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magalidragon · 3 years

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Okay drabble #2 for @lalacristina18 ‘s ask! Hope you like this one! It’s a little silly and kind of Fixer Upper Fanfiction ( @nlights37 is that a thing? I’m doing it) meets my drabble “wet paint.”

Enjoy!

haunted house | 30. “You better watch yourself”

It was the dumbest thing she had ever done.

Except she felt like she had to do it.

How else was she going to get the cute handyman to ask her out?

"Just ask him out!" her best friend shouted, as she took a crowbar to the siding on her house, prying up the nails. Missandei was used to most of her antics, but she knew this was going too far. She watched, amazed, slightly terrified, and in awe, muttering, "You have gone mental Daenerys."

Maybe she had gone mental, but she was also put off by how attractive the handyman was. He was incredibly sweet. A little goofy; he apologized one day when he showed up in thick black glasses, saying he'd forgotten to put his contacts in before he left the house. She had wondered why someone would apologize for that, but she soon learned that Jon Snow, Handyman Extraordinaire, apologized for quite a few things that were in no way his fault or under his control.

Like when he couldn't get a part in time to fix her hot water tank, because it was a weekend and the store was closed. "No problem, guess I'll see you Monday," she had simply said with a smile and a cheerful glee, because she knew they were closed on the weekend and he'd have to come back Monday.

Or when she had purposefully yanked out some sort of fuse in her car so it wouldn't start and he had apologized that it had gone missing. "Not your fault at all!" Because it's totally my fault and then she'd pretended to find the fuse on the ground. "Will this fix it?"

He frowned at the tiny piece of place and wire. "Um, aye, that's so weird..."

Today she was going to claim there was something wrong with her siding and it needed to be replaced. She dropped the crowbar, wiping sweat off her forehead, and placed her hands on her hips, glancing at Missandei, who was shaking her head side-to-side. "What?"

"Just bloody ask him out! I'll do it for you. You're destroying your house just to get him to come over." She smirked. "He has to know what you're doing. He's just taking your money and knowing you're using him which is wrong, or he's really bloody stupid and that's not great either."

"You haven't met him yet."

"What guy could be so attractive and cute and sweet and all that for you to resort to this!?" Missandei waved her hands at the splintered wood at her feet. She sighed, closing her eyes. "Dany, love, you are my best friend but..."

"Good morning!"

Dany threw the crowbar into the bushes, spinning on her heels and beaming at the man who had poked his head around the open fence to her back garden. She waved. "Hello Jon! Good morning to you!" She rounded on Missandei, who stared at him and smirked knowingly. "You're a little early."

He turned pink, coming around the corner holding onto his toolbox. "Aye, sorry about that, I thought I might get you a coffee..." he trailed off and politely smiled at Missandei. "Oh I am sorry, I would have gotten another....here, you can have mine if you want."

To her best friend's stunned silence, he removed one of the two takeout coffee cups from the tray in his other hand and passed it to her. Missandei swallowed hard, clearing her throat. "Thank you, that's...so nice of you."

He smiled again in his shy, half-smile way that Dany absolutely bloody adored, and turned his face to her. "You called last night and said that your bathroom pipes were leaking again? I don't know what is going on, I mean..." He scratched his hair, brow furrowing, and gazed up at the old-as-shit house she had purchased with intent to completely renovate. "I swear I just fixed those..."

"Oh you did, I'm sure this place is cursed."

"By a Valyrian dragon," Missandei mumbled under her breath.

Dany stepped on her foot and crossed her arms, grinning. "And would you look at this? This siding is rotten, I think we'll need to replace it."

"Um, yes of course." He knelt and picked up some of the wood, shaking his head. "You must have an angry ghost Dany, this looks like someone took a crowbar to it." He was immediately concerned, jumping to his feet. "You should file a police report, someone could be vandalizing your property!"

Missandei sipped her free coffee and mumbled again, not so quietly, "Hmm, someone with silver hair I think."

