#robb stark

GIVE ME MY WIFE BACK

— ROBB STARK ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

summary: robbs family are obsessed with his wife to the point he can’t get a moment alone with her

content: fluff, robb going insane, no war au!!

notes: this fic gave me an unmatched sense of joy. I love house stark!! I’m actually sansa starks biggest fan on my editing account I’ve posted 128 edits with her in. I saw we dub me head sansa stan. Also I will do a THOUSAND of these happy house stark fics w robb x reader it’s my fav

Robb should have known this would happen.

He married you in the godswood beneath the heart tree, snow drifting softly through the air, his entire family watching with shining eyes. It had been perfect. Quiet. Sacred.

He had thought, foolishly, that marriage would mean more time with you.

Instead, it has meant that the entire Stark family has decided you belong to them.

It begins before breakfast.

Robb wakes with you tucked against his chest, your hair a mess across his shoulder. For once, the castle is quiet. Pale morning light creeps through the shutters.

He presses a kiss to your temple.

“This,” he murmurs, half-asleep, “is what I imagined marriage would be.”

You hum sleepily. “You imagined me drooling on your shoulder?”

“I did not say it was dignified.”

You laugh softly, and he feels victorious already.

Then the door bursts open.

“Robb!”

Arya’s voice.

No knocking.

No hesitation.

He doesn’t even move at first. Surely this is a dream. Surely..

“Robb, Ghost stole my boot again and Jon won’t help because he says it builds character! oh.”

There is a pause.

You pull the blankets up instinctively. Robb stares at the ceiling.

In the doorway stands Arya, hands on her hips, entirely unrepentant.

Behind her, Jon leans casually against the frame, smirking.

“You’re married,” Arya says flatly. “Not dead.”

“Out,” Robb says, voice muffled in the pillow.

Jon grins. “Father says breakfast waits for no man.”

“I am not just any man.”

“You are when you’re late.”

You are trying very hard not to laugh.

Robb finally turns his head to glare at them. “This is my chamber.”

Arya shrugs. “It’s our castle.”

And just like that, they leave, satisfied.

Robb groans.

“It is too early for this,” he mutters.

You kiss his cheek. “Your family loves you.”

“They love you,” he corrects darkly.

Breakfast is worse.

You barely make it to the table before you are intercepted.

Sansa is immediately beside you, discussing fabric choices for a new gown. Bran wants you to hear about something he saw from the battlements. Rickon climbs into your lap without permission.

Across the hall, Theon raises an eyebrow at Robb.

“You look troubled, Stark.”

“My wife has not sat beside me once,” Robb replies.

Theon glances toward you, currently laughing as Bran animatedly gestures about something involving ravens.

“She did marry into a large family.”

“She married me not them.”

“And yet she appears to be preferring their company over yours. Shame.”

Robb shoots him a look that promises violence.

At the head of the table, Ned watches the scene with quiet amusement.

Catelyn leans slightly toward him. “He is sulking.”

“He is learning,” Ned replies mildly.

Robb finally manages to reach you… only for Jon to clap a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re needed in the yard.”

“I am needed here.”

Jon looks pointedly at you being tugged away by Sansa and Arya simultaneously.

“I think you’ve lost this battle.”

The yard offers no relief.

Grey Wind bounds toward you the moment you step outside later that morning, nearly knocking you off balance. You laugh, dropping to your knees to bury your hands in his fur.

“Traitor,” Robb mutters.

Ghost appears at your side as well, serene and watchful. Even the wolves have chosen you.

Shaggydog barrels past, chasing Rickon, who is shrieking in delight.

“See?” Theon says, nudging Robb with his elbow. “Even the direwolves adore her.”

“They are my wolves.”

“They are her wolves now.”

Robb watches as you rise, brushing snow from your skirts, only to be immediately handed a practice sword by Arya.

“She said she’d spar,” Arya announces.

“You said you were terrible,” Robb protests.

“I am,” you reply cheerfully. “But she insists.”

Arya grins wickedly.

You take a stance.

Jon folds his arms, intrigued. “This should be interesting.”

You swing too wide. Arya disarms you in seconds.

You laugh.

Robb does not.

He is watching the way your cheeks flush from the cold, the way you push hair from your face, the way you beam at his sister like you have always belonged here.

He loves that they love you.

He does.

But he would also like to hold his wife without an audience.

You finally slip away from Arya, cheeks flushed, hair slightly wild.

Robb finds you in the library.

Alone.

Reading.

Hope surges.

He shuts the door behind him quietly.

You glance up, surprised, and smile.

“There you are.”

He crosses the room in three strides.

“You vanished.”

“You were sparring.”

“I would have stopped.”

You tilt your head. “Would you?”

“Yes.”

He reaches for your hand…

The door opens.

“Ah!” says Sansa brightly. “I thought you might be here.”

Robb’s shoulders drop.

Sansa steps inside with a stack of fabrics.

“I need help choosing trims.”

You blink between them.

Robb says very evenly, “Now?”

