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#ramsay bolton modern au
koipepo · 1 year
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A while back i bought super cheap alcohol markers set bc i never draw with them, and while it was just eh, it did its job confirming that this medium isn't for me 😆 picking out colors is such a hassle...
A modern AU Ramsay is made tho!
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megsironthrone · 2 years
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News
Based on this request:  Hi! If you are still accepting requests, would you consider a modern Ramsay AU? Ramsay keeps trying to take his girlfriend out like fancy sushi dates and amusement parks and their favorite bar but she keeps saying no or avoiding them. And he’s freaking out because she used to love that stuff so he thinks she’s losing interest. And he makes some big gesture to “win her back” but she announces that she’s pregnant and suddenly it all clicks. This idea popped into my head and I can’t stop laughing 😭
Here you are! *Familiar characters are NOT mine!*
Warnings: Modern AU, angst, fluff. Mentions of pregnancy 
Pairings/Characters: Ramsay Bolton x fem!reader
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Ramsay had messed up. He didn't know when or how, but he had evidently screwed up somewhere. Why else would you have been pulling away from him? And it had to have been incredibly bad. Ramsay had done some seriously messed up things over the course of his life and your relationship. He couldn't deny it. But you'd stuck by him through it all until now. Things were changing and Ramsay didn't like it so now he had to make it up to you.
         He tried everything. Sushi, bar-hopping, amusement parks. All your favorite things and each time, he was met with a 'no', 'thanks anyway', or 'maybe another time'. He couldn't understand it in the slightest. Why were you pulling away from him?! You never said no to things that sushi or your favorite bar! And you had been BEGGING him to take you to the amusement park for months.
         But Ramsay Bolton was nothing if not determined. He had been determined when he took over his father's business at a young age and he had been equally determined to date you. And for the last few years, he had been determined to keep you happy. If you were happy, you wouldn't leave him. Clearly, he'd done something wrong.
         "Hey," you greeted when you came in. You looked exhausted, but you still tried to smile at him. Ramsay took a moment to take in your form. He had noticed you'd been more tired recently. Maybe work was getting to you? Or worse…was someone bothering you? Were you seeing someone else and didn't want to break things off with Ramsay? "Ramsay?" you questioned, earning a glare from the dark-haired man.
         "Is there someone else?" You blinked rapidly for a minute. It was like you couldn't believe what he'd asked. That thought was quickly confirmed when you shrieked, "What?!" Tears sprang into your eyes. "How could you even think that?" you asked through the tears. You didn't wait for Ramsay to answer before you practically ran to the bedroom and began throwing things into a bag. "Where are you going?" You explained you were going to stay with a friend for a few days.
         "I can't be in the same house as you right now. I have never, NEVER, given you reason to believe that I'd step out of our relationship. And the fact that you think I could tells me how little you actually trust me!"
         "What should I think? You aren't acting like yourself. Avoiding sushi, bars, amusement parks. Everything you love suddenly isn't good enough. You're exhausted all the time. I know I'm not the one exhausting you." You shook your head. "Ramsay, you're a smart man. If you take a few minutes and think about EVERYTHING that I've been doing lately, you'll figure out what's really going on. Now, I'm leaving. When you've come to your senses, you'll know where to find me and you'd better be on your knees begging for forgiveness." With that, you left Ramsay standing there with his mouth agape.
         At first, Ramsay was furious. NO ONE talked to him that way. Ever. But then, he used his brain. He had accused you of cheating on him. You had every right to be angry with him. He certainly wouldn't be begging for your forgiveness, but he knew he'd have to do something big in order to earn your forgiveness and keep your interest in him.
         A few days later, Ramsay rang the bell of your best friend's home. He had been sending apology gifts every day and now he was ready. He'd gone full-cheese for you as much as it went against everything he was. Ramsay wasn't soft or sweet or even kind most of the time. But for you, the person that had stood by him through everything? He was willing to show a little bit of a softer side to himself.
         The door opened, revealing your best friend wearing an unimpressed look. "I hope you're here to grovel." Ramsay arched a brow. "Is she here?" Your friend smirked. "I meant are you here to grovel to me?" Ramsay must have looked confused because they continued, "She ate all my ice cream. MY. ICE-CREAM, Bolton! And it is all your fault."