"What?" Jon asked.

"Ignore her, she's mad." She forced another smile. "It's fine. I...thank you Jon, perhaps look at those pipes first and then we can look at the siding."

"I have wood," he blurted out.

Missandei choked. Dany flushed bright red. "Oh?"

"Hmm, in the truck. Be right back." He turned on his heel and walked away. Dany elbowed her best friend, who stared now at his retreating back.

"Oh my."

"It's beautiful. I just like to look at it."

Missandei patted her arm. "Daenerys you are my best friend, but if you don't ask him out by the end of the day, I'm going to tell him everything you've been doing and only because I'm scared you might set your house on fire just to watch him come running in with the fire hose."

Dany hummed. The idea was appealing, but arson was certainly not an option.

Yet.

---

It was the end of the day; she'd tried her damndest to get him to ask her out. Missandei had left, becaus she claimed she couldn't watch it any longer, proclaiming them both "stupid idiots" and Dany had to agree. She was a stupid idiot, trying to get him to look at her as something other than the crazy lady in the haunted house. She'd worn her bikini top while gardening, she'd broken her siding, and stuffed leaves in her gutters.

And Jon Snow still didn't bloody get it.

Maybe he was stupid, she thought, and watched him bent over some exposed pipes in the hallway leading to the master bedroom. A himbo or something. Except she knew he wasn't, because she'd seen that he had a stack of books in his truck to return to the library, one of which happened to be her brother's boring ass tome on Targaryen History, and he'd eagerly chatted with her about it.

"So why are you a contractor?" she asked. She kept referring to him as a handyman, but reminded herself he was more than that. He ran his own business and lumber yard up in Winterfell. "Do you just like fixing things?"

He shrugged, reaching his arm down into the pipes. "I do like fixing things, but when I got out of the military, nothing really appealed to me. Didn't want a boss again and I like building things. Working on my own terms."

"I like that too." It was why she moved up North, a freelance journalist, and needing a safe quiet space to recharge and focus between assignments. She got up and cleared her throat. "I'll be downstairs if you need me." She was halfway down the stairs when she heard a strange sound. It was a yowl.

It sounded like Drogon, she thought, turning towards the wall. "Drogon?" she called.

He meowed again, pitiful. She moved closer towards the wall and knocked. Her voice trembled, calling once more. "Drogon?"

A light scratching and more yowling.

She screamed, realizing with horror that Drogon was inside the bloody wall. "DROGON!" She banged on the wall, running up the stairs, crying out. "Jon! Drogon's in the wall!"

"What?"

"I think he must have crawled in when we were talking and not looking, oh my gods, Drogon!"

Jon frowned at her, still not moving. He narrowed his eyes. "Drogon's in the wall, huh?"

"I think so."

He cocked his head and got to his feet, sighing hard. "Dany, I...I think I know what's going on and..." He turned bright pink. "I really have to confess something..." He shifted on his feet and blurted out, really fast, his Northern burr thick. "I...I know that not everything here is breaking and...and I'm fixing it and stuff, but...well...the store was open and I didn't get hte part because I wanted to come see you and...and I may not have cleaned the gutters all the way so I could come back and...oh gods, I haven't charged you at all because I'm just...I like you!"

Her eyes widened, too terrified for her cat to process what he'd just admitted to her. "But...I...I'm sorry, but he's really in the wall! Listen!"

They both were quiet and after a second, heard the pathetic howling of a trapped cat.

Jon moaned, mortified, shoving his face into his palms. "Oh my gods! I'm so sorry! I thought...oh fuck, forget what I said!"

"No I can't forget it because I like you too!" They could have this conversation after they saved her damn cat.

It took awhile, of her trying to coax the damn cat out from the opening in the floor, to Jon carefully searching and finding a space in the wall to knock through with a sledgehammer so he wouldn't hit Drogon or anything unsafe. Bits of drywall and debris scattered, "You better watch yourself," she warned him, when Drogon began to hiss and pant, terrified as they drew closer to him. "He might attack!"

