#clegan fanfic

[blixabargelds]

sympathy for the devil

John and Gale are the hosts of once-popular, now-failing ghost hunting show 100 Haunts. They do not believe in ghosts. All these shows are fake; with scripted, doctored footage. But when they're asked to return to a previous location, their second shoot there captures more and more horrors they can't explain.

John studies him. Holds onto the tips of his fingers as long as he can. Thinks of the scar nestled into the divots of Gale’s spine; old and faded, the apostolic shape of it just as jarring to see now as it was the very first time. John opens his mouth to say something more when Benny turns around, says they’re done, and Gale breaks contact fast as anything to get out of that room. 

read chapter one on ao3

[alienoresimagines]

Omg “classics” for clegan plsssss 🥺

classics - muse a tends to muse b’s wounds with more care than necessary

So. This fic may have gotten out of a hand and may or may not be 14.5k, 7k of which are them making out and smutting 😅 So Nonnie, if you'd like a redo of the prompt with really 100% h/c and fluff, send me another ask and I'll keep it general audience, I promise 🥹❤️ Also a huge shoutout to @soliloquy-dawn for single handedly beating the slump out of me for this fic, I was stuck on 4k for three weeks and then wrote 10k in one, for which I also have to thanks all my fellow sprinters on Discord🥹🫶🏻 And, a happy birthday to @amiserableseriesofevents !!! Thank you for all the wounderful fics you constantly post, the countless sprints you do with me, I wish you all the good in the world 💕 Consider this my humble gift for an amazing person celebrating another year of life ❤️ This is my first time writing an actual smut so I'm really nervous about this one lmao but I hope you'll like it 👉🏻👈🏻🥹

Tell Me You're Going To Be Alright (I Don't Want The World To Turn Without You) | Buck x Bucky

Summary : Perhaps life really only started when he opened the door to his room in flight school and shook hands with Gale Cleven. Perhaps the twenty-four years before that were only to learn how his legs and arms worked to get him to this moment, where he learned how his heart did. Or After the Regensburg Mission, John cannot forget just how close he came to losing Gale forever. He copes how he can, tending to Gale's wounds, and holding him when the adrenaline leaves him and Gale can't keep up the officer façade anymore. He lets Gale take care of the cuts that adorned his face even though John had forgotten them. And then, when all the wounds have been treated, desperation to feel just how alive the other still is settles in, like a wildfire of urgency that not even the presence of their men a few feet away can soothe.

Snippet :

“You did so good, darlin’,” his lips attach themselves to Gale’s temple as another one of those broken noises pierces through his soul. “Brought your boys to safety the best way you could.” He thinks of the mangled body of a radioman and how easily it could’ve been Gale. Tightens his hold until there’s no telling where one of them begins and where the other ends. 

“You did so, so good, Gale.” He keeps on whispering in Gale’s ear, rubbing soothing circles on his back, and pressing kisses anywhere he can reach until Gale isn’t shaking as much anymore, tremors receding and replaced by a heavy blanket of exhaustion that sends him further into John’s chest. John doesn’t budge, stays rooted to his spot like the old oak tree in his mother’s garden, sheltering the house from rain and storms. 

Minutes later, Gale shifts and clears his throat, the sound dulled by John's shirt before he starts to pull away. John’s heart screams and thrashes with wanting to bring him closer once again, but he knows better than to force Gale to lose control, knows the other is probably ashamed that he felt the need to be comforted. The anger simmering in his blood at that is cold and familiar enough for John to ignore it, preferring instead to stroke his thumb back and forth over Gale's cheekbone. A light smile pulls at his lips when Gale leans into the touch, a sigh leaving him as he nuzzles his cheek against John’s palm, as though the space has been carved just for him- John is certain it’s the case.

Read more here

My other Clegan Fics

[anavilante]

Not his omega.2

Part 2: John Brings Gale Home

John brings a hungry and exhausted Gale home, realizing the extent of his suffering over the past year. He quickly understands that caring for Gale will be much harder than expected, as the omega has been deeply affected both physically and emotionally. Despite knowing Gale has chosen someone else, John is determined to help him, even though he recognizes that it will be a difficult and challenging journey ahead.

Word count: 2K

You can find all the released parts of the fic Not His Omega at this link.

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John opened the door and gestured for Gale to enter. He hesitated, awkwardly fidgeting, then slowly and cautiously stepped inside, ready to run. When the light turned on, he whistled in surprise, "You have a huge house." 

He sniffed the air nervously, and John immediately understood what was worrying him, "There's no one else here. I live alone." 

Gale looked back and asked,  "Why does someone living alone need such a big house?" 

John was a bit taken aback by such boldness, his mind racing with potential responses to this impudent question: None of your business. I won’t always be alone. I like having plenty of space; it’s good for getting laid—several options crossed his mind, but he settled on a more neutral one, "It's an inheritance from my aunt." 

John then heard Gale's stomach growl loudly, "The kitchen is over there." 

John pulled out what he thought would be good for a pregnant omega: leftover cold cuts, some different cheeses, yogurt, milk, a few pears, plums, grapes, and avocados. He also added almonds and cashews. 

Gale devoured the food ravenously, shoving it into his mouth with dirty fingers, barely chewing, almost choking as he washed it down with milk that dribbled down his dirty face.

John shivered with déjà vu: he remembered how elegantly and neatly Gale used to eat in the mess hall of their flight school. Slowly, cutting his food into even smaller pieces with a fork and knife, he would take small bites, chewing slowly and deliberately. 

Yes, there was no trace left of that Gale, John thought sadly. 

"Do you want me to make you scrambled eggs with bacon and veggies? I'm sure you'd like something warm to eat." 

The omega froze, mouth full, looked at him, and slowly nodded. John was surprised that he even heard the offer. 

He put a frying pan on the stove and got the ingredients ready, suddenly realizing that the food he had set out for the blonde was too much, and judging by how greedily and nonstop he was eating, he might hurt himself by eating it all. 

He said,  "Leave that for now; I'll cook you something. There's enough food, you'll be full." 

But Gale didn't even hear him, continuing to stuff himself with whatever was in sight. He was pulling slices of cheese from the package and shoving them into his mouth.

John grabbed the cheese pack and said,  "Give it to me, I'll make you something better." 

Gale yanked the package back with a hiss. 

John blinked in confusion: the omega hissed at him. Only those bound by blood or family ties could hiss at each other; doing this with strangers was the height of disrespect. He got angry and snapped, tearing the package from Gale's hands, "I said, give it to me!" 

The omega, too tightly gripping the package, heard the alpha's command, panicked, and recoiled to the side, losing his balance on the chair and tumbling to the floor. He curled into a fetal position, pulling his knees to his chest to protect the child inside him, raising his open palms in a gesture of submission, signaling he wouldn't resist. 

John froze in shock, witnessing perhaps the saddest scene of his life. He had never been cruel or harsh to Gale in flight school, so he realized Gale wasn't afraid of him.

Damn, what have I done? He thought. His relationship with his alpha must not have been the best, judging by this reaction.

He quietly crouched down next to the omega and, using the calmest and most friendly voice, said, “It’s okay, Buck. It’s me, Bucky, John Egan, your…” He hesitated, “your roommate from flight school, your friend. I’m not going to hurt you. Do you hear me? I won’t do anything to you. You don’t have to be afraid of me.” 

He gently touched Gale’s ankle, and omega opened one eye. 

“It’s okay, Buck. There’s nothing to be afraid of here.” 

The blonde slowly lowered his hands and gave John an embarrassed look, clearly ashamed of his overly frightened reaction to the alpha’s emotions. 

“I'll make you some warm, tasty food. Okay?” John asked, and the omega, barely holding back tears, nodded. “But don’t eat anything else. It’ll hurt you, okay?” 

Gale nodded as if mesmerized, watching John’s every move as though forgetting his hunger. 

The rest of the meal passed surprisingly without incident. Gale sat humbly and patiently at the kitchen table while John cooked something quick, warm, and nutritious for him. Then, after wiping the plate clean with a piece of bread so that it barely needed washing, Gale said sadly, “Thank you, Bucky. You were always a good friend. Thanks for feeding me. I’ve taken enough of your time and patience. Sorry, I’ll go now. Don’t be mad that I hissed at you, it’s just that I…” He fell silent, searching for the right words. 

“Stay, Buck,” John said, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. “It’s night already. And you don’t have anywhere to stay.” 

Gale bit his lip and said, “I’m sorry you have to see me like this. It’s surely far from the person you remember from our flight school.”

John shook his head, “That doesn’t matter. But you should take a bath, and I’ll find you some proper clothes.”

The time while the omega was washing up in the bathroom, John spent looking for clothes that were now too small for him, since the omega was definitely smaller and thinner, and preparing a small tray with a snack, which he placed in the guest room so his hungry guest could have a little more to eat before bed. 

Suddenly, he heard the slap of wet feet on the bathroom tiles and the sound of vomiting. John grabbed the bathroom door handle, and... it wasn't locked. A naked Gale was miserably curled up over the toilet and whispered apologetically, “Looks like you were right about not eating too much at once. But the bacon and eggs were divine. I'm sorry to part with them.” 

John, trying not to look at the body of a naked pregnant omega, still immediately noted the number of old and new bruises on his back, legs, and arms. Where the hell is his alpha? He thought angrily, feeling his blood boil. How could that bastard let this happen? He set the clothes down on the sink stand, “Get dressed. I made you a snack. Don’t worry, you won’t have to be hungry anymore.” 

The clothes smelled like John. Not strongly, not overwhelmingly, barely noticeable because he clearly hadn’t worn them in a long time, but standing in the bathroom, burying his face in the fabric, Gale could smell him. He eagerly pressed his face into the scent, then rubbed his neck against it, trying to blend their smells, even though it was impossible. 

When John entered the guest room sometime later, Gale was sitting on the bed, dressed in his old sweatpants and hoodie, “I tied my dirty clothes in a plastic bag,” he said. “I didn’t dare throw them in your laundry basket, they’re too dirty and they smell.” 

He was confused and embarrassed by the situation he found himself in, and John knew why: Gale had always been a proud and confident guy who did everything better than others. In flight school, they had both been sure he had a brilliant future ahead of him. Now, they were both witnessing his humiliating downfall.

The alpha inhaled. Immediately, that awful wave of nausea returned—trembling, an inability to take a full breath, weakness spreading through his body, and the dizzying sense he might pass out. But now the omega was completely clean. Damn, John thought in frustration, so it wasn’t because Gale was unwashed. It was his omega scent. Gale’s scent. That’s bad. Really bad.

For the first time, John clearly saw how thin Gale had become over the past year since their last meeting, as well as the bruises and scrapes on his pretty face, and it hurt to see it. Someone thought of hitting him, how could that thought even cross their mind? John couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

“Have a snack, Buck, and I’ll make you some hot herbal tea. It tastes like crap,” the alpha said apologetically, “but it helps you sleep.” 

While John brewed fresh tea, he thought about how he ended up in this situation with Gale and tried to figure out whether it was a curse or a blessing. 

When John brought the tea into the guest room where the omega was, he noticed that omega had fallen asleep with a full cheek of food from the nearby plate. He gently touched Gale’s cheek with his finger, feeling a tingling sensation where it met his skin, and when Gale came to, John said, “Swallow or spit out the food in your cheek. It’s dangerous to sleep with it there.” 

Gale quickly chewed the food and opened his mouth to show John that there was nothing left, just like a child showing their teacher they’d spit out their gum during class. 

“Good,” John said, covering the sleepy omega with a blanket, who immediately began snoring softly as soon as his head hit the pillow. “We’ll figure out what to do tomorrow.” 