“Yes,” Sansa replies innocently. “It will only take a moment.”

It takes an hour.

Robb sits in the corner like a storm cloud while the two of you debate silks.

By midday you are seated beside Jon at lunch, discussing archery techniques you learned watching him.

Robb sits across from you.

Again.

Again.

Theon leans over. “You’ve spoken to her… what, twice?”

Robb counts silently.

“…something like that.”

Jon is demonstrating hand placement using your fingers.

Robb nearly inhales a bone.

“That is enough,” he mutters.

You look up. “What?”

“Nothing.”

But he doesn’t stop staring.

After lunch you all find yourselves in the yard again. Snow crunches beneath your boots as you cross to where Robb is.

Robb is sparring with Theon, wooden swords clashing sharply.

You pause to watch.

Theon spots you first.

“Ah,” he says, ducking a swing. “The true ruler of the North arrives.”

Robb rolls his eyes. “Ignore him.”

You laugh softly and lean against the fence.

Within minutes, Arya Stark appears at your side.

“Bet on Robb,” she mutters. “He sulks if he loses in front of you.”

“I do not sulk!” Robb calls.

“You do!” Arya shouts back.

Theon grins wickedly. “He fights worse when you watch.”

Robb lunges at him.

You clap when Robb finally disarms Theon.

He looks immediately toward you.

Victorious.

Breathless.

Snow in his hair.

You smile at him like he’s done something extraordinary.

He forgets entirely that Theon is still speaking.

Then Bran tugs your sleeve. “Come. You promised.”

Robb’s expression falls.

“For what?”

“She said she’d read me all the books and fairytales she brought from home.”

Robb lowers his sword slowly. “You promised?”

You hesitate. “Briefly.”

“How long is briefly?”

Bran answers for you. “Long enough.”

And just like that…

You’re gone again.

Jon steps beside Robb.

“You look wounded.”

“I just want my wife.”

“She will return.”

“She said that yesterday.”

From the tower above, your laughter drifts down.

He softens instantly.

“Gods,” he sighs. “I cannot even be angry.”

Late afternoon.

Robb finally corners you in the corridor.

“You are avoiding me.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“I have been busy.”

“With everyone except me.”

You soften. “Robb,”

“Reader!” calls Sansa’s voice from the stairwell. “Oh!! there you are! I was hoping,”

Robb goes very still.

Sansa approaches sweetly.

“Could you walk with me? I wanted to ask you about court etiquette.”

Robb stares at his sister like she’s declared war.

You hesitate.

He sees it.

He sighs through his nose. “Go.”

You squeeze his hand before leaving.

“Not as if she had time with you before.” He mumbled under his breath.

He stands alone in the corridor.

Again.

It’s nearly evening when you finally return to your chambers.

Robb is there.

Sitting on the edge of the bed.

Waiting.

You close the door gently.

“Are you angry?”

He shakes his head once.

“No.”

“Robb.”

He stands slowly.

“I woke with you this morning.”

“Yes.”

“And since then I have seen you in passing.”

Your chest tightens a little.

“They love you,” you say softly.

“I know.”

“And you love them.”

“I do.”

He steps closer.

“But I married you.”

The words are quiet.

Honest.

And for a moment, it feels like the world narrows back down to just the two of you…

A horn sounds.

Dinner.

Robb closes his eyes.

You almost laugh.

The Great Hall is loud.

Warm.

Full.

You are seated between Arya and Sansa.

Robb is three seats away.

Three.

You’re laughing at something Arya says.

You haven’t noticed him staring for several minutes now.

Theon leans in. “This is painful.”

Jon adds, “I almost pity you.”

Robb stands.

The bench scrapes loudly against stone.

Conversation dies down.

He walks around the table deliberately.

Stops behind your chair.

Places both hands on it.

“My lady.”

You look up, smiling. “Yes?”

“I require you.”

“For what?”

“For my sanity.”

Laughter ripples.

You open your mouth…

And he doesn’t wait.

He lifts you straight from the bench.

The hall erupts.

“Robb Stark!” Catelyn scolds, though she’s smiling.

“You have all had her since dawn,” he declares. “I am reclaiming my wife.”

Grey Wind barks.

Theon laughs.

Jon shakes his head.

Arya shouts, “That’s unfair!”

Robb ignores them all.

He carries you out of the hall, up the stairs, down the corridor.

Into your chamber.

He shuts the door.

Turns the key.

Leans back against it, breathing out like he’s just survived battle.

You’re laughing in his arms.

“You’re dramatic.”

“I am patient,” he corrects.

“Since when?”

“Since this morning.”

You wrap your arms around his neck.

“And now?”

He presses his forehead to yours.

“Now,” he murmurs, voice warm and low, “they can knock all they like because I am not stopping.”

Right on cue…

A pounding hits the door.

Rickon’s voice rings through the wood.

“We know you’re in there!”

Robb closes his eyes slowly.

You dissolve into laughter.

And this time…

He laughs too.