"He's just scared, he'll be alright."

A couple hours later, her entire hallway and stairwell covered in broken bits of drywall, plaster, wood, and insulation, her very dirty and ashy cat enveloped in a blanket in her arms, Dany finally looked up at JOn. He hadn't said a word to her about his confession of not really fixing anything because he liked her and wanted ot keep seeing her.

She ducked her head, whispering, "I know it was wrong of me too, to keep breaking things...I just really liked you too."

"I'm not good with women," he admitted.

"Clearly, I was walking around in my bikini and you didnt say a word."

"I was trying to be professional!"

She giggled. Drogon whined in her arms. She scowled. "Hey! You didn't think I was serious that my cat got stuck in the wall!"

"I thought it was another thing like when you called me to say that your pipes were clogged at ten at night." He arched his brows. "Come on Dany."

"Alright, that was a ruse...but he really did get stuck!" She let go of Drogon, who raced into her bedroom to hide under the bed and lick his wounds-- more like his pride at having to be rescued by humans of all things. She looked up at Jon, sitting on the step just above her and grinned. "Can we agree to just...kind of start over?"

he nodded and licked his lips; she shivered. "Start over at dinner tonight?"

"Yes, dinner is perfect."

"And I'll be the first thing in the morning to start working on..." he gazed around at the chaos surrounding them, sighing. "This."

"Sounds good."

Turned out he didn't have to show up early at all the next morning, because he was already there, fast asleep in her bed, both of them exhausted. Dinner had been merely an afterthought.

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #my moodboards #jonerys fanfic #stupid silly shit here #dorkssss

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royal-writer · 5 years

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Fondly In Love

I trust you. I trust you more than anyone. I trust you more than words can express. I just wanted you to know, in case you ever doubt or forget. I will always, always, trust you.

She promised herself she’d never be that girl to fall into someone’s arms. People were unreliable, weak, and savage. She’d witnessed the things they did to each other; heard the stories, saw the bloodshed. Couples learned to loathe each other after too many years together. Lovers would stab each other in the heart to have a taste of something new. Others turned the cheek and played ignorant to the deceit of thieves and beggars. Battles fought over feuds that held no meaning. Abuse in the name of Gods. Fleeting feelings that never lasted and left you bitter, and heartbroken.

No one could let her down if she never let them in. No one could hurt her anymore than a stone or a hurtful word if they didn’t truly know her. No one could feed upon her entrails; a vulture to carnage of her spoiled heart. No one could use her traces of softness to fix themselves and leave her more broken and bruised. Her guard was always up. She was safe from the world this way, and this world was safe from her.

She’d never trust anyone to take care of her.

But that’s exactly what she did.

Essätha trusted him to take care of her, and not just when she couldn’t handle it. She trusted him with her broken pieces. She trusted his strength when she felt too weak to hold her own. She trusted his hands to be tender; that his words be true, that when she was crumbling he would be there. She trusted his virtue, his integrity, his morals, and the truth behind the shell that was a humble and vulnerable man of honor, intelligence, and delicate softness. She trusted that when she fell, he would try to break her fall, and unburden her aches.

How ironic it was to be the one afraid of falling, and she tumbled unknowingly straight into his embrace. He caught her, the very first time. He caught her every time since. Even when she wasn’t aware she was letting go.

Her thoughts glided back to Himloroth as she stretched out; unable to enjoy the silent night. The look in Lord Amon’s face, learning that they were carrying the body of the late Fontane. The way his voice sounded so fragile and weak, when he’d told her he didn’t want to be alone. She’d understood why he’d clung to her then; or so she thought. He was desperate, and she had been there with a generous heart.