         "Oh, shut up," you chided from behind your friend, pushing them out of the way playfully. Your eyes met Ramsay's. Your friend took that as a hint to leave. "Well?" you asked after a moment as you crossed your arms over your chest. Upon setting eyes on you, it became clear to Ramsay how much he truly missed you when you were gone.
         "Did you get my gifts?" You nodded and pointed over your shoulder where Ramsay could see the many gifts along with your bags. That made him hopeful. "I won't be begging, but I have set up something for you. For us. As an a-ap-apology." The word made his tongue feel like lead. He hated apologizing. You arched a brow in question.
         "I've set you up a massage at the spa then a lunch for the two of us. A picnic in that park you love to read in." You stared at him in surprise. He nearly chuckled. It was a well-known fact that while he enjoyed being outdoors, he hated picnics. "I know I can't buy your forgiveness, but I can pamper you." For several long seconds, you stayed silent then, you finally nodded. "I'd like that."
         Ramsay did a little work while he waited for your massage to finish, determined not to do anything but pay attention to you when you were having your picnic. He was pleased to see a beautiful smile on your face. You sat next to him and sighed happily. "I think I might forgive you." Ramsay rolled his eyes, but smiled regardless. He opened the cooler to pull out the lunch he'd had a chef he knew prepare as well as a bottle of your favorite wine.
         You frowned seeing the bottle and Ramsay cocked his head to the side. "I-I shouldn't," you explained quietly. "Why? Why are you avoiding things you love?" You sighed and ran your hand down your face and Ramsay continued, "Why are you pulling away from me?!" You shushed him, not wanting to draw attention to the two of you. Ramsay merely glared. His plan was not going how he expected and he hated that.
         You let out a sigh and fished through your purse. A moment later, you pulled something out and handed it over to Ramsay. Ramsay stared before blinking owlishly at you. His blue eyes flickered between you and the item in his hand several times. "Is this? Are you-?"
         "An ultrasound? Pregnant? Yes to both. About 11 weeks." Ramsay nearly dropped the ultrasound photo. Pregnant. You were pregnant. "Say something, Ramsay." Ramsay opened his mouth to speak, but found his throat dry. After clearing it, he tried again.
         "You're having a baby. We're going to be parents. That's why…" You nodded. "That's why I haven't been eating sushi, or drinking, and why I've been avoiding the amusement park. Which I still want to do by the way, when I'm not carrying your child inside me." Ramsay nodded, ready to agree to anything at this point. He couldn't believe he was going to be a father.
         He reached over, pausing as his hand hovered over your barely rounded belly. His blue eyes met yours and you nodded. Ramsay rested his hand on your stomach. "Come home," he whispered. "I will," you agreed, "But if you ever accuse me of cheating again, I will walk out that door and never come back." He agreed instantly before resting his forehead on yours.
(a/n: I know this probably wasn’t as funny as you were picturing, but my fingers would only write FLUFF!)
Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @line-viper @etherealpotter  @frozenhuntress67​ @cd1242​ @smalltownbigheart​ @igotmadskills​
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ak-177 · 1 year
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I long to be in your arms, honey...
Come back to me
Please!
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The trash Magic fic will be here
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faeporcelain · 1 year
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🩸Ramsay Bolton🩸
Not as bad as Canon Ramsay bc I love Iwan Rheon and can’t really fit the same amount of violence in my little AU lol
•Violent as fuck
•Kinda widely known he actually killed ppl before it’s been swept under the rug by his dad
•Use to be a assistant butcher before going to live with his father
•Owns 9 large female bulldogs he named after his exs
•Deals to Theon
• Beats up people if they look at him wrong
•Jerk
•Works out and always wears well thought out outfits bc he’s proud as shit
•Daddy issues
•20 years old
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Goldfish (SanSan AU) - 1/8
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Sansa grabs a drink with her sister after winning her court case over the murder of Ramsay Bolton. A judge decides there is not enough evidence to claim she trained those hounds to eat him alive. At the bar, Sansa runs into the only hound she couldn’t tame: Sandor Clegane.
Warnings: descriptions of abuse, canon-mentioned abuse and domestic violence, mention of ramsay bolton, modern au, oral and vaginal sex
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Sansa’s lawyer sat stoically beside her as Judge Ryker read out the verdict. In the case of first degree murder of Mr. Ramsay Bolton, Sansa Stark was not guilty. In the case of his manslaughter, she was also not guilty. The jury claimed that there was no evidence which showed that Ms. Stark exhibited prior control over the hounds of Winterfell manor, nor could they find any substantial evidence that she would be able to restrain a man as strong as Mr. Bolton without evidence of a struggle. His death was an accident.
