A Get-to-know-me. I Was Tagged By; @wetcarcass (a Month Ago😭) And @liocreates! Thanks For The Tag!

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.

Hello! Ao3 has been part of an unauthorized data scrape for GenAI purposes. If your fic has an ID number between 1 and 63200000, it may be a part of the data set and you can file a DMCA copyright infringement notice on the American sites it was uploaded to. Each of you will need to request a takedown.

Here’s a link to the information.

It is a reddit link, but it has the other links you’ll need in one place.

(Tagging with as many medias as I can remember so it gets to more fandoms)

Murtagh and Eragon

“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)

you know you’re a writer when…

you spend 30 minutes choosing the perfect synonym for “said” only to change it back to “said.”

you google “how long does it take to bleed out” at 3 a.m. and now the FBI is probably watching you.

you write one sentence, stare at it, rewrite it 14 times, and somehow end up back at the original version.

“this scene is so important” but you have no idea what the scene actually is or why it’s important.

you come up with the best story ideas… in the shower… with no way to write them down.

your characters feel like real people but also you’re like “who are these guys and what do they want from me?”

your brain says “start writing!” but instead you reorganize your desk, reread your notes, and spend two hours naming a side character who shows up once.

you’ve cried over your WIP exactly 67 times and will do it again because the pain is the point.

you reread something you wrote and think, “wow, did i peak as a writer three months ago?”

every writing session begins with the sacred ritual of scrolling social media, opening unnecessary tabs, and procrastinating until panic sets in.

you have no idea how long a chapter should be, so you just… vibe.

you can’t watch tv or movies without mentally critiquing the plot, dialogue, and pacing.

your writing playlist is 98% vibes, 2% songs you’ll actually listen to while writing.

you keep a “murder notebook” but swear it’s not suspicious because it’s for your novel (probably).

the phrase “just one more draft” is your eternal mantra, even though you’ve rewritten this thing more times than you can count.

Just like the rest of their fics…. This is a must read. Highlyyyy recommend. The emotions, the character motivations, the spice... it’s all there. And so much more. Mind the tags, as with most Thramsay:)

It’s been a bit since I posted a fic so I wanted to share my Photographer Ramsay x Model Theon AU 📸🎀

With each shutter click, Theon is sure the photos look worse and worse. “This isn’t working,” he says petulantly, dropping the pose and turning around to face Ramsay.

The photographer lowers the camera, clearly amused if the lopsided grin was anything to go by. “Just try something else then, babe. You’d look great in every position.” The crude remark is punctuated with a look of disconcerting hunger.

Any smile that had a hope of living for the camera died on Theon’s lips.

this gif is like a jumpscare. its fine and then his ass is just there for half a second

I engage with fiction in a normal way. don’t look at my blog

Hmmmmg, it was spectacular. Absolute must read. *Especially* if you love For Rent, as you should. But regardless, give it a go. You won’t be disappointed.

Happy (late) Valentine’s Day ♥️ Because Ramsay couldn’t be normal and celebrate the holiday on the actual day

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63107371

Preview text:

At the door, the girls ambush him; whatever meat had gotten on the pizza and the wings were making them especially rowdy. Theon’s grown used to the dogs knocking into him; he knew just how to brace his knees so that they don’t push him over in their excitement. When he’d first visited, their owner had made some flimsy attempt at calling them off; now he did no such thing.

It’s as if Theon was just another one of his bitches.

Toeing off his sneakers, he takes the few stairs up to the living room and finds The X Files playing on the TV. “Took you long enough,” Ramsay says in lieu of a greeting. “I was getting hungry,” he complains.

“You’re always hungry,” Theon reminds him, setting the boxes on the coffee table's edge. Ramsay shoots him an annoyed look, not much liking the response.

There’s a variety of things spread out over the wood. “What’s going on here?” Theon asks. There’s a packed bong with sparkling clean water, an obnoxious amount of candy, two champagne flutes and a VHS box 💞

The dynamics just from the first chapter were so fun, with such great world building… I have a feeling we’re all gonna wanna see where it leads us!

Read it. Now.

Happy Valentine’s Day Thramsay fam!!!

After breaking down in the middle of nowhere, Theon and his brothers find themselves stranded in a remote cabin in the woods. Used to the finer things in life, Theon is unimpressed with the rustic charm of the Hornwood. It doesn’t help that his host, Ramsay Bolton, seems to take sadistic pleasure in his pain.

Things only get worse after a boating accident leaves Theon with amnesia.

All alone with no memory, he has no choice but to trust the man that claims to be his fiancé.

The long anticipated Overboard 1987 Thramsay AU!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63046321