She turned over in the sheets. Her fear had ignited like a powder-keg. She was scared of being seen; scared of letting him in, scared of the others seeing how gentle she was and taking advantage. But she learned the more she was around them, the less fear she had. Her travel companions may be brusque, at times selfish, or cowardly, but they weren’t ones to judge kindness in character as opportune for bloodletting.

As she unrolled her true self, it seemed like the nobleman was doing the same. His vulnerability became more acute. He played on his jokes so oddly cheesy or plainly silly she couldn’t help but to grin. His smile grew a little less distant and a little more true. He became more of himself. And it was right there at the end of his line, when he thought he would have to express his final goodbyes, that she was sure he was going to miss them.

Did she regret any of it? Heavens, no. Every word she said, she said with truth and conviction. Every time she reached for him, she did so with the conscious that she was reaching for a lot more than a hand. She was reaching for the wandering soul, the outcast, the one he was hiding beneath; and it made her wonder how many saw the real him all these years.

Essie’s body tossed and turned like a boat in rough seas. The bed groaned and it creaked, but it was not the same sounds she was used to. Her mind was restless despite exhaustion. It longed for the raspy warmth of breath against her neck that made her tremble; the echo of a rumbling snore, a snort perhaps. If she thought really hard, she could feel the impression of Amon against her back. He was more snuggly than one would imagine at first glance. Her very heartbeat stuttered and chest lifted in memory of the soothing arms wrapped around her, the signature blend of his fragrance that only saturated her thoughts tonight and not her skin.

As though on cue, the sound of paws thumping down the hall approached the door. Nails clicked upon floorboards, then the doorframe, and a quiet whimpering echoed from the other side.

“Caesar. Come.”

Another whine.

There was a heavy, tired sigh. She furrowed her brow as she stared out the window. What on Earth was he doing up so late?

As the shushing continued, she lifted her head just enough to glance at the doorway. “M’lord Amon?” her voice cracked.

“Sorry he woke you, Essie,” a warm voice responded from behind the door.

“He didn’t; I wasn’t sleepin’,” she crooned in unpleasant admittance. “Thank you for your concern, though.”

A substantial silence followed. “Are you alright, Essätha?” A deep shuddering breath. “… May I come in?”

Baffled, she replied softly, “… It’s unlocked.”

“That doesn’t sound safe,” he advised in a chiding voice, already turning the knob. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she’d left it unlocked out of childish longing. Like her heart, she hoped he’d find his way back in.

The door shut quietly behind him. As it did, she rolled over to face him. The inky darkness made him a few shades less defined than normal, but nothing her nightvision couldn’t identify with relative ease. He was fidgeting with his hands in a nervous fashion like he was unsure.

Caesar, meanwhile, was all too sure of his place. The mastiff padded over to the bedside, and judged the height for only a moment. His haunches lowered, he held his posture, and then the dog made a single bound up and on the end of the bed, where he circled once to flop down. They both laughed, and it eased the tension from the atmosphere.

“Lord Caeser wake you?” she inquired softly, her eyelids drifting as a yawn rose up out of nowhere.

Amon hesitated. Even stuck in a yawn, she noticed. “No,” he finally confessed, “I had gotten up to move around, hoping it would help me sleep.”

She nodded drowsily with understanding. His voice rocked her like a lullaby. Her eyes refused to open again as she openly admitted: “I haven’t slept. The bed’s too cold, and the room’s too quiet.”

Although she could not see it, the nobleman arched a brow and chuckled with amusement. “Next you’re going to tell me you miss my snoring.”

“I do,” she slurred.

His breath hitched. She waited for his response. A short span passed before she realized he wasn’t going to respond; little realizing just how speechless he was. Her next words came from a place of exhaustion, and has she known better, she may not have recited them so comfortably and confidently.

“You can lay and sleep with me. It might help you rest. It would certainly help me.”

“I…Essie…” his voice was husky and thick. He made a sound to clear to throat. “If- if you’re sure…”

She nodded sluggishly, patting the side of the bed beside her. “Join me.”