A loud strike of the gavel made Sansa jump slightly in her stiff seat. Case closed.
“You’re free to go, Ms. Stark. May the Gods be merciful to you on your journey home,” her lawyer shook her hand and left her there, staring down at the dark, wooden table.
The eldest remaining Stark stayed seated for some time. Her pale hands lay clasped together as if still cuffed, unmoving. She breathed in deeply, but it was ragged at the end. As she tried to reach for that full gasp of oxygen, Sansa was halted by a small sob. She shuddered, not crying, yet still in some sort of ugly pain. A sick feeling ravaged her from her chest and into her throat. She breathed in again, pressing her feet so hard down into the bottoms of her patent leather pumps that her toes began to burn with pain. She wished, fleetingly, that her feet would kindle, and that she could catch fire, searing herself in the flames and consuming this goddamn wooden table for fuel, choking on her own soot and smoke. Suffocating in her own blaze. So much of her had already been licked away by others’ embers; maybe there was no tinder left to ignite? Just ash.
Everyone in the courtroom had almost filed out. A small hand caught her arm, shaking her from her internal inferno.
“Sans,” Arya said, “Let’s go. I parked out back.”
Sansa followed her sister dutifully. Arya was dressed up, if it could be called that. She wore black from head to toe; leather boots, men’s cargo trousers, a knit tunic, and a long, woolen pea coat. The younger Stark girl did not own makeup, nor would she wear any, and her hair was shorn into a buzz cut. Her skin was tanned, but clear, and her hands were shoved deep into her pockets, defensively. Sansa hadn’t seen her in more than four months, but she was glad she was with her now. She had even been kind enough to let her stay at her place while Sansa went through the last part of the trial.
Sansa climbed into the passenger side of Arya’s sporty little Mazda. Her sister eyed her, hesitantly, from the driver’s seat, round aviators sliding down her nose as she checked the parking garage for signage.
“So, where to?” Arya asked, genuinely unsure if Sansa would know.
Sansa sighed,
“I need a drink.”
Arya smiled,
“I know just the place.”
They had driven all the way to the northernmost point of the city; most people didn’t even consider it to still be London. Arya’s place that she knew so well was called The Wildling, and it was a true dive. Sansa didn’t care. As long as someone gave her a neat scotch and a chair, she would deal with whatever nonsense followed with it.
The bar was large, masculine, and smoky. It was filled with darts and pool, and it wasn’t the sort of spot to host hen parties. The walls were concrete block, painted back, and the floor was whatever material existed between dirt and tile. Sansa’s heels made a crispy noise as her soles walked over the stickiness of the floor. Heavy metal rattled through the building. Sansa expected to be overwhelmed by the sensory overload, but she didn’t really feel anything at all anymore. Ramsay had made sure of that.
The barkeep waved at Arya and came over to serve her. Arya turned to her sister,
“You want the usual?”
Sansa nodded. Arya knew what she drank these days. It was always hard liquor, and it was nearly impossible for her to order anything but scotch. Ramsay had been a gin drinker, Tyrion had been a wino, and Joffrey had preferred vodka, of course. Sansa hated the bloating that came with beer, so whisky it was.
Drink secured, Sansa sat down at a small table facing a window. She watched Arya for a moment to see if she would join her, but she had gotten stuck into a conversation with the bar staff. Sansa turned back to staring into the blackness of the night, admiring the wet gleam of the cobblestones in the street outside, and wishing she had made different choices.
Suddenly, the roar of a motorbike ripped her from her thoughts. It sped toward the bar, only to pull into a space right in front of Sansa’s viewpoint. Its rider, a staggeringly large man, killed the engine and stepped down from the dark machine, ruthlessly kicking the peg into place. He was dressed in black leather pants that strained against his muscular legs. His broad back was covered in a matching moto jacket, no patches. His helmet hid his entire face with a black visor, and the only identifying symbol was a small, silver dog painted on the side near where his jaw would lie, its mouth wide and snarling. As an icy cold realization ran down her spine, Sansa stared out the window and gazed up at a form she had not seen for a long time. It was the Hound.
