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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Joffrey has found a creative punishment for Sansa- to live the life of a servant. Will Sansa find freedom in her new common station or will the Red Keep's cruelty crush her? Either way, good thing she has her trusty Dog at her side!

    ***This entire fic has been edited and refreshed heavily, essentially rewritten from the bottom up. There are now additional scenes, corrected grammar (I tried), and an actual ending (finally). Please accept my deepest apologies for the delay and enjoy the read!***

    Language:
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    09 Feb 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 60

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    “Well, what you said was –  a hundred gold. To the man who sticks you best.”

    That peaked Ser Lyonel’s interest at last. He had a wild look about him, gazing up at Dunk through a cascade of salt-and-pepper curls, skin blushed from drink and glistening with sweat.

    “Man. Beast. God. A giant, perhaps.” 

    "Yes, but –" Dunk tried to swallow down the nerves in his throat, “What’d I have to do for that? To stick you best.”

    Lyonel’s lips split into a grin that bared his teeth, a flash of white in the dark.

    “You think you can take the likes of me, lad?” 

    Dunk is completely oblivious to Lyonel coming onto him, until he isn’t.

    Or: many metaphors fit both fighting and fucking in somewhat equal measure.

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    31 Jan 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Female Robert Baratheon
    *
    Robarra was dauntless, a force of nature, the centre of any room. She had a talent for making friends, despite her hot temper, which flared up fast and fierce but was forgotten just as quickly. She laughed loudly and often, making bawdy jests with the men without flinching, giving just as good as she got. So why was she crying?

    "I've been a fool. I made a stupid mistake and gods, everyone's going to be so angry. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Just a bit of fun,"
    *
    As the bedding ceremony kicked off, Ned and Stannis locked eyes as the horde of eager men descended on a laughing Robarra, who was already loudly joining in on their bawdy jests and crude suggestions. They sat back down.

    "She's enjoying herself," Ned shrugged. Stannis had grimaced in agreement.
    *
    Ned knew that she wanted him to stay in court after the wedding, but ultimately there was no place for him here. Ned wasn't made for politics and found King's Landing rather suffocating; they were not children anymore, besides, and the Princess of Dragonstone could not be seen going out riding in the Kingswood or drinking in the city with a man who was not her husband.

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    30 Jan 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    "You know that’s not what I meant.” Mr. Smith says into the phone, and he sounds exhausted. Sam doesn’t turn around, trying to give him as much privacy as possible, even if it’s imagined.

    Sam throws his whole body weight into his next pull of the handle, feeling the budding sweat from earlier as a full-body wave, pricking at his neck and armpits and forehead.

    Nothing. The door doesn’t budge. Sam’s trapped.

    Or: Sam Wesson gets stuck in a supply closet with his boss, who's hiding out to fight with his girlfriend. Sensing the available omega that Sam's been into for months, Sam goes into an early rut.

    Written for WincestWednesdays Week 3 Prompt: "Trapped"

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    17 Jan 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “Let me get this straight,” Dean says, and takes another sip from his cup. He needs way more coffee if he’s expected to deal with this so early in the morning.

    “You – magicked up a chicken.”

    “Look, I don’t know either, man.” Sam throws up his hands, helplessly. “It’s just – I haven’t been sleeping and I’ve been trying to get some more practice, and … I don’t know, conjuring up poultry seemed safer than experimenting with dark blood magic at four in the morning, you know?”

    “Well, can’t argue with you there,” Dean concedes, and tilts his head to contemplate the chicken. The chicken stares back, unfazed.

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    17 Jan 2026