His boots were quiet against the floor. There was a brief intermission of quiet where all she could hear was the sound of lacing being pulled through leather, and the thump of shoes being sat aside. When he had finally removed him, the bed dipped and sank as the nobleman tentatively slid in on her right side.

Essätha reached for him blindly, with her eyes still shut and dragged down with fatigue. Her hands pawed at the fabric of his tunic and he froze, bewildered. They moved higher, trailing over his neck and felling the weight of him swallowing nervously. She was smiling by the time her fingers found his beard, and then his sideburns with gentle strokes. She could feel his grin in the shape of his rounded cheeks. He laughed deep and quiet.

Strange. She recognized him so perfectly by his features even sightless. Her thumbs traced against the side of his nose, followed the contour of his face, felt the tug of smile as fingertips ghosted against the edges of his lips. He was incredibly patient with her curiosity, but it was mystifying how much she knew him. The space between his eyes, the placement of his quirked lips, the texture of his skin, the way his forehead crinkled a bit when he was thinking deeply, as he was now.

He is beautiful.

“What are you doing?” he finally asked, amusement lining his voice.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all. I was just wondering what it is you’re looking for.”

Her hands had moved to his sturdy shoulders as he talked. “Nothing,” she breathed. “I was just wondering if I remembered…”

Her voice wavered. It finally struck her, how embarrassing her next words would be.

Amon however, was clearly invested. He sounded breathless with anticipation as he whispered: “Remembered what?”

She swallowed. “… What you felt like. If my memories were right, trying to conjure up the feeling of you sleeping next to me.”

“… You were having that much trouble, getting to sleep… because of me?”

She frowned, cracking her eyelids open a fraction to the worry in his tone.

“Because I missed you.”

He wore the most ethereal expression of untarnished tenderness as he met her tired gaze.

“I missed you,” he parroted back softly, reaching for her all the while.

Her thoughts felt muddled and hazy. More than just tiredness now.

“I don’t want to be alone, Amon.” Her voice was hoarse.

“I’m here, Essie,” he soothed, pulled her closer by the waist, as he moved closer too. “I’m here.”

Cuddling up into his arms, she wriggled and wormed around as he snorted. Her hair got in her face, then she jabbed him in the abdomen and he winced. She mumbled an apology while trying to coil herself around the nobleman. One limb here, another there, this appendage here until they were finally tangled up in a full-body hug.

Essätha hummed appreciatively. “I’m going to cuddle you all night and steal your body heat,” she concured. “It’s my only quality.”

Befuddled, Amon let out an amused chuckle. “You have many other impressive traits and characteristics.”

Curling until her body bowed into him, she muffled against his chest: “You’re just saying that because we’re together.”

He made a nasally, choking sound before answering in a voice that was shy: “I would say that even if we were not. I would tell anyone proudly how much of a compassionate, thoughtful, wise woman you are, whether they wanted to listen or not.”

She scoffed. “Advertise me later. Hold me, now.”

“It would be my pleasure, Essie.”

Content with her face buried against his chest, Essätha closed her eyes once more. She listened to the sound of his breathing. She listened to the beating of his heart, just beneath his ribcage. She succumbed to the feeling of his hands to her back, cradling her. She surrendered to him with a single, solitary shiver and allowed herself to be vulnerable.

She broke the word she thought she’d always honor. The one to herself, to never fall for someone.

But she was not the damsel in this story. She was his equal. He treated her like they were partners; equivalent, on the same scale. When she took a step forward, he, too, took another step forward to meet her part of the way.

Her soul itself seemed to let go of tension like this, bit by bit. A little more hurt and a little more weariness faded away into oblivion. She’d be okay. It was a safe place here. A homey place, for her to rest her head. She trusted him. He’d never let her down. He’d make sure she was safe.

And with a final tired sigh she drifted off, falling ever more into his arms.

#royal writes #essamon ship #Essie rw #amon illiad

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