The alpha thought the herbal tea was unnecessary, as the tired and hungry blond had fallen asleep in no time. 

“Good night, Buck,” John whispered as he left the room. 

Gale opened his eyes and watched his friend leave with overly thoughtful and alert eyes, showing no signs of sleep. 

John entered his own room, closed the door, and opened the window wide to the autumn night. The air was cool and clean, soon to start carrying icy notes, but not just yet, and the alpha breathed in the night air several times, filling his lungs to the brim.

His mind was in complete disarray. Emotions, memories, and sensations seemed to merge into one small sandbox, fighting like angry children. 

Buck has an alpha. Some damn bastard whose throat John wanted to tear out with his teeth. 

Buck is going to have a child. He’s forever tied to someone else with the new life growing inside him. 

Buck is starving and stealing, living on the streets. 

His beautiful sunny boy Buck is sometimes dirty and smells bad. 

Buck fights, and judging by the looks of it, doesn’t always win. 

It’s hard to be around him. Every instinct screams at John to run far away from not his omega, and part of him desperately wants to, but he can’t, because Buck needs help. 

You’ll never catch me, Bucky! Gale’s playful words from their bicycle race echoed in John’s memory. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking several deep drags of the wonderful tobacco smoke, which finally reset his still-nervous senses, filling them entirely with the rich scent. 

Before his eyes, he saw the bold, free, and playful Gale, glancing back cheerfully over his shoulder as the big, heavy alpha tried to catch up with him. 

John inhaled deeply, feeling the smoke fill his lungs, the products of combustion and nicotine spreading through his blood, then exhaled, breathing the smoke in through his nose again to forget the other smells in the world for a while. It was perfect. 

Nicotine was the third thing, after sex and alcohol, that John could never give up. He couldn’t resist how effortlessly it gathered his scattered emotions and allowed him to function as a decent, reasonable person after two cigarettes in a row. 

Yeah, I never did catch you, Buck, John thought sadly. But I couldn’t run away from you either.

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I'm tagging @bottomab @umika @amiserableseriesofevents @mazikeen because they said they were ready to read this.

I made another pic for part 2, but then I realized it didn't fit the meaning, so I used the previous one instead.😣

[rangerelizabeth]

The final chapter of my college au is now posted on ao3! Please see the end note on the chapter for all of my mushy gushy feelings about this ♥️

Throughout the night, Gale can’t stop looking around the room at his friends, smiling to himself as he thinks how lucky he is to have them. He’s going to miss them over the summer, so used to seeing them every single day, but figures he should be grateful to have something so good in his life that it’s worth missing in the first place. And while things will surely be different next year with regard to their living situations, seeing them now—on the floor of his and Benny’s barren dorm room, making the most of their last night together until the fall—Gale knows in his heart their friendship will remain the same.

[luckydeuce]

last line(s) / WIP tag

Warning: I'm exhausted and busy with work (sob) and so, so under the weather it's just a massive shit show. And I've been struggling to write but some wonderful, wonderful souls tagged me recently (I'm talking about you @happy-days19 and @soliloquy-dawn and @onyxsboxes and @weimarweekly and @reallylilyreally and @amiserableseriesofevents) and I swear I didn't ignore it!!!

This is collective for @london-cowboy and this account because there's more than 1 me. Here we go.

John takes a small sip of his whiskey. It isn’t Macallan. It must be The Dalmore, the 18-Year-Old, or something similar: deep and spicy—burnt black coffee and marmalade. It’s wonderful. But it’s also— “Not what I wanted, Buck.” Buck has been just raising his glass to his lips. He stops, mid-gesture. “Pardon?” Oh, pardon my ass, frat boy, thinks John. This is perfect, fucking perfect. A wonderful opportunity to start. He hates that it is happening. “They didn’t have Macallan?” Buck looks confused, eyes darting between John’s lips and the £400-a-bottle liquid in John’s glass. “They did, but—” The thing is, John knows. He knows they did, just as he knows Buck was trying to impress him. Win him, please him. In any other circumstances, it would have worked, nice and simple. But nice and simple isn’t really what Buck wants from John.   “Then bring me what I wanted,” John says. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t smile; equally, he doesn’t frown. “Please.”

Tagging @stereobone , @whirlpool-blogs , @feyd-meowtha and @wayrad , only if you'd like to (but adding a Dom John Egan kind of please).

[recmeidareya]

Fic on Ao3

[amiserableseriesofevents]

Our little life is rounded with a sleep, ch 4

Featuring some math puns, an escapade, and maybe a kiss

[oopsiedaisiesbaby]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Masters of the Air (TV 2024) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Gale "Buck" Cleven/John Clarence "Bucky" Egan, John D. Brady/Bernard "Benny" DeMarco, Gale “Buck” Cleven/Gustav Simoleit Characters: Gale "Buck" Cleven, John Clarence "Bucky" Egan, John D. Brady, Bernard "Benny" DeMarco, Howard "Hambone" Hamilton, Frank D. Murphy (1921-2007), Charles "Crank" Cruikshank, Gustav Simoleit, Ulrich Hausmann Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Stalag Luft III (Masters of the Air), Torture, hurt almost no comfort, Established Relationship, Buck Goes Through It in this One, Mpreg, Vomiting, Angst with a Happy Ending, some suicidal ideation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added Summary:

Gale found himself answering honestly with a ragged gasp.

Gale was weak.

Gale was a traitor.

Gale didn’t know how he was supposed to face his pack whenever they finally decided to release him back to the masses.

[heisenbeerg]

A fic based off of "Twist and shout" by Gabriel and Standbyme but it's Gale and Bucky instead of Dean and Cas.

[icarusfallingg]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Masters of the Air (TV 2024) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Gale "Buck" Cleven/John Clarence "Bucky" Egan, Gale "Buck" Cleven/Marjorie "Marge" Spencer, Curtis Biddick/John Clarence "Bucky" Egan, Marjorie "Marge" Spencer/Original Female Character(s), Harry Crosby/Joseph "Bubbles" Payne Characters: Gale "Buck" Cleven, John Clarence "Bucky" Egan, John Brady (Masters of the Air), John B. "Jack" Kidd, Marjorie "Marge" Spencer, Curtis Biddick, Harry Crosby, Joseph "Bubbles" Payne, Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal, William "Bill" Veal Additional Tags: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Flashbacks, Marge is a Lesbian, Sad and Happy, John Clarence "Bucky" Egan Loves Gale "Buck" Cleven, Gale "Buck" Cleven Loves John Clarence "Bucky" Egan, Curtis Biddick is gay, John Clarence "Bucky" Egan Needs a Hug, Gay Gale "Buck" Cleven, No Smut, What Was I Thinking?, clegan, Y'know what, Everyone Is Gay, slowburn, Lots of Hurt, maybe no comfort, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism Summary:

Gale W. Cleven wasn’t a man of many words, that was the very first thing John noted about the pretty blonde. Gale didn’t like to talk, he liked to observe. It gave him more control over the environment, more of a handle on situations. It came in especially handy with their nights out. Before Curt, before Benny and before Hambone he just egged on other men in the bar alone. He would back himself into corners, get into brawls and come back to base with a fresh black eye atleast once a month. It annoyed Buck to no end, he tried to help but to often the hot-headed brunette would run from his careful watch and get lost in the crowd. To Bucky, it was a game, ‘how long will it take for Buck to find me’. The record was 5 minutes.

or After the war John and Gale try to run from each other, and instead end up in the same town time and time again.

the lucky deuce makes a return, and there's a cat.

[therealslimshakespeare]

|| Radio ||

Requested plot points? ☑️

Circa: early February 1944

Immediate previous fic: Favorite Escape

Summary: when your hodge podge radio won’t work, who should ya call? Probably the flight engineer

Warnings: usual universe warnings apply, 18+ but nothing very alarming really happens in this one, references to others are made, some potential slut shaming in the beginning if ya squint? perhaps some queer baiting but it’s the Buckies rolling around on the flooor, they’re one massive queer bait lbr, it’s not me. Also. My shit Crystal Radio making descriptions- don’t come for me I haven’t made one and I spent five hours falling down a rabbit hole as to how the guys made them in the camps and at the end of the day I said: screw it! And went with one of the Brit’s scenarios 🍻

Edited only by my tired little eyes, full warning and have mercy 💋

Also, just a note I feel compelled to make- this fic centers around women in the army, in a war, which they’re spending under dire conditions in a POW camp. Yes there is love here, there is also hierarchy and discipline and the enforcement of that does not make one character or another necessarily callous or less loving. They are their ranks first and foremost as all signed up for.

“They’re forging papers, you know.” Maureen broached the topic to Egan one day, late February and when her cheeks were still bruised from Ida’s book.

Bucky paused his tracing of a map, sooty finger trailing along a river with the same incomprehensible name as its twin running parallel, he didn’t know anything about papers or anyone making them and she knew that. “Who?”

“Good ones. Identification, passports.” She enumerated.

“Who?”

“The Poles. The ones with the-“

“-the liquor.” he finished for her, remembrance and condemnation heavy in his wry tone. “The ones you stayed out all night with.”

“Stayed long enough for them to get drunk enough to show me.”she replied, without heat, which was surprising.

“Some grand plan of yours, huh?” He bit back a laugh, it was a fine way to cover her ass for being insubordinate. It was a way he’d likely try if he was in her place.

“No.” she swore instead. “Just luck, I happened to see them. They got careless. Maybe an answer to all Jack’s prayers.”

“Yeah. Anything to give that rosary a break.”

“Yeah.”

“You asked them?”

“What for?”

Bucky regarded her with thinning patience but something kept him from snapping, the feeling of a riddle still to be solved. “For some papers.” he clarified, measured and intent, she knew how much easier that would make their plans for Ida.

Maureen shook her head, glancing down at her twisting hands, “I didn’t want to-“ her mouth twisted too, “-I wanted to ask a superior first.”

Bucky considered that for a moment, slightly touched at her newfound wisdom, “Why not ask Buck?”

She shook her head again, auburn hair curling under her chin just so, even here in the stalag she had some traces of the old charm. “He’s got too much to worry about for me to be bringing in hypotheticals.” she was so upset by something she would not even meet John’s eye and he felt a slice of remorse for how he hadn’t even noticed the ground down change in her since she got here, his drinking buddy and the soft fleshed rival of merry old English days was a gruff and battered and sullen woman; being a red blooded American male, he regretted that dismal change. “And I'm worried about what to bargain with. What can I promise? We haven’t got much and I don’t have— there’s not much anyway, but what we’ve got I didn’t wanna promise. Not without-“ she still hadn’t met his eye, he tracked hers; a furious roving of pale blue back and forth across the floorboards and it made Bucky itch.

“Who signs these papers?” Bucky asked, thinking the logistics through, knowing she’d perk up if he brought them up.

“Haven’t a clue. Maybe they haven’t figured that part out yet. I don’t know. I just know they’ve got papers.”

“Good ones.”

“Yeah.”

“We haven’t got much.” he agreed, clicking his teeth in thought, “What’d you give them for the liquor?”

“They just invited me.”

“Didn’t have to lend a hand or nothin’?” he balked and Maureen threw him a glare that seemed more hurt than rage, and chastened by a voice inside that sounded much like his mama’s, he amended with sheepish humor, “Hell, feel like lending a hand myself these days, if it’d get me a whisky.”

Her gnarled fist curled white in her lap, she managed hoarsely, “They just wanted to talk about home. To someone who hadn’t heard about it a million times before.”

“They got cigarettes?” he asked.

