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deen-djarin · 7 days

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Suds n’ Trunks

Summary: Joel ordered a car washing service…bikini car washing service.

Tags: 18+, No Outbreak!Joel, Cheeky Flirty!Reader, Porn with a sprinkle of plot, Daddy kink, Choking, Joel is a menace and so is reader, Oral (m & f receiving), Unprotected P-in-V, Consensual Creampie

—

The sun shone on the perfect suburban streets of Austin, Texas. So hot you could fry an egg if you wanted to. You rolled your windows down, driving down a neighborhood you’re not familiar with, and pulled up at the house that sits in the cul de sac, a dirty- no filthy ford pickup truck parked on its driveway.

This must be the place.

A sigh fell from your lips as you hopped off your car with your supplies in hand; a bucket, sponge, microfiber rag, and various soaps for different parts of the car. The heat was even worse after you’ve left the comfort of your air conditioned car, but the thought of being out of your clothes and soaked in suds and the cool water excites you.

Once you’ve discovered this lucrative market of bored, horny, lonely middle aged suburban guys— eager to see a show, and maybe get their car cleaned as well, you start to do this gig every summer. The money is good plus these guys tip generously.

Your service by its core is nothing but a mobile car wash, but the carwash is being done by you, clad in a skimpy bikini. c’mon, who wouldn’t want that right?

When you scored your first customer, you became a spectacle for the neighborhood. Your client shamelessly pulls out a lawn chair, having a grand ol’ time “enjoying the sun” as you wash their car. Neighbors walking out their houses mowing their already perfectly trimmed lawn, walking their dogs, cats, and some approached your client for a neighborly talk they probably haven’t had in months.

You’ve gotten the whole neighborhood out of their house basically, then your client list doubles with those people coming over to you and asking to do theirs next. Some cars don't even need washing, but you do them anyway with a smile knowing you’re gonna eat good that night.

Ever since then you decided to do this gig every summer, cheekily naming your little business “Suds ‘n Trunks”.

—

You ring the doorbell of the Miller’s residence and step back. You could hear a soft grumble from behind the door before it opened and reveal a scruffy, middle aged, handsome man. your eyes scans him quickly, his hair tousled, his shoulders broad, big arms, big hands, Jesus Christ you want to just-

“Can I help you?”

His gruff, deep, Texan drawl snaps you out of your trance and brings you back to reality.

“Uhm yes, Mr. Miller? you called for a car wash?” You asked him with a sweet voice you come to learn that older men love, it always works like a charm, making them tip you a fat wad of cash— these men just craved attention from a pretty girl, and you’re happy to give that to them.

“Oh..yeah you could uh, it's that one right there,” he motioned to the dirty pickup truck. You give him a smile and nodded, “okay, i’ll go on and get started then.” Joel nodded and shut the door immediately.

—

A red Ford bronco sat on his driveway, absolutely covered in filth. You usually don't deal with this much grime, dust, and mud. Granted, most cars you’ve washed barely need a wash, the clients just wanted to see you wet and covered in suds, which you couldn’t really blame them.

You took a breath and started to step out of your tanktop and shorts, revealing the red matching bikini you’re wearing underneath and started to go to work.

—

Joel was exhausted after doing several construction projects back to back yesterday, from dawn to the ungodly hours of the night resulting in his beloved truck — Shirley— looking like it had been dragged in the mud…literally.

Joel likes to take care of his things, Shirley is no exception. His free time on the weekends is often spent on his truck in the garage, polishing her to perfection. But after all the hard work he did, just the thought of washing her made his back groan in protest.

So he got the number of your services from his coworkers after they commented on the state of Shirley, a smirk planted on their faces and they kept snickering which Joel found odd, but he was too fed up and exhausted to think twice on booking your services.

Joel grunts as he settles on his couch, his cold bottle of beer in one hand, the tv remote on the other. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table, and turned on the TV.

It's finally his time for him to take his hard-earned relaxation time. which should be easy, but he could hear the annoying sputtering sound of his neighbor’s lawnmower.

That thing needs more oil. He thought to himself as he took a sip of his beer.

Then another sound of a lawnmower sounded from the other side of the house, even more annoying than the first.

What the fuck? Why are they all mowin’ the lawn at the same time? at this hour? he thought.

Then comes the obnoxious yapping of Mr. Thompson's french bulldog and chihuahua.

What the hell is goin’ on? it's a whole ruckus out there.

He groaned, frustrated that the whole neighborhood seems to be against his well deserved relaxing time. He grumbled as he strides towards his window, drawing up the blinds to see what the fuck is going on out there.

His eyes nearly bulged out, blush quickly crept up his neck to his cheeks, and his cock twitching in his pants instantly at the sight.

You, bend over in the hood of his car, wet, covered in suds, in a fucking bikini. He tried to look away, he really did, but the way your hips sways, your ass jiggled, as you scrubbed hard with the caked on mud on his truck— it was hypnotizing.

—

“What the hell are ya doin’?”

The sight of Joel's furrowed brow as he stared at you in your revealing outfit was a mix of disapproval and desire. Your sweet smile remained as you answered his question, "Mr. Miller! I'm just washing your car."

