READ THIS NOW!!! Such A Fantastic Portrayal Of These Characters!!🥺😭💗

Word Count:.. too long..:10811. Title: “All Bets Are Off.” (Thank you for the title and the fic graphic, @theeironprice!! You’re the absolute bestest!!) Modern AU, Rodeo Thramsay. It’s Thramsay… but they’re both competing in a rodeo. The most lighthearted I have ever written… but it’s still Thramsay. Rating: Explicit. For downright raunchiness. Link if you wanna see where this strange tale takes us: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/62885251"

Theon examined the bottom of Smiler’s hoof with a practiced eye. The frog looked well-formed still, his flare of thrush seeming to have receded fully after the regular treatments.

Smiler shifted against his shoulder, strong muscles quivering beneath smooth, sleek hair.

“Easy,” Theon soothed, reaching to run a hand across the underside of his horse’s stomach in hopes of comforting him. “Almost done.”

Before he could even reach for his hoof pick, a harsh, stinging smack to his right ass cheek nearly had him sprawled face-first into the dung-covered dirt.

He dropped Smiler’s foot abruptly in a way he never normally would, but the force of the slap, even through his riding breeches, had him staggering forward with a yelp.

With his left hand braced on his horse’s flank, he quickly regained his balance. He stood motionless for a moment in stunned disbelief and resolved that whoever had the nerve to do that, had approximately three seconds to cobble together a fantastic reason, before his fist made its connection with their face.

“Need some help?” A voice all but purred from close behind him.

Wait… he knew that voice.

Shit fucker.

He turned around and sure enough, Ramsay Bolton. Clad in his blue jeans, rough leather chaps and light pink button-up shirt. Half the buttons were left open showcasing thick dark hair painted across his broad chest. Long, black hair pulled back into a low ponytail. A signature teasing smirk curling half of his thick lips.

Theon fought to stifle his groan. He had gotten his hopes up that Ramsay wouldn’t be at this rodeo- he hadn’t seen his name on any of the sign-in sheets.

“What are you doing here?”

Ramsay raised his brows, his expression sardonic. “Well, you may be aware that this is a competition, and I happen to be a top competitor in it.”

“I mean harassing me in my horse’s stall, obviously,” Theon snapped, irritation thick in his tone.

The larger man put on an exaggerated, faux-wounded expression and placed a hand on his chest. “‘Harassing’? I only came to wish you luck.”

“Well, you have now, so goodbye.” Theon made a point to turn his back, pick up a curry comb and start brushing the dirt off Smiler. It was pointless; he took immaculate care of him and nary a speck of dust could be brought up. He just needed something to occupy himself with and make it look like he was busy.

He jumped and dropped the comb when a large hand cupped his ass, spanning almost all the way across the entirety of it. Fingers dug into his flesh, kneading, and bringing a throbbing warmth to the sore, abused cheek.

Theon shied away, pulling free of the grip and turning a glare on Ramsay. “Don’t touch me.”

The other man cocked his head, an amused, if slightly incredulous look on his face. “We’ve fucked, and you have a problem with me touching your ass?”

“First of all,” Theon said, drawing himself up with as much dignity as he could muster, “we fucked once, and it was only because I was drunk, and you took advantage.” He walked over to his black English saddle with gold accents, hefting it easily. “It hurt to take a shit for a week after, in case you were wondering.” Ignoring the other man’s snicker at that, he tossed the saddle onto Smiler’s back and began fastening the girth and breast collar. “Second,” he purposely kept his back to Ramsay, “you didn’t just ‘touch,’ you hit me.”

“It was a love-tap.”

“It. Hurt,” Theon grit out.

“Aw, want me to kiss it better?” He sounded far too eager for that; Theon could picture his eyes lighting up.

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Your loss,” Ramsay hummed.

The biggest confidence boost is knowing that even my shittiest fanfic will be 10,000% better than any AI generated bullshit

This artist is so talented😩 I love their work so much!!

Feels like the end of a season:(

[ R - Chapter 22 ] Complete!

Here's some closing credit music for this monster of a fic. I'll be over here being emotional. Thank you for going on this journey with me, whether by sharing the links or reading or commenting or cheerleading or any combination there of. What a lovely six month journey this story has been amidst some of the worst mental bullshit my brain has put me through.

“a friend and brother” :’(

The night was windless, the snow drifting straight down out of a cold black sky, yet the leaves of the heart tree were rustling his name. “Theon,” they seemed to whisper, “Theon.”

The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name. I was Theon of House Greyjoy. I was a ward of Eddard Stark, a friend and brother to his children. “Please.” He fell to his knees. “A sword, that’s all I ask. Let me die as Theon, not as Reek.” Tears trickled down his cheeks, impossibly warm. “I was ironborn. A son … a son of Pyke, of the islands.”

A leaf drifted down from above, brushed his brow, and landed in the pool. It floated on the water, red, five-fingered, like a bloody hand. “… Bran,” the tree murmured. 