“As most common payment for their booze -they’ve got enough to insulate their shack three deep.”

“Cigarettes won’t cut it then.”

“I’ve been thinking.”-

“Yeah?”

“The radio. I’m the only one who doesn’t think it’s worth the risk but, I know, it doesn’t matter, it’s happening. Gale’s going to keep trying. And if it works-“ she rubbed at her eyes, tired and unsure, “-that’s quite the bargaining chip.”

Bucky nodded slowly, eyes narrowing as his smile grew a touch broader, “News of the outside world.” he was half in agreement, “Buck asked for a week. Been four days.”

“He’s stumped.” Maureen retorted instantly. “And he’ll stay that way and he’ll go nuts and you’ll go die going over the fence and then he’ll have no reason left not to die too.”

Bucky whistled, low and chiding, “You’re full of rainbows today, Candy.”

“You know who he oughta ask.” she shook off the barb. “But he won’t. And I don’t want him risking it for this thing anymore than anyone else, but you all want it so bad, and they’ll shoot us for it if it works or not. I’m not asking her. But you would. Might as well get shot for it working, right? Isn't that what you said yesterday? You know who he should ask.”

Bucky’s keen eyes showed the moment it dawned on him, his eyebrows shot up and his mouth sagged and he ran a weathered hand over his face, “Awww shit, Candy.” came garbled behind his palm. “Ah shit.” he said again with conviction as he shoved the hand into his pocket, wretched acknowledgment of her point clear on his face.

“I didn’t want to suggest it, told Ida it’s a fucking dangerous thing and I’ll never forgive if— but you all—“

Bucky grounded aloud, “Nah, nah she’s -Lu would solve it.” he muttered, shushing her. “Demarco really pummeled you the other day, huh?” he added, and that got her to meet his eye, she looked spooked and a little incensed, “Saw him fuckin’ you up behind B compound but sheesh, s’like he hollowed you out worse than a jacolantern; yer shifty as hell.”

“He-“ Maureen still felt like blanching at the memory of Benny’s terribly correct opinions, his disappointed eyes and his fist full of her flight jacket asking her what in the living fuck was wrong with her besides a concussion, a sick childhood and an ever nauseating jealousy of Buck Cleven’s paternal time and effort, “-he had some admonitions. After…after the other night.”

Bucky hummed, shitty smirk taking up residence on his face, “How ‘bout that.”

“I’m gonna be better.” she muttered and Bucky felt for her, could almost taste the echo of his identical and hollow determination to climb the mountain of bad habits when weak from spuds and pneumonia. He told himself the same every morning and fell into bed condoning his failure every night, like a ritual.

“You’re gonna get us those papers.” he corrected, shoving off the wall to come near her, give her the full Major treatment and maybe a friendly hand, “And you can promise your drinkin’ buddies news from the radio.”

Maureen nodded in understanding, no joy or animation left in her green eyes. She used to enjoy a bit of subterfuge, now she only felt hollow misery at the thought that she'd dragged Lu into this, too. This risk she hated so much and yet no one cared. Lu would be glad to be dragged in, it’s true, she was itching at the chance to be useful and to make Gale proud, it’s how the girl was wired. It’s how most girls were wired, Maureen supposed, desperate to make Gale Cleven approve. Lu’s enthusiasm wouldn’t make the sight of her being made to kneel in the mud and have a bullet put in her head any easier, wouldn’t make Maureen feel any less responsible for it when her lifeless body thudded to the earth.

All that lovely goodness stamped out.

Over a radio.

Bucky’s hand felt too hard and too big on her shoulder. He had gone before the vision cleared, mud and wire and the freezing main square at Ravensbruck fading back to the musty bunk room. Maureen shook herself and stood up to make herself somehow appealing, reamniante some semblance of the cheerful rashness that had led her to the Polish combine in the first place: she found it hard to inspire. She’d like to count that a victory but she knew better, she wasn’t reformed she was just tired.

A washed face and a fake smile and the promise of news from outside would have to be enough to bank all their risks on, it would have to be.

“Crank,” she greeted the man in the hall, flashing him clean, water brushed teeth and her gentlest, freshly soot lined eyes, “I’ve been tasked by Major Egan with an errand, spare a minute to babysit me?”

__________________________________

Bucky finds Buck Cleven in his own bunkroom, Demarco outside on watch and that’s all Bucky needs to know to guess the radio is out and Buck’s working like a fiend yet again to make it work. Sure enough, he’s hunched over the table with it, mittened hands shaking from cold and exhaustion and a sheen of sweat on his forehead despite the paltry sweater he wears.

Bucky walks in and Gale gives him a soft, acknowledging glance before continuing to his work. Bucky takes up his usual place behind Buck’s left shoulder to watch and Buck, being used to it, goes on.

“My little Kriegie Marconi, huh?” Bucky allows the nagging impulse he has felt for weeks while standing in this position to finally exert itself, and his forefinger lifts and swirls in the curling gold strands of hair at the nape of Gale’s neck, his friend almost bolts away but then seems to choose a prey’s tactic and just stills, goes very still and Bucky scritches the scalp beneath his grab in assurance he don’t meant anything by it. He doesn’t think he does, at least.

Gale, wary and with a voice close to mechanized it’s so stilted, inquires with ever-present politeness, “You alright Bucky?”

It’s better than that whole ‘major’ business; getting called Major as if that meant shit anymore. “Yeah, ‘course I am.” Bucky rakes his fingers through the hairs there at the nape of that dainty neck, scritches the scalp with all four of his main ones, and uncovers a white long scar sliding round once he lifts the hairs there. “Why wouldn’t I be? Gonna be a father soon.”

Buck does jerk then, away from his touch and wheeling his chair around to glare at Bucky; it’s an impressively executed little pirouette and John misses the feel of his warm neck and oil soft hair. “Jesus John.” he reprimands.

“We’re gonna get outta here Buck.” John swears, he’s so sure of it because he cannot in all his thinking and predicting ever imagine a scenario where they don’t, and he chooses to think it’s not delusion but a good omen. “Ida’s gonna have that baby and when it’s safe we’ll all meet up.”

Gale is looking at him like he’s his own father again, Bucky knows that look, it always makes him equal parts ashamed and desperate, “Jus’ like that.” Gale mocks in a husky gust.

It’s devastating, and it’s intended to be, and Bucky could bear that with better humor if he could still touch Gale and his hair. “Just like that.”

Gale hums and it’s a mean sorta vocalization that makes Bucky’s heart thud and his skin prickle hot, it’s the kinda noise you kiss off a person, he thinks, but it’s Buck and so he doesn’t know what to do with it. “It’s gonna get you killed.” Buck is saying instead and Bucky lets him, “I know you all think she’s cracked up and maybe she has but it wouldn’t hurt to listen to Kendeigh sometimes when she’s tellin’ ya shit that a five year old could accurately guess, -goddamn it.”

His voice rose to a strong rage by the end and Bucky takes a chair opposite him, sick of standing there like a dumb dog waiting for his scolding to be over. “So what.” Bucky challenges him, “We just wait around and Brady pops out a child and the krauts let us keep it and it’s our new mascot and we all sing zippidy doo da, huh? Huh, Buck?”

Gale’s hands fell away from his face with a slam to the table, a shocking degree of anger showing for a split second and it gave Bucky an odd degree of gratification. “I jus’ want you to find a plan with better odds.”

Bucky sniffed and leaned forward, went in for the kill and Gale was looking at him like he expected it, like it was his turn to play daddy to everyone here and Gale for once was so beaten down he wouldn’t just allow the changing of the guard, he was close to angry at its lateness. It made Bucky’s heart thud.

“I’ve been listening to Kendeigh.” Bucky refuted briefly, “And we’ve got a plan.” Gale gave him a tired look of encouragement to go on, “How long’s it been since you slept? Huh, well, we got a plan. Practically perfect, or it will be, just need the radio.”

“Ain’t giving this away.” Gale said, “Not for anythin’, even useless.”

Bucky patted the table top in easy assurance, if he could have reached Buck’s thigh, he’d have patted that instead, “No, no, don’t need to give it away, just need it to work. So,” he softened his voice and his eyes tightened, “I’m callin’ Lu in.”

Oddly, Gale does not fight it. Not aloud, at least. There’s an anguished look of hate on his face and Bucky mirrors it. It’s for this place and the fucking awful choices they have to choose from every goddamn day.

“You run this by Ida?” is all he asks.

Bucky pops his flaking lips audibly, “What, need us both gangin’ up on you to agree? She’ll sign off. Smith’s an officer. Gotta remember that sometimes, Buck.”

The way his Buck swallows hard and dry contradicts his words, “I do remember that.”

“Really?” Bucky’s mouth gives a soft smile of doubtful incredulity and Gale’s mimics it, mournful but a smirk all the same, “Feel like she should answer to ‘Gale’s Baby’ these days. Lieutenant Smith who?”

Gale scoffs, “Careful now.”

“No really, she’s an officer and she wants to be treated like one. It’ll do her good to have work. Her kinda work.”

“Could get her killed.”

“Layin’ in her bunk could do that.”

Gale grunts, its sounds like an agreement.

“So I say Lieutenant Smith gets put on radio detail. Like her goddamn job description suggests. Huh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Gale lets out a shaky agreement.

“Aaaaand,” Bucky draws it out as he rises again and saunters over to Buck who is ready for him and loose this time, “how bout I go back to bein’ the one you’re frettin’ ‘bout all the time. Got me almost jealous of the girl. How ‘bout I do. Huh?”

Gale’s scoff is fond as anything as he looks up at John with cheerful derision, “And you ‘bout to be a father? Make me an old man? Fuck no, ya looney.”

“Alright.” Bucky concedes with hands up in surrender before lurching forward and grasping Gale’s rickety chair back by its wobbly spokes and hefting it partially off the ground, beautiful and outraged prude of an occupant still seated in it, “Then I’ll play daddy and put you to bed, how ‘bout that.”

“John Egan for fucks sake-“ Gale’s fists pounded on the meat of his shoulders and his outraged protests wafted against Bucky’s neck and his jabbing knees collided with the meat of his thighs and Bucky hadn’t felt so close to him or so happy to be alive since England.

“Major sir, the hell is goin’ on?” Demarco’s tame inquiry from the safety of the doorway made them both lose their grapple and they collided together onto the floor, bunk bed barely missed by their heads and the hapless chair mixed up between their limbs.

Bucky grinned, hip sore from his fall and kidneys suffering from Buck’s trapped elbow there, “Puttin’ Goldilocks to bed.” he replied.

DeMarco processed that and the scene before him with grave sobriety before saluting lazily and turning to go, “Right on, sir.”

John did his best to rise up without further pinching Gale who was indeed trapped beside him and beneath him, chair legs wound between a lanky human leg in a puzzle that Bucky realized might take some caution to untangle without harm. Strangely, Buck wasn’t moving, he was just looking up at him like a cat would their clumsy master who has done somethin’ stupid which was a surprise to neither. It was so innocuous a look and so nostalgic, it winded Bucky with the realization he hadn’t seen it in ages, just as he hadn’t felt his boney ribs against his own and the feel of his elegant hands yanking him around in a fight. This miserable place really was stomping out the glow in the best people.

“Ya know Buck,” he ventured, clearing his throat for extra casualness, “I’ve missed you.” When Gale only kept looking up at him, perfect porcelain face with its unsettling scars and wary eyes without a lick of storm in them, John Egan grabbed his shovel and dug his own grave a little deeper, drug a finger down his cheek. “Missed all this.”

