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Sandor Clegane wished he could move out of this shitty town. It was one of those inconsequential towns where you couldn’t take a shit without Brenda three streets over hearing about it. The kind of town that people from big cities always imagined moving to, their rose coloured glasses fooling them into believing that it was quaint and friendly, when in truth they were hostile and uppity, treating outsiders with frosty disdain.
Sandor knew this all too well. He had grown up here and knew just how quickly the town could turn on you. When he was a child and his mother was still around to take him and his little sister to church he had gotten close with a few of the neighbour's kids.
Two years later his mother had died at the hands of his father.
In the days following her death the local busy bodies left home baked casseroles on their doorsteps but that quickly stopped when the public learnt how her body had been bloodied and bruised. They told their children to stop playing with Sandor, sure that the offspring of such an awful man was bound to be just as wicked. Sandor couldn’t even blame them, his father was a monster and his brother was even worse. He was glad that he didn’t have to dodge questions about black eyes and empty lunch boxes anymore.
His father was sentenced to fifteen years. His lawyers had argued it was a crime of passion and somehow they convinced the jury. If the prosecution had been in any way competent they would have looked at the numerous hospital visits and the unexplained broken bones. The history of abuse had been blatant.
Sandor and his siblings were placed in foster care. His baby sister had been adopted quickly by a couple who moved across the country a few years later. He had tried to stay in touch at first but Eleanor barely remembered life before she joined her new family and he didn’t see the point in pulling her back into the shitshow that was his life.
There had been a few possible families for Sandor over the years, but as he got older, he also got bigger. By the time he was ten he was a head taller than all the boys in his year, and the year above.
That was also the year that his brother had gotten angry about something inconsequential and ruined all his hopes at ever getting adopted. Sandor couldn’t even remember what had caused the argument, all he could recall was Gregor’s grip on the back of his neck and then the stench of his flesh burning off his skull. He couldn’t even remember the pain.
To this day one side of his face was a mess of scars. They spanned from his brow, across his cheekbone and into his jawline. In places the skin had never healed, leaving a weeping mess, and in the places it had the skin was white and raised.
So not only was he an oversized foster kid, he was now a deformed oversized foster kid with no chance of finding a family and a chip on his shoulder the size of a boulder.
When Sandor aged out of the system he enlisted in the army, hoping to escape from the town that knew everything about his history. It worked for a whole five years until he was injured, earning himself a shiny medal he buried at the back of a closet and a bum knee that had him limping on a good day and bedridden on a bad day.
He had no choice but to return to his shitty hometown, contact a man he had worked with as a teen and begin working as a security guard in a department store.
That was where he met her.
Sansa Stark.
Hands down the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. She had long wavy red hair, that when the sun hit it looked like fire, a delicate face with big doe shaped eyes that shimmered like stained glass.
She had been shopping with one of her little friends, Maergary, or something or other. Her friend had tried shoplifting some lingerie. She was one of those rich types that didn't know how else to get a thrill in life other than petty crime, safe with the knowledge that her daddy would pay whatever was necessary to make any stain on her record disappear.
Sandor had stopped them before they left the store, demanding they empty their bags. Sansa had been mortified, her snow white skin flushing a delicious pink when she saw that her friend had taken something. She apologised over and over, begging him not to tell her father.
Sandor did not care about any of that. He knew that nothing would happen if he reported the attempted theft so instead he just took the goods back and sent them on their way.
He assumed that would be the last time he saw the girl. Happy enough to think back on her face when he laid in his bed alone at night. He’d imagine the pink that covered her face was from arousal rather than humiliation and his fantasy of her had him finishing embarrassingly fast.
For a week straight he got himself off to the memory of her, hoping that each night would be the time she was finally out of his system.
Then she was back. She was wearing a pleated skirt that stopped several inches above her knee, showing a mouth watering amount of skin, and a cropped cardigan with sleeves long enough to hide her hands beneath. Sandor was awe struck. She had been beautiful the day he first saw her, but like this she was a wet dream come true.
She was on her own this time and on her way out she stopped at the security desk, flashing a blinding smile. She thanked him again for not telling her father and giggled sweetly when Sandor growled out his dismissive responses. She left with a delicate twirl, throwing a sweet wave over her shoulder before she climbed into a SUV in the car park.
