#emergency car mechanical services

[murrumbaautocareau]

Emergency Car Mechanical Services in Kallangur

There are a variety of car repair shops in Kallangur. Many offer a wide range of services, including Brake system inspection and Clutch repair. Some also offer mobile roadworthy certificates. These are very popular, as they allow you to get your car repaired without having to take time off work or family commitments.

A vehicle’s brake system is one of its most important safety components. During a brake inspection, the mechanic will check to see that the system is functioning properly. This will include checking the fluid levels, brake lines and hoses, and the master cylinder. The mechanic should also inspect the power boosters, vacuum hose, and combination valve for leaks or damage. To know more about Emergency Car Mechanical Services, visit the Murrumba Auto Care website or call (07)32854440.

Next, the mechanic should lower the car onto a lift and inspect the wheel bearings for excessive movement or hazards. He or she should also inspect the caliper assembly for leaking fluids and rusted caliper slides. After completing this analysis, the mechanic should remove the brake drums or discs to look for hard spots and cracks. He or she should also inspect the return springs for excessive wear.

A parking brake or emergency brake is also a crucial component of the vehicle’s braking system. This system is independent from the regular hydraulic brakes and works to prevent your car from rolling down a hill while parked.

Your clutch is an important part of your car. It connects the engine and transmission, and helps you shift gears smoothly whether you have a manual or automatic car. However, it can wear out over time. If you notice any issues with your clutch, it is important to visit a repair shop as soon as possible.

Clutch problems can be difficult to diagnose. A good way to prevent them is by following your maintenance schedule. A well-maintained clutch will last longer and keep you safe on the road. Sticking to your vehicle’s service schedule will also help you avoid costly repairs in the future. To find the best mechanics in your area, use online resources or ask friends for recommendations. Then, book a appointment with the most experienced technician.

If your car isn’t driving well or has problems with the clutch, you should get it checked out by a qualified mechanic. Getting a car repair in Kallangur can be expensive, but you can reduce the costs by shopping around for the best deal.

You can also hire a local mobile mechanic to repair your car. These are less expensive and can be very convenient. Many of them are available for a variety of tasks, including brake system inspections.

If you’re looking for a reliable auto mechanic in Kallangur, you can find one on Airtasker. The website offers a wide range of tasks and has an average rating of 4.8 stars. You can find a tasker with the right skills and expertise to perform any car service job. Check out the profiles of some of the most popular Taskers and choose one that fits your needs. You can even chat with a Tasker directly to learn more about their services and prices.

If you want to bring a vehicle into NSW from another state or country, you will need to have an authorised safety check carried out on the car. This process is called a pink slip or blue slip and is required to ensure that the vehicle meets the requirements for safe operation on NSW roads. If the vehicle fails, the inspection centre will issue a report with a list of repairs that need to be completed. You can then take the vehicle to a mechanic to have these repairs done.

The price of a pink slip or blue slip varies between different inspection centres – but Auto Hero can help you find an affordable service in your local area. Simply enter your registration number and location and a range of inspection centres will be contacted to provide quotes. You can then compare the prices to choose the best option. You don’t have to use the main dealer that carries out the e-Safety checks, either – many independent local repair centres can offer great value for money and still carry out the work to the same standard as the official garages. To know more about Emergency Car Mechanical Services, visit the Murrumba Auto Care website or call (07)32854440.

[mechanicnow]

Essential Car Battery Maintenance Tips to Extend Battery Life

Car battery service is essential for any automobile. From starting your car to charging your phones on the go, batteries provide the essential electricity your car needs to get going. Thus, it is crucial to know the importance of car key battery replacement and to know the essential car battery maintenance tips to extend the battery life. 

What Causes Your Car Battery Breakdown?  

Some external factors including hot and cold weather, battery conditions, and many other things can cause breakdown. Mechanic Now is a car battery breakdown service to improve battery life.  

Severe hot and cold temperatures: cold weather can cause chemical reactions that cause the electrical charge of the battery to occur slowly, causing frequent dead batteries on cold mornings. Also, the chemical reaction can speed up in extremely hot weather which accelerates corrosion and decreases battery life.   

Battery drains: after turning off the vehicle, something drawing power from the battery can drain it. It eventually requires emergency car battery service. Some examples include charging the mobile phone, leaving the interior light on, using the car’s electronics, etc. Some issues with the electrical system of your car can also cause battery drainage.  

Vibration: Inside damage of the battery from extreme vibrations tends to shorten its life. Its reasons could be longer drives on bumpy roads, large potholes, or driving too fast over a speed breaker. A car repair garage can help you with these problems. 

Corrosion: corroded items connected to the battery can affect its ability to charge. It can also damage the clamps connecting batteries to the car, affecting the electrical connection. Car battery service will let you change or repair the corroded parts.  

Age: car batteries will gradually reach the end of their life span, ranging from 3 to 5 years. This will decline its performance. Mechanic Now can help you with car battery replacement and car battery change service.  

Tips to Extend the Car Battery Life  

Here are some tips from the best car mechanic at Mechanic Now to extend the life of your car battery.   

Test the battery  

Keep your battery at a neutral temperature  

Ensure that the car battery is fastened tightly  

Use a battery maintainer  

Prevent corrosion and change corrosive parts of your car  

Turn off the lights  

Take longer drives at moderate speed  

Care for your car  

Call Mechanic Now frequently for better maintenance of your car battery.  

No matter how well you care for your car batteries, it is not possible to foresee when they will die. The battery is just a component of a smoothly running car, so you should make sure to maintain all the parts of the vehicle to extend battery life.  We at Mechanic Now have expertise in car battery service, car battery jumpstart service, car battery down service, car battery change service, car battery replacement service, and car key battery replacement. We provide a car battery service 24 hours for our valued customers to ensure their ease.

[semitruckmechanicfl]

Semi Truck Trailer Repair & Roadside Assistance FRK Mechanic Solutions LLC

At Semi Truck Trailer Repair & Roadside Assistance - FRK Mechanic Solutions LLC, we specialize in delivering exceptional semi truck trailer repair and roadside assistance services. Our skilled mechanics are dedicated to providing fast, reliable solutions to keep your truck on the road. We offer 24/7 roadside assistance to ensure you're never left stranded, handling everything from minor repairs to major overhauls. Trust our team for professional, high-quality service tailored to meet your needs and get you back on the road quickly and safely. Contact us today for all your semi truck maintenance and emergency repair needs.

Contact Info:

Semi Truck Trailer Repair & Roadside Assistance FRK Mechanic Solutions LLC

Address: 500 E Broward Blvd, Ste 1710, Fort Lauderdale, FL, USA 33394

Phone: +1 (954) 652-6146

Business Hours: 24/7

Follow On:

Facebook: Semi Truck Trailer Repair & Roadside Assistance FRK Mechanic Solutions LLC Pinterest: Semi Truck Trailer Repair & Roadside Twitter: Semi Truck Trailer Repair & Roadside

[automotivetaylored]

Don't Let Car Trouble Ruin Your Day - Call Taylored Automotive!

Car trouble got you down?  Don't let a breakdown ruin your day! Taylored Automotive offers fast, professional towing with a smile. We'll handle everything from minor mishaps to major accidents, so you can relax and focus on what matters most. Call at - 07 48050181

[uk-based-businesses]

How Can Car Servicing Shields Against Breakdowns?

Keeping cars in good shape helps prevent unexpected problems. Car servicing ensures regular maintenance. It includes checking parts like brakes, tires, and engines. Servicing detects issues early, stopping breakdowns. Regular check-ups keep cars safe and reliable. Mechanics fix problems before they worsen. These check-ups also include oil changes and filter replacements.  Servicing helps cars…

[aamobilemechanic]

MOBILE MECHANIC BATTERY REPAIR & REPLACEMENT SERVICE IN DALLAS,TEXAS

AA MOBILE MECHANIC BATTERY REPAIR & REPLACEMENT SERVICE

At AA Mobile Mechanic, we understand the frustration and inconvenience that a dead or malfunctioning battery can bring to your day. That's why we offer top-notch battery repair and replacement services to get you back on the road quickly and safely. Our team of skilled and certified technicians is dedicated to providing reliable and efficient solutions for all your battery-related issues.

Our Services Include:

Battery Diagnostics: We start by thoroughly assessing your vehicle’s battery to pinpoint the exact problem. Our advanced diagnostic tools help us identify whether your battery needs repair or replacement.

Battery Repair: In many cases, batteries can be restored to optimal performance with minor repairs. Our experts will perform the necessary maintenance to extend the life of your battery whenever possible.

Battery Replacement: If your battery is beyond repair or simply too old to function efficiently, we offer a wide range of high-quality replacement batteries to suit your vehicle’s specific requirements.

Professional Installation: Our technicians are experienced in safely installing batteries in all makes and models of vehicles. You can trust us to ensure that your new battery is securely installed and functioning correctly.

Emergency Services: We understand that battery issues can occur at the most inconvenient times. That’s why we offer 24/7 emergency battery services to assist you whenever you need it, day or night.

Why Choose AA Mobile Mechanic?

Convenience: We come to you! No need to tow your vehicle or wait in a garage. You may avoid hassle and time by choosing our mobile service.

Quality Assurance: We use only the highest-quality batteries and parts, ensuring long-lasting and reliable performance.

Competitive Pricing: Our services are affordable and transparent, with no hidden fees or surprises.

Expert Technicians: Our team is fully certified and experienced, guaranteeing top-notch service every time.

Don’t let a faulty battery disrupt your day. Contact AA Mobile Mechanic for fast and efficient battery repair and replacement services. We’re here to keep you moving!

Contact us today to schedule an appointment or for emergency assistance.

[frogchiro]

Sleazy Neighbor Graves who loves to service your car for you for not money, but the right to grope you

I was actually brainstorming about what should Sleazy!Graves be and now I finally got it thanks to you!!

cw: dub-con groping, Graves being a perv and a sleaze, while Reader doesn't outright reject him, it's still not very willing on her part :(

Graves as the sleazy owner of the dingy car mechanic shop. It's...way past it's years of glory, now shady and quite run down like the rest of this part of town but he's the only good mechanic in the area and actually knows what he's doing despite being an asshole 😭😭

With what little money you managed to save up, you bought a cheap car that would get you more safely to and from work or running errands around town, the only issue was its age and the horrid state it was in. You were so angry when the old thing started to make click clacking noises, you spend so much on it and now it does this??

So you drove to the nearest mechanic; Philip Graves was his name. You thought you'd be more accustomed to the bleak and dingy looking shop due to living here for the past few weeks and yet it still unnerved you, especially when the owner of the shop, Graves, emerged from the back and the moment his bright blue eyes landed on you the most eerie smirk appeared on his stubbled face :((

Would definitely call you things like 'sweetheart' or 'darlin' or even 'cutie' while referring to you on literally the first meeting as you tried to stutter out what was wrong with your car, his intense gaze fixated solely on you and not the car, the smirk never leaving his lips :((

Probably would offer you the 'deal of your life', telling you that if you'd be extra sweet to him (aka let him grope and squeeze here and there on those soft, broad hips) he'd give you a -70% discount on any repair of your car ever. You gawked at the bold and frankly very inappropriate offer, but did you really have any choice? With your meager earnings and all the extra costs of living you'll never have the chance to move out of here :(

Plus...maybe its the environment that changes you, maybe its your desperation or the fact that Graves is very handsome for someone his age and quite sweet in his own...questionable way or maybe everything at once but...as long as it's only touching and 'being sweet on him', maybe it wouldn't hurt that much?

[adverbally]

Stunned By the Whiplash

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “‘Where were you?’” | wc: 858 | rated: T | cw: car accident aftermath, hospital | tags: minor injuries, some discussion of death | title from “Spellbound” by AC/DC | follow up to I’m a Victim of a Bad Crash

———

When Steve wakes up in the emergency room at Hawkins Memorial, Eddie is nowhere to be found.

He blinks into awareness slowly, noting the empty chair at his bedside before he begins taking stock of how he feels. First and foremost, he is no longer upside down. Thank God. His chest still hurts, though he’s breathing easier. His neck is a little sore and his headache is almost gone. He’s in a curtained-off bed in the corner of the ER, so he must not be doing too badly.