Bucky didn’t know what he meant by “this” but it felt safer and worse all at once, since he did miss Buck but he and Buck never used to hang out on floors with a chair as chaperone. Mercifully, Buck neither points that out nor moves away, acting very much like he needed to heaped on the floor with Bucky and a stray chair every bit as much as John did. Like it’s doing him good.

“And you couldn’t’ve jus’ said.” Gale murmurs with the softest eye roll of the century and Bucky feels like beaming and it must show in his face so strong and bright after a sunless winter that after a flash Gale’s cheeks flame from it and he averts his eyes.

“I dunno Buck, could I?” Egan asks one blushing cheek and Gale hasn’t got a good reply for that, so they just lay there on the floor.

“Go on now, get off me.” Gale doesn’t shove at him, he presses his hand to John’s forehead like he would a dog and John goes, obedient as one.

———————————————————————-

They found Lu with Murph and Benny and Brady, measuring out what seemed to be lot lines between Love Shack #9 and the next combine, boot scuffed perimeters already visible in the light snow and drawn in a decently tidy rectangle. There were guards loitering nearby, nosey as always with their cigarettes and their antsy dogs anytime someone did something out there besides piss or pace or stare at the fence.

“What’s all this?” Bucky inquired cheerfully, coming up to them with Gale, bundled and shivering behind him.

Benny looked up from tilling a furrow with his boot, right where Lu’s mittened finger pointed out. “It’s for the garden. S’posed to be spring before long.”

“A Chicago man oughta know better, Benny.” Egan snarked.

“Need us?”

Bucky sniffed, a casual set to his body that belied his quest, “Just the little one.”

Smith promptly looked startled, then eager. “All well Majors?”

“Need your advice on the color of my cufflinks with this suit.” Bucky extended his arm and beckoned her, “C’mon back in for a minute. One of you too, need a watch to go with the cufflinks.”

———————————————————————

With Benny on guard, Brady and Kendeigh having excavated the radio’s shell from the floorboard and table leg in which it resided, the Buckies stood over Smith’s small frame as she sat at the table and inspected the simplistic device with keen eyed appreciation for the construct.

“It’s really marvelous.” she assured Cleven, running her fingers over the carefully coiled wire and precarious pin.

Gale didn’t even crack a smile. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked instead.

She shook her head, a frown gathering. “Never made one-“ she cautioned.

“-but you get the idea.”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“So what’s wrong.”

Lu ran her fingers over the wire, again and again, the dusty metal not insulated, just bare copper, likely stripped from somewhere. It reminded her of early days as a cadet when they threw chicken wire mixed with hydraulic lines at herself and her fellow rookie engineers and told them to sort it, testing to see if they knew which was which. It had been so rudimentary she had wanted to laugh until she realized others were being flunked.

This was so basic she was stumped.

“Take your time, Lu.” Bucky spoke up after a burdened pause during which she could almost feel Major Cleven breathing down her neck.

“Candy, can I try with the headphone?” she asked at last, frustrated and out of her element, just a few months out of a plane and she had already lost her touch.

Maureen passed it over and Lu pressed it to her ear, not to discern what was quite obviously radio silence, but to imagine the whole process in reverse, track it down the cord all the way to the base, each possible breakdown of the conduction.

She fingered the ramshackle diode with burgeoning suspicion. “What’s your crystal?”

“That’s just…lead.” Cleven muttered.

“From?”

“Ground pencils.” Bucky supplied cheerfully.

Smith bit her lip, “We need sulfur added. Lead won’t conduct on its own.” She figured Cleven knew that, the grim and unmoving set of his mouth suggested so.

“Just- sulfur?” Maureen asked.

“If I had sulfur we could add it to the lead dust, ignite it and-“ Smith grinned at Kendeigh, knowing that she alone may have shared her enjoyment of a small conflagration from time to time, “burn it down and you’ve got something close enough to Galena. Just need a pinch of it should work.”

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets and surveyed the mostly morose room. All except for the two girls grinning at each other over the hypothetical of a little chemistry experiment in a highly flammable wooden combine.

“We’ve got sandy soil.” Buck’s contemplative drawl spoke up, “Dunno if we could extract enough pure sulfur.”

Maureen stared back at Egan instead, “Other sectors have gotten portions of kits, chemistry kits, radio kits, they’ve been smuggled in with all sorts of stuff. Inside of a violin, oat bags. Nothing to fully build something. They might have sulfur. I could make inquiries and- well, Jack could pick it up next time the band goes over C compound to entertain the poor Aussie bastards.”

“How do you kno- nevermind, actually. Nevermind.” Bucky broke off, “Alright. Sure, why not. Ya sure that’s it?” he asked Lu once more.

She gave a helpless little shrug. “Gotta be. Or the wire’s dirty. Where’d it come from anyway?”

Gale gave Bucky a long suffering look as Bucky seemed to swell a couple inches and bounce back on his heels at the mention of his scrounging prowess. “The lamp.” he nodded above them all.

Jack Brady scoffed, short, clipped, betrayed, “That why it cuts out all the time? Strobed us so bad last night -thought the room was possessed.”

“Sacrifices Jack, sacrifices.”

———————————————————

Benny had hauled in enough water buckets to elicit some negative attention from the guards, and when the inspection came the inmates of the Love Shack insisted the drenched floors and table of the Majors’ barracks were due to sanitation post regurgitation. At night, with only one stolen torch light from Combine 15 to illuminate the endeavor, a basin of water beneath a smaller bowl in which lay their precious and recently procured ingredients, a science experiment began. The Majors and Ida gathered round, all looking as ghastly and spectral in the light of the flashlight as Brady’s fake ghost. It held the thrill of a bonfire night except for the stakes, which all in the room did their best not to dwell on.

“Zippo, Candy.” Lu gave the word and Maureen, with only the protection of Ida’s bent aviators to keep from a scorched cornea, flicked on her lighter and set the mixed powders ablaze.

It flamed up high and smelly, making Benny gag and mutter something about Meatball’s gas to a tittering Brady, and then died down to a yellow smoking ember.

“We should let it sit.” Lu surmised with a squeeze to Maureen’s only somewhat singed hand, her big dark eyes surveying the burnt bowl and their smoking experiment with glittery excitement at the possibility of success, “Let it cool, settle, maybe strain it. Can you get me a net? Oh Candy come now, get me a strainer?” she begged with a laugh as Maureen rolled her eyes at the idea of yet another trip to the Stalag Market for the most random items imaginable. If they hoped to not be suspicious, they’d need better lies or more money.

“How about cheesecloth?” Kendeigh tried not to grin indulgently- and failed- in the face of Lu and having recently been allowed to set something on fire

Lu kissed her cheek. “Cheesecloth would be perfect.”

In the end, cheesecloth did indeed prove perfect, and amongst the burnt dust of the combined minerals was a gritty little pinch full of the needed crystals. Or so Lu said, Gale agreed but the crease between his brows hadn’t lifted for two days; Bucky’s fingers had begun to twitch in antsy need to manually smooth them out. He imagined Maureen felt the same but she hadn’t said, uncharacteristically forbearant now she had some job to keep her sane. Even if it was playing fetch for Lu.

—————————————————————

“Well, this is it.” Gale muttered when the watch had been set once more, Murph and Hambone on the steps, Crank inside, Brady at the door, Benny at the window. Even Major Clark had joined them in the barracks for this final try and Lu’s cheeks were maroon from the attention even as her deft hands steadily pressed her concoction beneath its intended rod.

“Pass me the pliers, sir?” She asked and for a moment, the teacher became the apprentice and Gale fetched her the stalag forged tool, rudimentary like everything here yet the gripped and pulled and lifted same as the pliers back home. “You could check your look in this wire’s reflection.” She complimented Gale’s buffing of the copper wire.

He shrugged in turn. “Didn't wanna leave anythin’ to chance. That it?” he asked as her hands stalled and she surveyed her work.

Lu nodded solemnly. “Yes sir.”

Gale picked up the headphone from in front of him on the table like it was a gun he was about to bring to his head. “Here.” He extended it to her instead, “S’right, it was your job, you should be the first. Cmon.”

Despite her voiceless protest he pressed the headphones into her hands and Lu, never knowing how to disobey an officer, folded immediately.

For a good ten seconds everyone in the room held their breath as Smith pressed the headphone to her ear and gently wiggled the clothespin along the wire, searching and tuning, her face holding that old peaceful concentration they hadn’t seen since the last mission. She was at home with her mind tuned to another dimension. The pilots in the room knew that look, that was the look of someone at home with something that terrified them all the same, the gut swooping feeling of clearing the take off and sledding along the tops of the clouds. Wrong and strange and utterly incomparable to others, it was the closest to home one’s mind could be. Lu belonged somewhere on those electric currents and searching them out was like finding oneself again.

Then at last, Lu’s eyes sharpened out of their dreamy haze of concentration and she said, gentle as always, “It’s the BBC sir.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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Sandor's Secret

Sandor Clegane x Fem! Reader

Summary: Sandor has a secret hidden away from everyone.

A/n: I should be writing The Wolf Among Men but I can't. Once i have an idea, I need to let it out. This is one of them. I do hope you enjoy and remember please comment. I read all the comments and it makes me so happy and gives me the boost to keep writing. ENJOY! - L

WARNING: NFSW, we are fucking, whore, Sandor likes it dirty, Hidden away from everyone, mention of abuse but not from Sandor. Border Credit: @black-dread

Word Count: 3.4K

Sandor has a secret, he’s been having it for a few years now. No one knew about it and he tends to keep it that way but the ones who were too nosy...there were taken care, of course. 

No one will ever take you away from him. 

Sandor has too many enemies in King’s Landing because of his brother’s wicked ways. His brother, Gregor had enemies throughout the seven kingdoms and most of the time Sandor will be the one suffering the consequences. Enemies usually thought that they could fight or hurt Gregor’s little brother to get back at him, but at the end of every fight the enemy is lying cold on the ground with their throat split open or a sword rammed into their stomach. That's why he has hidden you. 

His shift taking care of the king’s bastard ended and he was walking to his small home. He lived a few miles away from King’s Landing. He had declined the housing that the king provided him in the castle. He didn't want it. He liked his privacy, was what he said. Making it home, he walked Stranger to the small stable near the house. Making sure the horse was fed and had fresh water, he shut the stable door before walking to the house. He stood in front of the wooden door and knocked five times and jiggled the knob. This was a sign he came up to make it known it was him outside. 

A few seconds later, the door opened and he was pleased at the sight in front of him. 

He walks in before you can jump in his arm. This was something he had gotten used to and he loves it how you greet him like this after a hard day taking care of the spoiled brat. You didn't mind the blood or the sweat on him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You kissed him on the lips. He puts you down and you immediately start to help him remove his armor. Sandor can smell the stew warming on the fire as he sits on the chair near the dining table. You knelt down in front of him and began to unlace his boots. 

“Don’t gotta-” 

“Hush.” You cut him off with a smile. You had this conversation with him many times before. He told you he didn't expect any special treatment since he bought you. You would shake your head and tell him it’s something you are willing to do just like you're willing to continue to sleep and live with him. 

You were fresh off the boat when you came to King's Landing. No family and no money, there was the only thing to do. Sell your body. Little Finger inspected your body, lifting your arms and touching your breasts. He looked pleased when he grabbed a handful of your ass and sent you to an empty room. That night Little Finger had told the girls, the King's guards would be coming after a successful hunting trip and the whorehouse started to prepare for their paying guests. 

Guards came in and you can hear their laughter and hollering as they picked their woman of the night to keep them warm. The whispers came when you saw the largest and tallest man you have ever seen walk in. You had no idea who this man was but everyone froze for a minute before turning away from him. 