After that day Sansa would return once a week, every Friday, and with each trip she spent an increasing amount of time chatting to Sandor. After a month she wouldn’t shop at all and would perch herself on the edge of his desk. Her legs were always bare, usually in pretty pleated skirts that Sandor was dreaming of sneaking a peek up. On the days she wore summer dresses, always ones that exposed tantalising amounts of cleavage, Sandor struggled to keep up with the conversation.
Sandor wasn’t stupid, he knew that Sansa was flirting with him. She would shoot him sly smirks when she caught him staring at her thighs. She told him all about how she couldn’t wait to finish college and move out of her parents house. Sandor's heart had nearly fallen out of his arsehole thinking she was underage but she just giggled at him.
‘It will be my nineteenth birthday soon!’ She fluttered her eyelashes, ‘What are you gonna get me?’
Sandor remembered her chirping on and on about this polaroid camera she wanted. Her parents had refused since she had lost her last one but Sandor saw it on sale a week before her birthday. He bought her a pink one, with enough film for two hundred photos. He even paid extra to have the sales woman wrap it in pink tissue paper with a glittery bow.
She had given him this smile that looked like it hurt when he pulled out the gift, and then her eyes had filled with tears when she saw what was inside. She jumped at him, pulling his face down to her with a flurry of kisses, and whispered thank you between each one. Sandor might be old but he wasn’t dead and he returned her attention with almost pathetic reverence.
The following week she had stood before him, her blue eyes narrowed and a hand against her hip.
‘Are you ever going to ask me out, Sandor?’
He stumbled out an invite to go see a movie to which he was rewarded with another megawatt smile and a handful of kisses where he managed to slip his tongue in to dance with hers. They only separated when the watch on her wrist beeped, telling her that her ride was outside.
She told him to meet her outside the store the following friday. Sandor agreed readily, still shocked that she wanted to go anywhere with him.
Sandor had been uncharacteristically nervous for their date. He had never taken a girl out on a real date before, the women he slept with were more the type to rut against the bars bathroom wall with than pick up with flowers. Sandor settles on no flowers for Sansa but when they get to the cinema he buys her a mortgage worth of snacks, even one of those oversized slushies. Sansa picks the film. He had been expecting some romance that he would have to fight to stay awake through but she chose an action film that he had been excited to watch himself.
As far as first dates go, he thinks it went well. They had a make-out session in his truck before he drove her home, something that both excited Sandor and had him feeling like a teenage boy.
The large house he parked outside of when he dropped her off made it more obvious that they could not be from more different backgrounds but before his self doubt could settle and fester Sansa gave him another heart stopping kiss, promising to see him tomorrow at work.
He did see her the next day, and then every day he worked she would come and chat away about everything that crossed her mind. Sandor even brought a chair from the break room for her to sit on so she wasn’t in the way of the desk.
His co-workers had started making comments about it, which only increased every time Sandor refused to talk about her.
‘Who is that tasty piece of jailbait you have chasing your tail, dog?’
‘If she wants a daddy I would be happy to oblige’
‘Have you found out if the curtains match the drapes yet?’
That last one ended with him giving Bronn a bloody nose. Bronn, unfortunately, found that to be even more telling of Sandor's feelings for Sansa, and had him making even more remarks in the hopes of another dramatic reaction.
In truth in the months since he had been dating Sansa (her words, not his) they hadn’t gotten further than heavy petting. Sansa had been hinting for a while that she wanted to move their relationship along but Sandor was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Why would a young woman as gorgeous and genuine as Sansa want him? It just didn’t make any sense to him whatsoever. He should probably just go along with Sansa but he didn’t want to be a regret down the line. He was sure she was a virgin and he had no idea if he could be gentle in the way that she would need.
He had never even taken Sansa back to his house, but that quickly changed.
Sansa had consistently been there within an hour of his shift starting but this time she didn’t show up for almost three hours. She was wearing jeans, Sandor had never seen her legs covered, and an oversized hoodie. Her eyes were rimmed red and it didn’t look like she had any makeup on. She still looked beautiful like that, especially the way her hair was piled on top of her head with wispy pieces falling around her face.
She collapsed in his arms, burying her face in his neck with deep shuddering breaths.
