Prompt #3. Christmas decorating with Ramsay Bolton. ~

For: Anon

“What are you doing my lady?” Your husband, Ramsay, asks walking into the Great Keep of Winterfell. It was Christmas Eve and you were setting up decorations.

“My lord, it’s Christmas, I was setting up decorations,” You smile, but your smile falters, “Y-you don’t mind do you my love?”

He caresses your cheek, “Of course not darling, the decorations are almost as beautiful as you are.”

You laughed, “Oh hush.”

“I’m not joking my lady, you really are incredibly beautiful,” He pulls close by the waist and kisses your lips.

“Thank you my lord,” You smile at him lovingly, “Now if you don’t mind, I have to finish decorating.”

“Y/N,” you turn back towards him, “Would it be alright if I helped you?”

“Of course Ramsay!” You say excitedly!

You spend the rest of the evening decorating with Ramsay, when the clock hits 12 he pulls you back in for a kiss, “Merry Christmas my love.”

“Merry Christmas Ramsay!”  

Imagine: You catch Ramsay's eye. He watches you, then he gives you revenge.

It was your voice that caught his attention. He was walking to feed the hounds when he heard you. You were by a small shop, talking to an old woman about how to make candles last longer.

He looked over, to try to see who had created such a beautiful sound. And it was you. Your physical features were gorgeous. Your hair was (H/L), and (H/C). It was a wonder how you looked so flawless. Ramsay stopped walking, fiddling with the keys in his hand. You looked wonderful delicious.

He was a young boy, a cruel boy. So the first thing on his mind was getting off. Satisfying his urges and lust.

Your eyes were dark, and when you noticed the lord was staring you looked over at him. Your heart also leapt. Those pretty big eyes locked with his and both your stomach’s jumped. It was like time froze. His throat tightened.

You smiled politely, before looking back to the woman you were talking to. It pissed Ramsay off greatly. He wanted your attention. He wanted you to think about him. To wonder. To lust. He wanted your mouth to water when you saw him.

He remembered your face and fed the dogs.


“I want five men following her at all times.” Ramsay said to his advisor. Since he killed his father, he was the warden of the North. So he was in control of everyone there.

“Gutter, Thoro, Tames, Red, and Scout.” He announced. “You five will make sure no harm comes to her. Do not let her know you are there, though. If she comes in contact with any of you, I will kill you.” He smiled darkly. “Understood?” They nodded. “Good.”

Ramsay had to admit, he was being stalkerish about this. But he had to make sure his little cardinal was safe. Especially out here in the North.

He found out soon you were a lady, you had visited from the fingers and decided to stay. You had formed a bond with one of the bed warmers, but thankfully you weren’t one of them. Ramsay would have to kill every man who touched you.

A few days went by and he convinced the bed warmers to get to know you, and tell him about you. Things you liked, loved, and hated. Your favorite flowers and books.

After a month he found out where you lived. It wasn’t from lack of information and struggle, it was because he had lots of things to do. But your place was in the tavern, sleeping in one of the rooms with your friend Ross.

He sent you the first gift right after that. It was a bundle of (F/F), your favorite flower. He didn’t let you know it was from him, though. The game was too fun to give that away so fast.

He ordered Ross to tell him how you reacted. And, it disappointed him. You didn’t seem happy, you looked annoyed. If Ross was being truthful, you even said “what dirty old man sent me this?”. Ross tried to convince you it was a romantic gesture. But you didn’t care. You were stuck on the idea it was some creep who wanted into you.

For the next few days he focused on his work. He didn’t care for getting Sansa back. He had another lady in mind. But he was still going to storm castle black. He was going to spoon Commander Snows eyes out. It infuriated him that the stark bitch and Reek escaped.

But he didn’t care too much. His army would win anyways. Soon enough he started thinking about you again.

He had heard you liked talking forest walks, from his five men who had followed you. You would go down the stream, into the woods, and you’d sit on a tree stump and just look at the sky and read. It was beautiful, when he pictured it in his mind. So he decided to go see for himself.

It was really early, the times you went to take your walks. He was fine with it, the waking up early bit. He dismissed his guards and walked far behind you, able to see your hair faintly from far in front of him. He wished he was a little bit faster. Soon enough you turned into the woods, going to sit on your big tree root and admire nature.