“Looking for a girl.” He told Little Finger. The smaller man gave him a smile and spoke to him in a low tone. You looked down at the ground when you heard the words, fresh and unused. The tall man handed him a few coins. Little Finger called out for you and the ladies gave you a pity look as you walked towards him. 

“This is her, Sandor. Easy on the eyes. She just came in. No one has touched her.” You grew the courage to look up at the tall man called Sandor. You realized why everyone was whispering. Half of his face was disfigured, burn.

“Hello, Sandor.” His brown eyes softened for a moment when you greeted him. 

“Go on, take good care of the prince’s guard.” You nodded and without a single thought you grabbed one of his large hands. You looked up at him when you felt him tensed up but he quickly relaxed when you began to walk with him to your room. You kept ignoring the stares from the girls and the other guards as you continued to hold his hand. You wondered why everyone was making such a big deal about it. There were men and women with facial scars, it was nothing new to you. 

You grew worried as you began to think more about it. What if he was aggressive? Mean? What if it gave him pleasure in harming the woman he slept with? 

Opening the door for him, he continued to stare at you closely. 

“Is something wrong, Ser?” You asked as he walked inside and sat on the edge of the bed after removing his sword. His eyes are still on you as you shut the door.

“I'm not a Ser. Not a knight.” He huffed out as he leaned his sword on the bed frame. “I see.” You told him before slowly walking towards him. “You are new around here? He asked. 

“I am. Is it that obvious?” You said as you kneel down to help him unlace his large boots. 

“You don't know me?” He asked as you began to remove his boot and quickly started working on the other. You shook your head at him and looked up to meet his gaze. 

“I'm sorry, I don't but from what Little Finger said you're the Prince’s guard so you must be very important. I hope I can meet your satisfaction, Sandor. I’m new at bei..” Your words came into a halt when you looked away. 

“Being a whore.” He finished your sentence. You nodded at him as you took his other boot off. 

You were about to stand up when he raised his hand. “Stay down.” You obeyed and looked ahead, you grew red when you were staring between his legs. He spread his legs and you saw the outline of his bulge. He leans forward and his hand goes under your chin, making you look up at his face. He looked so confused when he saw no fear in your eyes.

Insecurity started to brew deep in your chest and you began to thought. Were you not up to his standards? He must have many beautiful women thrown at him because of who he is and who he works for. 

“Sandor, I know I’m new but I swear I will be good. I don't wish to anger Little Finger. I fear he may kick me out.” You blurted out to him. You feel him touch your cheek and your hair. With his index finger under your chin, his thumb begins to trace your bottom lip. He pulled your bottom lip and you opened your mouth letting him put his thick thumb in your mouth. Closing your mouth, you began to suck on his thumb. 

Sandor sat up straight in his seat when you brought him a bowl of stew and a plate of fresh bread. He nodded at thanks to you and began to eat quickly. He was starving and the woman in the kitchen of the castle doesn't know how to make food taste good like you. He looks across the table to see you sitting down with your own bowl. He found himself glad, he never would have thought he would be living with a woman. He thought he would end up alone for the rest of his life. Now he has a beautiful woman living with him, cooking for him, treating him like a person and keeping him warm. 

He found himself thinking about that night, he met you. Sleeping with you was something he never experienced. Perhaps it was because you were so kind to him, you didn't flinch when you stared at his face. You were an eager thing to please and he loved it. Sandor knew his fate was sealed when you kissed him at the doorway the morning after. You didn't have too, he told you but you simply told him. You wanted to and if it was alright to kiss him again. He leaned down to meet you lips and kissed you hard that it left you breathless as he walked out of the whore house. He came back a week later, he couldn't stay away from you for too long. You and your sweet cunt occupied his mind. When he asked for you, Little Finger’s second in command gave him a small frown. 

“Half off. Some animal hit her.” Sandor gave her a face but nodded, giving her the payment. 

He walks to your room and the door is half open. He looked inside of your room, you're sitting on the edge of the bed. You felt his presence and looked at the door. Rage engulfs him completely when he sees you with a black eye and the side of your face is bruised. 

“Sandor.” The way you said his name made snap back into reality and he quickly walked away. 

Sandor finished his bowl before you, he got up to grab the pitcher of ale. He notices it’s almost empty and gets up to refill. He sees you’re about to get up from your seat to do it. 

“It’s fine.” He tells you softly, pushing you back down on your seat. “Finish eating.” He tells you and gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

He turns back to the table when he finishes and refills your cup as well before sitting back down on his seat with a sigh. Today was a hard day, he's tired on his feet. You noticed it when you finished your bowl. You tell him, you’ll heat his bath water. You're about to grab his bowl as well when he grabs your wrist, pulling you towards him gently. He knows he's strong and the last thing he ever wants is to hurt you. He can't hurt you, you're his. He'll die before hurting you. Taking the bowls from your hands, he places it back on the table. 

Sitting on his lap, you wrap an arm around his neck. You're blushing at his gaze. Sandor staring at you was something you always blushed at. He stared intensely and it made you wet. No words need to be said because both of you knew what each other wanted. Cupping his cheek, you feel his scars under your touch. You liked the touch of it since the first time you laid with him and you still loved it even after he took you away from the whorehouse. 

Sandor returned a few minutes later with a maester. He stood at the corner of the room while the maester looked at your eye and your face. You wondered how Sandor knew that Little Finger hadn't even offered to get you looked at. When the maester was gone, Sandor walked towards you. 

“Get your belongings, girl. We are leaving.” 

Sandor is the one to pull you in for a kiss. He tasted like ale and the stew, he was so warm as well. He tightens his hold around you as you open your mouth, his tongue slips inside of your mouth and you can't help but moan. His arm around you, his other hand goes between your legs. He groans as he pushes the hem of your dress up so he can touch your bare skin, your bare cunt. He groans once more in your mouth when he feels your lips, he spreads them with his fingers to touch your clit. You pull away from his lips to cry out as his fat thumb circles around it. He nips and kisses the side of your neck enjoying the whimpering coming from your mouth. 

 “I think about this cunt all the time. I smelt it all day on my mustache.” The thought of your nectar on him all day made you blush. He woke you up this morning at dawn with his head between your legs.

“Sandor.” You whispered his name. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. 

“Can I suck your cock? Please.” He nods as his eyes twinkled with excitement. You slide down from his lap and kneel between his legs. He stares down at you as your hands unlaced his trousers. Licking your lips when you pull out his cock. It feels heavy and hot in your hand. You bring your other hand to get a better hold of it. 

Sandor starts to breathe heavily as you lick his head, humming as you tasted his salty pre-cum. 

“Fuck.” He whispered under his breath when you spit on his cock, he felt a blob of spit run down his shaft. Your hands are jerking him as you start to suck him off. You moaned as his cock stretches your mouth wide as you try to take him all in. 

Sandor brings a hand behind your head, grasping your hair as you start to gag on his fat cock. 

“Shit-t. Yes, just like that.” He huffs out when feels your hand cupping his balls over the trouser. Sandor throws his head back when his cock reaches the back of your throat. 

His praise only makes you suck him harder, your jaw starts to ache but it’s worth it. Seeing this giant man turn into putty because of your mouth was everything to you. Breathing through your nose you reach all the way to the end. Sandor moans when he feels your nose touch his pubic bone.  

Sandor pulls you away and you gasp when you feel him sliding out. Tongue out, breathing harshly for air and eyes filled with tears, you look up at him. 

“Come here.” He tells you and helps you up. You lean against him as he kisses you. He kisses your cheeks frantically as you try to catch your breath. 

“Bed.” He nods at you as he stands up removing his clothes.

He feels like his nickname, a hound staring at you. His nose is tingling as he watches prey, you undress. You had looked over your shoulder and blushed when you met his face. He’s ready to pounce, ready to sink his teeth on the only good thing he has in his life. 

“Everything okay?” He watched you walk over towards him when you were done. He wanted to purr when he felt your hand rub his stomach all the way up to his chest. You were biting your lips when you touched his thick dark hairs on his body. His chest was hard and you can feel the old heal scars splatter on his chest. 

Sandor just nods. He doesn’t answer. Cat got his tongue when he feels you touch his cock with one hand. You let out a surprise yelp when he grabbed you by the chin making you look up at him as he kissed you. He kissed you so messy and passionately, he nips your lips and consume you. When your legs start to wobble from being on your tippy toes, you pull away from him. He gives a mad huff and pushes you gently on the bed. 

You push yourself to the middle of the bed, opening your arms for him as he gets between your legs. You wince from the sudden movement. Sandor is a big man, his waist is wide. When he’s on you, he completely covers you under his frame. 

“Fuck.” He moans when his lips start to attack your chest. He pinches your nipples making you cry out, he drowns you out with his kisses. 

“Tell me? How? Now?” He says as he licks the valley of your breasts down to your navel making you squeal. He pulls away for you to move. 

“Like the first time.” You mumbled turning around with your ass in the air. You earn yourself a slap on the ass, it makes you quiver. You let out a moan when he gets behind you, a heavy hand on your shoulder while the other rests on your hip. 

“You came all over my cock the first time, remember?” You nod at him, shoving your face in the pillow so he didn’t have to see your blushing face. 

“Milked me dry, girl. Took all my cum deep inside of you.” Sandor says as he brings his hand from your hip down to your ass. He squeezes it, pulling a cheek to the side to see your waiting holes. He’s not surprised when he feels your pussy dripping wet. He growls because of it and cups your mound possessively. A smirk grows on his face when he feels the soft curled hairs on your mound get wet as he spreads your slick all over your mound. 

You cry his name out as he holds you, your wet cunt is throbbing for his cock. 

“Please. Fuck me.” You beg him and his hands goes back to your hip making you arch your back. You feel the hair on his stomach touch your ass as he leans over you, you clenched the pillow under you as you feel the tip of his cock. It’s so hot and big, Sandor’s above you, giving you praises as he splits you open. He even gives your ass a rub when he slowly slides in. 

You gasped when he slid himself to the hilt. You feel him in your tummy, that fat mushroom head is knocking on the door of your cervix and his heavy balls are resting on top of your clit. Sandor holds you down and takes his time so your sweet cunt is used to his size. He feels you clenching around him, he feels you under him moving your ass. 

“Not even going to wait for me.” He tells you when he feels you throwing your ass back softly. 

“It feels so good. I’m so full.” Sandor leans over you making you cry out by how deep he’s getting. He moves the pillow under your chin and he pushes your head to the mattress to the side. 

You gripped the sheets under you as he began to move. Each thrusts you’re crying out, moaning as he fucks you from you behind. You feel your toes curl up when he begins to growl when he grabs your hips and uses you like his personal toy. Moving you up and down on his cock, his hand stays on your face, covering you completely. 

He cages your head behind you as he ruts into you. You’re crying his name and Sandor is loving it because it’s his name you’re calling out, his name coming out those lips he loves so much. He whispers your name behind your head, he kisses the back of your head when he feels your tight cunt pulsing around him. 

“Yes. Yes.” He says as he slips his hand between your legs. “You’re soaked.” 

Sandor helps you get near, he’s about to cum. All day working, stomach filled with delicious stew and cock being milked by you. A perfect ending after a long day. 

“Pleasee.” You cry and Sandor looks down at you, you’re looking over your shoulder and it’s the only time Sandor shows his soft side with you. You only know this side of him. 