Despite these positive signs, Eddie’s absence is glaring. He must have been successful in getting help, at least. Maybe he just hadn’t made it back to the car before emergency services, or maybe they wouldn’t let him ride in the ambulance. The part of Steve’s brain that tends to catastrophize wants to panic but it feels very far away. They must have given him some good medication.

It makes him sleepy, too, so he dozes for a few minutes before the grating noise of metal wakes him again.

Eddie looks exhausted as he pulls the curtain shut behind him with a wince at the sound of the rings scraping through the track. He has butterfly bandages over a couple of the deeper cuts on his forehead and cheek, but there are no other signs of injury. Steve is almost lightheaded with relief at the sight of him.

“Where were you?” Steve croaks.

Eddie jumps a little. When he realizes Steve is awake and talking to him, he looks instantly lighter, like the weight of worry has been lifted from him. “Payphones,” he explains. “Wayne’s shift finished a little while ago and I thought he would want to know why I wasn’t home.”

“Oh.” Just like that, it’s easy to relax back into the bed and forget what he was even worried about. Especially when Eddie comes to sit next to him and brushes his hair away from his forehead.

“How are you feeling?”

Steve shrugs. “Okay, I think? My chest still hurts when I breathe too deep.”

“If that’s your biggest complaint, I think we got off pretty easy.” Eddie leans back in his seat. The dark circles under his eyes are exaggerated by the harsh lights overhead.

Steve feels a stab of remorse for being the source of his fatigue. He reaches out, wiggling his fingers insistently until Eddie takes hold of his hand. “I’m sorry,” Steve tells him sincerely.

“It’s not like you did it on purpose,” Eddie chastises. “It was an accident, don’t apologize for that.” He presses a kiss to Steve’s knuckles.

“Still sorry I scared you.”

Eddie lets out a long sigh. “I’m just glad you’re okay. We were lucky that your lung didn’t collapse. Apparently that can happen with broken ribs? The doctor didn’t think you needed to be admitted, but she wanted to wait for you to wake up so they could make sure you don’t have brain damage.”

Steve raps his knuckles against the side of his head. “No more than usual.”

Eddie doesn’t laugh. His face is completely blank as he stares up at the ceiling tiles and fluorescent lights. “You know, I had to wait for them to get there? It felt like forever. I was trying to talk to you and you weren’t responding.” He bites his lip. “Then I stood there and watched them cut you out of your seat belt. You were, like, completely limp, no reaction at all, even when they bumped your ribs against the edge of the door.”

Understanding sinks like a stone in Steve’s stomach.

Eddie continues, “For about fifteen minutes, I was sure you were dead. I was already thinking about how to tell Robin and the kids, your parents…” He runs a hand over his face as he trails off with a shaky breath.

“Eddie, I’m so–”

“No, I’m not trying to make you feel bad, o-or, like, make it about me, I get the whole ‘dark humor as a coping mechanism’ thing. But I can’t joke about it yet.” When he looks back to Steve, his eyes are wet.

Steve squeezes his hand. “Okay, then. No jokes.” Like how Eddie doesn’t joke about the lights flickering or make fun of him for not using the pool in his backyard. It’s no sacrifice to make sure Eddie

“Thanks.” Eddie sniffs. “Now hit your call button so the doctor can check you out and we can get out of here.”

“In a sec.” Steve uses his grip on Eddie to pull them closer together until they meet in the middle and Steve can kiss him. It’s just a chaste press of lips, since they’re in public and neither of them is feeling up to anything more strenuous, but it lingers. Eddie’s other hand is on his jaw and they’re both okay. It settles something in Steve’s chest that has been uneasy since he woke up.

Steve pulls away when the strain on his ribs is too much to ignore. Eddie looks more relaxed already; he needed that moment, too. “Okay, I’m good now,” Steve announces.

“Okay.” Eddie’s smile is small but genuine.

———

Thanks to those of you who encouraged me to write this follow up to I’m a Victim of a Bad Crash!

@grtwdsmwhr @alwaysurvalentine @flustratedcas @shesnotthatserious @novacorpsrecruit

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

At Your Service

Summary: As a trainee mechanic, you apply for an apprenticeship at Stark Automotives on a whim. What you don't expect is for Tony Stark to reply personally with an offer to train you, and if that wasn't enough, a certain redhead also takes an interest in your sessions.

Word Count: 2303

Pairing: (Mentor/Mentee relationship for both) Natasha Romanoff & Reader; Tony Stark & Reader

Warning: None :)

A/N: Thanks for the response to my last fic, all the comments and reblogs kept me writing even with all my deadlines, and Mechanic!R was the clear winner of the last poll, so here you all go! Enjoy :)

»»————-　★　————-««

You rested centimetres from the cold floor with the sight of oil-covered gears, shafts, and pipes overtaking your vision as you rolled under the automotive.

"Does the axle cover come off?" you said after a short inspection.

"Yeah, those two hex screws, I'll get you the tool. You've worked out the issue?"

"It's meant to be 4-wheel drive and only the front wheels are moving; I'd guess a problem with the connector shaft meeting the rear axle."

"You'd guess or you'd know?"

"I can't know anything 'til the cover's off and I can see inside."

"Good answer," Tony replied. "Hand out."

As instructed, you stretched your arm until your fingers just about reached out from under the car chassis, where a tool handle was placed in your palm.

"One 5/8 hex screwdriver, that's the one you'll need."

"The screws are imperial?"

"'Course, kid, we're in America."

"Yeah, but you sell these cars globally; I just assumed-"

"Dear old dad set up factories all over the globe – allows for some regional differences in the schematics, then each production line just does its own thing. It's easiest for everyone."

You hummed your acceptance of his method, then started to undo the screws, until a light rock to the car paused you. The movement stopped, so you assumed it was just Tony leaning on the car and you moved to continue your work, until the hum of a motorbike -- the sound of which you'd previously ignored -- grew even louder. You jolted when the bike pulled into the garage, causing you to smack your head against the car's underbody and let out a low groan.

"Watch yourself, kid; are you alright under there?" Tony said from above. At your murmur that you were fine, he continued, "roll yourself out, there's someone for you to meet."

"Why's there someone under your car, Tony?" came a woman's voice -- the person to meet, you assumed -- "can't get under the car like the old days, hm?"

When you emerged, the bright light of the outside world temporarily blinded you; you could make out Tony's figure, and as your vision returned, you saw the newcomer's back was turned to you, so only an orange plait could be seen from under her bike helmet.

"Very funny," Tony scoffed, continuing the conversation before he pointed at you. The woman turned and you only just managed to stifle a gasp when you recognised her face. "This is an apprentice, wrote to me a couple months back asking to learn about Stark Automotives, so I've been training them since. Y/N, this is Nat. Nat, Y/N."

From the moment Tony suggested training you here, in the garage of the Avengers Compound, you knew there would be a chance of running into the rest of the team you'd spent your childhood idolising. But truthfully, you were too starstruck that Tony Stark himself had offered to train you to truly believe that moment of meeting the other Avengers would ever come.

Now here you were, facing the Natasha Romanoff, looking effortlessly cool with her white vest, jeans, and leather biker jacket...while you laid on the floor in a Stark branded boiler suit and a definite grease mark where you’d hit your head. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment when you realised that the Black Widow's first perception of you was seeing you smack into an object directly in front of your face. You only hoped the blush didn't show when you finally met her eyes.

"Good to meet you," she said cooly, holding her hand out, but her eyes tracked up and down as if sizing you up.

You took her hand instantly, about to ramble through an introduction before a slight gasp from her shook you back to attention. Your eyes snapped down to where your hands met, and you realised then that you still wore your gloves, coated with oil from working on the vehicle, and now you've smeared it all over her uncovered hand. You instantly broke away -- apologising profusely -- and grabbed sheet after sheet of blue paper roll, offering it to her to help clean her hand.

"I'm so sorry," you repeated again, but she shook her head and smiled at you.

"I've had much worse meetings. I'll happily take a little bit of grease over being shot at."

"Woah-"

"Hey, kid," Tony began. Both your head and Natasha's snap in his direction; you'd honestly forgotten he was still there. "Not to interrupt, but have you ever worked on a motorbike? I made a few modifications to Nat's, and now that she's so kindly brought it to us I can show you how they work."

"Do not lay a finger on my bike, Stark," Natasha growled in a tone that reassured you that if she had actually been angry at the grease before, you would have known.

"I won't," Tony scoffed with a roll of his eyes, "...Y/N will."

You gulped, eyes darting between the two Avengers as you were drawn into the fold. "Me? Tony I'm not sure that's-"

"It's essential learning. We don't just make fancy cars so you have to learn it all. Nat, you wouldn't deprive Y/N of this learning, would you?"

Natasha groaned, but eventually relented, crossing her arms and perching on the counter by the wall. "Okay, but I'm not leaving you alone with it. And Y/N?"

You looked up, fear probably showing on your face. Natasha smiled in return, and allowed you to see a glint of mischief in her eye, "give me a running commentary of what you do. I trust your honesty more than Stark's." She smirked at the last part, rolling her eyes as she pointed to Tony behind his back, an action for you and you alone to see. Something about it put you at ease, so you nodded, smiled back, then got to work, spending the rest of the session under the assassin's watchful eye.

»»————-　★　————-««

You watched the phone in your hand, hoping and waiting for those three little dots. Tony Stark was not a man famously known for his punctuality, but he’d been early to every lesson so far and now, ten minutes after you were due to meet, you’re starting to worry.

The worry wasn’t the lesson being cancelled so much as the worry that one of the other Avengers would walk in and accuse you of trespassing – there were still so many residents you hadn’t met, and without Tony present, you were just a stranger loitering unaccompanied in the Avengers’ garage, surely that looked suspicious. No matter the fact that you were supposed to be there and had gained authorised access with your security card, your anxieties continued to grow and grow.

Your heart rate sped up proportionately to the increasing rumble of an approaching bike. The seconds seemed to elongate when you knew there was no escape to being caught there alone. In the remaining time you had, you pulled your phone back out and, with shaking fingers, messaged Tony one more time – at least then you had proof, you kept your eyes on the device even as you felt the newcomer pull in and dismount from their motorbike.

“Let me guess, Tony didn’t tell you he’s away?” Your head snapped up at the familiar voice, face breaking into a grin as red hair broke free from under the helmet. Natasha had been showing up more and more frequently to your sessions, so her arrival was no surprise, but you were glad to have a friendly figure to justify your presence, lest anyone else appear. Natasha set her headgear to the side and hopped up onto the counter, following her usual routine; you watched her intently until you realised she was watching you too, still waiting for an answer.

"Oh, uh, yeah, no, he didn't- he didn't tell me. He's not coming?"

“He got called on a mission last night. Should be back in a few days, if all goes to plan, but I’ll have a word with him about keeping you informed.”

Her undivided attention unnerved you – Tony had always acted as a buffer before – so you fidgeted, avoided eye contact, and wondered what your next move should be. Thankfully, Natasha answered that last question for you: “It wouldn’t be right to send you home so soon,” she said, “And I am officially a Stark Industries employee still, you know, if you wanted…”

“Yes!” you exclaimed instantly, speaking before you thought. “I mean, yeah, if it’s no trouble. That would be awesome.”

“We both know I’d sit here and watch anyway.” She spoke softly and with a smile that you found yourself drawn to replicate, feeling more at ease in the spy’s presence. “Now then, I know about a lot of things but mechanics is an area where you might already have me beat, so how about something else?”

“Like what?”

“What do you want to know?” she shrugged, “Russian? Latin? Artillery? Archery? Wrestling? Weightlifting?” At your dumbstruck expression, Natasha smiled and realised she would have to make the choice for you, “how about the gym? You can impress Tony with your strength next time he makes you use that scissor jack.”

Your cheeks burn at the memory – neither Natasha nor Tony had said anything at the time, but both of them had needed to jump in and assist when you’d been unable to turn the jack enough for it to actually lift the car and fulfil its purpose. From Natasha’s warm smile, you could tell she still wasn’t mocking you for the incident, but you still nodded quickly and murmured agreement with her plan, before following her through the Compound towards the gym.

“Can I ask why you’re a Stark Industries employee?” you asked on the elevator, as a way to fill the silence and out of curiosity from her earlier words.