When he walked into the woods he saw you were crying. You had your arms wrapped around your legs, your forehead on your knees. His heart caught on fire. Who did this. Who caused you this pain? He would flay their neck and make them live like that.

You didn’t hear him walk up to you, sitting down next to you. “My dear…” He finally spoke up and you gasped, jumping away. “Woah now, calm down please.” He smiled at you. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Lord Bolton?” You trembled, wiping your tears away.

He smiled, nodding. “And you are?”

“(Y/N). (Y/L/N).” You sighed. “Sorry. Excuse me.. but… What are you doing out here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing, sweetling.” He said. You were beautiful. Seeing you up close was like seeing an angel. It made him believe in gods.

“Just walking.” You said, and he said the same.

“But why are you crying?” He asked. He wanted you to tell him so badly. So he could find whomever or whatever caused you this pain.

“It’s stupid.” You said, and he was surprised at your comfortability with him. It was probably because you were so hurt. And it made him angry.

“I doubt that.” He said.

“My betrothed…” You had whimpered and tried not to cry. “He slept with one of my friends…”

That made him angry in three ways. Your lover hurt you, your friend hurt you, and you had loved someone in such a deep way.

He stood up, and you looked at the tall handsome lord. “Ramsay?”

“Come with me.” He held out his hand and you pulled herself to your feet. He hugged you tightly, and you started sobbing. It was strange to get comfort from him. But you needed it. “Shh, my dear..” He soothed you, rubbing your head. He gently rocked you back and forth. He separated from you and smiled. “Show me them.”

Your eyes widened. “You don’t have to…”

Oh but he would. And he did.

He took your hand and you went back into the town. “Show me them.” He said again. You led him into the tavern, and he was hit with many foul smells. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. But you lived here, so he didn’t want to upset you. He put on a straight face and ignored the smells. You were too beautiful to be seen upset.

When people recognized him they gasped, standing up. The music stopped, and all the women froze.

“My Lord.” Ross, the main attraction it seemed, smiling and curtseying, spoke in her seductive voice. “What can I get you?”

“You think I’m here to pay for sex?” He laughed. You seemed uncomfortable so he saved his speech. “Nothing. I don’t need you.” He waved her away. She smiled and walked off. He turned to you, and he felt that same strange feeling of euphoria. His beautiful girl.

“Show me where they are, lovely.” He said to you, and you pointed to the back. Your room.

He grinned wickedly. “Would you like to see them bleed? Would you like to see them beg for their lives?”

“Don’t hurt them…” You said quietly. “Just scare them… Please…”

It made him angry and upset. He wanted to hurt them. He wanted to make them bleed. And scream.

Suddenly, an idea surfaced. He wouldn’t hurt them at all. But his hounds would.

“As you wish.” He smiled at you, and went into the room. A man and a woman lay asleep on the bed. The man was ugly, long hair. Very chiseled jaw. He had a slight beard. The woman was of course what every whore looked like. Long hair, thin eyebrows and lots of color on her eyelids.

“I will take them to my dungeon.” He smiled, and so he did.
“Why did you do that for me?” You asked him. You were sitting in the woods again, the same pretty spot you always sat.

“Because it angered me to see you sad, love.” He said to you. “And, well, I can do anything I please.”

You smiled, and looked up at the sky. “But I can’t live in the tavern anymore.” You were right. They would never let you.

“You always have a place in winterfell.” He smiled at you.

“I don’t want to be a bother, my lord.” You said politely. He understood how you felt.

“Not a bother at all.” He told you. “I’d love to have you around.” He could imagine his hand around your throat as he fucked you. Your breath ragged as he made you feel such great pleasure. His tongue pleasing you. Your hand slapping his face. Your nails making him bleed. Your teeth making him bruise.

You looked happy. And it made him happy.

He gave you a room beside his. Close to him, so he could make sure you had everything you needed. And so that he could get there quickly at night.

Once, he was in his room killing time before dinner. He heard you crying,and he rushed in your room. “(Y/N)!” He kneeled next to you. You looked terribly sad. Crying again, like when he first met you. “Poor beautiful cardinal, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I keep thinking about it Ramsay I can’t fucking stop thinking about his bloody face and her hair and how they had sex in the bed I slept in since I was 12!” You leapt at him weeping. You sobbed into his arms and he held you, sitting on the floor.

“My sweet rose.” He sighed, petting your (H/C) hair. “You didn’t want me to hurt them then. Do you want me to now?”

