def need more ditzy reader with mechanic 141- the only thing that tops my love for military men is blue collar boys <333
make sure to take care of yourself tho lovie!! don’t burn urself out :))
I for sure want to write more of her. Hopefully after this insane week at work I’ll be able to really sit down and crank out some writing. For now I’m battling my way through Ch 3 of Across the Way
But pls enjoy this little not proofread experimental snippet I wrote for ditzy reader
“Look.” Your landlord sighs loudly. Like you’re the one inconveniencing him. “I’ll send someone out.”
“That’s what you said two days ago! And three days before that!” You stomp your foot at no one just to get some of the anger out.
“I’ll get to it when I get to it.”
“Why can’t you-“ The line cuts before you can finish. The jerk hung up on you! What the hell!
You pout, plopping down into your desk chair and sighing. What are you supposed to do? You’re not allowed to call a handyman according to the lease and you don’t have a boyfriend right now. You can’t keep washing pans in the bathroom. It’s gross.
You huff.
“Alright?” Simon asks and you whirl in your chair. How does he walk so quietly?
“Yeah…” You pout harder under his steady gaze, slipping down further into the chair.
“You’re a terrible liar, luv.” His eyes crinkle in corners with a smile.
“Well…” You shrug, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. “My kitchen sink has been broken for a whole week and the landlord won’t do anything about it! I called and called and he just keeps saying he’ll send someone and then doesn’t!” Your voice pitches at the end, real annoyance bleeding through into the edges of your words. You fist your hands in your skirt.
“That’s all?” He raises an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you just ask one of us?”
You blink twice, staring up at him. Your face heats and you look away bashfully - not wanting to admit you didn’t think to ask for their help. Stupid. “I don’t want to be a bother…”
“I’ll come by after work.”
“You don’t have to-“
“I’ll be there.” He nods before marching back into the garage. You just blink after him as he goes.
True to his word, Simon shows up at your door with a massive tool box in hand. Really, he still can’t believe you live in such a shit complex. Price pays you well enough. The locks might as well be paper-mache. Simon lowers his mask before knocking. He trusts you with his face - hell you probably forget it every time you look away - but he also wants you to trust him too. For whatever reason.
You’re staring when you open the door. Big doe eyes looking up at him and blinking slowly. He wonders what goes on behind those blank eyes of yours - if it’s nothing at all or such a chaotic dialogue that you can’t process it enough to pay attention.
All or nothing.
“Gonna let me in, doll?” He asks. You startle, not realizing how intensely you zoned out.
“Oh! Yes!” You jump out of the way, letting him into your small studio apartment. Every time he thinks your shorts can’t get smaller he’s proven wrong.
Simon takes a look around, huffing at the net full of stuffies hanging on the wall. Everything about your home is soft - soft colors, soft fabrics. It smells like vanilla, just like you always do when you come into the shop. His eyes lock briefly on a well-loved sewing machine covered in stickers with a project still under the needle. You must have been working on it before he got here.
Did you mean to leave your bra hanging on the back of that chair right by the kitchen? Lacy and lilac. He’ll have to remember that for some other time. Maybe your birthday.
“Let’s ‘ave a look.” He sighs, knees popping as he crouches in front of the sink. It’s a fucking mess, that’s for sure. At least you figured out how to turn the water off.
“Pipe’s busted.” He says. “I can seal it but it’ll take a sec.”
“Okay.” You murmur.
Simon sighs as he turns onto his back to get a better look. He doesn’t miss the way you stare blatantly at his midsection as his shirt rides up. He might adjust some to expose just a bit more.
You really are the least subtle thing in the planet, aren’t you?
“Can you come hold the light f’me, luv?” He points to the toolbox.
“This one?” You ask, as if it isn’t the only flashlight in the box.
“Yeah.”
“Like this?”
“Yup.” At first he expects you to sit silently so he can concentrate, but he quickly realizes that was far too presumptuous.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Si?” You ask quietly.
He huffs. “No.”
“Oh.” You chew your lip. “You seem like the kind of guy that would.”
Simon has never heard a bigger misread in his damn life but he’ll take it as a compliment, he supposes. “Why do you ask?”
“Cause this is boyfriend work and you’re good at it.”
Simon tries to see your logic - he really does - but he just has no clue how those things are even remotely related. Sure, guys fix things for their girlfriends but calling it ‘boyfriend work’ when anybody with two cents could do it is a bit silly. More than, if he’s honest. He just grunts in response, at a total loss for how to respond.
Simon looks down at you. The way you kneel as your cleaving spills out of your tiny tank top - one of many you insist on wearing so often. He can give into temptation just a little bit, right? “Gonna need you to get closer, doll.”
“Oh!” You scoot forward until your knees brush his side. So ready to listen. Cute.
“Can you lean in a bit?”
“Like this?” You lean forward, chest pressing against him while your hand splays over his midsection for balance. Fucking hell.
“Perfect. Good girl.”
It’s bold and a bit uncoordinated even for him. Something Johnny would try. The purposeful choice of words seems to go right over your head. Instead you blush and smile, shifting your hips just a bit. Your chest pushes further into him. So soft.
Fuck.
You’ll be the death of him. Thank god you’re too unobservant to notice that he’s rock fucking hard.
He’s already done with the sink by the time of this little exchange, but he pretends to tighten some useless bolts anyway just to keep you against him a little longer before shooing you away. It’s cute, the way you scramble to get out of the way. Simon turns the water back on before standing, and gesturing toward the sink.
“Give it a try, luv.”
A little furrow forms in your brow as you step forward to turn it on, crouching and standing to make sure the leak has stopped. You turn the faucet off and whip your head around with a grin.
He’s pretty sure you burst an eardrum with the pitch of the squeal you let out, bouncing over and tightly wrapping your arms around his waist. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
“It’s no pro-“ he cuts off as you push up onto your tip toes and press a kiss to his cheek. He can’t help but bark out a laugh. Little minx.
“Oh, I got some lipstick-“ You reach up to smudge it off but he bats your hand away. He’ll wear it back to the garage and show off the kiss he got. Johnny’s going to absolutely fume.
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annabeth's childhood was bad. Everybody knows it they all know what happened they all know the found family that became her tragedy. They know. But do they really ? The jackson family and the chase family know that annabeth might have suffered more than they know. Annabeth has never spoken a word of those months between her first leaving home with nothing but a hammer and meeting luke and thalia with a now new dagger in hand. She stayed tight lipped about those months where she had nothing but herself and her mother's voice. It drives Percy crazy.
yeah it’s crazy to think that there is probably so much that we, and the people in her life, don’t know. i’m sure she’s told percy nearly everything behind the scenes, but i bet no one else knows the entire story. i can see thalia being the one to tell people, including percy, stories from her point of view and people just being heartbroken
i really hope rick dives into percy’s feelings on her childhood more in future books. even if it’s just a few comments. i want to know how he really feels.
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