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asa-do-your-thing · 4 months
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Asa's December Rec-list
I've often reblogged fics where I feel like I should have written paragraph reviews but couldn't. That's why I thought I'd gather some of last month's faves <3
Aegon II
Docile - @bucknastysbabe
After seeing the Teaser you've just gone and written down what I felt for s2 aeg :D I've read this like thrice already, it's so good!
Aemond
Tooth-Rotting Bliss - @the-common-cowgirl
I'm usually not a Modern Au girlie but this has just melted me into a puddle.
Sweet Dreams (Are made of this) - @valeskafics
Demmon Daddy? Fuck yeah.
Cregan Stark
Princess - @axelsagewrites
I love the idea of rough Cregan, you've nailed him perfectly :3
Jon Snow
The Lady of Crab Isle - @valeskafics
BOY, i AM UNWELL IN THE BEST WAY POSSIBLE.
Theon Greyjoy
Your Eyes - @valeskafics
There's not enough Theon fics around and yours is just *mwah* chef's kiss. "I don't beg." "You will."
Ramsay Bolton (not proud of it but hey Iwan Rheon is hot)
"Just Getting Started" - @valeskafics
Bel, I have been binging your stories and I am IN LOVE with your GOT works, especially this. I was just curious when I stubled upon this but in the End you made me feel things for Ramsay that I never thought I could feel.
Michael Gavey
When it Rains it Pours - @aemonddtargaryen
This was strangely sweet and hot at the same time, it felt very real, me likey :D
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farity · 1 year
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Found, part 3
Pairing:  Aemond Targaryen x OFC Stark - Modern AU
Warnings:  Assassination, gun violence, references to smut, parental death
Summary: Modern AU set in Silicon Valley.  Aemond is a high-tech security expert, Aegon is an asshole, and Helaena is adorable.
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part 1   -   part 2
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A car like this was made for moments like this, Aemond thought somewhere in the back of his dismantled mind.
He floored the pedal, racing the whole way from Winterfell to UCSF Medical, catching the attention of and then losing a highway patrol car.  Cop cars could not keep up with his modified, custom accessorized, vehicle.  
He pulled up at the doors of the ER, threw the spare keys to a surprised nurse, and ran inside the building.
Please, please, please, please, please . . . 
He was running towards the information desk when he saw the brunette girl from the bar.  Marge?  Margaret?  
“You,” he pointed at her, startling her.  “Where’s Anna?”
She was walking with a dark haired guy, and left him behind to meet Aemond.  “They’re operating,” she said shakily, her large eyes full of tears.  “It was that fuckface Bolton.  He’s in police custody.”
The dark haired guy caught up with them.  “Rob, this is Anna’s new boyfriend,” she said to him, then raised an eyebrow at Aemond in challenge.
Aemond nodded.  “Where was she hit?”
“Aren’t you the security guy?  Something Targaryen?”
Ironic, isn’t it, Aemond thought.  Had he met Anna a couple of weeks earlier, he might have been able to prevent her getting hurt.  “Yes.  Where was she hit?”
Rob’s eyes went dark.  “Twice in the chest.  We don’t know the extent of the damage.”  He hugged Margot to his side.  “Go home, it might be hours.”
Aemond said nothing as Rob took Margot back to the sofa where Anna’s family were gathered.  He should probably get out of the way, leave the family to process things in peace, but he sure as hell wasn’t going home.  
* * * * * 
Anna was walking down a mountain path, wildflowers on both sides, but she didn’t remember how she got there.  She looked back and couldn’t see where the path began, either.  When she turned back around, she gasped.
“Dad?”
Edward Stark smiled at her, and she ran into his arms.  
“My darling girl.”
Anna started crying, arms wrapped around her father’s waist.  
“Daddy,” she breathed out.  When she looked up, there were tears running down her father’s beloved face.  “Dad, what is this?”
“I think you know, Anna.  And you know you can’t stay.”
“I miss you, dad.  I miss you so much.”
Edward kissed his daughter’s forehead.  “I know, my girl.”  He grabbed her face in his hands.  “You need to go back, Anna.”
She shook her head.  “Can’t I stay for a little?”
“I will see you again, my love.  I promise you that.  But you, you have an entire life ahead of you.”
“Just a little longer, dad.  Please.”
Edward wrapped his arms around his daughter.  “I love you so much, my darling girl.  Give Boudi a scratch for me, will you?”
