Game Of Thrones OneShots

Robb Stark x Reader

(You're a close friend of the Starks, the daughter of Ser Rodrik Cassel, the master of arms at Winterfell. You've always lived at Winterfell, and have grown to have a strong crush on the young Robb Stark)

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Laughing loudly, you continue to chase young Bran through the halls of Winterfell, his giggling echoing off the cold stone walls as he disappeared around the corner. Swinging your body round the stone, you hold your skirts up, hoping to have more freedom to catch up with the little brown haired boy.

You had agreed with his request to play chase, to entertain him and keep him from boredom. The castle had only just found out about the expected arrival of the King and the rest of the Royal Family a week ago, and everyone was in chaos. You figured that Bran would need someone to keep him occupied, and you had nothing better to do with your time.

You spotted the little Lord skittering round the corner up ahead, his small direwolf pup, Summer, yipping before following close at his heels. Letting out a shout, you pelt after him, but when you reach the corner in question, you can't see him anywhere. Taking in the doors either side of the corridor, you move to the first one on the left, moving slowly. Gently grasping the cool metal, you twist it sharply and shove the door open with your shoulder. Your eyes meet a broom cupboard, and your eyes scan the space carefully, looking for movement. Bran was much younger than you, only ten, and you knew he wouldn't be able to sit still for long, especially with the direwolf pup.

Doing one last scan of the cupboard, you close the door, satisfied that he isn't inside. Moving across the corridor, you shove open the next door with no hesitation. But instead of another cupboard, your eyes meet the view of three half naked men, all of them turning your way in shock, their conversation halted.

You feel you neck and cheeks flush as you recognise both Theon Greyjoy, Jon Snow the Bastard, and also Robb Stark, his head stretched back, a razor blade scraping away the remaining hair on his jaw. Your eyes wander over their forms, completely forgetting the situation, and you can't help but admire their toned backs and chests, especially that of Robb's.

Someone clears their throat, and you jolt with shock as you realise they're staring at you with eyebrows raised, smirks spread across their lips. You feel your cheeks flush further, and you begin to stutter out an apology when Theon cuts across you.
"Enjoying the view Y/N?" He wanders closer, hand resting next to your head on the door frame, other hand coming to rest on your hip.
"S-sorry, I'm -um- looking for Bran, lost him in a game." You shift, the feeling of Theon's hand on your hips uncomfortable.
"Leave her alone, Theon, she's clearly uncomfortable." Robb's voice is low, his topaz blue eyes burning into your skin, taking in your flushed skin and wild hair, the way your lips had parted gently, breathing fast; the gentle curves of your figure beneath the dress he so loved on you.

The barber had finished with him, and he stood up, rolling his shoulders before shoving the form of Jon Snow into the seat, jesting a "Go on Tommy, shear him good. He's never met a girl he likes better than his own hair." before making his way over to Theon and yourself.

Snaking his own arm around your waist, he gently shoved Theon away from you, much to Theon's dismay. Your face flushed deeply as the warmth of his skin seeped through the thin cotton of your dress, and your hand came to rest lightly on his upper arm, the muscle tensing at your light touch. His upper body was bare, and you admired his solidness as he pulled you tighter to him, his head turned over his shoulder to glare at the Greyjoy lad.

Turning his head back towards you, your eyes met his serious gaze. Your breath hitches in your throat as you took in his proximity, and you blushed profusely, before easing yourself out of his arms in embarrassment, but not before noticing the hurt look that flashed across Robb's face as you left him empty handed. Giving him a small, awkward smile, you slipped out the door, closing it behind you before leaning against it, running a hand through your hair as you gathered your wild and slightly dirty thoughts. Shaking your head, you brought your mind back to the task of finding the little Lord, Bran.