She laughed, “It was back in ‘09, we had to get intel on the newly revealed Iron Man, and the man behind the suit-”

“Tony-”

“Exactly. So, S.H.I.E.L.D. made some edits to the employee list, added my cover there, and I successfully infiltrated the company for as long as I needed. I only officially revealed myself at the 2010 Stark Expo – do you remember that? – and in all the chaos afterwards, they never officially took me off it.”

“I think I remember seeing it on TV – you were there?”

“I left before the explosions started, but I was around, trying to make sure as few people were in harm’s way as possible-” Natasha cut herself off as the two of you entered a space larger than any lecture hall, fitted with all sorts of workout machines – the majority of which you’d never seen in your life. “Here we are.”

“You use…all of this?”

She nodded, then paused, before pointing to a section in the corner where the machine structures and weights seem almost treble that of the current area. “That section’s for Steve, or Thor if he ever bothered to train. Us regular humans wouldn't move it an inch if we tried to use those machines.”

Natasha smirked and shook her head again, guiding you towards one of the regular machines: a chest pad adjusted to press against your front as you sat on the stool, while Natasha adjusted the weight and pulled the two handles back for you to grab them. With the position set, you looked up to her for advice,

“Pull the handles towards your chest and push them back to neutral, it'll work out your upper arms. That's where a mechanic will need strength the most, so aim for 10 repeats.”

Natasha watched carefully, adjusting your posture where needed, until you completed the set. You broke into a grin at the realisation that you'd managed it, one which Natasha happily replicated as she held her hands up for a high fives. “You'll be a pro in no time,” she promised, “ready to increase the load?”

The rest of the session continued in much the same manner – Natasha introduced you to different bits of equipment and perfected your form until your phone buzzed with a routine alert to mark the end of a session. 

Natasha accompanied you to the door, smiling, receiving, and occasionally rebuking the many thanks you bombarded her with for stepping up. “It was truly my pleasure,” she said at last, “I'll make sure Tony is back next week, but if you want to do this again, you have my number.”

She squeezed your shoulder, turned, and began to walk back inside – all before you came to the realisation: “I don't actually have your number!” you shouted after her. Natasha didn't respond, but when you checked your phone only seconds later, a message had appeared in your notifications.

‘Yes you do :) 

-N’

She really was some spy.

»»————-　★　————-««

Everything changed from then on: you walked in to Tony and Natasha arguing a week later, their sudden pause at your presence a very good indicator that they were discussing you, something they confirmed only moments later.

Next thing you knew, both Tony and Natasha had taken you on as their mentee, a session with each of them once a week, and neither of them wanted you to leave. Your apprenticeship was extended into the next academic year, where you moved even closer to the Avengers Compound to visit them more often, the two Avengers – not to mention the others they'd introduced you to – always making sure you were well cared for whenever you visited. Eventually, Tony even offered you a full-time job post-graduation as the Avengers' official mechanic, and who were you to refuse? You loved the work just as you loved spending time with your mentors, so you could think of no better job in the world.

»»————-　★　————-««

taglist: @canvascoloredin @fxckmiup @wizardofstories

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 4

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost

Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: Longer chapter! Hope you'll enjoy it. anyway, if anyone knows who the artist of this art below is, please let me know. I find it all on Pinterest and I can't seem to trace the artist 🥲.

The steady, bubbling stream of cold tap water hitting Simon's warm, weary, grimy hands as he washed them was a respite from the busyness of the day. 

He was, by profession, a car mechanic in the servicing department for a glitzy car brand. The day was booked to the brim with cars that needed maintenance and repair from accidents, and it was enough work for him to feel a dull ache in his shoulders, and a tremble in his hands as he lathered them generously with soap. 

A weary sigh tried to escape his lips, only to be hindered by the mask he wore day in and day out. He felt his own warm breath against his mouth and cringed; an unwelcome feeling after working in the sweltering garage. 

When he found that he was all alone in the loo, he took the opportunity to take off his mask, actually and properly sigh, and wash his face. He quickly wiped it down with a handkerchief, and not allowing a moment for his skin to breathe, he put the mask back on. 

A phone call came in as he was stepping out. It was her. He found it a little odd to get a call from her, as the two mostly texted. 

“Maybe it's something urgent,” thought Simon, now stopping by the door of the restroom. 

“Hey, you alright, love?” he asked as soon as he picked up. 

“I'm fine, Simon, but I kinda have an emergency.” Her voice came from the other end, sounding a little frantic, making him worry a little. 

“What's up?” 

“My car broke down, and I don't know what it is. I have the bonnet open and everything looks so confusing.��

“Where are you now?” 

She told him. 

“Okay, you wait there. I'll be there in,” he looked at his watch, “twenty minutes… Or as fast as I can.”

“Thanks, Simon,” she exhaled her relief. 

“Are you with someone?” 

“No, I'm alone.” 

Simon's jaw tightened. “Make sure you sit inside the car and lock the doors. It's getting dark and it could get dangerous.”

“Got it.” 

The call soon ended and Simon quickly changed out of his uniform to his normal clothes which consisted of a v-neck t-shirt, jeans, and his staple: the leather jacket. Having taken all his stuff, he clocked out and immediately mounted his motorcycle to fly over to your rescue. 

Seeing that the sun had set already, he went faster. He reached her in fifteen minutes. Upon spotting her car parked by the side of the road away from the traffic, he slowed down and parked his motorcycle in front of her car. 

He saw the bonnet of the car slightly open, and was upset by it. “She's practically advertising to the world that her car's broken down. That could get more attention drawn to her,” he thought as he kicked out the stand and swung his leg over the motorcycle, now laying a heavy step on the asphalt. 

The stench of rotten eggs filled the air, and he already knew what the problem was. While he took off his helmet, he watched as she quickly opened your door and came out of the car to greet him. 

“Oh good, you're finally here,” she smiled, looking relieved. 

“Tell me what's going on,” Simon got down to business immediately, now taking off his black leather gloves that had printed on them the bones of the hand and stuffing them in his pocket. 

She led him to the open bonnet of the car, and the stench overwhelmed his nose even through the mask. She told him about a sputtering engine. 

“Did you see any dashboard signs telling you to check the engine?” he asked. 

“Nope.” 

“Can you sit inside and turn on the radio for me? And turn on the headlights too,” Simon instructed. 

She did as told. The radio didn't turn on, and the headlights were dim. He turned to the open bonnet and stared particularly at the battery. One of the connectors and pipes was caked with a teal powder; he called her out of the car, pointing out the discovery. 

“Your battery is leaking out acid, bringing out all this bloody minging smell,” he said, brushing a bit of the teal powder with his finger. “Leaking battery and a stench means you have to get a new battery.” He now rubbed the powder off and put his hands on his hips, asking, “When was the last time you had the battery changed?” 

“Six years ago? When I bought the car.”

Simon was appalled by how nonchalantly she said it. He shook his head and exclaimed, “Six years? You cannot be serious.” he could feel his mechanic heart breaking at the sound of such neglect. “Your battery is ancient. The maximum life of this thing is six years.” 

She could feel the heat rush to her cheeks in embarrassment as he said this. “I didn't know that. I'm not good with cars, you know. I just rolled with whatever the mechanics in the service center did.”

“Fucking hell,” Simon sighed, exasperated as he looked at the battery again. “Looks like the service center mechanics weren't doing a very good job,” he shook his head again. “Batteries dying of old age are common, but this looks absolutely nasty. Almost looks like it's been neglected. You've been duped!” He said with passion. 

Her eyebrows furrowed at this and funnily enough, she couldn't help but feel like she was on an episode of Kitchen Nightmares with a blond Englishman scolding her; the only difference being that a failing car was involved and not a failing kitchen. 

He glanced at her, and saw that she had her arms crossed as she looked at the open bonnet of the car with a guilty and helpless look on her face. Simon's eyes softened with compassion and he gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. 

“I'll call someone to tow the car to a better service center. I know a good one,” he said, hoping to assure her, “If we can get there now, they can fix in a new battery for you.”

Without waiting for an answer from her, he immediately called a towing company for the car, and then the service center to give them a heads up that he was bringing a car in. He even managed to bag a discount! 

She watched with amazement as he made all these phone calls, words flying out like a hurricane as he paced about the pavement, hand on his hip. The more passionate he seemed about wanting to help, the more the guilt and embarrassment pressed in her heart. 

When all the phone calls were done, he let out a heavy sigh as he slipped the device back in his jeans. “Right then,” he said, “I've got you all covered. Now we wait.”

She nodded and watched him curiously for a moment before asking, “You know all those people?” 

“Yeah, all friends of mine. I'm a regular at the service center for my motorcycle. As for the towing company, the boss is a friend of a friend.” 

“Must be great to have a lot of connections, huh?” 

Simon nodded. “I've always tried to have as many connections as possible because someone once told me that it's not about what you know, but who you know.” 

She saw a solemn, distant, and thoughtful look pass through his eyes for a split second, as if thinking of a past memory. It was quickly replaced with annoyance. “It's too fucking hot here,” he hissed as he peeled off his leather jacket. 

This action gave her the opportunity to see him in a short sleeved shirt, which displayed his pale yet muscular arms, which clearly were built strong out of continuous use and not for a mere decoration. The entirety of his left arm was inked with intricate black tattoos, all the designs of skulls, roses, and guns fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle. It was understatement to say that she felt her ovaries explode at the sight. 

Simon was intentional when he took off his jacket, although it was true that he did feel hot. A glance at her told him that she didn't seem to take notice of his muscles or his tattoos, a disappointment to him. But he wasn't keen enough to catch her quick, stealthy glances at his arms as her thoughts ran wild again in trying to be superfluous in her descriptions of them.

She couldn't help but think to herself that, “He'd make the perfect mysterious male lead of a dark romance.”

The tow truck arrived and before she knew it, she was Simon's passenger on his motorcycle, entrusted with his leather jacket. The two led the truck to the service center, and all the while, she was pressed against his warm back, highly conscious of the fact that the barrier between his back and her face was just a thin t-shirt and not a thick leather jacket like the first.

Her authorly brain couldn't help but turn this into a sort of metaphor. Was it a thinning of the barriers between him and her, now that they've been friends for over a month? 

“Let's not overanalyze this, shall we?” she reminded herself, gently squeezing her arms around him as he sped down the roads, trying to ignore how she could feel the contours of his body under the thin fabric. 

Fixing the car took a couple tedious hours, but Simon made sure to be with his friend throughout, explaining to her in excruciating detail whatever he could about the functioning of a car so that she would not be duped again. She appreciated his lectures and listened attentively, even though he wasn't the best at explaining things. 

At the end of it all, the two sat down in her newly fixed car for some cold soda that she bought for him. The air conditioning was running well (Simon was relieved), and so was the radio, which was now tuned to a station softly playing some old timey American songs in the background. 

“You were a great help,” she said as she cracked open the tab of the can as Simon did. 

“My pleasure, love,” he raised his can and tapped it gently with her can. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers,” she grinned, and then paused to look at him, wondering if he would remove his mask, as he had never done so in front of her before. 

Simon found himself in a bit of a predicament as he stared at his can of soda. He was usually more mindful of his mask when he was with strangers and acquaintances, but with the fuss of the car and all his chatting with her, he completely forgot that drinking soda would have to make him take off the mask. 

Would he remove his mask when he didn't yet want to, even though he wanted to share this drink with her? He glanced back at her and found her silently drinking her soda and staring ahead, pretending not to notice his mental debate. 

Gaz's reprimand came to mind again, “You're telling me you'll let a scar– a scar, of all things, hinder your chances at finding a girlfriend.”

He wasn't wrong. Now that Simon thought of it, the sooner he showed his marred face to her, the lesser it would hurt if she rejected him. 

“Don't overthink it,” he told himself as he slipped his finger under the ear loop of his mask and pulled it over his ear, making the mask slip off to reveal the lower part of his face. He sat back, casually as he could, and took off the other ear loop so wouldn't awkwardly dangle from his other ear, all the while trying to ignore how naked he felt without the covering. 

“Soda's pretty good, isn't it?” she asked, turning to look at him. 

“Hm, yes,” he answered in a murmur, now taking the first sip of his soda and pulling away the can for her to finally look at his face. 

He saw her looking, and his heart rate spiked and cheeks flushed (thank heavens it was dark), waiting for a reaction from her.