His gaze roamed over you, making you shiver with anticipation. "In that?" He grunted, clearly torn between his disgust and arousal. "Well, yes… It's part of my service."

The man stood silent for a moment, his confusion palpable. "Part of your service?"

"Uhm, yeah... It's a bikini car wash service… You didn't know?" you tilted your head, confused.

Joel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "How the hell was I supposed to know?"

"The name is Suds 'n' Trunks," you reminded him softly.

"I know what it's called!" he huffed, clearly frustrated.

Unsure of how to proceed, you hesitated. "So, uhm, you want me to just dress up and go or—"

"No, finish your job," he grumbled, still irritated. Your eyes trailed down to the growing tent in his jeans, confirming the source of his conflicting emotions.

You hid your smirk and purred, "Yes, sir," before returning to your task. The knowledge that you had such a potent effect on him only fueled your desire to please him.

—

Your back is even more curved now, ass sticking up more than they should as you washed the side of his truck, knowing Joel is looking– watching you like a hawk while he sits on the porch, a beer in his hand and a cigarette on the other. you turned your head over your shoulder just to give him a small smile, which he returned with his jaw clenching.

You bask under his gaze, your body tingling, giving him the best show you’ve ever given. you squatted as you started to clean the lower part of the truck, your ass jiggle with every hard scrub you give.

The tension between the two of you is palpable, leaving Joel frustrated, he knows damn well you’re taunting him. He’s torn between wanting to yell at you for acting so unprofessional and embarrassing him in front of the watchful eyes of his nosy neighbors— or fucking you against the truck for payback.

He sits there watching you, contemplating on what to do. You gave him another cheeky look over your shoulder and that was it, his last resolve snapped, fuck it.

—

“Careful with her,” he said lowly as he approached you.

You turned your head, batting your eyelashes, “Hm?”

“You’re goin’ too hard on her, just painted that part,” he murmured as he got closer, just right behind you.

“But the mud is really caked on this part,” you told him and went back to scrubbing.

“A-ah, hey,” he tutted and leaned down behind you, his large palms sitting atop of yours “Gentle…easy does it,” he murmured, his hot breath fanned against your ear.

You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan as you felt his hardness pressed against your thigh. Your hand following his movements, “There we go…there we go, good girl,” he murmured and you swore every part of your body shivered.

“This is gonna take longer to finish, sir,” you murmured, your voice a mere whisper as you turned your head to him.

“I know…but you’re gonna get a bigger reward out of it, how’s that sound hm?” he muttered to your ear before abruptly pulling away from you and sitting back on the porch.

your breath hitched, heartbeat skipping, and the heat between your legs grew hotter. You turned your head towards him to see him sitting back at his porch, his head nodded at you to continue your work, a small smirk curved his lips.

—

You’re halfway done with the truck when his neighbor starts to approach you, a middle aged guy you came to learn named Michael. He’s been clearly hitting on you, and trying to get a closer look on what you’re doing. which usually doesn’t bother you but you could practically feel Joel's watchful eyes boring into your back.

“So you do this for a living?” he asked as he stood a few feet away from you, “It's just a summer gig i do,” you replied with a small smile, keeping the response light.

"Sweet, it's nice seeing a young, beautiful, hard-working woman," he chuckled. Your jaw tensed for a moment before you forced a tight-lipped smile.

"Can you do my car next? It's pretty dirty too," he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. You felt a flush of annoyance, but your eyes met Joel's, who glared disapprovingly from his porch.

"Well, uh..." you hesitated, glancing back at Joel. He shook his head, a clear indication that he didn't want you to entertain Michael's advances. "Sorry, Michael. I'm booked for today... I gotta go somewhere after this."

Michael sighed, "Aw, just my luck," he lamented. "I'll ask Joel for your number, huh? I'll book you as soon as you're free." You chuckled, "Yeah, you go do that."

Michael made his way over to Joel, asking for your number. Joel nodded, but with a grunt, he gave Michael the wrong number. A smirk played on your lips as you returned to your work.

—

After what feels like forever you finally finished with the last drag of your microfiber rag. You let out a sigh and turned around to Joel sauntering his way. “All done Mr. Miller,” you purred.

He looked at his truck, all clean and shiny. A satisfied smirk graced his face, “you did a good job” he praised. “Good enough to get that reward?” you murmured with your head tilted innocently. Joel let out a small chuckle “Mmhm... come on inside and i’ll get it sorted for you, pretty girl.”

Your eyes gleamed with lust and you bit your lip in anticipation as he led you inside his house. The wind hits your wet body, the coolness leaves your nipples even harder, your body tingling with need.

By the time the two of you were inside, Joel’s body was taut, like a spring ready to burst. He couldn’t hold it in anymore, his large palms grab a hold of your wet body and pinned you against his door, you let out a surprised whimper at his sudden actions.

“Been a good girl for me huh? Takin’ care of my truck,” he murmured as he leaned down and his lips grazed your jaw to the skin under your ear. “Been naughty too haven’t you? Tauntin’ me with this sweet ass of yours,” he grabbed your ass and gave it a hard squeeze making you let out a small moan, he pulled you closer, his hard cock pressing against your wet bikini bottoms.

