thing you saw was Tormund. Without thinking, you rushed over to him and threw your arms around him, nearly knocking him down. You quickly realized what you were doing and let go. "Forgive me," you started, but you were cut off when he pulled you to him again. You melted into the warm embrace. You looked up at him as the snow began to fall. "Winter," you whispered, "It has finally come."

"And with it, the White Walkers," Tormund said, causing you to shudder and he pulled you even closer. "What is this, Tormund?" you asked him as he touched his forehead to yours. Neither of you seemed to care that the courtyard was full of people or that Tormund himself was covered in blood, dirt and now snow. In that moment, there were only the two of you. "I don' t know, but I think it's what you in the south call, what's that word? Love?" You giggled. Winter was surely going to bring challenges but you could face them, with Tormund. You would fight with him and die beside him if need be.