Anna opened her eyes to find her arms were empty and her father was gone.  She was tired, so tired.  Why couldn’t she stay here with him?
Boudi.
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She thought about the huge malamute.  Why was she barking?  She wouldn’t stop barking and then two firecrackers went off and all Anna could see were the stars in the sky.  Her eyesight was fading and Boudi was barking and then a man was screaming.
“Oh.”
* * * * * 
Ramsay Bolton sat on his bed, leaning against the wall in the cell.  He’d been treated for the animal bites on his leg and his broken nose and sent back to jail to be processed in the morning.  He should have killed that fucking dog.
Even after Ramsay had shot it, the monster had kept at his leg, sharp teeth tearing and ripping.  And then that fucking bastard had joined in and started hitting him.
At least he’d gotten the Stark bitch.  He didn’t think she would survive two gun shots to the chest.  She hadn’t even seen him.
The lights went out.  They had been on low at this time of night, but now he was in complete darkness.  A cold breeze moved through him and he shivered.
His eyes couldn’t adjust to the darkness, and he heard the metallic slide of the cell door being opened.
“Hello?”
Was someone breaking him out?
He blinked several times, willing his eyes to adjust, until he finally made out the corner of his bed.  
“Who is that?” he asked quietly.  He reached for the slip on shoes he’d been given, ready to leave with whoever was here to free him.
Something moved by the half open cell door. 
Ramsay slipped on the shoes, and when he looked back he could see the outline of something reflective way up high.
A camera?  Glasses?
“What’s the plan?” he whispered.  
The shadows shifted again and the tall, slim silhouette of a man appeared, a darker layer amidst the darkness.
“Who are you?”
The man didn’t say anything but Ramsay saw what the reflective thing was.  Night goggles.  He saw his own face in the reflection, saw his own smile looking back at him.
He looked from one side of the goggles to the other, and he could swear that on one side, there was a large sapphire where the eye should have been.
“Huh,” Ramsay Bolton said right before he died.
* * * * * 
“All I’m telling you, honey, is that next time you throw your keys at me like that, you are not getting them back.”
“I do apologize,” Aemond said, and placed a drink carrier with two coffees and a mountain of pastries on the stand at the entrance to the hospital.  The older nurse looked at the coffees and food, then back at him.  “I thought you might enjoy these, I know you’ve been here all night.”
“Thank you for noticing, much appreciated!”
He nodded at the nurse, and raced back inside the hospital. 
Back in the waiting room, Margot and Anna’s cousin Jon were talking, until he caught Margot’s eye.  “Aemond!  She’s awake!”
He strode over to her, the knot in his chest releasing just a little.  “How is she?”
Margot smiled.  “Surgery went well, they removed the bullets, her mom is with her right now.  You can probably see her in a bit.”
“I will wait,” Aemond said.  He felt a huge weight being lifted off him.  She was awake.  She had made it through surgery and he would wait as long as it took.  
Anna’s exhausted family members began leaving after they had seen her, while he waited on a bench outside. 
He kept scrolling through his police scanners, breaking news sources, while people filed in and out of her room.
* * * * * 
Anna looked out her hospital room window, watching the sky turn slowly from black to navy blue, to a pale blue, and then heard footsteps coming into her room.
“Aemond,” she smiled, extending a hand, the one free of IVs and cords, to him.  
He opened his mouth to say something, but then grabbed her hand, pressing his forehead against the back of it as he took the chair next to the bed.  
“Hey,” she couldn’t really move her other hand, or sit up without help, but she saw the way his shoulders shook.  “Aemond.”
He looked up, wiped a tear off with the back of his free hand.  “I just found you, Anna.” he whispered hoarsely.  “I just found you.”
She pulled her hand out of his and cupped his damp cheek.  “I know.  I’ll be okay, you know?  And Ramsay is in jail.  My dog stopped him from fleeing.”
“I’ll buy her a warehouse’s worth of her favorite treats."  He took her hand, kissed the palm. 
“You’re here bright and early,” she smiled, then saw something in his gaze and narrowed her eyes at him.  “You spent the night here, didn’t you?”
“Visiting hours were over before I could see you last night.  I had a friend to keep me company.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me about her.”
Aemond laughed, and the sound lifted her spirits even more.  “If you must know, I charmed her by throwing my keys at her the other day.”