You couldn’t help but grind your hips against him, needy and desperate for friction, eliciting a small moan from you and a groan from him. “What do you have to say about that huh? Pretty girl?,” he muttered and nibbled on your earlobe, “I’m sorry sir” you panted softly.

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem to be that sorry,” he chuckled lowly, his voice gravely and his accent was thicker than before “Think I would have to punish you… you thought it was funny huh? Makin’ me hard as a rock with those fucking neighbors watchin’?” he growled to your ear and slapped your ass, you whimpered and jolted forwards.

“I’m sorry sir..please don't punish me,” you whined and bit your lip. “You’re sorry huh? Go on, pretty thing, show me how sorry you are,” he murmured. You didn't need to be told twice, you fell to your knees, eyes wide as you looked up to his face, hands deftly undoing his belt and jeans and pulling it down along with his boxers.

Your mouth salivated just from the sight of his cock springing free, thick, veiny, and throbbing, just how you thought it would be. He gave you a nod to tell you ‘go on’, you leaned down and darted your tongue out, tasting the heady taste of his precum. He groaned and tossed his head back, hand tangling in your hair and pulled you in, you hummed and finally wrapped your mouth around his girth with a small whimper. Your jaw straining to accommodate him, tongue moving with practiced ease as you sink down deeper, taking in more of him.

“Fuck yeah..good fuckin’ girl…thats it,” he muttered and started to guide your head the way he wanted, you thrive with his praises, taking in him as deep as you could. Gagging and sputtering here and there but you didn't stop at all in search of his approval and satisfaction, you didn’t want to stop. The room was filled with the sound of his grunts and heavy breaths, along with the obscene sounds from you and your muffled whimpers.

Joel nearly came when he saw you starting to snake your hand between your legs, “Naughty fuckin’ slut, touchin’ yourself huh?” he groaned and started to thrust into your mouth, holding your head in place. “You want me to take care of that? Hm?” he growled and you whined as an answer. Suddenly he abruptly pulled you away from his cock, “get on the fuckin’ couch,” he muttered, you scrambled off the floor and quickly gotten on the nearby couch, “on your hands and knees, sweetheart,” he commanded and you did as he said, bending over, facing the backrest of the couch.

He stood behind you and pushed you legs wider, your head craned over your shoulder to look at him with your needy expression, bottom lip between your teeth. He gripped your chin and he leaned down, finally crashing his lips to yours. He was rough, didn’t even hesitate on pushing his tongue into your mouth, tongue dominating yours, making you whine and push your hips back, desperate, begging for him.

His kiss left you panting as he pulled away, he trailed kisses down your back, biting on the knot that holds your bikini top together and pulling on it and letting it unravel, his hand started to grope your tits, playing, pinching, pulling on your sensitive nipples. “Mr. Miller,” you panted “please..”

“Use your word, Baby, what do you need?” he murmured to the crook of your neck. You whimpered and kept moving your hips, “anything- please- your finger, mouth- anything, i need you,” you rambled desperately. Joel chuckled darkly, his large fingers playing with the knots of your bikini bottoms, “needy little thing,” he murmured before pulling on the knots and unraveling the red wet fabric, making it fall to the couch.

Joel practically growled at the sight before him, you, bent over with your ass high in the air, naked, your pussy dripping and ready for him. “Look at you..” he murmured and leaned down, groping your ass and pushing it apart to reveal more of you. “Mmh..” he grumbles before leaning down and placing a broad lick on your cunt. “Oh- god- Mr- mmhngh! Mr. Miller” you whined and pushed your hips more to his face. Joel groaned and started to really eat you out, his large palms splayed on your ass, face completely buried in your drooling pussy. “It's Joel, sweetheart,” he chuckled as he pulled away from your cunt for a second, “I wanna hear ya moan my name.”

“Joel..” you breathed, getting used to the feel of his name on your lips. Joel started to flick his tongue rapidly on your clit, making your eyes roll back and moan out his name, “fuck- ahh! Joel!” He grunted in response, “yeah that’s it, moan my name…mmhhh good fuckin’ girl.”

You were falling apart already at the hands of his tongue, moving on your pussy with practiced ease. Joel relished the sounds of your moans, and the sweet and tangy taste of your cunt. He groaned and started to push his thick fingers to your entrance, “Joel! Ahnghh! F-fuck! mmhngh!!” you cried out, he grunted and pulled away from your pussy for a second, “That’s it baby, you’re gonna cum hm? Gonna be a good girl an cum on my face?” he muttered and curled his digits to hit that heavenly spot within you, you whined in response, barely able to come up with words but nodded with your eyes closed in pleasure. “Good girl, c’mon, come on my face” he panted and started double his efforts, his tongue flicking on your sensitive clit, slurping all your juices, whilst his fingers kept hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, you back arched and your eyes rolled back, you swore you saw stars. His name kept falling from your lips in between moans and whimpers which he responded with praises.

“good girl, that’s it”

“you’re so pretty when you cum for me”

“tastes so good baby, there you go..”

He peppered kisses across your shoulders and back as he waited for you to come down from your high. “joel..” you panted and kept pushing your hips back to grind against his throbbing cock, eliciting a groan from his lips, “yeah? you want my cock, pretty girl?” he muttered and rutted his hips against you, his cock sliding against your cunt. “yes- please joel- please-“ you let out a loud moan when he suddenly pushed his cock into your core.

