REQUEST: Hi there! Could I request a Robb Stark x Female!Reader?? Where Theon takes over Winterfell and tries to get it on with her but Robb swoops in and saves the day?? Thank you so much! Have a good day xx
a/n: hello love! this was actually really fun to write! after last weeks episode, i was In The Mood to shit on theon and this was Perfect for that. writing robb and theon’s exchange made me think of anakin and obi wan in revenge of the sith lmao. ps: i made the reader an umber?? if that’s relevant? anyways, onto the fic lol
ALSO NOTE: sorry this is late, i ended up on an unexpected trip to san fran! im exhausted so this may not be my greatest work and for that i apologize!! (because im away from home, i am on mobile! double apologies for format errors!)
Y/N of House Umber had been a ward of Winterfell since she was ten years old. Her father had hoped that she would grow close to Lord Stark’s oldest son, Robb, and that a betrothal would follow when they were of age.
Robb had been two-and-ten when Y/N arrived at Winterfell. Initially, he, Jon, and Theon had been unwilling to include Y/N in their adventures around Winterfell, but this hadn’t bothered Y/N one bit. She would simply hold her chin up to their taunts of ‘you can’t, you’re a girl’ and go off on her own adventures.
Finally, when Robb was four-and-ten, he realized that perhaps a female playmate or even sparring companion wouldn’t be so bad. He had watched Y/N hold her own playing with the stable boys and other children around Winterfell and had grown jealous. He began going out of his way to include Y/N in his, Theon’s, and Jon’s games of chase, pausing only when the boys were called away to train.
Theon spent the majority of his time with the other three leering at Y/N and making crude comments as she blossomed from a girl into a young woman. None of the other’s thought anything of it, assuming Theon meant nothing by it. That his constant talk of Y/N and how much he desired her meant nothing. After all, everyone in Winterfell knew that Y/N was Robb’s just as Robb was Y/N’s.
Robb had known as well as Y/N that a betrothal was expected of them, but neither seemed to mind. They were close friends bordering on a courtship and already knew they were happy together. The Starks all enjoyed Y/N’s company and approved of the match, Ned and Catelyn happy that at the very least, one of their children would marry for love.
Y/N and Robb were officially betrothed when Robb was ten-and-eight and Y/N was ten-and-six. The development didn’t change their dynamic and they remained close when Bran fell, when Ned, Sansa, and Arya left for the capitol, when Ned was executed, when Arya went missing, when the North went to war with the South, and when Robb was declared King in The North.
Soon after the title of King was bestowed on him, Robb was sending Theon back to Winterfell with instructions to hold the keep in the name of the Starks. He was sending Y/N with him. The two had yet to be married, Robb promising that he would take her as his Queen the next time he saw her.
“I don’t care about being your Queen, my love. I want to be here with you and know that you are safe.” Y/N had pleaded.
“And for me to stay safe, I need to know that you are warm and at home, my darling.” He had said.
And so back to Winterfell Y/N went with Theon’s eyes on her back the entire ride there.
Within the span of two weeks in Winterfell, everything had gone to hell. Theon had decided that he was tired of being treated as lower than the Stark children and he and his Iron Born men had taken the keep for house Greyjoy. Y/N, Bran, and Rickon were left in the crossfire. Ser Rodrick was dead and Maester Luwin was doing all he could to keep the children and Y/N safe.
By their third week in the keep, Y/N was avoiding Theon at all costs. His advances had gotten more and more aggressive and Y/N now kept a dagger at her hip at all times.
Finally, after four weeks of hell, Robb and his army of bannermen were seen on the march toward the keep by the men on watch. They were mere hours away.
When Theon heard that Robb was coming home to most likely execute him for treason, he demanded that Y/N be brought to his chambers for 'negotiations’. She had been kept from him all this time and he’d be damned if he let her slip through his fingers again.
When Y/N arrived at Theon’s chambers, she was tense and on the defensive. She had been stripped of her dagger and Maester Luwin’s eyes were sad when she was taken away. Y/N knew what was to come and she prayed to the seven that Robb would be there soon.