“Wow, I hadn’t heard of that move.  Did it work?”
“My car is still in one piece.”
Anna smiled because it hurt too much to laugh.  “Do I need to fight her for your affections?”
He said nothing, stood and pressed a kiss to her temple.  “You have me.  I don’t know if you want to hear that this early on, but you have me, Anna.”
It was early.  It was so early, but she felt a bloom of happiness inside her and raised her face to his.  He kissed her gently, fingertips barely skimming her cheek.  
“Hey lovebirds, sorry to interrupt but we need to run some tests here.”
A nurse stood at the doorway with a clipboard and a tired smile on his face.  
Aemond placed a kiss on Anna’s forehead.  “I will be back later.”
The nurse nodded at him as he approached Anna’s bed, but turned as Aemond was almost out the door.  “Thanks for the candy, by the way.”
Aemond turned. “What’s your favorite?”
“Peanut M&Ms,” the nurse said, without missing a beat.
“Got it.”
Anna smiled, watching Aemond go.  “He brought candy?”
“And great coffee.  If you don’t mind me saying, half of us want to hug him and wrap him in a blanket, and the other half .  . . well, I love my husband, but that is one fine specimen.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Okay, my dear, let’s get this started, shall we?  Do you want the TV on?”
“Sure, thank you.”
The TV kicked on, it was on a national news channel.  The nurse handed the remote to Anna, and she was about to change it to something to distract her when Ramsay Bolton’s face appeared on screen.
Breaking News: Bolton Heir Found Dead in Jail Cell
* * * * * 
Masterlist             Ko-fi             
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fineosaur · 1 year
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Hey :) I really like your blog and I hope you don't mind if I ask you if you may know some Theon Greyjoy/Ramsay Bolton fanfics where Jon or Robb notice Theon acting weird around Ramsay, but can't even imagine what Theon is going through? And they eventually see the consequences and save him? Modern AU or NonCon is ok :) I just can't find something like that and it drives me crazy. Thank you ☺️
hii thank you so much for reaching out to me, im really sorry though i steer very clear away from thramsay because it’s a bit too triggering for me. however maybe this post could help bring some of my followers who enjoy these type of fics and help this anon out?
anyone able to recommend some fics, you can just leave them in the comments so this anon can check them out 😇.
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sakotsu-t · 1 year
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2022は81件投稿しました
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greenhikingboots · 1 year
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A gif set I saw got me thinking about a little thing I wrote a while back. It was basically a “Seasons 6-8 but make it Jonsa” fic. It borrows a lot of show plot and even some dialogue. Therefore it’s far from being one my favorite pieces. I’m more into political marriages and modern AUs these days. Buuuuut I do have some hidden gems in that fic I think about from time to time. And I just need to talk about one of them. Just so we’re all clear, *this* is the subtext of the argument-in-the-tent scene: [Sansa changes tactics, determined to have an argument, it seems. Instead of numbers, she speaks of Ramsay himself. “I lived with him. I know how his mind works,” she says. “You think he’s going to fall into your trap, but he won’t. He’s the one who lays traps.”
“He’s overconfident,” Jon says.
“He plays with people. He’s far better at it than you. He’s been doing it all his life.”
Jon doesn’t like hearing Sansa say another man is better than him at anything, even if she’s not complimenting that man. He gets to his feet and pulls back his shoulders. “And what have I been doing all my life?” he asks. “Playing with broomsticks? I’ve fought worse than Ramsay Bolton. I’ve survived worse than Ramsay Bolton!”]
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theonsource · 1 year
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Hey :) I really love your blog and I hope you don't mind if I ask you if you may know some Theon Greyjoy/Ramsay Bolton fanfics where Jon or Robb notice Theon acting weird around Ramsay, but can't even imagine what Theon is going through? And they eventually see the consequences and save him? Modern AU or NonCon is ok :) I just can't find something like that and it drives me crazy. Thank you ☺️
Hi anon! Thanks for the request. I asked the other mods and they said that this fic has a lot of what you are looking for (I have not read it yet but I am excited to soon!):
(say that it's gonna be alright, that it's gonna be okay, don't run away) by sunlethwrites
There is also one by VagrantWriter that I think you might like:
A Touch of Darkfic Vol. V by VagrantWriter has two chapters called Leak and Physique that revolve around the Stark family witnessing Ramsay abusing Theon and in Leak, Robb tries to get Theon away from Ramsay.