“I got you, my pretty girl. Cum for me. Let go.” He tells you before kissing your lips. His fingers rubbing your clit as he fucks you harder. Your mind is fuzzy, your filled to the brim and you can hear him moaning your name on top of you. You can hear skin slapping against one another, his heavy balls slapping your clit making you clench him even harder. He holds you in place when you start to cum on him, on his cock. He feels it, he even lets out a moan of his own. You start to whine, salivating on the sheets when Sandor comes undone. He holds your body, making sure he unloads his cum deep inside of you. 

Sandor watches you as you sleep on his chest, your fingers were in the middle of running through the massive amount of hair on his chest before you knock out completely. He holds you in his arms as he’s deep in thought. He chuckles to himself thinking what would Gregor do if he ever found out how pussy whipped Sandor had become for you. 

He was, he wouldn’t deny it, just count the dead bodies he buried a few miles away. They all had failed to find out what was Sandor’s secret. 

[alienoresimagines]

I'm On The Run With You, My Sweet Love | Buck x Bucky

[Click for better quality]

For the Prompts : "I don't want to move" + Lake Sex of the Writers of the Air Discord event organised by the wonderful @johnslittlespoon 💕

--

On a hot summer day, John and Gale enjoy an afternoon off-base at a nearby lake, far from the war and its destruction. They laugh, cuddle, kiss, talk about the future, with no one but the warm summer sun as their witness.

Also they come. Twice.

Snippet :

“Gonna take you to the nicest theater there is.” The sentence is punctuated by a kiss on his lips. “You’ll choose the movie,” and another. “We’ll sit in the back rows so we can hold hands between our seats, but in the middle so you can have the best view of the screen.”

“Why, you ain’t gonna watch the movie with me? Gonna leave your fella to enjoy a picture alone?” It’s John’s turn to snort, seemingly delighted by Gale’s teasing as he steals another kiss that ends with his bottom lip between Gale’s teeth for a second.

“I’ll watch you.” Their lips connect again, and this time when Bucky pulls away, he stays close enough their lips brush with every word. “I’ll catch all the little expressions you don’t even realize you do. And when you’ll be so focused on the movie you’ll part those pretty lips in wonder, I’ll kiss your hand and nobody but us will know. That you’re my fella,” John grins wide, a mirror image to Gale, and kisses one of his cheeks. “That I’m yours.” The apple of his other cheek gets a kiss too, and Gale smiles so wide his face starts hurting but he can’t stop, not when John is looking at him like he holds all the answers to the world.

“That a promise, Bucky?”

To say yes would be to admit that the both of them will come out alive from the war. It’s not something they’ve ever done, at least not so plainly. Normally, John would say “Don’t count on it” with a smile, and they’d both know it’s as close to a yes as they can allow themselves to believe.

Today, he seals it with a searing kiss.

Read more on AO3 💕

My other Clegan Fics 🥰

[anavilante]

Not his omega.1

Part 1: John Encounters Gale Again After a Year Since Civil Flight School Graduation

After a year apart since graduating from civil flight school, John unexpectedly runs into Gale, his former roommate and crush. Once a proud and accomplished pilot, Gale is now a homeless omega, pregnant and struggling to survive. This shocking reunion forces John to confront the harsh reality of Gale's situation and the changes that have occurred since their time together.

Word count: 1.4K

You can find all the released parts of the fic Not His Omega at this link.

================================================

John stopped the car a block from his destination and chose to walk, knowing how difficult parking was near the small grocery store. He could have gone to a closer market, but they didn’t carry his favorite cheese, a local brand he really liked.

With his hands in his coat pockets, he entered the tiny shop. There were only two other customers: a jittery guy arguing with the cashier and a scruffy-looking man in baggy clothes and a baseball cap.

What a crowd, John thought. He sighed, hoping to finish shopping quickly so he could get back to the peace of his living room, the hum of the TV, and his soft couch.

He picked up some deli meats, a few fruits, and a bottle of milk, intending to head to the cheese shelf. But the shabby-looking homeless man was lingering there. John didn’t want to get close—the guy smelled like a dumpster, as if bums had thrown up into it, and then cats had peed on it. He didn’t want to be within a block of him, let alone in the same small room.

But the vagrant was hesitating, and John got tired of waiting. He decided to push past the homeless guy, grab his cheese, and leave. As soon as he took a few steps toward him, John froze. His keen alpha sense of smell, despite being overwhelmed by the unbearable stench that irritated him, picked up something else: this dirty guy was an omega—a fairly young one. And not just any omega—a pregnant one.

John felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. His disgust shifted to regret because pregnant omegas shouldn’t look like this. They should be protected and cherished, valued by their alphas, surrounded by care, love, and tenderness—not wandering alone, reeking like vomit.

Finally, he understood why the ragged man had been lingering by the cheese shelf for so long. He's hungry, John realized. He’s trying to steal food. He noticed the omega hiding a packet of cheese in his baggy jacket, where a couple of apples were already stashed.

He approached the guy, fighting the unbearable stench, grabbed his wrist, and said:

"Don’t do that. The guards here are pretty nasty betas, and if they catch you stealing, they’ll beat you, and you don’t need that. I’ll pay for the food if you’re hungry, just don’t do anything stupid."

The guy gasped and finally looked up at him. John thought he was losing his mind because staring back at him from under the grimy baseball cap was Gale Cleven.

His best friend and roommate from flight school, the best pilot of them all—handsome, reserved, intelligent, blond, the perfect boy Gale, or Buck as John used to call him. He had been in love with him throughout their time at the school but could never bring himself to admit it honestly.

Now, Gale's face was dirty, tired, gaunt, with sunken cheeks covered in stubble. During the entire year of flight school, John had never once seen him unshaven. Even under the layer of dirt, the bruises and scrapes were clearly visible beneath his eye and on his cheekbone.

"Let me go," Gale whispered.

"Buck..." John said in shock. "What are you...?" He was so stunned he didn't even realize how tightly he was gripping omega's wrist, and how frightening it must have been for him.

Gale made a strange, loud sobbing sound and jerked away forcefully, accidentally knocking over a fruit display. This finally snapped John out of his stupor, and he let go of the omega's wrist. He bolted out of the store, dropping the stolen goods along the way.

The noise attracted the beta guards from the storeroom, but the brief pause they needed to figure out what happened was enough for John to shout:

“Hey, wait, wait, it’s my fault! I scared the guy. I’ll pay for everything. Leave him alone.”

Watching the fleeing figure disappear into the darkness, John approached the cashier to cover the damage.

Well, that was a trip to the store, he thought, tucking away his empty wallet and still in shock from the unexpected encounter. Everything felt like some drunken nightmare. Gale, his best friend from flight school—successful, proud, and handsome—had turned into a smelly vagrant stealing food out of hunger just a year after graduation.

A pregnant, mated vagrant, John reminded himself. And that thought sliced through his feelings like a razor. Gale has an alpha. An alpha from whom he’s expecting a child.

With trembling hands, John pulled a cigarette from the pack and nervously lit it. He couldn’t decide what upset him more: that Gale was a starving bum living on the streets or that he was bound forever by a new life with another guy. Probably both.

He walked down the street, oblivious to the light rain that seemed to mourn his carefree past in flight school, which now felt a bit naïve and childish, along with their shared year of life together.

This time, credit should be given to John's instincts; he sensed danger a second before he felt the strong, grasping hands pulling him into the darkness of the alley.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed before being pressed against the brick wall by a strong, lean, cat-like body that nonetheless reeked horribly.

It was Gale, he realized. He had been waiting for him.

"Food. Do you have food?" The omega knocked the cigarette out of John's mouth with visible disgust. "God, it stinks."

Look who’s talking, John thought.

He handed the bag of groceries to his former classmate, and Gale eagerly grabbed it, rummaging through the contents.

Realizing there was something to eat, omega settled next to the dumpster and began to tear into the food packages hungrily.

John, who had just started to recover from the shock of their unexpected reunion, asked, "What happened to your alpha?"

Gale shrugged uncertainly, stuffing his mouth with pieces of cheese using his dirty fingers, and biting into a juicy red apple as he replied, "It's a long story."

"If your alpha can't take care of you, then why don’t you seek shelter?"

Gale responded with only a gloomy glare.

"Pregnant omegas without alphas to care for them can't live on the streets, Buck, and you know that."

"Leave me alone," blonde mumbled with a full mouth.

"Buck, you should..."

"Don't you dare tell me what I should do," Gale growled, and John stepped back.

He reminded himself that he was just an outsider in this situation, not involved in the drama of Gale's relationship with his alpha, so he couldn't fully grasp the complexity of it all.

But it wasn't that simple: he was legally obligated to report that a pregnant omega was living on the streets and not receiving the necessary care.

"Who beat you up?"

The blonde shrugged irritably.

"Those damn security guards. Stupid betas," Gale scoffed. "Idiots with no sense of smell."

After finishing the contents of John's bag, the omega stood up and fixed his gaze on him.

"Do you have any more food?"

John replied, "Only at home."

Gale shifted his weight from foot to foot, frowning as if deep in thought.

"Okay."

He cautiously followed alpha to his car and sat down in the back seat, keeping his distance from John. Immediately, John rolled down all the windows despite the chilly autumn evening because being in the small enclosed space with the blonde's smell was unbearable for him.

After a while, Gale, who sat motionless pressed against the far door from the driver, said, "You didn't recognize me in the store, Bucky."

"What?"

"You didn't recognize me there until you came up and saw my face, even though we shared a room at flight school for almost a year."

"You're mated with another man, and you're pregnant, of course I didn't recognize your scent. It's completely different."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"I'm amazed how you alphas rely on your sense of smell for everything."

"Because it is the most reliable indicator and it is impossible to deceive."

"Is it?"

The rest of the journey was silent. John struggled against the urge to vomit from the unbearable smell of his companion, his heart pounding and breath hitching, while Gale drilled a tense gaze into the back of his head.

================================================

Sorry, part 1 is almost the same as the brief promo. In the 2nd part there is a development of events.

I'm tagging @bottomab @umika @amiserableseriesofevents @mazikeen because they said they were ready to read this.

[rangerelizabeth]

Last line tag

Thank you for the tag @middlingmay! I was struck over the head by this idea for the WOTA Halloween writing event (prompts: pumpkin patch/ maze) just this morning and managed to jot this down before work.

“Any chance you’re close to making it out of here?” John asks suddenly. “Because I think I’ve gone down the same path about six times now.” The boy turns to look at him in surprise, clearly not expecting to be spoken to by a stranger, but then a small, adorable smile plays on his lips and John is absolutely done for. His heart kicks in his chest, as if screaming at John to not miss this chance. The boy shakes his head. “I’m lost too. Been in here for ages.” And god, if John thought he looked gorgeous, his voice is another thing entirely. It’s lower than he expected, smooth and soft, and John would do anything to hear it again. “Damn,” John says sympathetically. “You in a hurry to get somewhere?” Because if he’s going to carry out the plan forming in his head, he at least needs to be sure he’s not ruining the rest of this boy’s day first. “Not really, just figured I’d like to see the rest of what the pumpkin patch has to offer at some point today,” the boy says wryly. John could tell him that the exit is basically right behind him—if he just keeps walking the way he was going—taking the first left, and then another. But he's never claimed to be perfect, nor entirely unselfish. So instead, he suggests, “Maybe we both need a new perspective. Wanna work together?”

Tagging: @alienoresimagines @c-goldthorn and @anachilles (no pressure! And I know this tag has been going around a bit so sorry if you've already been tagged!)