“fuuuck” he groaned as he pushed himself in “fuck- shit, baby you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he panted and gripped your hips tight. “joel! oh- f-fuck hhngh!” you whimpered and gripped the back of the couch. Joel pulled back until his cock is almost fully slipped back, you whined at the loss of his stretch, then he slammed back in. “Fuck! Oh- f-fuuckk! Joeel!!” you cried out, “Yeah baby that’s it- shit- yeah take it baby, take it” he growled to your ear and wrapped your hair on his hand and yanked it back. Your head tilted back at the force and he crashed his lips to yours again, swalowing all your moans and whimpers as he fucked you with a relentless pace.

“J-joel” you warned between pants, “Yeah i know baby- fuck- yeah i can feel it,” he groaned and panted “c’mon baby give it to me, cum on my cock, c’mon” he murmured and went faster. The sound of his skin smacking against yours gets louder and louder, the couch groaned and creaked in protest. You could barely utter any coherent words at this point, just slurring his name and how good it feels between moans and pants.

Your back arched and trembles as you cry out his name like a prayer. Joel slowed down for a second, letting you ride out the orgasm, “there you go…hmm there you go” he muttered soothingly, his hips rocking deliberately, slowly. “You can take more, sweetheart?” he murmured to your ear, you couldn’t help but nod. ”Good girl,” he praised to your ear and kissed your jaw before his arm wrapped around your waist, the other around your chest and pulled you up until his chest pressed against your back. He resumed his hard relentless thrusts, his hand on your chest groping and playing with your hard nipples. you felt like floating at this point, just taking everything he gave you like a good girl.

“Who’s pussy is this?” He growled to your ear, you could barely talk just letting out sounds of pleasure, he spanked your ass hard and you gasped out a moan, “Yours! Hahngh! All yours!” you whined, Joel gripped your neck and pulled you closer to him “Who?” he demanded, you panted and choked out, “Yours daddy!” bingo.

He growled and bent you over again, his hand still tight on your neck, choking you just right. “Yeah that’s right, such a good girl for daddy,” he muttered and pounded into you. You kept choking out moans, calling him daddy over and over. He shifted his position, propping one leg on the couch to get a different angle, deeper, and it allowed him to reach that spot within you. “Oh my g- aahhngh!! daddy!! right there, oh fuck- fuck me right there!!” you cried out. He grunted and let out a dark chuckle, “there sweetheart?” he taunted as he thrusted extra hard aiming at that spot again. “yes!! yes- yes please- please i- daddy please” you rambled, begging for him, his cock has reduced you to nothing but desperate and needy. “well since you asked so nicely,” he said coyly before hitting that spot over and over again.

You felt you’re gonna shatter yet again in any second, a ticking time bomb set on your lower belly. “D-daddy i’m- hah- i’m-” you could barely finish your choked out sentence. “Yeah? Gonna cum again for daddy?” he panted to your ear, all you could do was nodded and give a whimper of confirmation. He chuckled darkly and his hand snaked down to rub your clit with fervor while his hips kept pounding to your ass, “Go on then, come for me, come for daddy,” he muttered to your ear.

Your vision blurred and you saw white. It feels like you’re barely conscious, your third orgasm hits you even harder than the last. You didn’t noticed whats happening until joel groaned, “Fuck yeah you’re squirtin’ on me baby- good girl- hhnngh good fuckin’ girl.” Your thighs trembled, wet with your release, red from his thrusts.

He finally let go of your neck and you gasped out for much needed air, his thrusts started to stutter. “Where do you want it?” he panted to your ear, “Inside, inside daddy, please,” you begged and started to move your hips to meet his. Joel couldn’t hold back any longer, 1, 2, 3 hard thrusts later and he came completely undone inside you. “Fuuuckk!! Fuck yeah- oh shit baby” he moaned, “fuck! makin’ me cum so much, pretty girl…oh yeah good fuckin’ girl,” he panted to your ear.

After his hips stilled, he pulled out of you, making you whine and clench around nothing, pushing his hot sticky seed out of you.

He chuckled and whispered to your ear, “look at you…all messy n’ dirty,” he cooed. “You cleaned my truck now it's time for me to clean you,” he murmured before peppering kisses down your spine yet again.

—

author’s note: THIS WAS MY FIRST FIC EVER AHSHSHEH so forgive me if its shitty or the grammar is horrible bc english is my 2nd language:3 ALSO i have never written smut before heheheh, your feedback is greatly appreciated!! thank you for reading this horny piece of literature!!

#joel miller #joel miller one shot #tlou #joel tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #suds n’ trunks #joel miller carwash fic #pedroverse #pedro pascal #joel miller tlou

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vardensuk · 4 months

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Fleet Cleaning Specialists Since 1993 - Vardens

Learn about Vardens’ journey to becoming the UK’s leading commercial fleet cleaning specialists. Regular washing removes dirt, grime, and salt, preventing paint damage and rust. Clean trucks impress clients and maintain functionality.