Theon stood from his chair, where he had sat staring darkly at Y/N since she had entered, and stepped in front of her. His hand came up to cup Y/N’s cheek and she flinched away from his touch, seeing the anger flash in his eyes before she felt it in the form of his hand across her face. The force of the blow was enough to knock Y/N off balance and she clutched the wall for leverage as Theon advanced.
"All you and Robb have done is look down on me my entire life. All I wanted was you! Is that so much to ask?“
Y/N shook her head, tears gathering in her eyes as Theon grabbed her by the shoulders and brought her close to him.
"I’ve never done anything to you, Theon! It was you who was cruel from the moment we met! You knew that I was to marry Robb! He sees you as his brother and you’ve betrayed him! Please, just stop this!"
Theon’s eyes scanned Y/N’s face for a moment before he roughly pressed his lips to hers, his tongue trying to force it’s way into her firmly shut mouth. Y/N immediately brought her knee up in between Theon’s legs, pushing him away.
"Don’t you touch me!"
Theon laughed although he was hunched over. "I’ll have you before he gets here, Y/N."
"And for it, I’ll have your head."
There was yelling from in the hall outside the chambers and Y/N turned for only a second, excited that Robb had finally found her, when she felt arms around her middle pulling her harshly away from the door and groping around her torso. Y/N screamed and kicked, thrashing against Theon and making as much ruckus as she could in an attempt to get the attention of those outside the door.
Finally, the door was thrown open and Robb along with Maege Mormont and Y/N’s Lord Father set eyes on Theon and Y/N. Robb immediately raised his sword, eyes ablaze.
Theon’s hold on Y/N loosened at the sight of Robb, and Y/N used this to her advantage. She shoved her elbow back into Theon’s gut, rushing forward into Robb’s arms the moment she was free.
Theon looked up from the floor, eyes cold as they met Robb’s. "You were my brother, Theon. I put my faith in you and you betrayed me. The punishment for treason is death."
Theon scoffed, his eyes meeting Y/N’s briefly. "Your words are so similar. Robb the hero and Y/N the damsel. The perfect pair."
Robb’s gaze hardened at the mention of Y/N, who was in his arms and the only thing keeping him from beheading Theon right here in his rooms. "As I saw it, Y/N barely needed my help getting away from you.” Robb turned to Lord Umber, “Have him taken to the dungeons. We’ll give him a proper trial."
As Theon was forced to his feet and out of the room, which had been Ned and Catelyn’s chambers, Y/N watched with an expression of stone. Theon thanked Robb for being so honorable as to give him a trial, his voice dripping with sarcasm, as he left.
The moment that Theon was out of sight, Robb took Y/N’s face in his warm hands.
"Did he touch you?” He demanded softly, his thumb gently stroking the bruise forming on her cheek.
Y/N shook her head, bringing Robb closer an resting her head on his chest. “No. You arrived just in time, my love. Obviously, looking at what has happened, there really must always be Stark in Winterfell."
Robb pressed his lips into Y/N’s hair, wrapping his arms tightly around her and inhaling her intoxicating scent of winter roses.
93. “You didn’t just wake me up at 2am because you were
‘in the mood’.”
114. “No more dogs. How hard is it to understand?”
Mozart the Basset Hound was the first. A case of theirs
involving stolen jewellery led them to him chained up and left to starve in the
back garden of the suspect’s abandoned property. Molly had insisted she take
him on, promising to care for him. Sherlock had refused, explaining the
adorable creature would be more comfortable at Baker Street. An argument ensued,
ending when both parties agreed to move in together to care for Mozart,
strictly for his benefit of course.
Next was Sam, the Red Setter. Sherlock had brought him to
Baker Street claiming the boisterous animal had followed him and that ‘we might
as well keep him, dear’. Molly laughed as the excited pooch jumped into her
lap, licking her everywhere he could reach. She was too happy to be mad.
German Shephard, Biscuit, was the third and what Molly Hooper-Holmes
insisted was the final. They hadn’t intended to keep her but once their infant
daughter had set her on eyes on the big doggie, there was no getting rid of
her. Clara even demanded to name her, her limited vocabulary offering up ‘Bikkit’.