She finally had the privilege of seeing his face, and in a split second, she tried to make the most of it. His face as a whole was beautiful, pleasing to the eye. He had a rectangular face, high and prominent cheekbones; a long, sharp nose, thin lips, and a light stubble across his jaw and cheeks. 

He squirmed slightly in his seat and looked away, taking another sip. Seeing that he was uncomfortable being looked at, she too looked away, now feeling shy that she was in the presence of such a gorgeous man. Why on earth did he cover his face was a mystery to her. 

She began, her voice unwittingly rising to a higher pitch, “Seriously though, I don't know how I went years without having anyone to consult me about cars.” 

Simon blinked in surprise that she didn't make any comments on his face after looking at him, and wasn't sure whether to consider it a good thing or a bad thing. He decided to worry about it later. 

“Not a single person?” he asked, instinctively and slightly leaning towards her as she spoke.

“Not one.”

“And did you never notice any problems with the car before we took it to be fixed today?”

“I did, and I wheeled the car off to the service center many times only to be shut down saying that it wasn't a big deal and it would resolve itself,” she shrugged. 

“They said that? Fucking twats they all are,” said he with a low grumble. 

“Unfortunately,” she shrugged again, watching how his lips curled upwards into a sneer of displeasure and how his nose crinkled along with it. 

“Tell you what, darling,” Simon shifted in his seat slightly and held out his can-holding hand at her, flicking out his pointer finger to make a point, “you don't need to worry about those bastards when you got me, yeah? If you got any car problems, I'll fix them for you.”

He saw her eyes soften at this proposal, but she glanced away for a moment, as if considering it with some hesitation. He knew her just enough to know that she had trouble accepting help when she needed it. Without waiting for an answer, he pressed gently to encourage her,

“You know I'm a car mechanic, and a fucking good one too.” He sat back in the seat, now drowning the last of his soda. “You won't have to call anyone else when you have me. Just hit me up, and I'll be there…” he paused to meet her eye, hoping to let her know he was completely serious, “... Just like tonight.” 

This didn't fail to cause a flutter in her chest. She smiled, genuinely warmed and touched by how eager he was to help. “Thanks, Simon.”

His cheeks raised up to his eyes as he smiled, and the lady was taken in by how sweet it was. Their eyes met again, and the two felt an undeniable tension in the air; sparks flying around them, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. 

The soft yellow headlights of a passing vehicle shone into the car, momentarily brightening up his pale face and his deep brown eyes into soft pools of honey. The light, for a brief moment, also revealed a prominent scar on his cheek, something that the earlier darkness hid from her sight. 

Yet again did her authorly brain try to turn this moment into a metaphor. Was this gentle flash of passing light meant to shine upon a part of him behind his dark veil, his mask of mystery, to reveal bright, affectionate eyes, and a curious yet faint scar? Could this have been a sign of their ever growing closeness?

As the light passed, his honey eyes darkened again; they narrowed slightly and he leaned forward just a little, his breathing laboured, as if he wanted to say something. The lady squirmed in her seat and felt her chest tighten as she silently watched him, unable to look away. 

“I was wondering…” he began, now pausing to inhale, “if we could hang out any time soon, just both of us,” he said, trying to sound as casual as he could, and he quickly added, “I'm about to finish your novel, Firefly Trails, and I was hoping we could talk more about it…” he paused, feeling his entire body grow warm with nervous anticipation, “And maybe you could suggest some more books I could read.” 

Her eyes lit up at this invitation. “Sure! I'd love to. When are you free?”

“I'm free this weekend.” 

“Alright, that sounds good.” she grinned.

Simon was relieved to hear the eagerness in her voice, and took it that she still wanted something to do with him. The two went on to decide the particulars of the hangout for a while, until a phone call interrupted. Simon pulled out his phone and sighed when he saw who was calling. 

“What do you want, Johnny?” 

“Where are ye? Ye were s'posed to be at the gym thirty minutes ago. I'm waiting!” complained Johnny. 

“Ah, blimey,” Simon shook his head, “Completely forgot. ____ had some car trouble so I went to help her out.”

Simon was met with teasing jeers from his friend, making him groan. “Wheesht!” Simon hissed, only for it to make Johnny cackle. “Look, I'll be right there. Give me…” he looked at his watch, “Fifteen minutes.” 

“Make it quick lad, or you'll get a bollocking from me.” 

“Fuck off now. You'll delay me.” 

The call ended and Simon looked at her, sighing. “Gotta go,” he said. 

A subtle pout pushed out her lower lip. “Too bad, and we were just starting to get into our planning too.”

He chuckled, feeling warmed by her sentiment. “Yeah, but don't worry darling, we have the entire week ahead of us to plan comfortably, yeah?” 

She nodded, smiling. 

“Right then,” he slapped his knees, “I'll see you around then, alright? You take care on your way back.”

“You too, Simon.”

He sighed, pausing for a moment to take in the way she said his name. He never wanted to admit it to her, but he loved every instance she uttered it. The way she'd drag out the first syllable a little, and look at him with those gorgeous, killer eyes of hers as she did; it was enough for a man of his size and strength to melt like a little cube of ice in the palm of her hand. A simple action, yet it riled him up enough to want to kiss the living hell out of her. 

He inhaled, trying to get every carnal urge under control. “Text me when you reach, alright?” he said in a mildly strained voice. 

“Sure, will do.” she nodded. 

That being said and good-night's exchanged, Simon quickly put his mask back on, got out of the car, and threw the empty can in a bin. She watched as he made his way to his waiting motorcycle, observing his gait, the way his hips, shoulders, and arms moved in clockwork, relaxed but determined. She found herself leaning against the steering wheel again to stare at the way he hoisted up his leg and swung it in a smooth sweep over his motorcycle, and then settled down on the vehicle, making the shock absorbers bounce back slightly against his weight. 

She gazed with interest as he put on his gloves and then grabbed the helmet, only to raise his chin up to let gravity comb his gorgeous blond hair down so that it stayed out of his way as he put the headgear. His biceps flexed and tightened against the short sleeve of his t-shirt, and even from a little distance away, she could see how his tattoos moved against the contours of his muscles like ocean waves. 

He looked back at her and caught her staring. At the sight of her relentless gaze, all he could hear in his head was Gaz telling him to shoot his shot. Her smiles, her acceptance to meet again were, and especially her stating were all massive green lights for him, yet he was still in partial disbelief. 

Meeting her eyes again gave him a jolt down his spine, and waved one last time before he left. She smiled sheepishly and waved back at him, blushing at the fact that she was caught.  

He rode off, leaving her the echo of the roar of the engine, and she sat back in her driver's seat, finishing the last sips of the lukewarm soda in her hand that she completely forgot about. His figure receded in the distance and she remembered the first time she met him. 

“He's been saving me since back then.” she chuckled to herself, feeling a little ashamed at how helpless she found herself to be. But she was more than grateful for his help, and for the fact that he never complained and was so eager to assist her. It was the third time he helped her out, and it was almost as if he'd come running back all over again if she called. 

He certainly lived up to his name. 

And then there was his face. She allowed her mind to wander as she thought of his rugged, masculine features; she didn't know what to expect, but it was certainly unexpected to find such a handsome man hiding under that mask. She could make out only a little in the partial darkness, of his rectangular face and sturdy, stubble-speckled jaw, and of the slope of his shapely, sharp nose. She sighed, suddenly longing to study his face in proper light, and perhaps get lost in his honey eyes. 

Shaking off her thoughts, she reached to her backpack in the backseat for her phone, and found that Simon had left his leather jacket in the back when they had sat down in the front to drink their sodas. 

“Better send him a text.” she thought to herself as she informed him. 

That being done, she kept the phone aside and took the jacket to inspect it. It was obvious that it was made of faux leather, but it was smooth to touch. The lining inside was tartan patterned with dark green and blue, which seemed an odd choice for lining, but she wasn't one to judge. She held the garment against her torso, and as she expected, it was huge. 

“Let's not get creepy with it, shall we?” she reminded herself, now keeping the jacket on her lap as she got the engine running again. 

She drove back home with the jacket, repeatedly telling herself to not be creepy with it, only for her to immediately try it on as soon as she stepped in. 

“It's so comfortable!” she exclaimed as she felt the loose jacket sag around her body and her arms. She stuffed her hands in the pockets and found that they were massive. “Unbelievable... they make men's clothes so much better.”

She pulled away the front of the jacket to feel the tartan lining, and it felt like touching a thick blanket. The jacket was perfect for a cold winter and for the rains that had been pouring lately. 

She pulled it closer against herself, and the lingering scent of his perfume wafted to her nose. It was the same smell of a damp rainforest and dark chocolate, the scent of which immediately took her back to the day she met him.

"Is this what it would feel like to hug him?" she wondered, feeling her cheeks flush warm as she thought of the prospect of being held in those finely sculpted arms.

Her phone chimed, indicating a message. 

Simon Riley Biker: sorry about that, can u keep the jacket with u until we meet again? 

Simon Riley Biker: also have u reached? 

She smiled and started typing her reply.

Author Girl: Sure! 

Author Girl: And yes I did just now 

Simon Riley Biker: right then, I'll catch you soon, ok? At the gym rn

Author Girl: okay! Have a good workout :) 

Simon Riley Biker: thanks darling

On the other side of the phone, Simon was seated in the gym locker rooms by himself, phone in hand, thumbs dancing over the screen up and down as he wondered what he should type next. As he did, a new message came in.

Author Girl: thanks again for helping me out with the car. You saved me yet again 

He chuckled at and started typing, the smile not leaving his half covered face. 

Simon Riley Biker: my pleasure, don't worry about it. U can call me again if you have car problems 

Author Girl: you're too kind 😂 but thanks a lot again 

Simon Riley Biker: anytime darling 

Author Girl: alright then, I'm gonna get some sleep. Good night! 

Simon paused, feeling his heart rate increase for a moment as he thought of something he wanted to do. Swallowing down his nervousness, he did it anyway. 

Simon Riley Biker: [audio: 0:03 seconds] 

He never sent an audio message to her before, and wondering what he could have sent, held the phone speakers to her ear and played it. 

“Good night, love,” came the crisp, clear audio recording in her ear. His normally gruff voice sounded subdued and gentle, smooth, almost oozing with a soft, subtle hint of adoration, especially at the endearment. 

The lady was left stunned, mouth hanging open slightly and her feet affixed to the floor, unable to believe for a moment what she just heard. Butterflies and tingles swarmed every inch of her body, and her cheeks flushed yet again. She played it again. And again. And again. 

Simon, in the meantime, worried about her lack of response, wondering if he was too bold in sending her a voice message. He finally saw that she was typing, and she sure did take a while to collect her thoughts to write a coherent and absolutely calm reply in the form of:

Author Girl: good night, Simon :) 

The conversation ended there, and he breathed a sigh of relief. So far so good. Standing up, he slipped his phone in his pocket and left to get to his workout done with Johnny, unable to stop thinking of her and her smiles.

In the meantime, she stepped into the bathroom for her night routine. Her thoughts too were filled to the brim with Simon while she bathed and did her simple skin care routine all on autopilot. Every other thing that happened during the day was completely overridden just by the presence of that biker, his voice, his warm gaze upon her, his smile, his face. 

She couldn't shake off the feeling, especially of his voice message in her thoughts that played like a broken vinyl record. She was sure that every single interaction she had with him would make it into her next book in some form or other. 

She slipped into her nightwear and then hung his jacket on the coat hook in the corner of her room, resisting the temptation to cuddle with the garment. She finally tucked herself in bed, surrounded by her cushions and plush animals. As soon as the night lamp was switched off and she had nearly sunk in and molded comfortably into her bed and pillows, she played the recording again, the cherry on top to end the long day. 

“Good night, love.” 

It felt like a kiss to the forehead.

End of Part 4.

Part 5

[murrumbaautocareau]

How to Find the Best Emergency Car Mechanical Services in Kallangur

Getting your car repaired is something that you have to do from time to time. However, it is important to find a good mechanic so that you can get the job done quickly and efficiently.

There are many reasons you may need emergency car repair, from damage to struts and suspension to faulty power steering or brakes. These problems often become a lot worse if they aren’t fixed. To know more about Emergency Car Mechanical Services, visit the Murrumba Auto Care website or call (07)32854440.