#truck washing #fleet maintenance #car care #vehicle cleaning #mobile car wash #Cleaning Experts #Fleet Solutions

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octuscle · 8 months

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Now open under new management (remake)

Edward Parker III rolled down the car window a crack. Peter, his driver, had switched off the air conditioning to save fuel. The fuel gauge was practically at 0.00. Here, in the middle of nowhere, they had no mobile network. The last Google message said that a petrol station would appear at some point. And Peter claimed that it should open in five minutes. Open from 10:40 am. Strange opening times. Edward's stomach grumbled. Something had gone wrong at breakfast. The car desperately needed a gas pump. And he needed a toilet just as badly. Then, like an oasis in the desert, a building appeared in the middle of endless cornfields and pastures full of stupidly staring cattle. It was 10:39:50 a.m. when Peter steered the car into the dusty gas station with the last drop of gas. At 10:40 sharp, Edward yanked open the car door and jumped out. And the moment his spotless Oxfords touched the ground, the neon sign flashed. Open!

Edward ran towards the little store where the neon sign was shining. He was far too intent on not wetting his pants to notice the leather soles of his shoes turning into a firm rubber tread. When he pushed the door handle down, he got something like an electric shock. He didn't care. The store was empty. His palm became calloused. His fingernails were black. There was a door at the back labeled "Private". Hopefully there was a toilet there. Thank God the door was open. And thank God there was a toilet. In the middle of a room full of tools, car tires and packages. It stank miserably. But Edward didn't care at all. He had already undone his belt while running, unzipped his trousers, pulled them down and dropped onto the dirty toilet seat at the last moment. And he had to shit like never before in his life. The stench was overwhelming. But the relief was immense. Edward finally relaxed again. But only for a second. Then his eyes fell on the dirty biker boots. They contained a pair of completely filthy jeans, pulled down as far as they would go. And what was even more irritating: his right hand was the hand of a construction worker, the sleeve of his shirt had disappeared. And the fabric of the right sleeve of his jacket was also coming undone. And on his chest and back, the color changed from a navy blue to a washed-out red. What the hell was going on here?

Even greater than the panic was the disgust at the stench. His left hand, still freshly manicured, reached for the toilet flush. And again he was hit by an electric shock. Panicked, he watched as his fingernails became dirty and his hand calloused. Edward's gaze fell between his legs. That wasn't his circumcised, shaved penis. That was a cheesy, hairy cock. Much bigger than it normally was. Edward had to get out of here! He hastily wiped his ass. A tight, hairy ass, sitting there on a familiar toilet seat. A man needs a good place to shit. Hehehe, this was a good place to shit. Stumbling, Edward stood up, his head spinning. He looked in the mirror. That was still his head. But the rest of him? His stiff white collar and tie knot vanished into thin air, revealing a well-toned chest. The last remnants of the finest navy blue wool on his upper left arm disappeared, and the transformation of his jacket into a washed-out and worn-out tank top was complete. I look like a fucking hillbilly, were his last thoughts before he grew a scruffy three-day fuzzy beard. His $100 haircut became a home-cut mullet. Damn, the greasy hair hadn't been washed in a while.

Loud honking from outside. "Damn, I've taken a shit! Can't you wait?" Edward shouted. He wiped his hands on the dirty cloth stuck in his pants. Washing hands was for sissies in the city. He entered the yard of his gas station.

Hehehe, he knew the dirty truck that was parked there at the gas pump. "Pete's services of all kinds" was written on the door. And Pete Jr. was hanging in the cab with a visible bulge. "Eddy, don't you always promise the best service at your gas station?" said Pete with a grin. Ed spat out the chewing tobacco and licked his lips. "Go ahead, gas station attendant. The belt buckle won't undo itself!"

Full service and guaranteed customer satisfaction. That's what Ed's gas station was famous for.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #male transformation #muscle transformation #redneck tf #age reduction #white to blue collar tf #ai image #mullet

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southernclean-pw · 11 months

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Mobile Truck Washing - Make your vehicle shine

Southern Clean is committed to providing high quality service, customer service excellence.We offer free estimates and appraisal for all prospective clientele located anywhere in the Kansas City https://southerncleanpw.com/about-us/

#Mobile Truck Washing MO

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madsmilfelsen · 3 months

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I think Rust is neat and all but what drew me in was his HANDS. Idk how to explain it, but something about the way he holds things and articulates makes me just. Stare at them. Like I just Know he has rough hands

alright babe, you want to talk about his hands, let’s talk about his hands via timeline

Obviously living in the bush of Alaska requires a lot of manual labor to survive, skin rubbing raw inside leather gloves, blisters from splitting wood, scars from his knife slipping on salmon (v real, I used to filet 500 salmon a summer and baby…. yew, my left hand has gotten nicked more than once— Travis and Rust had a fish camp on the Copper River, probably across the bridge from Chitna and a touch north, and lived way up river between Slana and Nabesna bc I’m making all this up right now and I said so) etc etc so his hands well worn before he got out, moved back to Texas and meets Claire snared by his weirdo allure and bizarre way of handling things— Sophia comes along and I bet he was washing his hands like a maniac, dry as fuck, probably worried his rough hands might make her fussy so held her with her little swaddling blankets at first (compensated with A LOT of skin to skin time but that’s a different ask), carefully petting her hair with just the tips of his fingers, down the bridge of her nose to make her go to sleep. Sophia loved his hands (like mother like daughter fr) could be occupied when he took her fishing by just letting her sit in his lap to play with his fingers, try on his wedding ring, ask why his nails are shorter than mommy’s or why they aren’t soft like mommy’s, map his calluses, trace the lines of his palms until he set a hook and watched him reel in dinner.