Life with the three beautiful dogs, one bad-tempered
tabby, and her gorgeous family was perfect for Molly, everything she’d ever
wanted; many night she’d fallen asleep wrapped around Sherlock only to wake up
surrounded by the two big dogs with Mozart sleeping on the floor beside the bed
– she always lifted him to join the fun. This morning was slightly different.
It was what felt like the middle of the night when Molly
was awoken, a snuffling, wet nose prodding her inquisitively. Not Biscuit, she
usually spread out at the bottom of the bed, cutting off the circulation to her
feet. Sam liked Sherlock’s side of the bed – many a night she’d awoken to him
huffing and mumbling about checking the baby. Could be Sherlock, he often felt
amorous at odd times of the night, especially if he’d solved a case. She yawned
and reached for the lamp, flooding the room with dim light. Rubbing her eyes,
she blinked at the newcomer sitting in her lap; the nose that had been poking
her belonged to a tiny Yorkshire terrier, its tail wagging happily as it looked
“Well?” Sherlock said, bounding over to join her on the
bed; he shucked out of his jacket and sat beside her on the bed, “what do you
Molly, who was busy tickling the newcomer’s ears, looked
up at her unbelievable husband, “you didn’t wake me up at two am because you
were in the mood.”
“Not exactly, no…” he smirked, joining her in stroking the
responsive Yorkie, “I know you said-“
“No more dogs. How hard is it to understand?” Molly
supplied with a smile, unable to take her eyes off the tiny animal. Sherlock
“I found Ghost in the boot of a car, about to be dumped
over a bridge. He’s since only responded to me. We have a clean, safe, friendly
home for him. They all adore Clara; what’s the problem?”
“We have too many dogs already,” even as Molly spoke, she
knew Ghost was already part of the family; he licked his nose, stretching out
on her lap and looking up at her cutely. She had to bite her lip to keep from
cooing at him.
“How many dogs is ‘too many dogs’, though, Molly,”
Sherlock asked, brushing her hair aside to kiss her cheek fondly. Before either
of them could say another word, the sound of crying came from the baby monitor
on the bedside table; the four dogs looked up in alarm as Sherlock rolled his
eyes, “hold that thought. We need a third opinion.”
Molly chuckled as Sherlock left the room, reappearing a
moment later with the ruffled one-year-old, a dummy in her mouth and favourite
stuffed monkey toy in her fist. Her curls stood on end and she rubbed her eyes
with her free fist; she reached for her smitten mother when she was within
reach. Cuddling with Mummy and Daddy and the sniffly doggies was her favourite
time of day.
“What do you think of Ghost, Clara?” Sherlock whispered
into his baby girl’s hair, gently taking her tiny hand to sweep gently through the
new dog’s fur. Clara spluttered out a laugh through her dummy, babbling
happily. The detective looked at his wife smugly, “well, there you go.”
Molly chuckled, running a hand through Clara’s unkempt
hair, “she knows best, of course.”
The following morning, the Hooper-Holmes’ brought Ghost
out into the main flat; after he’d exhausted himself running amok in his new surroundings
and scoffing down his breakfast, he passed out on his back in front of the
fire. Clara sat beside him with her storybook, babbling out nonsense as she
tucked him in with her blanket. Sherlock and Molly watched the events from the
sofa, sipping from coffee cups, the latter resting her head on the former’s
“We have more dogs than children,” Molly muttered thoughtfully,
watching Mozart wander over to Clara, nudging her hand for a fuss. Sherlock
chuckled, replacing his coffee cup on the table and pulling Molly tightly to
“Well, we’ll just have to have more children.”
Molly looked up at him, grinning, “yeah?”
“Yeah,” he sealed the promise with a soft kiss. Life truly
’crap.’ — was a way of explaining her current physical and mental state. all together crap. late homework, a cold, and a general lack of any effort was just pushing her into a slump at a way faster pace than overall desire. so when literallynothing but A I R tripped the long limbed blonde into the back of the innocent person who’d been walking infront of her, spilling the majority of her the water that was in her tragically open bottle on their back, all she did was freeze in shock.