Sandor Clegane / The Hound x reader

Taking Care

You were laying in bed about to fall asleep as Sandor came barging in through the door, shutting it behind him. It was getting late, and he had been outside looting. He was carrying bag in his hand, probably carrying new loot, which he threw on the wooden table.

He removed his boots and tattered armor, revealing a bloody linen shirt underneath the metal armor. The whole of the right shoulder, chest and arm were stained red.

"What happened?" you frowned at the relentless man. Sandor quickly removed his shirt, grunting as he swung his arm, revealing a gaping wound on his upper arm. He glanced at the wound and scoffed.

"Was jumped by some cunt, tried to fucking rob me," Sandor said and walked towards you, "I killed him, took his shit," he pointed to the bag on the table. He got into bed on top of you, placing his hands and knees on your sides and kissed your cheek.

"Wh-no, the bloody wound!" you said, frustrated. He hungrily kissed your neck. "Wait, Sandor," you put a hand on the side of his face, making him look at you. "You have to clean it."

He scoffed at you. "Fuck that, it can wait," Sandor placed a hand on your waist and tried to kiss you lips, but you dodged it. He looked at you in confusion.

"No. It'll get infected," you said sternly, looking into his eyes. "I'll take care of you," you pecked his lips before pushing him off you and getting up from the bed. He laid down and rested his back and head against the headboard and sighed.

"Be bloody quick about it."

You got up to find the necessary equipment to clean his wound. Of course fire would be the most efficient to prevent the wound from getting infected, but you knew Sandor would never let you touch him with fire. So you had to make do of what you had; a clean rag and water, stitching and some bandage. And cleaning your hands the best you could in water.

"You have to take care of yourself, you know," you said as you walked back to the bed with the equipment. You sat down beside him and started cleaning the wound with the water, followed by the rag to remove any dirt.

"That's what I have you for," he said. You chuckled at the man, he was so tough and brute, yet so soft. You grabbed the needle and hovered it above the lit candle on the bedside table to kill any unwanted bacteria. Sandors head snapped to follow your moves, sceptical about the fire, but he trusted you to take care of him. He trusted you with his life.

"You can't depend on me. You never know when you'll be on your own," you glanced up on him. He had a stern look on his face. You shook the needle to cool it down before putting the thread on.

"Don't say stuff like that," he spat. He didn't even flinch as you put the needle into his flesh. "I won't let anyone take you away from me," he leaned his head back on the headboard. You smiled, knowing he meant what he said. Sandor didn't make a single sound or movement as you sewed his wound shut.

You finished stitching and wrapping the bandage around his arm, and patted him on his thigh. "All done," you said and put the rest of the things on the table. He glanced at his bandaged arm.

"Good," he said and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you onto him, kissing your lips passionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck. "Thank you," he said quickly before laying you down on your back, continuing where you left off.