(Addition) hol up, hear me out— Sophia rooting around his bare chest and pacified with the curl of his knuckle, Sophia teething and gnawing on his fingers, Sophia learning to walk with her soft pudgy hands in his, Sophia squealing and giggling as he tickles her round lil tummy, Sophia’s only sitting still to get her hair brushed but only for daddy— Rust’s hands becoming the most abused part of his body after she’s gone

Crash era— this man does not give a shit about his hands, the most treatment they get is when he taped them together after breaking a finger, had a punching bag for obvious reasons and beat the shit out of it no gloves no tape constantly bruised. Not a stranger to working with mechanics (in Alaska, Travis would make sure he could keep his equipment running— boat engines, four wheeler oil changes, changing snow mobile tracks etc) and probably took his bike apart and put it back together just to make sure he could be Authentic, different calluses with new tools, divots in his skin lost to the unforgiving scraping bite of metal, hissing when he gets transmission fluid in his split knuckles

1995– habitual hand washing returns, dry as hell, his wrists probably crack and bleed in the winter (very very very rarely is annoyed enough to actual do something about it, probably had to bleed on one of his files— he’d use Johnson and Johnson baby lotion becuase that’s he only shit he knew, definitely drunk cried about it at least once, before sucking it up and swtiching to Vaseline), pull up bars give calluses at the base of the fingers/tops of the palms, just does calisthenics because who the fuck wants to buy equipment. Does all the upkeep on his truck (and thinking about it, this would be the first time he’d be like Alone alone in a long while, no handlers, no Iron Crusaders, no backstory upkeep, no dad, no wife, probably takes truck parts inside and cleans them on his kitchen counter because no one is there to say what the fuck are you doing— “we don’t mind being alone” okay Okay sure honey) Makes it worse by the talcum powder in his rubber gloves or licking his fingers to go through case files or staying too long in the dry archives where he can’t smoke so probably tapping his mouth, rubbing circles on his knuckles with his thumb or running it along his nails— don’t know what flavor of adhd that man has a strangle hold on but he can’t sit entirely still, fingers moving with the bits of his mind that aren’t occupied to keep himself from distraction, pretending he didn’t lose his patience with his fatherhood.

2002– Laurie :) home girl said that’s enough! Probably got recommendations from surgeons and plys him tins of hand salve, he doesn’t like the greasy feeling, but his girl is askin’ he won’t say no babey!

2012– full circle, back to them Alaskan fishing boat hands, type of hands that snag fabric (my husband isn’t a mechanic but does work with his hands and I can’t wear silk around him) and hair gets caught on, the man does not own a brush, finger combs his hair once a week and puts that shit in a hair tie, done with it.

#you didn’t ask for any of this but my first cup of coffee was really good #answered #rust cohle

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royaletruckservices · 2 years

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Truck Tyres Alignment Services In Sydney

Truck tyres alignment is very important to your truck's performance and safety. While driving your vehicle through the streets, your tyres and wheels take all the impact of the road. This causes the wheels or tyres to wear off over time. This makes your vehicle to drift towards one side of the road making it hard to drive. While you might be thinking of buying a wheel alignment service in Sydney, this might be a good time to let you know all about wheel alignment services.

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3 BENEFITS OF PROPER WHEEL ALIGNMENT

1. Truck wheel alignments ensure a smooth driving experience, helping you to stay in control of your vehicle at all times. Improperly aligned wheels can pull to one side or the other or cause excessive vibrations that make driving uncomfortable or difficult (and dangerous). Read more

#truck wash #truck repair #automobile #mobile truck tyres

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planetharrie · 1 year

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⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Jet Ski

In which Harry and you are interviewed on the streets of New York on how you first met 🦩🚤🌊

This is inspired by ‘meetcutesnyc’ videos on tiktok, although this turned out to be way longer and in depth than I’d planned.

⭐️

There was a cool breeze drafting the streets of New York City, but Harry's hand enveloping yours was enough to keep your entire body warm. You'd both decided that a morning walk through the highstreets was needed after waking up still full from last night's bottomless tacos and fancy drinks. (Well, and to also 'window-shop', as you'd described it.)

"Whew—fuck, I'm still full from that dinner.." Harry cringed as he threw a t-shirt over his head. You hum in reply, glancing at him in the reflection of the mirror you were using. "Fancy a walk? I feel like I'm carrying rocks in my stomach!"

You click the lid back onto your eyeliner wand and whirl your head around, your freshly-washed hair twirling with the suddenly movement. Harry catches the glimmer in your eye, "That to me sounds like an invitation for some window-shopping, babe."

With your cherry-cheek smooshed into Harry's upper arm, you both amble the streets of New York—Harry now $50 short because of a pair of new shoes.

"Y/n, you said we'd just window-shop." Harry winged, unimpressed with the cardboard shopping bag dangling in his right hand. You lift you head up off his arm and glance up at him with slight puppy eyes.