[catsteeth]

She's My Collar

Sandor "The Hound" Clegane x Baratheon Princess

+:✿ Request ✿:+ 

Request: “This request is for sandor of course!! I am all for angsty, yearning sandor clegane!! My train of thought is all over the place but heres a list of something I hope you could include in the one shot: •hozier level yearning •unrequited love/want •perhaps stark!reader or baratheon!reader •fleeting interactions like something small but it sticks with sandor •“im not a religious man but ill follow her” kinda vibe if that makes any sense!!" CW: MDNI, ANGST, afab reader, alcohol consumption, unrequited love, yearning, misogyny, arranged marriage, violence, joffrey being joffrey, mention of death.  A/N: He’s pathetic and I love it

Word Count: 5K

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

The girl was born a Baratheon, born to Robert Baratheon during a previous marriage. Her mother, born to some wealthy house. But her memory would be lost in time after she died in childbirth. Robert did not speak of her. Cersei despised the mention of her name. So not much was known of her. Though she must’ve been pretty, as the girl born to Robert Baratheon was a girl of beauty. And soon after her mother’s death, Robert married Cersei Lannister. 

Either due to jealousy or embarrassment Cersei would treat the girl with malice, and hostility. But unlike the King's eldest son, the girl was kind and good. 

The boy was born to a man who wanted nothing more than for his sons to be knights of the Seven Kingdoms. His ambitions blinded him, allowing his eldest son Gregor to commit horrid acts. So long as the boy was a knight, none else mattered. The man's youngest son was kind. He was just a boy, no more than six years old. 

The little boy dreamed of being a knight just as his father did. Dreamed on the good deeds he would do in the name of his king and the Seven Kingdoms. Though those dreams would be dashed and discarded once the boy's older brother showed him the cruelty the world is capable of. The cruelty he was capable of. The cruelty the world rewarded him for. 

The boy grew into The Hound, Sandor Clegane the second most feared man in the Seven Kingdoms. The girl grew into a princess, one hated by her stepmother and eldest half brother. But loved by her father, her half siblings, the realm, and by a Hound.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ 

The Hound and the princess grew alongside one another most of his life. He could remember when he and she were much younger. The Lannisters and the Baratheons were traveling across the Stormlands. It was a hard journey, soon food became scarce. Naturally the scraps of whatever the royals did not eat were left to the guards and any other member of the traveling crew. But the princess would offer a young hound the meat from her plate every night.  He always hesitated, but was too hungry to deny her charity. She never held her charitable act over him, never even mentioned it. 

He was not one to appreciate beauty, nor was he one to indulge himself in fantasies of love. But the princess’s beauty was one that haunted Sandor. His whole life he looked at her as though she were the maiden herself. And the princess did not look upon the Hound with grotesque curiosity. Nor did she flaunt his presence to others in a manner of threatening them. No, the princess was kind towards him, kind when she did not have to be. He often found kindness a weakness in people, but in her kindness he found a comfort. 

The girl was different from her father, different from her brother. She was kind, she was honest, and he would follow her as if she was a God.  

He could also remember the first time she bestowed her favor onto him. 

Sandor never feared the tourneys he fought in. He did not fear the joust, he did not fear the competitors. What he did not like was the tradition of asking a noble lady for her favor. 

Sandor never liked this tradition. Never liked having to speak to noble ladies much less ask them to favor him. Not only was it ridiculous to him, the ladies often grimaced at his gesture. But at this tourney, and every tourney after it, he would pick the lady he wished to have picked each time before. 

As he rode his intimidatingly large black ill tempered stallion around the tournament pit. He looked up at all the noble ladies above him, looking down at him. They all sneered at his gaze, wishing not to be picked. The noble men all snickered amongst one another. But there was one person who looked upon him with indifferent eyes. The Baratheon girl’s eyes were not filled with pity, disgust, nor anticipation for the violence he was about to insight for the high lord's entertainment. She simply watched him with her same kind eyes. 

He did not think much of it, it came naturally to him as he stopped his horse in front of the royal family's seating. “I ask the favor of the Princess.” He said begrudgingly. 

The princess rose from her seat with a smile. She grabbed a ring of florals and silk. The flowers were yellow and the silk ribbon was black, the colors of both her house and his. As she approached him, she smiled upon him and placed the favor upon his joust. “I wish you good fortune, Sandor Clegane.” Sandor, he did not know she knew his name. Her voice itself was gentle and hushed, only for him to hear. Her smile was gentle and warm, one that he would have killed to see each night. One that he won the tourney for. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

Once, Joffrey had decided that a servant boy had shot him a momentary disrespectful glance. If he had, it would not have been unwarranted, though who is to say if he even did. Joffrey, sometimes bored, would pretend small disrespectful gestures were made against him. Allowing him to justify any horrid act he found amusement in subjecting any poor soul to. 

“I am sorry, my prince! Please if you would give me another chance-” The servant boy pleaded on his hands and knees. His cheek red from the blow Ser Meryn had given him moments before. 

Sandor never liked being Joffrey's sworn shield. Never liked that blonde cunt at all. Whenever he wanted to feel powerful, wanted to hurt someone weaker than him for no good reason, it bored and irritated him. 

Though it hardly ever embarrassed him, until she stepped into that room.

“Brother stop this!” The Baratheon princess commanded with a look of disgust. Sandor, though he’d not laid a hand on the boy, swallowed hard and stood straighter at her sudden presence. He worried how she’d look at him now, would her kind eyes fade for him?

“Why should I?” Joffrey asked her back with a raised brow.

The girl, bravely scoffed and took a few steps closer to her younger ‘brother’, “Because I commanded you to.” She said with angry eyes, an expression Sandor rarely saw from her. She looked beautiful even when she was angry.

Joffrey narrowed his eyes at her, “Who are you to command anything of me?” he stifled a laugh which only enraged her more. And only enraged Sandor more.

She took another step closer to him. Her hand gently trailed along the extravagantly dressed wooden table. “Your elder sister, the Kings first born-” 

“First born daughter.” Joffrey finished her words for her. “Daughter. You are not heir to anything. I’ll be king one day and you, a princess for a lifetime.” He said laughing as if he were amused by some great jest. “And as your king, I could have anything done to you that I like.” He walked closer to her, with a threatening gaze. “In fact, as heir to the throne, I could do anything I like. I could have Ser Meryn hold you down and-”  And with that the girl's temper got the better of her. She grasped a glass goblet from the table she stood by, and threw it with great force at her brother’s feet. The goblet shattered into a hundred pieces. Bits of it flew and cut Joffrey’s right hand. And some other bits cut Sandor’s cheek, not deeply but enough to bleed. “You cannot do that!” His shrill voice cracked as he grasped hold of bleeding palm.

“Clearly I can.” The girl said with little emotion. It would have made Sandor laugh if he didn’t have to worry about the other royal guards. He worried that they would put their filthy hands on you, or would be foolish enough to draw their swords. 

Though none would. The guards were shocked by the scene. This princess had never done so much as raised her voice, and now she was assaulting their future kind. They had to think of defending one of the King’s children from the other. They stood, unsure of how to act.

Furiously Joffrey shouted, “I’ll tell my mother!” Knowing his father would do nothing but ridicule him.

The princess raised her hand, and slapped the boy across the cheek, “Tell her I did that as well.” She added. 

Her slap was enough to leave a red imprint across the boy's face.

In a fit of anger, the young prince grabbed hold of his sword. Prepared to draw its blade and point it at the princess. Just before Sandor could grab the prince, a different Kingsgaurd stepped between the two royals. “Stop this!” the man commanded. Joffrey let go of the sword's hilt and the girl began to walk away, ready to face whatever punishment her step mother desired. 

With her back turned, and the guards' attentions divided. Joffrey ceased his moment, and drew the thin blade of his sword and readied himself to strike the princess. 

“Boy!” The princess turned back as the Hound’s loud voice boomed out through the dining hall. She was stunned by the sight before her. The prince’s attack was stopped by the Hound ceasing the blade with his bare hand. Blood from his hand trickled down the blade of the sword.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Soon the two royal children were brought before their father the King.

“How the fuck did any of this happen? You are meant to protect my blood!” King Robert questioned the KingsGuard furiously. 

“Never had to protect a princess from a prince.” Ser Meryn attempted to explain, “Or a prince from a princess.” He said in a lower tone that angered Joffrey.

“Shut up!” King Robert angrily shouted, sick of hearing whatever excuse they had. He sat back in his chair, and huffed loudly. He looked between his two children. “Well done, my girl.” He said in a gruff low tone.

Joffrey looked surprised his father would congratulate her on striking her brother. “But look what she-“ Joffrey began, holding up his cut palm.

Though Robert interrupted him, “How could you ever be a king if you cannot win a fight against a woman?” 

“Father!” Joffrey’s shrill voice shouted, 

“Leave!” Robert shouted back. With an infuriated huff, Joffrey left accompanied with two guards by his side. Though Sandor stayed in the room. “Girl, come ‘ere.” Robert commanded much softer to his daughter, waving his hand, beckoning her to come closer. 

She did as her king commanded. Stepped closer to him with her head lowered. Robert stood before her, and held her chin up with his fingers. “You’re more of a man than your brother.” He said proudly. He meant it as a complement, it was a rare thing to receive as a child of Roberts. With a sigh he patted the girl on the back, “Go on then.” He said softly dismissing her. 

She nodded and took her leave as her father requested. 

As the girl left, Sandor turned to follow her out. Though the King’s voice beckoned out, stopping him in his steps. “Dog.” Sandor stopped, and turned towards the King, “If that yellow haired shit lays a hand on my girl you beat him.” The King commanded. Sandor needed no other instruction. He was quite content to do so. “Understood?” The King pressed.

Sandor nodded, “Aye.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

As the Hound walked down the Halls of the keep, he saw the princess walking in the opposite direction. He tried to keep his eyes ahead, not looking at her at all. 

Though his illusion of disinterest did not deter the girl, “I beg pardon, ser.” Her serene voice called out gently. It felt like a cool breeze on a hot day, a relief. 

Sandor looked up at her, hoping she was not speaking to him. If she was, he knew whatever words she spoke to him would haunt his thoughts. As he looked at her, he knew she was speaking to him. He swallowed and then croaked out, “I’m no ser.” 

The Baratheon princess shook her head, “No. You are more true than any knight.” He knew her words would haunt him, but now they would torture him. The girl stepped forward, making him almost flinch, “All the knights in that room were content to let my brother kill me. What you did today-“

The girl began but the Hound interrupted her, knowing if she thanked him, his stomach might turn. “It’s my duty to protect you.” He grumbled, attempting to not look the girl in the eyes. Her beautiful eyes.

“I’d call it brave.” She chimed, making him stop and turn to face her once again. He was about to tell her it was not brave but she continued, “But I know you’d not. You are a hard man with many scars. You needn’t courage, nor praise. But I thank you for what you've done.” 

Fuck.

He was never thanked for doing his duty. Never thanked for anything. He was commanded and he did as he was told. 

Her eyes wandered over the Hound’s face. It made him feel weak, for the first time in a very long time. “I am sorry-” She said, her voice sickeningly sweet. Sandor looked at her with confusion, “Are you hurt?” She asked as she reached her hand towards the cut on his cheek. Her sudden movement made him flinch. 

“No.” He rasped quickly. 

The girl however was scared of the Hound. She continued forward and placed a hand on the Hounds shoulder. Even though her hand was separated from his skin by his thick armor, he still felt a chill run over his body. “Oh but you are-” She began, concerned for him. A feeling that was new for him.

“It’s a scratch.” Sandor interrupted the girl.

She shook her head, “Still, I caused it.” The girl reached into the neckline of her gown, making Sandor almost blush. Such a strange thing, a man who had seen every part of a woman, and every sexual act no matter how deviant in almost every brothel in KingsLanding would blush at such a thing. She pulled out a handkerchief embroidered with her name, “Take this.” She said holding it out to him.