The brake system is the most important safety component in your vehicle. It takes dozens of components to create the friction needed to slow and stop your car. But these specialized systems need regular inspections to avoid failure. Symptoms of a failing braking system include spongy or hard pedals, screaming sounds, or vibrations during braking. A failing braking system also increases stopping distances, which can be dangerous in an emergency.

During the brake system inspection, the experts pop the hood to examine the master cylinder and brake lines for leaks. They also check the power booster, vacuum hose, and combination valve for damage or leaks. The experts then test the brakes by raising your vehicle on a lift and stepping on the brakes multiple times. They can also inspect the front brake hoses, mounting brackets, and wheel cylinders for physical damage or leaks.

A thorough brake check should also include examining the calipers and rotors for rust and other signs of wear. The technicians should also check the brake return springs and antirattle clips to ensure that they are in good condition.

The clutch is a crucial component in the car’s transmission system. It connects and disconnects the power transmission from the spinning shaft to allow your car to change gear. Over time, your clutch will need to be serviced. A common problem is the throwout bearing, which gets a lot of wear and tear due to its heavy duty job. It can wear down and cause chattering noises when you depress the clutch pedal. To resolve the issue, you can take your vehicle to an expert clutch specialist, such as Murrumba Auto Care. They will inspect your clutch and brakes and recommend the best repair options.

The power steering system in your vehicle helps you turn the wheel with less effort. However, it can wear out if the fluid is not replaced as recommended. Dirt can contaminate the fluid, which could cause it to leak. This can be dangerous for you and other drivers on the road.

Your vehicle’s power steering system uses either an electronic motor or a mechanical belt to drive its power steering pump. The pump pushes power steering fluid to the sector or rack and pinion. This allows you to turn the car with the minimum of effort and keeps the tires firmly on the ground.

Our emergency car repair services include a power steering fluid exchange service. Our technician drains and replaces your power steering fluid with new high-tech fluid for conventional sector or rack and pinion. The new fluid will dissolve and suspend varnish and gums to help your system operate more efficiently. The fluid will also be free of metallic debris that can cause premature component failure.

One of the most important parts of your car is its exhaust system. It is responsible for removing harmful gases and fumes from the engine and reducing noise. It also serves a safety function as it protects you from carbon monoxide fumes that can enter your cabin.

Exhaust leaks are a common problem that can lead to expensive repairs. It is important to check the exhaust system regularly and replace any broken pipes or mufflers as soon as possible. Start with the exhaust manifold and then inspect the muffler, resonator and catalytic converter for holes or leaks. Be careful not to touch these components as they will be hot!

If you notice any vibrations on the steering wheel, seat or foot pedals, this may indicate a problem with the muffler. A broken muffler will cause a buildup of carbon monoxide, which can be deadly. In addition, rusting can damage the muffler and pipes. It is best to jack up your vehicle on a level surface before attempting to inspect it. To know more about Emergency Car Mechanical Services, visit the Murrumba Auto Care website or call (07)32854440.

[ddejavvu]

for mvm i’m thinking about the dagger squad being mechanics and they’re all fussing over you and offering to fix your car when you walk in their shop (i just think miles teller would look good in a dirty wife beater 😪)

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

--

Natasha doesn't think it's fair that she's working the counter when you come wandering in, looking like a little lost puppy. If she'd forced Jake to take his shift at the right time, and not duck out for lunch, she'd be dressed down more, in a tank top that highlights all the places she wants you to see most. Instead, she's in a baggy uniform, nametag shining on her chest.

She tries to compensate for her lackluster outfit with extra sweetness when she greets you, "Hi there! What can we do for you today?"

She leans over the counter, bracing her chin in her hands. It puts her face closer to yours, just far away enough to claim professionality, even if she is trying to get a subtle whiff of your shampoo.

"Hi," You smile nervously at her, "My car broke down? It's- it's like, a mile up the road that way," You point out the door to a long stretch of road, one that's notorious for being away from most cell service.

"Aw," She croons, sympathy in her voice as her eyes soften impossibly further, "It's alright, we can tow it back here for you. You must be tired, walking all that way, you want a water?"

"Oh!" You gush when she pulls a bottle out from a cooler behind the desk, "That's okay, are you sure?"

"Totally sure," She sends you a wink, passing the chilled bottle over the counter, "I can drive the truck, but we'll need to get one other worker to come with us to hook it up. It's not a one-man job."

"Okay," You nod, standing adrift at the counter as she bustles about, slamming her thumb down on a comm system.

"Bradshaw!" She snaps, voice thick and rough, "Pull a truck around, someone needs towing."

"On it." Comes a raspy, grainy sound from the comm only seconds later, a man's voice this time.

"He's not a very good driver," Natasha explains, taking all the opportunity she gets to talk Bradley down, "You ever heard of 'brains and brawn'?"

You nod, and she laughs, "Let's just say, he's not the brain."

"Who's stupid?" Comes a voice from behind the counter, and a man with gelled brown hair and thick glasses emerges from the bathroom, "Oh- uh, hello, are you having car trouble?"

The man looks like a deer in headlights, all pinky cheeks and wide eyes. His nametag reads Bob, and you shift on your feet as you nod.

"Yeah," Your teeth catch the inside of your cheek and you gnaw there, "Uh, my car broke down on the road out there, and it needs towing."

"Oh! I can drive," He offers with a sweet, hopeful smile, but Natasha intercepts, unbuttoning her uniform shirt so that only a white tank lays underneath.

"I'm driving," She states as calmly as possible, but she's urgent to shut him down as she leaves her uniform draped over the back of her chair, "Bradley's hooking it up."

"Oh," Bob's shoulders sink, but perk back up once he spots the cooler, "Has anyone offered you a water?"

You hold up the bottle, smiling sweetly at him, "Thanks anyways."

"Here," The door behind Natasha bursts open with a bang, and a man steps out, chest heaving a shirt stained with grease. The white fabric holds tight to his skin, and there's a similar smear of grease across the bulge of his bicep.

He spots you, and he heaves one final exhale, holding out an oil-stained hand for you to shake.

"Bradley," He introduces himself with a charming smile, and his eyes are concealed behind aviator sunglasses, "You need towing?"

"I do," You lament, reaching for his hand and trying to avoid the grease smeared on his skin. His fingers are rough, calloused, but his touch is soft as he wraps his other hand around your intertwined ones and shakes yours.

"Don't worry," He soothes, choosing to vault himself over a lower part of the counter instead of open the door, so that his muscles pop. He lands beside you, shoulders broad and breath momentarily hot against your shoulder, "We'll get it fixed up for you."

"Thank you," You breathe, hands suddenly sweaty. They're circling you like vultures, Natasha hastily breaking through the segmented doorway and standing on your other side.

"Tow truck's out front," Bradley motions to the truck standing tall in the parking lot, "Actually, Natasha, you can sit this one out. I don't need help with the cables, and the front desk needs manning."

"That's what Bob's here for," She keeps steady, tense eye contact with Bradley, "Plus the last time you tried driving that truck, you almost crashed."

"Did not," He snaps.

"Did too," She sneers.

"Uh," Bob interjects, "If you want, I can-"

"No!' Bradley and Natasha turn on him in unison, but the door opens and cuts off any protests they could have given.

"Someone need towin'?" A southern drawl cuts across the room, and the employees around you groan.

"Ah," A man smiles from the doorway, flanked by another mechanic behind him with sharp features, nametag reading Javy.

"You must be the unlucky driver," The man drawls, Jake engraved on the metal tag on his chest, "Did'ja break down on the dirt out there?"

"Yeah," You breathe, taking a slow step towards him, "How'd you know?"

"People break down there all the time," He waves a hand dismissively, "How 'bout I help you with that, darlin'?"

"I'm driving," Bradley and Natasha speak in unison, and it puts a satisfied smirk on Jake's face.

"My coworkers are prone to infighting," Jake explains, feigning solemnity as he lays a hand on your shoulder, "It's a real problem. Let us take you, okay? We can let them sort out their issues on their own."

Javy holds the door open for you and Jake, sending Natasha, Bradley, and Bob a shit-eating grin, when you're out of earshot before he joins you, "Tryhards."

[blazingpeter]

Here is my Amazing Digital Circus AU!

The DC Train!

I've been thinking about this for a while and I will admit that I did get inspired by Polar Express. I'll elaborate more and do individual character refs next weekend once I'm not super busy with classes.

Caine - The Conductor!

He keeps the train going!

Jax - Fireman

In charge of keeping the fire hot and the train running!

Gangle - WaitStaff

She's also the emergency brake inside the train cars!

Kinger - Navigator

Plans out routes and locations.

Ragatha - General Attendant

She's the Head of Service. Ask her any questions you may have!

Zooble - Mechanic

They're there the moment something goes wrong with the train.

Pomi - ???

Where am I?

[milky-fixx]

Grind My Gears 

- normal au!mechanic!kenpachi zaraki x reader | bleach  - summary: visiting your parents for the holidays is always trifling, but even more so when you (a) just broke up with your ex, (b) you car breaks down halfway there and you’re forced to confront the bad boy you had a thing with in high school, and (c) you realize that you still have feelings for said guy (and he is still. kinda hot. in a scary, rugged way.) - word count: 6.9k words (hehe 69) - tropes: begrudging friends to lovers? awkward fling as teens to rekindling romance as adults? - tw/cw: 18+ minors dni. fem!reader, sex on a table, kenpachi’s foul mouth, several references to kenpachi’s monstrous cock, size kink, fingering, handjobs, dirty talk, underage drinking/smoking?? (20 is legal age in Japan), reader and kenpachi get frisky when they’re 18+ --author’s note: my late secret santa fic for @unohanadaydreams​! sorry this took so long, but i’m hoping the disgustingly long length makes up for it kind of sort of??? disgustingly long like kenpapi’s co-- wow i'll stop

—

“Goddamnit.”

While you’re no expert on cars, you’re certain that the smoke emanating from your car’s hood is not a good sign. Neither is the sputtering sound coming from the area you vaguely recognize as your engine. You’re still an hour away from your parents’ house, back in your old neighborhood, and you’re hoping–praying, even–that your car makes it. But just after taking its final shuddering breath, the car comes to a complete stop, lurching you forward slightly. You turn the key in the ignition once, then twice. 

Nothing.

You smack your hand against the wheel, cursing your luck. You were supposed to be there by noon time, but an unpleasant conversation with your very recent-ex delayed you. Now the sun is dipping past the rim of the sky, dusk approaching. With a heavy sigh, you end up calling a towing service. They offer to drive you to the nearest auto shop, and you agree. 

Zaraki Auto Repair. 

You’re not sure why the familiarity of the name doesn’t register in you sooner. But it’s not until you’re staring at his rugged, scarred face, with his ever-present scowl, that you realize why you should have remembered. 

If he recognizes you, he doesn’t let it on. You don’t think you’re imagining the way his gaze briefly narrows at the sight of you, but then again, it could be him. 

He rarely ever looked happy unless he was fighting.

As he examines your car, you feel yourself clam up. You clench your fists, suddenly aware of the damp sweat accumulating in your palms. Briefly, you debate asking the tow guy if he could drive you to another shop. But when you glance behind you, he’s already gone. 

Damn.

“Damn. You really did a number on this.”

You nearly jump at the sound of his voice, just as gravelly and deep as you remember. It takes you awhile to register what he said. “Is it…” You clear your throat, swallowing past the lump that’s formed. “That bad?”

“Yeah.” Blunt as ever. “Surprised you made it here in one piece. Only an idiot would drive a car in this condition.” 

An idiot. Your eye twitches in annoyance. If you recall correctly, that was something you used to call him. Not the other way around. He mentions something about spark plugs and oil leaks, but truthfully, you don’t care about the specifics. 

“Can you fix it?”

He emerges from under your car, rising to his full height. You nearly forgot how tall he was. Even back in high school he towered over you. Now? The height difference is just ridiculous. 

“Gimme two days.”

And that is how you end up with Kenpachi Zaraki driving you back to your parents’ home, on a route he knew all too well. 

—

He was a delinquent, honestly. 

Your homeroom teacher approached you with the request. “Please… you’re one of the top students in the class. Zaraki… he’s really bringing down our school rankings. Rumors are going around about… it doesn’t paint a good image of our school’s reputation. Maybe you could mentor him?”