"I know. . . but—" Your argument was slowly cut short when you were approached by two young guys; one holding a mobile phone up, clearly recording.

"Hey, excuse me?" The guy—who wasn't recording—started, "are you two a couple?"

You and Harry slowly come to a halt and he let go of your hand, wrapping his arm around your waist protectively.

"Yes, we are!" Harry chirped, with a tinge of uncertainty in his reply. His ring-clad hand squeezed your waist slightly and you lean into him as the guy continues.

"Great! Would you mind telling us how you first met?" He gently signals to the phone camera and his eyes scan both of you.

You laugh nervously and glance up at Harry, who's cracked a shy smile. He shuffles on his feet and takes you both to the side of pavement, out of the way of other pedestrians.

"Oh—sure! We'd love to." Harry agrees. When he gives an encouraging nod, you look back at the two guys in front of you.

"We met on a lake—" You begin before both you and Harry burst into laughter. He rubs his eye all embarrassed, and nudges you to continue after you'd both sobered up from the fit of giggles.

"Sorry. We met on a lake; I had gone swimming with my friend and we took this inflatable flamingo with us. ." You make a swift glance up at Harry and catch him watching you proudly as you re-tell one of the best days of your lives.

"And Harry," You point you thumb at him, "had actually offered to help us blow-up the flamingo for us 'cause we were struggling!"

Another fit of giggles erupt but just from you this time and your hands cover your flushed face in embarrassment. Harry takes over and you can hear his smile as he talks.

"Oh, my God, Y/n! Do you have noodles for legs?" Your friend cried jokingly as you attempt to to blow-up your inflatable flamingo with a pump. Except, you were laughing too much to even push you leg down on the foot-pump.

You were nearly bent at the waist, hugging your stomach as tears of laughter form in your eyes. You couldn't stop the fits of giggles coming from you. "It—it's too—it's too fucking stiff!" Your sentence comes out broken in between laughs. You try the pump again, using all your leg-strength, managing one large pump of air into the crinkled, plastic flamingo's poor arse.

From a few yards away, a young guy wearing black sunglasses had been watching the two girls struggle for the past 10 minutes. Stood next to a parked black truck, he cracked his own smile when the two girls fell to the knees with uncontrollable laughter.

"Oi, mate. Fancy helping?" His friend grunted under a pile of water-sports equipment in his arms. "Harry, stop being a creep—"

Harry shot him a pointed look, his lips tied in an unimpressed line. He took off his sunglasses and placed them on his friend's head. "Hold these."

"Harry!—" The friend dropped the equipment at his feet with a defeated sigh as he watched his nosy friend walk up the two hysterical girls at the edge of the lake.

"Do you guys need any help with that?" Harry called orotundity as he approached you and your friend.

You quickly sobered up and awkwardly picked yourself up from the grass and tucked your hair behind your ears.

"Uh. . ." Your started, glancing between him and your friend who was still sat, leaning back on her hands. She shrugged and you spotted her concealing a smirk.

"I know these pumps are a pain. I can do it for you, if you'd like?" He insisted, talking with his hands.

"Sure. Thanks." You stand back, shyly covering your bikini-covered torso with your hands cupping your burnt shoulders.

You watch him. He takes off his green shirt and discards it as his feet. His calf muscles flex and tighten as his leg starts pumping. The flamingo finally starts to grow and form into something more than creased blob of plastic.

"He's trying too hard to impress us." Your friend whispers in your ear, her eyes never leaving the generous brunette. You shush her and she laughs breathily.

"Don't. He's sweet!"

He morphs into a squat, his boxers' waistband now on show, as he secures the lip of the air-hole.

"Think I've pumped enough air into 'em—"

"Her." Your friend interrupts him.

". . . her, sorry. I'm Harry, by the way." He blinks.

Harry. You've always liked that name.

"I’m Y/N—oh, and this is Y/f/N. Thank you for helping us." You smile.

"Not a problem. Be careful on the water, heard it can get uh.. quite blustery out there." Harry starts backing away, waving a hand up as a 'goodbye.'

You and your friend share a look; her lips crinkle-up in disgust whereas yours morph into a flattered smile.

"Hey, don't make that face. He was cute."

"He was cringe, Y/N."

"So that's how we first met. Ever."

"And then later on that same day he came and saved me with his fancy little jet ski." You finished, biting your bottom lip with a smile.

The interviewer nodded, "Okay, I need to hear the rest of this story! You say he saved you? What happened?"

Harry sighed and raised his brows, "I had warned her to be careful. She wasn't exactly sober when I met her a second time that day..."

You gently wack him with your hand and he grunts. "I'd had two beers!" You looked back at the camera-guy, "I wasn't drunk."

"She was."

You were about 150 meters out from shore, bobbing up and down ever-so-lightly on the pink flamingo; a half-finished can of Brewdog in your left hand, resting lazily on the ring. Your toes paddled in the murky waters keeping you cool despite the 27° heat practically penetrating into your skin.

With your head comfortably tilted back, you hadn't realised exactly how far you'd floated from you and your friend's little sunbathing spot on shore. Eventually, you tuned back to reality after daydreaming your way for many yards away from Y/f/N. No longer hearing Tove Lo blasting from your tiny travel speaker, you lift your head up along with your sunglasses. You scan the water.