He could not take it. He could not, no matter how badly he wanted to. “Don’t need it-” 

“I command you to take it, as your princess.” The girl said without hesitation. Reluctantly Sandor grabbed the cloth, “I am sorry.” She said once more before continuing on and walking past Sandor. 

She did not know that he would worship that cloth. Keep it in his armor, and keep it in his rooms when he slept. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

When Robert mixed drinking and hunting too often, a boar attacked him. Leaving him so injured he was on a deathbed.

The princess visited her father each day, morning, noon, and night. And when he died, she stayed confined to her chambers. Her only company she’d allow was her Septa. Though the girl was grown enough to be without a Septa, hers was closer to a mother. Since the girl never had one, her septa was there for all her girlhood. So she insisted on keeping around. 

Sandor often checked on the girl, though of course she was not wise to this. 

He would open her door, just a crack. He would listen in just to be sure she was alright. One day when he decided to open her door he heard her and her Septa speaking plainly. 

“Do you think the boar was the Gods doing?” The girl asked as she stared out her window with a stoic and dazed expression.

“Hm?” Her septa responded, looking up from the needlepoint she mindlessly toyed at.

The girl did not look at her septa. Simply continued to stare out her window into nothingness. She paused for a moment, not speaking, “I’d a dream the Stranger came to those woods. He changed into a boar and killed my father for his deviance.” She spoke of such morbid dreams with no emotion attached to it at all.

“How awful.” Her septa gasped, throwing her needle point down onto the table in front of her. “No dear girl I don’t think it was.” She said more gently, “You dream too much.” 

The girl shrugged, still not looking at the old woman. “I suppose I’m trying to find the Gods in everything I do.” 

“Prayer is best for that. Not such morbid dreams.” The old Septa said, picking her needle point back up. 

The girl did not respond for a moment, still simply staring out into nothing. “Do you think they’re real?” She asked softly and without shame. “Do you truly believe it? Never did you doubt it?” She asked, finally looking at the Old Septa.

“They are real.” She asserted sternly, “You believe they aren’t?” 

The girl sighed, not wanting for a lecture, “I know the Gods are a necessity for people. Like food, water. I know they must exist. But I also know they don’t.” She said calmly. Her words stuck with Sandor like a knife driven into his back.

“What a terrible thing to say.” Her septa said shocked.

“Is it?” The girl's eyes narrowed in confusion, “It’s just my thoughts.”

The septa shook her head looking back to her needle point. “You think too much, dear girl.” 

The girl sighed and went back to looking out her window, “Seems I do too much and not enough.”

Without many words at all, this lonely girl would consume Sandor’s every thought. She was smart and kind. Two things Sandor did not think of himself. 

He did not believe in the Gods, because if there were Gods, why did they punish this girl? Perhaps she was his punishment. Perhaps he was hers. Perhaps it was the world that was their punishment. 

This girl should be queen. She’d be a good one, a better one then her cunt brother. She’d be loved by the small folk and no doubt able to keep some kind of peace, even with the war. She’d not let her pride keep the seventh kingdom. If they wanted independence they’d have it. Clearly they could fight well enough on their own. But she was not queen. But she was his. 

How her hair laid against the delicate fabric of her pillow. She was all too precious for his affections. He couldn’t help it really, he felt drawn towards her. Felt a stronger pull towards her than he felt towards anything, even food or water. But he’d never subject her to his presence. 

He simply needed to see her, needed to know she was safe.

She slept sweetly, her breathing though loud was the calmest noise he’d heard. It was like the sounds of waves meeting the sands. 

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes he would fantasize about what it would feel like to sleep beside her. For her to invite him into her bed. To sleep in his arms. He’d feel her heartbeat against his own. He’d smell her scent, and feel her chest rise and fall with each breath. He never slept well, but he believed if she was in his arms, perhaps he could. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

As time went by, the royal family debated what to do with the girl. She was not a Baratheon Lannister, she was the reminder of Robert's first marriage, a reminder that Joffrey was not the true king. 

Sandor stood guard by the small council’s chamber door as he heard the girl’s step mother Cersei say, “She’s as wild as the boar that killed her father. No man would want her, she is too difficult. So give her to the Tyrell’s, a poisoned gift.” 

Overcome with a myriad of emotions, anger, sadness, and grief, Sandor rushed to the girl's chambers. 

Sandor stood behind her door. His hand firmly grasped the door handle, and his forehead rested against the wood of the door.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity. 

He wanted to open the door, ask- no beg you to run away with him. He wanted to tell you all the things he felt for you. Wanted to protect you. 

But he was a second son, a kingsguard, he had no land, and no money. He had nothing to offer you, he didn’t even have a handsome face to bargain with. 

And so, he let the handle of the door go, and he walked down the hall. He considered it mercy. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Instead of subjecting that poor girl to his company he decided to subject tavern dwellers to him instead. That night, as her marriage was announced, Sandor sank into his cups.

Though even there he was not protected from talks of her betroval. 

Beside Sandor at another table were four men, 

“Say what you will, I think it’s a perfect match! Loras Tyrell loves a Baratheon!” Some oaf shouted as he slammed his cup onto the table laughing. 

“Aye but she’s missin’ a cock now isn’t she!” A shorter guard shouted out.

Sandor wanted to break the fool's jaws for speaking of her situation with such amusement. “Too bad for Loras, and too bad for all the other men in the realm!” A bald guard added,

The shorter guard raised his cup, “Hear hear. I’ll miss seeing that girl… Miss seeing her bend over to pick flowers.” 

The bald guard nodded in a facade of sadness, “Aye that ass will be missed-”

“No, her pair of tits will be missed!” The fatter guard spoke up.

“Nay her cunt! Ah and what a waste she’ll be giving it to a boy whore.��� One of the men said, it was enough for Sandor to slam his cup onto the table in anger. He was trying with all his might to hold onto his restraint.

Though this did not go unnoticed by the men at the table. The oafish one spoke up again, “What of you Clegane?” He said getting closer to the Hound, “You guard that sweet stag so loyally. Surely you’ve thought of what her cunt tastes like-” 

Without another thought, Sandor took the man by the back of his head and slammed it into the table. His nose broke and his teeth cracked. Sandor took his dagger out and stabbed it through the man's hand. His blade took one of the man’s fingers. 

Sandor stood, taking his drink with him, “You speak to me like that again, I’ll take more than a finger.” He warned as he left the tavern in a huff.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

Against his better judgment, that night Sandor checked in on that girl. 

She was with her Septa again. He hoped that she were alone, if she were perhaps in his drunken state he’d have actually begged her to run off with him.

“My father would never have allowed this.” The girl said with a scared and sorrowful waiver of her voice, “Though I suppose it will be a relief to be gone from this place.” She sniffled, “I just don’t want to be forgotten.” 

“You’ll not be forgotten, dear girl.” Her Septa said petting her hair. 

“I suppose if I were to marry anyone in this city it would be him.” She shrugged, “But, I am unsure of how I could please him. You know of his nature. Know of his relationship with my uncle. I care not for any moral righteousness and I hold no judgment of it. But how could I ever make him happy?” She asked desperately, frightened by the prospects of her future. 

Her Septa grasped the girl by her shoulders tightly, “You will make him happy by giving his children royal blood.” 

“And how can I even do that?” The girl put her face into her hands,

“You are familiar with the act, I have explained it-”

The girl interrupted, “I won’t want it.”

Her Septa sighed, “A dreadful duty for some wives. Just lay there. Look at the ceiling and memorize the pattern of the trim. Count the seconds. Anything to let your mind wander away from your body.” She tried her best to comfort the girl, but clearly was doing nothing to help the girl’s fear.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

As Sandor took leave of his duties. He threw off his armor without caution, and nearly ripped his clothing off himself. He was angry, no, he was enraged. 

This girl did not deserve this. She deserved none of the shit those blonde shits put her through. And the words of ‘advice’ given to her by her septa only enraged him more. She should have told her to slip poison in his wine. 

Sandor sat down on his bed in his small clothes with a huff. His weight made the bed creek and bow. He drank from a wineskin as he thought of it all. Soon his anger subsided, replaced with a defeated sorrow. 

Naught could be done for her. This much he knew for certain.

So, after his wineskin ran dry he laid down. Finally allowing his body to rest even though his mind could not.

As he laid there, stripped of his armor and steel. As his sensitive skin laid against the rough material of his bedding he was reminded once more that he, and his body were punished. Punished by both too much, and not enough.

Too much combat, too much drinking, too many tourneys, too many cuts and bruises. So much he endured, and his body was punished for it. He ached and felt pains all over his body all the time. His scars were sensitive and hurt in warm bath water. 

But as he laid there he was again reminded how he had not enough. Not enough gentle touches, enough love and care. Though of course he’d never admit it to anyone. His body felt truly alone in his bed. He wished he could have felt her around him. He’d fucked before, that would not shock anyone. But he’d never made love to anyone. And Gods did he need to. 

He thought of it often, kissing her. He’d do it gently. He’d be gentle with her. She deserved gentleness. He’d kiss her while he held her face in his palms. Kiss her neck, press his lips against her skin and lick where she was most sensitive- wherever those spots were. Gods he wanted to know where they were. 

He felt shameful for thinking this way, he really did. He was no better than those men in that tavern. But, he’d be good to her.

He’d make her his wife, in the eyes of The Seven. He’d build her a home. It wouldn’t be like the one she’d been brought up in. Not a castle, but a house made of stone and wood. He’d give her safety, love. And as his hand began to wonder his punished body he thought of how he’d give her children.

He wished to know how her body would feel in hands. How it would feel to have his hands caress her breasts, the curves of her body, the soft plumpness of her belly. He wondered how it would feel to be inside of her. How his cock would feel to slide in and out of her slick, warm, inviting cunt. He did not know, but he did know it would have felt oh so much better than his calassed hand that was wrapped around his length now. 

Though his actions were vulgar and sexual, he did not think of it as that. He couldn’t think of her for long without feeling the need to have her. To be close to her. To please her. To hold her close and make her feel safe under his touch, to make her feel loved and desired with his body, his hands, and his mouth. 

He thought of what her septa told her. That she’d have to lay down and take it. If she was with him she’d want it, she’d never be forced. Bedding would be a pleasure not a duty.

His groans loudened, and his breathing quickened as he thought of how she’d ask him for it. How gentle her touch would feel on his ruined skin. 

Soon he was awoken from his day dream as the hot splash of his release jolted his mind back to reality. 

He did not have her, and she for all he knew, did not want him. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

And so the Hound was left with nothing to do but sit and watch as the love of his life was preparing to leave his life forever. 

He felt his heart breaking as he escorted the royals to the docks with the rest of the Kingsguard. He felt his eyes water as she began to step onto the dock, and approach the boat that would take her away from him. 

Naught could be done for her. 

So without a word the Hound offered the girl his hand. She took it, gently. He helped her into the boat. Her gaze fell onto him, and Gods it felt warm. He wanted to cut through them all. Wanted to take her off that boat and ride her away on Stranger. He’d do all the things he thought of the night before. Build her a home, keep her safe, and he’d love her. But they didn’t live in that world. 

The princess would marry that Tyrell. She’d have his sons, whether she wanted it or not. And she would never know how much her dog loved her.

The Hound watched as the boat sailed away with the girl he had loved all his life.

It’s the world that’s awful.

Thank you so much for your request! It was so much fun to write!!

Requester: @rhinestonecowboysworld