Mentor him? You and Kenpachi had gone to the same school since you were babies, sure, and you did live in the same neighborhood. But he was known for his foul attitude and violent nature. He never showed up to classes, and last time a teacher approached him about his behavior, rumor was that they ended up in the hospital. Word on the street was he spent most of his days getting into fights with students from other schools��sometimes even college students. He was a delinquent, in every definition of the word. 

You were certain he would sooner spit in your face than listen to any drivel you had about “making something out of his future” or “the importance of respecting his education.”

But still. Your teacher had begged and pleaded, even offered to write an amazing letter of recommendation, and to put in a good word with the admissions department for one of your dream colleges. Was it bribery? Sure. Did you care about the morality of it? Not really. Still, you had to try and uphold your end of the deal. 

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

Kenpachi stared you down. Despite being only a third year, he was already over six feet tall, taller than some of the staff of the school. Not only was his size intimidating, but the ever-present scowl on his face was too. You weren’t that short, but next to him, anyone would seem small. You were sure that you made a hilarious sight, trying to block him from exiting through the school’s entrance doors.

“Out of my way.”

You crossed your arms, standing before him defiantly. He cocked his head to the side, gaze narrowing. 

“Are you deaf–”

“No. And no. I won’t.”

Kenpachi’s stare bore into you. Even without the scar across his left eye, he made an intimidating sight. One that would have lesser men quaking.

“And why the fuck not? Who are you tell me I can’t leave?”

But for you? You just saw him as a nuisance that had to be taken care of. Unfortunately, by you. You straightened up before him. 

“We have third period class right now,” you snapped back. “What the fuck do you mean why not? Get back to class.”

His eyes raked down your form, seeming to size you up. Finally, he laughed, a dry, rattling sound that for a moment, had you reconsidering your choice of words.

“I didn’t know Seirei’s star student had such a foul mouth.”

You opened your mouth to retort, when he stepped forward. The wolfish look on his face made you falter, suddenly aware of the truth behind some of those rumors. 

He looked like the kind of person who would devour you whole if you showed any hint of weakness.

“Makes you more interesting. You’re not a goody-two-shoes, stuck-up bitch, after all. Still, I don’t like repeating myself. Get out of my way.”

—

“Seriously, I can find a cab.”

“It’s not a problem. We typically offer to drive customers home,” Yumichika says, handing you the paperwork for the repairs. “It’s a courtesy reserved to our clientele.”

You weigh your options. You could Uber to your parents’ house, but you were tight on money… not to mention how much the repairs would cost you. But if you let them drive you there… Well, as long as you weren’t alone in the car with him. Maybe Yumichika or Ikkaku could take you; it would certainly be less awkward. You remember them vaguely from high school, as the two seemed to be in Kenpachi’s inner circle of… you weren’t sure you’d call them friends. Lackeys, maybe. 

Interesting to see that some things never change. 

“Ikkaku can drop you off at your parents’ house,” Yumichika offers, sensing your hesitance. 

As long as it’s not him, you’d accept any help.

“Thank you–” you start.

“I’m driving her home,” Kenpachi says, brusquely entering the office. “I have to go that way anyways.”

While you smile graciously on the outside, internally you’re blanching. In a car? Alone? With him? You think your flaming death trap of a car is perhaps a better alternative. 

It’s too late to reject the offer, though. Your car is already in his garage. 

Kenpachi grabs keys off the counter, motioning for you to follow him with barely a glance back at you. His lack of hesitation is clear–you have no room to reject his offer. 

–

It’s quiet. Too quiet. 

The both of you sit in the car in absolute, stifling silence as he drives. Glancing at your companion, you note that he’s focused on the road, seeming intent on ignoring you if need be. Was he always this unaffected, this distant? You can’t seem to remember much past his wolfish grin, his bored, dismissive eye roll every time you tried to lecture him about school, the way his large hand felt, rough and calloused, as it gripped your thigh–

Woah. Woah woah woah. 

You shake your head, willing the thought away. Now’s not the time to think about that.

Reaching for the radio, you tune it to the closest station. Of course, the very first thing that plays is a love song. Fuck your luck, honestly. Fiddling with the stereo, you desperately try to find something else. Anything else.

After settling on some generic pop song, you settle back into your seat. You catch him staring at you, and swallow down your reservations. 

The past be damned. You can’t stand how awkward and quiet this reunion is going. 

“So, uh… you’re still in town, I see,” you say.

“Yeah.”

“Never moved?”

“Nope.”

God. You forgot he isn’t one for small talk. Never was. Even back then. 

You try again. “Nice of you to inherit your relatives’ car shop.”

“I didn’t. I took it over after the guy I was working for died.”

“Ah.” You nod slowly. 

“He was old. Weak. Couldn’t throw a punch anymore if he tried. Had no family, so he gave the shop to me.”

“Oh. Oh no.”

He shrugs. “People die. Happens all the time. Too bad he couldn’t put up more of a fight before he kicked the bucket.”

This… is starting to sound suspiciously like Kenpachi had a hand in this death. You force yourself to refrain from speculating, reminding yourself that he is giving you a ride. He is fixing your car. You will graciously accept his favors for two days, and after that you will never see him again. 

“I thought you moved to the city?” Kenpachi says suddenly. 

“Y-Yeah. I’m back for the holidays. Visiting my parents.”

He nods. He brings the cigarette he’s holding in one hand up to his lips, inhaling before blowing a puff of smoke out the window.  

In a sudden jab of irritation, you ask, “Are you smoking right next to me?”

—

“Are you smoking in front of me?”

“Yeah. Why?”

The two of you are having lunch together on your school’s rooftop. Kenpachi usually left school around lunch apparently since he didn’t see the point of staying around after morning classes, so you came up with a tactic to get him to stay:

You would pack an extra bento for him as long as he didn’t skip school during lunch period. 

While Kenpachi was initially reluctant to the idea, claiming it was stupid and a waste of your time, after one bite of your food, he came around. It was almost a daily thing now for him to come to class, and for you to offer him some of your food. 

It was his idea to have lunch up here. While you marveled at the view, Kenpachi ruined the mood by mentioning that he really only came up here to smoke, before pulling out a pack of cigarettes. 

“Kenpachi, we’re eighteen. That’s not even legal!”

“Quit your yammering. Mind your own business, would ya,” he said gruffly.

“That’s kind of hard, since you’re doing it right in front of me!” you fumed. 

College acceptance or not, he really wasn’t worth mentoring. 

—

You still at the memory.

“We’re not kids anymore.” His voice interrupted your train of thought. 

Oh, so he did remember you. He was just acting like he didn’t. You toss him an irate look.

“Yeah, but it still smells like shit.” You wrinkle your nose. “And the smell. It lingers.”

He snorts, putting out the cigarette on the door of his car before tossing it behind him. 

“You never change, huh,” he says sardonically. “You still love to nag.” 

You bristle at the comment. You’d like to think you have changed. It’s him that’s still the same. But just as you’re about to retort, the car stills. You were so distracted by your own thoughts that you didn’t realize he parked right in front of your parents’ house. 

“Ever consider you’re the kind of guy who basically asks to be nagged?” you retort. 

“Heh. Can’t say you’re right about that.” 

You gather your things to you, before you realize that, embarrassing as it is, you were so distracted by the idea of being alone with him that you forgot to ask. Turning to face him, you say, “Yumichika never clarified the price. He threw a few figures around but.... How much is it going to be to fix my car?” 

Kenpachi stares at you long and hard.

“Nothing.” You’re about to protest, when he cuts you off with a raised hand. “It’s on the house.”

You give him an incredulous look.

“Seriously? I can’t accept that.”

His stare bores into you. You always found it rather intimidating, but this time, you meet his gaze, raising your chin defiantly. 

He caves first. 

“Fine. Ten thousand yen for the labor. We already have all the parts.”

Based on your experience with mechanics though, that’s still ridiculously cheap. You can’t accept that favor. Your jaw sets as you intend to argue further with him, but then he unlocks the doors, motioning towards your parents’ house. Your mom approaches, waving at the sight of you. 

“Your stop.”

By the time you make it out of his car, greet your parents, and bring your things to the front doorstep, he’s already gone. Driven away.

—

You don’t want him to owe you anything. 

Not after what happened. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t see you anymore. This? Us? It wasn’t even a thing.”

—

Two days later, Yumichika calls you to inform you that your car is ready for pickup. Your dad drops you off at the shop, and after you pay the fees, you ask him where the boss is. With great amusement, he points you towards the back of the shop, sending you a wink as you walk past him, along with a ‘go get him.’

Your face warms. Are you that obvious?

As you approach the car where Kenpachi’s giant frame is positioned under, you have to stifle a laugh. It’s almost hilarious seeing just how small of space he has to contort his large frame into to do the job. 

Once you’re a few feet from him, you clear your throat. “You and me, Rukongai Bar on 80th Street. This Friday. You down?”

A pause. He wheels himself out from under the car. It is the second time since you’ve known him that Kenpachi looks completely caught off-guard. 

“Should a woman really be inviting me to a bar on that side of town?” he finally says, an edge to his tone.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t tell me you suddenly give a shit about gender roles, Kenpachi.”

He seems to think about it. Your palms feel sweaty, and you clench and unclench your hands into fists. You’ve never seen him debate for something this long. He’s always been a man of action. 

“...See you then,” he says, then halts, as if he’s about to add something onto that. Before he shrugs it off, putting down his wrench and wiping his hands on a rag. 

You fidget. Somehow it feels wrong to leave off on that note. 

“The car looks great, by the way. Seems like it runs better.”

He nods. “It should. Spent all day and night working on it.”

Despite yourself, you feel your cheeks heat up. Your traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“R-Really? You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs again. “I promised it by a certain date. Had to get the job done.”

“As thanks, then…” you say, finding your voice once more. “Please allow me to treat you to some drinks!”

“Alright,” he says. As if it is the easiest thing in the world. 

Just two adults getting drinks together. Two adults getting to catch up again, after having grown up and spent several years apart. Two adults who or may not have a history with each other. Two adults who may or may not still have a lingering fondness for one another. 

It could be that simple, right? 

Right?

–

As Friday approaches, you grow oddly giddy. So much so that nothing can dampen your mood. Not your family’s comments at their holiday gatherings, the you really still haven’t found someone yet? quips. Not the sympathetic looks when one of your parents chimes in about you going through a recent breakup. Nothing. 

After one such party, you check your phone, which you haven’t done all night. 

Two unread messages. 

One of them from an unknown number. 

“Kenpachi. Make sure your gas doesn’t fall below half a tank for at least a month.”

The other. From an all too familiar name. One that you thought you blocked after your last fight. 

“Hey, can we talk? I know we left off on a bad foot, but I miss you–”

You don’t even finish reading the message before you toss the phone onto your bed. Heart pounding, you plop onto the edge of your bed, clutching a hand to your chest.

What are the odds that you would meet Kenpachi again, after all these years. The odds that it was his auto shop that your car was towed to. The odds that you would still feel something after all this time. And the odds that it would be while you were still heart-broken over your–

History has a funny way of repeating itself. 

–

It was all way too much. The stress of entrance exams, compounded with the fact that your boyfriend of three years had just broken up with you. And not to mention, dealing with fucking Kenpachi, who you had to tutor because his grades were atrocious. 

“If you’re going to be an ass,” you said, dropping your notebooks and textbooks unceremoniously onto the table. The loud thud did little to ease your sour mood. Honestly, the fact that Kenpachi decided to actually show up this time did little to comfort you either. You were out for blood. “Please don’t. I’m not in the mood.”

To his credit, he usually knew when to shut up. He was the kind who didn’t waste words if he didn’t need to.

Kenpachi raised a brow. “What’s got your panties in a tangle?”

You didn’t know why. It’s not like it was uncharacteristic of him to be crass. It wasn’t even him necessarily. It’s more that everything had piled up, and his comment was the last thing you needed before you snapped. 

He was certainly the last person you should be doing this in front of. But you burst into tears in front of him. Your words jumbled in a barely intelligible train of sobbing.

“I just… I just got broken up with, okay? And I don’t exactly f-feel like going out, much less coming to the library to tutor you, when you don’t even show up half the time! And college exams are so s-s-stressful, I’ve been biting my nails down to the beds. Everyone has such h-high expectations for me, but I don’t think I can m-meet them.”