"Oh, fuck. ." You palm your forehead. "Bloody hell."

You seethe a storm of cusses and sit up straighter. "Great. How on earth am I going to get back?"

You spotted the beer can in your hand and don't think twice to down it in one. You looked around. Then looked around again; and again for a third time, your tipsy-brain half-expecting for some magical sea animal to appear and push you back to shore.

But this is Windermere Lake in Cumbria. The only possible magical creature that could sail you back to shore was the element of wind, and for the first time in possibly forever, it was not a windy day in England.

You flinch at the distant buzzing noise ‘near’ your ear, flapping your hand to scare away the imaginary bumble bee. But in reality, a couple of jet skis were coasting the water, creating minor waves that bobbed you up and down.

“Oi! Hey!” You yell, speech slightly slurred as your rock on the floaty. “Stop making those fuckin’ waves!”

A guy on one of the two jet skis, casted a long glimpse over at you as his water-ride slowed. He yelled over his shoulder, making some remarks with one of his arms at his friend before steering over towards you.

You frown and swallow, sitting up a bit as this stranger approaches you. He’s shirtless and wearing a crimson life jacket.

‘He’s wearing flip flops..’ you think to yourself, spotting the green shoes on his feet.

“Y/N. Fancy seeing you again.” The guy jeers, a smirk tugging at his lips. He circles you, his eye never leaving yours.

“You know my name?” You cock an eyebrow at him, a small scowl of disgust at his cheekiness.

“Hmm. .” He hums. “That makes it sound like I’m some stalker-creep guy. Not pleased. I’m Harry. We met earlier?”

Earlier, earlier, earlier? You wrack your brains. The alcohol fuzzed your memory slightly but you do recall a particularly random interaction with a particularly random dude.

“Oh, right. Hi. . . again.” You feel you cheeks tie-dye into a colour resembling embarrassment.

He eventually stops circling you after a fifth time, which you’re internally thankful for as he’d started making you feel dizzy.

“Are you stuck out here?” He squints at the lake, realising you’re both dead centre of it. “I can help you get back, if you’d like?”

Your ego says NO. How embarrassing was it having to have the same guy to help you out twice in one day; a guy you just met! But your brain still had a ration of sense in it; you wanted to get back to Y/f/N and stand on solid ground.

“I hope you realise how much I want to say no right now, Harry.”

He laughs, lowering his head and shaking it. You kick a splash of water at him with a smug look.

“Come on, Trouble. Hop on and I’ll take you in.” He beckons you, shuffling on his seat to make more room for you on the back.

Trouble. Trouble? You can’t tell whether to laugh, cry, smile or take offence to that nickname.

“‘M not trouble..” You mumble as you attempt to clamber from the inflatable. “Do you always wear those silly vests?”

Harry smiled with mixed expressions of embarrassment, offence and amusement. He looks down at the life jacket.

“Don’t go insulting my life jacket while you’re out here on a ten-quid floaty. I’d rather look silly while having fun rather than. . look ‘cool’ and drown.” Was his reply, cheeky as usual. “Which would you rather?”

“At least I’d die and look good.”

“At least I won’t be dying. Now come on, take my hand.” His hand reaches out, clasping yours and ready to hoist you onto the back of the jet ski. You awkwardly balance on the inflatable, knees shaking as you prepare to leap onto the vehicle.

Instead, you launch yourself a metre underwater and Harry pulls you back up.

“Jesus Christ, are you alright?” His voice is low and grave as you resurface and gasp for a breath.

The water is numbingly cold and with desperation you pull yourself up. You cough, spluttering and spitting into the water bellow.

“Ergh. I think—I think I just swallowed something!” You reach a hand up to your mouth attempting to scrape whatever it was from your lips.

“I had a firm grip on you. Why on earth did you—well, I don’t even know what you did.” Harry’s body is twisted, facing you.

Your eyes dart up at him and he takes that as a sign to start driving.

“What about your float—”

“Just drive, Harry.”

“And then after that, we shared each other’s Tumblr usernames and it just went on from there. . .” You finish, your smile wide. “We were too cool for contact numbers, I think.”

“Wow! So what did you think of Harry when you first met?” The interviewer asked, clearly very amused by your story.

“I thought. . . I thought he was charming; very charming. I’ve always looked back and admired how confident he was to approach us but he wasn’t cocky a single bit.”

“And Harry? What were your first impressions of Y/N?”

Harry paused, “Fun. I got the impression that she was a very fun and bubbly person; ya know, those people you just always want to be around?”

“And were you right?”

“Absolutely. She is my person. And she’s so fuckin’ pretty so I couldn’t ask for more.” Harry leans down and drops of kiss in your hair.

“Alright, thank you guys! Have a great day.” The two guys held up a hand and walked away, leaving you and Harry to continue your New York stroll.

“I loved that.” You whisper up at him, his green eyes bright with love and adoration. You appreciated those two (obvious) TikTokers approaching you and asking about your love story.

“I love you.”

“I love you, H.”

⭐️

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles instagram #harry styles writing #soft harry #love on tour #harry styles imagine #harry styles prompts #harry styles social media #harry's house album #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #harry styles x yn #harry styles x reader

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