They know. The gods know. They saw what I did. And for one strange moment it seemed as if it were Bran’s face carved into the pale trunk of the weirwood, staring down at him with eyes red and wise and sad. Bran’s ghost, he thought, but that was madness. Why should Bran want to haunt him? He had been fond of the boy, had never done him any harm. It was not Bran we killed. It was not Rickon. They were only miller’s sons, from the mill by the Acorn Water. “I had to have two heads, else they would have mocked me … laughed at me … they …”

A voice said, ”Who are you talking to?“

Theon spun, terrified that Ramsay had found him, but it was just the washerwomen—Holly, Rowan, and one whose name he did not know. ”The ghosts,“ he blurted. ”They whisper to me. They … they know my name.“

- A Ghost in Winterfell (ADWD)

Place Your Bets

There was a soft ‘tsk’ behind him. Theon tensed as, with a quiet grunt, a large body slid on with him. To his horror, a thick arm hooked around his stomach and pulled him flush against the person at his back, the warmth of it drawing forth immediate goosebumps across his flesh.

The knobs of his spine sank into the soft stomach, he felt them vibrate with the rumbling chuckle emanating from the chest behind him. He squirmed in the confinement.

He can’t be serious. Hasn't he mocked me enough tonight? The clear implication that he was incapable of doing this on his own nearly made him combust with the sheer force of his righteous anger.

Even worse, the man’s large metal belt buckle dug into his backside, drawing his attention to how unbearably close they were.

“Get away.” He pushed an elbow back into the other man’s side. It didn’t seem to have any effect whatsoever; he remained unmoved. Theon huffed and quickly gave it up as no use. That didn’t mean he had to take this treatment silently though. “I’m not a child,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Lips at his ear, hair tickling the shell of it. “Then quit acting like one if you don’t want me to treat you like one.”

Theon’s lip curled of its own volition. “It’s not for you to say how I behave or don’t behave.” He hated the hint of truth in Ramsay’s words; he had been acting rather like a child tonight. But like hell was he ever going to admit that.

The arm around him tightened, pushing the air from his lungs. “Mmm,” Ramsay hummed, rubbing his other large hand down Theon’s arm. “Maybe not yet. But from that pitiful performance earlier, I think it’s obvious you need some guidance.”

Theon felt his stomach quiver at his use of the word ‘pitiful’; nearly everyone in his life had slung that descriptor at him at one point or another. But he refused to give in so easily here and now. “I can ride,” he snapped.

“Really?” There was an obvious smile in the other man’s voice. His tone dropped in register, breath ghosting across the back of his neck. “Then show me.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64633732

(Fic graphic by the amazingly talented @theeironprice ! Thank you, thank you!!)

Word count: 21,383. Rating: Explicit. Less lighthearted than its predecessor, friends. I won’t take offense if it’s not your thing. Mind the tags:) Some text beneath the cut.

Theon’s own brow furrowed as he watched the expression on Ramsay's face change. Where once there was a teasing and arrogant smile, it was replaced with a seemingly thoughtful gaze.

He flinched when rough fingers began to card slowly through his hair. The sensation was far from unpleasant, but it still put him on edge; he leaned away as far as he could into the thick, uncomfortable pillows. But when the tips of those fingers massaged into his temple, he had to bite back the sigh that was halfway up his throat, poised on the back of his tongue.

A thick finger twirled a lock of Theon’s hair around it next to his face. A frown pulled the corners of Ramsay’s lips down. “That’s such an unpleasant word,” he murmured quietly. “It’s disappointing how quick you are to slip that mask back on. Hiding from what you really want but are too cowardly to reach for.” The brush of his nose along the side of Theon’s face made him shudder.

Let’s go!! Better drop whatever you’re doing, cause we got a new chapter!!

The new chapter of my Blockbuster employee Theon x Ramsay fic For Rent is up! This chapter was originally meant to be apart of the last one but—

✨I ran out of time so this part is late✨

Text:

For once, Theon's not dreading going to work, despite having to stay late to do inventory.

The trip with Ramsay had been great, but since he had moved in, they'd spent nearly every waking moment together, and god, he just needed a break.

And he may or may not be looking forward to bragging about the trip.

He is. He definitely is. Finally something to shove in their faces.

Though he was mildly excited at the prospect of his shift, he still pulls into the parking lot ten minutes past his intended start time. He jogs over to the front door, the familiar chime making him feel bright and alert instead of irritated and disgruntled.

The familiar scent of popcorn just barely masking the scent of musty carpet wafts into his nose, and the fluorescent light washes over him with an unusually soft glow. To some extent, walking into the Blockbuster felt like coming home.

I can’t handle looking at this for more than a few seconds at a time. Feels too real and I’m simply in awe🥺❤️💗❤️ Look at their art! It is all so beautiful! And TY, TY, TY!!

All bets are off, art from my favorite part of the fic! (All of it’s my fav but this part was good!

Fic by @dauthdaert-the-orchid

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62885251