Kenpachi was stunned into silence. He stared at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads. You didn’t know why, but his lack of response stung even more. Of course, what could you expect? This was Kenpachi, for crying out loud. Your school’s number one delinquent. He wouldn’t know what to do. 

Finally, uncomfortably, as if he wasn’t used to being the shoulder to cry on (you doubt he was), he handed you a handkerchief that he grabbed from another student passing by. They complained, but a look from Kenpachi silenced them before they scurried off. 

You dabbed your eyes with it, sniffling. 

Still awkward, he rubbed the back of his spiky hair. He said it almost like a command. Which in hindsight, was even more hilarious–to see just how out of place Kenpachi was with a woman’s emotions.

“Nothing and no one is worth your tears. So just… I dunno. Quit crying already.”

—

The bar is crowded, even for a Friday night, Bodies bustling past you, the various conversations around you raucous and rowdy. You picked the bar because you figured Kenpachi would enjoy the environment, especially since it was on his side of town. Sure enough, there are all kinds of hardened-looking individuals frequenting the bar. Surprisingly though, Kenpachi is easy enough to spot, his sheer size and distinctly spiky hair adding to his recognizability. 

He’s already downing a drink when you slide into the seat next to him.

“You seem right at home here,” you greet him with. 

“I come here often.” 

You order a beer, before sitting back down. 

“This brings back memories.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Last time we went drinking together.”

He lets out a sharp bark of laughter. 

“Still shitty at handling your liquor?”

“No!” you protest, taking a sip of your beer. The face you make says it all. Kenpachi snorts, taking a long sip of his second beer. 

“Fancy place,” you comment. 

“Didn’t you pick it?”

“Yeah,” you say, jabbing him in the side. “Because I thought you’d like it.”

“Well, why would you go through all that trouble,” he says drily. You give him a sour look. 

You take a few more sips of your beer, before slamming the bottle down. He raises a brow at you. Liquid courage does wonders for your nerves, as you work up the courage to ask him the question that’s been on your mind.

“So… you got a girlfriend?”

He looks at you like you just asked him the dumbest question in the world.

“You got a boyfriend?” he asks.

Alright. He won’t share until you do. 

“Ha. Had. Right before I drove down actually.”

He stares at you for a moment, before taking another swig of his drink. 

“You?” you press. 

He laughs sardonically. “Nah. Got the kind of face that scares women off, apparently.”

“Well.” He glances at you. “Most of them.”

“You’re not ugly, Ken. You’ve got the bad boy kind of appeal. Girls dig that.”

Another raised brow. You really are getting him to work his facial muscles today. A sharp contrast to his constant scowl or terrifying grin. 

“Last time we spoke…” you start. 

“Don’t mention it,” he interrupts. 

“I wanted to explain my side.”

“Ha. There’s nothing to explain. What happened, happened,” he says, something hard in his voice. 

“Kenpachi.”

–

“We’re going,” Kenpachi had said decisively after your crying episode. Neither of you were the partying type, but here you were, two strangers in a sea of grinding teenagers and booze. He grabbed you a drink, and the two of you crammed yourselves onto the narrow staircase. You knew that Kenpachi wanted to get your mind off things. But somehow the sight of everyone practically grinding against each other did little to help you forget your ex.

To his credit, Kenpachi looked just as out of place. He rested his arms on his legs, holding his beer in between them. He fidgeted with the rim of the bottle, looking like he’d rather be any place but here. 

You took a sip of your drink, smacking your lips at the taste, before pulling a face. 

He snorted. “First time?”

“Why does it taste like ass?”

He shrugged. “It’s beer. “‘S supposed to.”

You offered him your drink. “I don’t like it.”

He grabbed it from you, taking a big swig. A group of girls squeezed their way past you on the steps, giggling and tipsy. You inched out of their way, but one of them still managed to knee you in the back–hard. You would have fallen forward down the last few steps, if Kenpachi hadn’t caught you. 

“Ah. Sorry–”

The two of you locked eyes. This close you realized how deep the scar on his face ran, the strong set of his jaw. His wiry, muscled arm around your waist.

Hesitantly, you leaned closer. He didn’t move away. 

Your first kiss with Kenpachi was a spark lighting on kindling, over before you knew it.  He didn’t respond. When you pulled away in disappointment though, he grabbed the front of your shirt, yanking you forwards. 

Your kiss set you ablaze. He slammed your lips onto his. His teeth dug into your bottom lip, and you gasped at the iron tang of blood in your mouth. That seemed to only spur him further. He practically hauled you into his lap. Before you knew it, you were making out in the open. 

Kenpachi shoved his hand down your shirt, palming your breast. You straddled his leg, playing with the buckle of his belt. When your hand brushed the tent in his pants, he hissed, bucking up into your touch. 

You were only snapped out of it when someone gasped near you. When you looked up, it was him. Your ex. 

—

The next day, rumors flew around that you were fucking Kenpachi. Certainly the sight of you two at the party was proof enough. 

For that reason, your ex-boyfriend asked to get back together again. He said he realized he couldn’t live without you. You had the choice between Kenpachi, a delinquent, rough around the edges, and crass. Versus your ex. Excitement versus stability, the bad boy versus the good guy. 

You chose your ex. 

Kenpachi was exciting, but you couldn’t fathom seeing yourself in a long-term relationship with him. Not to mention, you doubted you two would be on the same path. You had aspirations, dreams for your career.

You stopped showing up to your meetings with Kenpachi. And by the time he confronted you, you told him, with no little uncertainty,

“I’m sorry, but I can’t see you anymore. This? Us? It wasn’t even a thing.”

You didn’t stay around to see his reaction. 

The irony is, you and your ex ended up breaking up again soon after once you found out of his infidelity. 

— 

“What I mean to say was… if I was–more honest with myself. Less cowardly,” you start. You try and gauge his reaction. Kenpachi is as impassive as always. You swallow it down. “I wouldn’t have chosen him.”

He glances at you briefly, before staring down at the rim of his drink.

“I–I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ve felt bad about it ever since.”

“The past is the past,” he says. “Forget about it.” 

“But I–”

He groans. “Look, I’m already over it. You should be, too. What kinda guy would I be to hold onto a silly high school thing.”

“So, you’re… not mad?”

He stares at you blankly. “How many times do I have to repeat myself? I’m not a fucking loser.”

“Okay, okay… yeesh.” The two of you sit in silence for a few more moments. 

“I did… I did mean it, though. At the time.”

“Don’t,” Kenpachi says sharply. “Quit bringing it up!”

“What I said… That didn’t mean I didn’t like you at all, you know that?”

He falls silent. While he won’t look at you, you get the sense that he’s listening intently for your next words.

“I did like you. I still…”

You pause, losing courage in the words you want to say.

“Still,” he repeats flatly.

It’s hard to figure out what he’s thinking. He’s inscrutable. He seems like an easy man to decipher, but when it comes to anything but fighting? He’s a closed book.

“I… I can’t say I’m completely over you, Ken,” is what you mutter out in a rush, cheeks warm.  You’re scared to look at him, to witness his reaction. 

He says nothing. His silence puts you on edge. He motions the bartender over before paying for his drinks. Then he’s tugging your arm. 

“What?”

“I’m not gonna carry you, even if I can. Get your ass up.”

The two of you end up in an alley at the side of the bar. When you’re a good distance away from anyone, Kenpachi turns to you.

“Why are we–”

And then he’s grabbing you by the waist, tugging you into him. You land in his chest with an oomph. Then he’s leaning down, grasping your shoulders before slamming his lips onto yours. Just like before. 

Kenpachi doesn’t hold anything back. His nose digs into your cheek. His lips greedily claim yours, over and over again, as if he’s making up for lost time. 

Breaking the kiss, you stare up at him breathlessly. 

“You’re an idiotic woman, you know that?” he says defiantly. “Denying what’s yours.”

The taste of beer is heavy on his tongue. He’s warm, so warm against you. 

“You’re not gonna be able to get rid of me that easily this time, though. I don’t care what kind of loser ex you have waiting for you at home. You want me. That’s good enough.” 

Your eyes widen. “Kenpachi….” 

Why did you have no idea he felt like this before? Is he right–are you actually an idiot who didn’t notice?

“Besides…” He grins maniacally. “Can anyone else compare to this?”

His mouth crashes onto yours once more. Kenpachi’s not the kind of man to hold himself back. He kisses you with fervor, like he wants to fuel the fire in both of you with each touch. He has no reservations.

Lifting you by the waist, he pins you against the wall with his body. He’s all tough muscles, hard and bulky even through his shirt. Your breath hitches when you feel his erection press against your thigh. It feels massive.  

You want to feel more of him. You want to see what he’s been denying from you for so long. 

“Your place or mine?” you gasp out. 

“The shop is closer,” he grunts out. 

He’s right. You don’t fancy having your parents catch you getting frisky either. He grabs you a cab. The entire time, his hand grips your thigh possessively, the calloused pads of his thumbs stroking your skin sending shivers down your spine. A promise for what’s to come. 

—

In a tangle of limbs, the two of you manage to make it through the door and into his shop.

Kenpachi swipes a hand over his work desk, sending his supplies scattering. Then, in an impressive feat of strength, he lifts you around the waist with the other hand, placing you on his table. You yelp. 

His lips are on yours in a bruising kiss. It almost feels like he’s snarling through the kiss, his teeth bared. His large hand roughly squeezes your breast through your shirt and you moan.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Keep making those sounds.” 

His other hand splays your legs apart, near ripping your skirt off with his brute strength. You slide it off you, and his hand digs crudely between your thighs. He raises a brow at your choice of underwear, a scrappy thong that he could snap in two with one tug, before surging forward. He presses down hard on your clit with his thumb, and you mewl. 

“K-Kenpachi, please… more.” 

You unbutton your shirt. Kenpachi watches you strip with an inscrutable expression. When the fabric falls, and he gets the whole view of you in your skimpy bra, his hands come forward. Clamping around your hips, he drags you forwards as if you’re nothing but a rag doll.

He thumbs the thin, scrappy material covering your breasts. Your cheeks flush when he flicks a nipple through your bra.

“You dress like this all the time?” he finally asks.

“Ah. No, I just thought…” 

His eyes flash. 

“You knew we’d fuck tonight, huh.” 

The crass, plain way he says it has you flustered. Closer now, you tug at the hem of his shirt. He yanks it over his head, before tugging off his pants. The image of his boxers, seeming to barely contain the sizable members inside them, has you clenching your thighs. He looks just as big as you felt against you earlier.

He surges forward, his hands yanking down the cups of your bra down as he pushes your breasts together, seeming to enjoy the sight of them. His other hand circles your damp pussy through the thin fabric, before yanking it down as well. Impatient, as if he can’t wait to feel you. Suddenly he slips a long finger inside you, and you gasp. 

“Shit. You’re so…” 

He grunts. “You can take it.” And sure enough, the burn of him is eased by some of your own arousal. But it still stings. 

Slipping his finger in and out of you, Kenpachi builds up to a rhythm. He slips in another finger with little warning, thrusting all the way to the knuckle. You yelp, unprepared for the intrusion. He swirls his fingers around, looking bemused when your walls grip his fingers as he slides out with a pop.

“Damn. You are tight.” 

His comment, said in the most casual tone, flusters you. You reach between you for his boxers, feeling him more substantially now. 

Oh. Oh god. Your eyes widen as you feel just how thick he is. Hesitantly, you pull him out of his boxers, your trepidation increasing. Holy fuck. Is it possible for someone’s cock to be this big? It’s long and girthy, nearly the size of your forearm.

He’s watching you carefully. 

“We go just as far as you want.” 

You stare up at him, biting down on your lip. Do you want it? Your hand strokes him from base to tip once, and it throbs in your hand. Your fingers can barely even wrap around it. You squeeze lightly, and Kenpachi makes a guttural sound in the back of his throat, thrusting forward into your hand. 

Yes. You do want it.

You wonder idly how many partners he’s scared off with this thick cock of his. It makes you all the more eager to keep him to yourself, just for you to enjoy. 