But let me open this up to our followers to weigh in as well!
If you know of a fic like this, please add on to this post or send it to our inbox.
Also writers: since Greysnow Week is coming up in February, and there will be a Throbb Week at some point- these are good prompt ideas to keep in mind 😉
~Mod Selkie
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megsironthrone · 2 years
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REQUESTS ARE NOW CLOSED!
Thank you to everyone who requested and thank you all for reading!! Here's who you can look forward to reading in addition to the older requests that are on my list:
*Jaime Lannister - Modern AU/Accidentally Married trope
*Tyrion Lannister - Fake Dating
*Varys
*Thoros of Myr
*Oberyn Martell -Roommates AU
*Daenerys Targaryen - nonromantic
*Ramsay Bolton - Soulmate AU!
*Sandor Clegane
*Jon Snow
Thank you all again! Your interactions are always appreciated! Lots of love!!
-Meg
Requests Closed: August 26th 2022
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ak-177 · 9 months
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Quit your job, let's make a ride for...
It's us against the world
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This fic will be back soon!
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faeporcelain · 1 year
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🌊Theon Greyjoy modern AU Headcanons🌊
•Use to be real popular with the ladies
•Use to be super close to Robb
•Use to be very smug, borderline arrogant and very insecure
•Still very insecure
•Addict
•Haunted by guilt over the separation of the Starks
•Works for Ramsay Bolton to pay his debt
•Dark circles
•Misses the ocean
•19 Years old
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Goldfish (SanSan AU) - 7/8
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Warnings: descriptions of abuse, canon-mentioned abuse and domestic violence, mention of ramsay bolton, modern au, oral and vaginal sex
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Arya’s car was still gone when Sandor pulled into their driveway. Sansa suspected she was staying with Gendry, the on-again-off-again boyfriend, and she hoped it would be a while until her return. Emboldened by Sandor’s petrol station promises, she stepped off of the bike and handed him back his helmet. Then, the question she was going to ask came out as more of a command,
“Come upstairs.”
Sandor’s face read shock and amusement, charmed by her sudden forcefulness. She laughed at herself, just as surprised, and tried to cover up her tracks,
“I mean, if you want to, you can come up. Do you want to?”
“Do I want to come up?” He was still straddling the bike, but he pulled her to him by her waist, forcing her to part her legs to allow his knee to press between her thighs. 
“Yeah,” she played with the hem of his shirt, “to my room.”
His voice was a low whisper now, suggestive and dripping with intent,
“Do you want me to come up to your room, little bird?”
She nodded, kissing him chastely, biting her bottom lip.
“I need to hear you tell me. Say it, and I’ll obey,” his whisper was a dark threat now. 
“Come upstairs. To my room,” she said. All the forcefulness returned, this time on purpose.
“Aye,” his thick, northern accent felt like her favorite coat, all warm and familiar. He rose from the bike and stood over her, rubbing the side of her neck, running a large hand beneath her jaw, making her feel boneless. 
She fumbled with the door, mentally cursing Arya for her paranoia, then sheepishly thankful to have a sister who cared so much. He followed her through the house, uninterested in the tour, simply trailing behind her heels, ready to be commanded again. 
“And this is my room, for now, at least,” Sansa explained as she swung open the door. Other than a king mattress and a borrowed IKEA frame, there wasn’t much to see. At the end of her marriage, she hadn’t been allowed to buy things. Anything she did buy would have been burned. There was no point. It made her feel even further from normal than she already was. 
As if shaking her out of her thoughts, Sandor shut the door behind his back with a click, and leaned against it, waiting. His eyes never left her face, studying her, trying to anticipate her needs. Patient. 
She turned toward him fully, her back to the bed, and untied the bow at her neck again. One button. Another. Another. She hesitated. He was watching her like a hawk, and the air around them was so still that they could have felt a ghost walk between them. 
“Still don’t want me to see?” His finger went up under her chin, lifting her face from her button-pulling. His thumb ran softly across her mouth. 
She yanked the shirt off her shoulders, looking him dead in the eyes. He didn’t explore. He saw, but he didn’t need to look. 
He kissed her, hard. She snaked her hands around his waist, finding the skin beneath his shirt and feeling his smoldering warmth. Then, he stopped, very abruptly. Waiting again. Her most compliant soldier. 