Sandor could barely make out the words she mumbled against his skin, something about her mum and an argument but all he could focus on was her soft question.
‘Can I stay with you tonight?’
Sandor fumbled slightly. He was going to refuse but she took a step back and how could you deny her anything. She had perfected the puppy dog look, most likely from using it on her rich parents, and it turns out that Sandor was a lot weaker than he had assumed.
Sansa spent the rest of his shift with her stool pushed right next to his, leaning her head against his shoulder. He had gotten used to having her touch him. She would brush his hair out of his face when they kissed, run her hands up the expanse of his back when they embraced, once she even peppered kisses across his scarred skin, but this relaxed contact had his heart racing.The picture domestic bliss that flashed across his eyes had him stiffening slightly.
He was gone for this girl. He couldn’t help it. Somehow she had managed to push past his defences and curl herself around his heart. He had been sure that what remained of his heart had shrivelled and died but she stoked him back to life like oil to a flame.
He knew his home was nothing compared to her, his dingy trailer probably fit inside her living room but the glee that crossed her face when she settled on his lumpy threadbare sofa squashed any embarrassment he felt. She burrowed her way under his arm, squeezing closer until he could feel every one of her curves against his side. Her mess of hair atop her head was irritating his face but he couldn’t bring himself to push her away, relishing in the sweet coconut scent.
Sansa fell asleep against his shoulder before whatever romantic film she had chosen had finished. Sandor held her close for at least another hour before he gently carried her down to his bedroom, tucking her into his sheets. When he tried to take a step back her grip on his shoulders tightened.
‘Please, stay’
Sandor didn’t need to be asked twice. He shed his uniform quickly, leaving himself in a pair of boxers that had seen better days. Sansa didn’t care though, she just gazed up at him, her eyes filled with an emotion that Sandor couldn’t recognise. Rather than try to decipher what she was thinking he slid in next to her and for the first time in his life he slept peacefully.
Sandor woke to Sansa’s fingers trailing across his stomach, close enough to his crotch that his cock twitched lazily. He gripped her wrist,stalling her movements.
‘Let me make you feel good’
Sansa was clearly inexperienced, her grip slightly too loose and her pace a little too fast but Sandor didn’t care. She had him bucking in her hand within minutes and when he came with a shuddering gasp she grinned in a self satisfied way that had his chest tightening.
She spread her legs for him easily, whining when he licked the juices from her thighs and then screaming when he made her thighs crush against his ears.
He felt a certain level of satisfaction when he brushed her fiery curls, tugging slightly as he pulled another orgasm out of her. She collapsed back against his pillows and tugged him up with a hand buried in his shoulder length hair.
They slept for another few hours until Sansa’s phone rang obnoxiously loud throughout the trailer.
‘Hi Daddy’
Of course she called her father daddy. Sandor had to shake his head to stop imagining her sighing the name while she came.
‘I’m with Sandor’
He was shocked that Sansa had even mentioned him to her parents, let alone enough that her father would recognise who that was.
‘Fine, see you soon’
Sansa threw her phone to the other side of the bed and straddled his lap.
‘My dads going to come pick me up, It’s my brothers birthday’
Sandor helped her get redressed, pressing kisses to her skin before he covered it.
Her father was so out of place in the trailer park that Sandor almost laughed. His shiny car worth more than most of the homes around it. Sansa dragged Sandor by the hand to the passenger seat.
‘Daddy, this is my boyfriend, Sandor’
Sandor is pretty sure his heart stopped then. He froze, not even blinking, so sure that her dad was going to drag her away, probably threatening Sandor the whole way.
‘Nice to meet you Sandor’ The man seemed genuine, his face still stern but not angry, ‘Are you coming along too?’
Sansa pleaded with her eyes, not even needing to ask him before he nodded along.
Fuck.
He didn’t even need to think about it. Sansa was the kind of girl only an idiot would refuse, and Sandor was alot of things but he wasn’t stupid. He would follow her until she told him to fuck off.
Sandor spent the next year waiting for Sansa to come to her senses until she finally lost her shit with him. She blew up, screaming that she loved him and he either needed to catch up or fuck off. It took a whole week of grovelling for Sansa to forgive him. Sansa loved every second.