You looked up at him through your red watery eyes. “Make them wish they were never born.” You said through your teeth. He grinned wickedly. He was rubbing off on you perfectly.

You looked at the two people tied on the X. Melisa, and your former lover, Leo. There was anger in your eyes. Normally, even in this situation, a girl would be scared. She would feel sympathy. But you, oh, you. You loved it. You wanted to see them hurt.

It thundered loudly outside, and you jumped a bit. His heart leapt. You were so beautiful. He wanted to protect you from everything. He would do anything to see you happy.

“What do you want me to do with them, my rose?” He asked you, and you looked up to him with those big (E/C) eyes.

“What causes the most pain?”

Imagine Ramsay getting angry after someone flirts with you

prompt number fourteen requested by @seksiebetch​


It’s always cold in this damned place, you thought to yourself as you pulled your furs up to your neck, snow melting in your hair. The Dreadfort could be chilly, but in Winterfell you could feel the cold in your bones. But Ramsay had insisted that you come with him to the North, and you had complied.

A group of soldiers were leaned against a wall, passing around a jug of mulled wine. When you came near you heard one of them wolf-whistle, and the others laughed.

“You look cold, girl,” said a buff man clad in armor, “perhaps you’d care to warm up with me?”

The men hooted, and you just grimaced and kept walking. One of the men grabbed your arm, “C’mon, darling. Where’re you off to in such a hurry?”

“The quarters of Lord Ramsay,” you said stiffly, trying to wrench your arm away.

The men guffawed, “You hear that, boys?” the man holding your arm said loudly, “She’s going off to see Lord Ramsay!

“That bastard is half the man I am!” one of them jeered. “You think that boy is better than us?” another yelled.

You tried to pull your arm free, “Let me go and Ramsay will never hear about this.” But the men ignored you, continuing to stare you down.

Then you heard a clear, familiar voice, cutting above the rest, “Oh, my. You all have made a very bad mistake.”

The next thing you knew the man holding your arm was pushed back, howling and clutching his head, and the other men scattered away. You pulled your arm free and ran to Ramsay, who had a look of pure fury on his face.

“You will never touch her again,” he spat, pushing the man to the ground, “You will never look at her. You won’t even think about her. Because she,” he said, pointing to you, “is mine.”

Imagine: On your nameday, Ramsay sets up a nice, big celebration for you. Then, he writes you a letter explaining what he'll do to you tonight

‘I bet my father will hear you scream. I can’t wait until I watch you read this tonight while we’re at dinner. I bet you’re wet right now, and I can’t wait to feel between your legs. I’m going to make your thighs bleed from my teeth. Your neck will be purple with bruises. I hope I can expect us to both be covered in wounds after tonight. Happy nameday, (Y/N).’

You looked up from the paper in your hands and saw everyone at the table looking at you. Your cheeks were red and when you looked at Ramsay, you felt your heart leap. He licked his lips.

“Are you pleased, my lady?” He asked you with a smile and you had to force a smile.

Originally posted by boltxnbastard

From the moment you saw him

You knew it was fated

because Good people don’t last long in the  Game on Thrones

Originally posted by gameofthronefannn

but Bastards don’t, either

Originally posted by mycroftplayingoperation

You knew it had to be endgame

For the plot to progress, still

When the moment came, abruptly, after long wait, meanigless  speeches…

Originally posted by aleejanndro


Originally posted by givemepieceofchild

Sansa, Theon, Rickon, Osha, unnamed baby brother, fat Walda - no not you Roose you totally deserved it - and all the other poor souls: You have been avenged.


,,You’re the most intelligent and beautiful woman I know, Y/N. I love - “

,,And you’re the best liar I know,” you interrupted him, knowing it was just another of his games. Stupid games.

,,No, Y/N, I mean it. I love you,“ Ramsay insisted on his words.

,,Okay… I’ll trust you if you propose me next time we’ll talk to each other.” What a shock it was when the next morning you woke up, he was kneeling next to your bed with a little gift and marriage proposal…


Pairing: Ramsay/Reader
Based on this prompt from Anon.

A/N: Angst. Sounds of Torture.

As the water steamed around you, you were lost in your thoughts. Your maidservant, Lona, was busy scrubbing at your arms, and when the sound of your husband’s latest treasure began to scream, the sponge fell into the water.

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