Matching her intensity, he shucked off the heavy moto jacket onto her floor and stretched his shirt over his head to follow it. She looked. 
She had seen him shirtless before. She was fifteen, left alone while Joff went out with friends, sulking around his house, haunting the hallways and empty mansion rooms. She’d gone down to the basement; the second galley kitchen was a lot less intimidating than Circe’s state-of-the-art, stainless monstrosity, and she was always hungry. A small gym lay between the door and the kitchen, and Sandor had been there, fighting a heavy bag. His punches had been so loud, popping against the bag in a ferocious pattern. She could see his uncovered muscles, strangely large when her mind compared him with Joff's frail form. The Hound's thick flesh was pulling against his big bones as he struck, trembling from the force as each punch found its mark. He hadn’t heard her come in, and she had been so unsure of how to approach that she just stood there, watching him work, sweat running in little lines around his neck and down his back. Then he’d noticed her in the tall mirror against the wall. She remembered how he had stared into her face, not donning his rehearsed, deferred expression when Joff was around, usually finding her shoes easier to look at than her eyes. But not then. Then, he had put his hands on his hips, struggling to catch a breath, face flushed pink from his exertion, abs expanding and contracting in an animalistic rhythm, bearing his gaze down into her, looking at her like he was starving and she was his meal. 
He was softer, now, and bigger. His muscles had grown considerably over the last decade, and he looked impossibly heavy. No longer was he the sinewy, underfed mongrel snarling under a lion’s paw. He was well-fed. Healthy. Ready to take down any big cat. The muscles leading up into his neck fascinated her. Big, rope-like cords, growing high out of his prominent, round shoulders, making his body appear like a shield, broad and impenetrable. 
There were scars on him, too. She hadn’t noticed any back then, other than the scorched mask spilling messily down his neck and chest. Now, his fire-marks were joined by violent blemishes like closed-over punctures, obvious stitches, and a collection of purpled, keloid tears. Fighting wounds. His own war story unfolded before her for her appraisal. She put her hand on his chest, feeling his thick hair and brushing her fingertips across it. He trembled beneath her touch like she had burned him, gooseflesh spread up his arms and along his neck. Testing the waters, she leaned in, her own bare breasts making contact with his stomach, and she felt her nipples graze his skin before pressing into his abs. Her mouth landed on his sternum, softly planting a long kiss there, almost reverently. He let out the breath he had been holding onto. 
“You can look,” She whispered into his chest, staring up at him.
She took two slow steps back toward the bed and sat on its edge. He knelt before her, not pausing to explore despite her invitation, one knee digging into the hardwood, the other finding space between her legs. Sandor was so tall that he matched her seated height. He began to kiss her again, skipping her mouth and going right for her neck, his hands planted firmly on either side of her hip. He moved lower, holding her around her ribs then, sucking at the sides of her breasts, taking big, long licks over her nipples. His warm breath caressed the wet swaths of skin, heightening her sensations there. 
With a big, calloused hand, he rubbed across her stomach, moving around her ribs roughly, squeezing her, making indentions in the skin, leaving flushed streaks behind. He tugged at her gently, pulling her body to his mouth with strong movements, shaping her breasts in his hands. He spent his time discovering what made her eyes flutter, or not. Then, he pulled his mouth away, placing his hands back at her sides, and although he was breathing heavily, she could tell he was waiting for her again. 
She smiled, a hint of sadness at the edges of it, her speech staggered and choppy,
“I should have gone with you. At Blackwater Lake. Joff’s lake house. After the fire. If I had left with you, none of this would have happened.”
“I shouldn’t have left you there. It was my mistake, not yours, little bird. Mine.”
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flaysmen · 1 year
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Verses I need to write up:
AU verse where Roose didn’t betray the Starks at the Red Wedding and it was just Walter and Tywin who planned it. Hey gets out alive with Catelyn Stark and Blackfish.
Modern verse where Roose is a college history professor specializing in wars throughout time. He only married once, but had three different affairs which resulted in four children. His wife Bethany Ryswell left him after the three women banded together and shows up at their home. I’m considering having Walda Frey be one of his old students he married. Ramsay is most definitely in a shitty metal band that practices at the Boltons house and it drives Roose absolutely insane.
HOTD verse where he’s the head of the Bolton house. He forms an alliance with the Velaryons.
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