Jerking him off with one hand, your other hand comes up, grasping him by the back of his neck. You bring him down for a kiss. It’s oddly intimate, him fingering you, you stroking him on his work desk. Kenpachi snarls into the kiss when your thumb works over the tip of him, spreading his precum around. His fingers jab into you, and you jolt, moaning against him.

Breaking the kiss, you decide that if you’re going to try and take his downright monstrous cock, you definitely need more prep. Your hand leaves his neck, coming down to play with your clit. That, combined with his fingers inside you, has you shaking around him. He’s watching you intently, his hand a near vice grip around your breast. You moan in slight pain, and he lessens his hold. 

Then his hand is digging into your waist. It seems the faster you stroke his cock, the harder he grips onto you. The thought that Kenpachi is going to leave his marks all over you has you working your clit faster, swirling harder. 

Kenpachi’s third finger circles your entrance, his eyes locking with yours. He surges all three fingers into you with little remorse, and you have to bite down on your lip to hold back your yell. But when he starts relentlessly pumping his thick fingers into you? You can’t hold back.

“K-Kenpachi!”

He grunts, seeming pleased by your reaction. He fucks his fingers into you as if it’s a preview to how he’s about to fuck his cock into you–an all-out onslaught, merciless. Kenpachi shows little remorse in the way his fingers burrow into you, pressing deeper and deeper until you can almost feel him in your gut.

Kenpachi’s fingers leave you, and you nearly cry at the feeling of emptiness. But then the thick, fat head of his cock is at your entrance, and your breath catches. He catches your gaze again, holding it as he sinks the tip of his cock into you. The stretch is intense. Even his large fingers are nothing compared to the real thing. You don’t think you’ve ever felt this full, and he’s barely gotten started. Your thighs tremble around his waist as he hunches forward. He exhales roughly, seeming near overwhelmed by the pleasure of being mere inches inside you. 

“Shit,” he curses. “Who said you could be this tight. Fuck.” 

Kenpachi’s rutting against you, working his cock inside you slowly. A glance down has you tightening around him, and he grunts, grasping your hips tighter. He’s only a third of the way in, yet he’s already stretching you to your absolute limit. You marvel at the fact that you can even take such a monstrous cock as his, even as your walls clamp down insistently around him. 

“Feels great,” he grunts, dragging his cock out of you, before surging forward again. “Feels fucking amazing.”

Kenpachi’s hips pick up the pace. Each thrust has him inching further in, until you’ve taken in half of his cock. His hands dig into your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he fucks into you, his hips moving like pistons. You’re mewling, your hands gripping his forearms, searching for some kind of purchase in his relentless onslaught. 

He’s snarling with every thrust into you like a man possessed. His gaze seems fixated on the way your pussy swallows him whole, clinging desperately to his length. The sounds of your coupling seem to amuse him greatly, a wicked grin stretching his face at the loudening squelch accompanying each of his thrusts. 

“You gettin’ off to this? You like being fucked like a whore?”

You moan, shaking your head. Your nails dig into his arms, but Kenpachi shakes one of your hands away. With his now free hand, he grabs a handful of one of your breasts, squeezing and kneading. 

“I think you do. Think you like it rough. You tightened up on me just now.” He grunts, his hips near bruising in the way they slam into you. 

You cry out his name. Kenpachi’s eyes narrow, his thrusts increasing in ferocity. The slap of your hips is surely loud enough to be heard across the street. Releasing your breast, his hand coming up to grip your chin. He presses a finger down on your lips. 

“Suck.”

You do, slipping his finger into your mouth before lolling your tongue around it. Then he brings his hand down to your nub, his thumb crudely rubbing your clit. He doesn’t go for technique as much as sheer force, but it, combined with his cock pounding into you, has you trembling around him in no time. 

“K-Kenpachi!” Your toes curl, your legs tensing around his midsection as waves upon waves of pleasure crash around you. For several beats, you’re in sheer bliss, muscles clenched, that is, until Kenpachi’s heavy panting and cursing brings you back down.

He’s gripping your thigh, using it as leverage to fuck into you. You’ve taken almost all of his cock by this sound. Sweat trails down his forehead, his teeth gnashing together.  

“Where do you want it?” he grunts out.

“I—on my—“ 

You gesture at your body helplessly. Kenpachi drags his cock out of you, making a hoarse sound in the back of his throat at the loud squelch from your combined fluids. His hand flies over his cock, his hips tensed. With a guttural groan of your name, thick jets of his spend splatter onto your stomach and chest, some even landing as far as your chin.  He’s panting heavily, his fist still working over his cock as he milks himself of every last drop of his seed before he slumps forward.

“Fuck,” he curses, catching himself on the table before he falls onto you. He’s still breathing hard, his gaze darting to the cum pooling onto your skin. With a grunt, he grabs the nearest rag to wipe you off, thankfully a clean one. Then he wipes himself. You press a lazy kiss against his shoulder, expressing your gratitude. Then he hoists you up into his arms, before dumping you onto the couch.

He does slump over you this time, and your face ends up smushed up against his armpit. You smack him lightly, before he adjusts your positions, his body laying over yours more comfortably. 

“Sleep,” he grumbles out.

Again, a demand. Not a request. But you’ll let it slide this time, you think. Your eyelids drooping, you drift off to sleep in the safety of his arms.

—

The next day, Yumichika and Ikkaku make it to the shop. They open the garage door, only to be greeted by quite a sight. 

Yumichika whistles appreciatively. “Well, would you look at that~”

Their boss and you traipsed across the couch in his office, naked as the day you were born. A thin blanket covers both your bodies, a precarious method of preserving your modesty. Kenpachi’s snores serve as the sole proof that you two are alive, his arm wrapped around your body possessively. 

Grinning, Yumichika placing his hand out. Ikkaku sighs, fishing around in his pockets before forking over 2000¥.

“Told you they would,” he says, counting the money with glee. 

“How was I supposed to know?” Ikkaku threw his hands up, smacking them against his head. “You think the boss has game? I didn’t think he’d get to fuck on the first date.” 

Yumichika rolls his eyes, pocketing his cash. Glancing over at your bodies, he resists the urge to take a picture of you two. God, he loved a juicy story.

“Mission success. Getting the boss back together with his high school sweetheart. The only woman he loved.”

[automotivetaylored]

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[eoieopda]

hmmm, what about yoongi? we love a good hallmark au. the comeback story of a lifetime? separated by something and ironically reunited by the same thing?

i hope this fits!!

the one with the doughboy and the greaseball

pairing: min yoongi x f!reader summary: guess who’s back in town? au: hallmark-style homecoming, childhood friends to ? type: drabble (fluff) rating: pg13 cw: none! wc: 1.2k 🔞 this drabble is sfw, regardless, my content is not for minors. minors and ageless blogs who interact with me or my writing will be blocked.

When Min Yoongi leaves his parents’ house and hits the sidewalk, there’s no way for him to know if he’ll find what he’s looking for. He hopes he will, but the local landscape looks different than it used to. So, he walks along on a hunch, more than anything else.

Down the block he used to live on; past the cafe where he’d unsuccessfully experimented with acoustic, open-mic nights; and onward until he winds up outside of the local body shop.

Above the front door to the office, there’s a hand-painted wooden sign that thumps against the siding with every sigh of wind. It hangs slightly lopsided, just like always. Yoongi chuckles to himself, thankful that some things never change.

Kim & Sons Auto Repair has confused the general public for as long as it’s been open — and that’s precisely the point. Woman-owned and operated, the name bamboozles the local troglodytes long enough to book repair services. By the time their stereotypical thinking catches up with them and they realize who they’re dealing with, they’d have to forfeit a cancellation fee to seek out a male mechanic. Nobody ever does; wounded pride is easier to heal than a wounded wallet.

As far as Yoongi is concerned, Mrs. Kim was a genius for this. Her daughter is, too. She’ll be a worthy successor, in his — and everyone else’s — opinion, when the time comes.

The bell jingles as he pulls open the glass-paned door to the shop. To his surprise, no one is waiting at the counter to greet him. Brows now furrowed, he glances around the vacant waiting area, hoping his hunch hadn’t been wrong.

It’s the first time he’s been inside in over a year; and the only time he doesn’t shout to alert the Kims of his presence. The urge is there, of course, but he knows that time kept marching on in his absence. Now, he doesn’t know if he’s that kind of welcome.

Yoongi flattens his smile into a straight line, worried that some things did change.

He steps around the counter and approaches the doorway into the garage itself. As he moves, he can hear tinkering growing louder; metal on metal. Humming, too, though that’s interrupted by intermittent curse words.

Now, that’s familiar.

All he sees when he crosses the threshold is steel-toed boots, grease-stained jeans, and small hints of skin that peek through holes in the denim. The body those belong to is halfway under some absolute clunker. Yoongi can tell, based on bent knees alone, that some things wait right where they were left.

“Be with you in a second!”

It takes a bit longer than that for you to emerge, but you eventually do. As you scoot forward, the rickety, wooden creeper underneath you squeaks along the cement floor. The flashlight you’re holding drops immediately at your side. It rolls back to the space you’d left underneath the car.

Surprise is spread all over your face when you see him standing there. Then again, it may just be a smudge.

Your smile is a mind-blowing shade of white next to the black something you unknowingly wiped from the back of your hand, across your left cheek. And you sound just like your mother — expletive included — when you gasp, “Min fuckin’ Yoongi, as I live and breathe!”

“There’s that mouth,” he snorts.

Thank god, he thinks. He’s missed your crassness. Missed the playful way you glare at him when he says shit like this to you. For once, you don’t smack his bicep in retaliation.

Yoongi extends a hand to pull you to your feet. The expression you’re wearing tells him he must be joking; and really, he knows better. Then, you stand on your own.

You’ve always been good at that.

Like you have to make sure he’s real — really there — you reach out and poke his cheek, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Yoongi doesn’t care in the slightest that he’s likely smudged now, too. All he can focus on is the way your lip twitches upwards when you’re satisfied with your findings.

“If you’re in town for a wedding or a funeral, tell whoever it is that I didn’t want to be invited, anyway,” you smirk, head cocked to the side. “It’s gotta be one of the two, right?”

You don’t say the quiet part out loud. He hears it, still: You said you’d never come back for any other reason.

Yoongi grimaces, if only for a second. It’s been a month since this plan came about, and it still feels weird, sitting on his tongue. He shakes his head and offers, “My dad.”

He doesn’t say the quiet part out loud, either, but it sits in his stomach like a stone. Immediately, your eyebrows shoot up. Clearly, it’s just as weird to you as it is to him. Yoongi wonders what conclusions you’re jumping to, having heard that what pushed now pulls.

Sheepishly, he rubs the back of his neck and hits you with a flat-line smile; the one you used to tease him for. Remembering that fact makes the corners of his mouth curve upwards.

“Damn bakery isn’t gonna run itself,” Yoongi continues. “Old man’s retiring to travel, or… whatever it is retired people do.”

You blink, stunned, and gesture wordlessly out the open door in the form of a question. He doesn’t need to see where you’re pointing to know what you’re pointing at. And even if he did glance towards the family business across the street, his eyes would only go as far as the bus stop on the corner. He’s been picturing it since he left town.

Left you with the only kiss he’d ever had the chance to give you.

He watches your eyes flick briefly from him, to that bench in particular, then back again. As he does, he wonders if — maybe — that bench has made a home in your head, too.

You wipe your hand off on your jeans, as if it makes any difference. As if Yoongi has ever — would ever — mind your callused fingertips, and grease-slicked knuckles.

When you finally do offer your hand to shake, you heave a melodramatic sigh. “There goes the neighborhood.”

“And here I was thinking that property values decreased when I left,” he mutters, now earning the bicep swat he’d been waiting for. He yelps in feigned offense, “Hey! Hitting a fellow business-owner — in this economy?”

You cross your arms and pop your hip with a roll of your eyes.

“Forgot how sensitive you are, dough boy,” you tease. “What are you gonna do, bake a cake about it?”

Yoongi tries to bite back a grin. As he does, he shakes his head. “Nah, that’s not what I’m going to do about it.”

With a quick glance down at his watch, he confirms that closing time is a few ticks away. You’re looking at him with confusion in your eyes when he resets his sights on you.

You nudge, “Then what?”

“I’m gonna give the grease ball an hour to get ready, and then I’m making it buy me dinner.”

“Min fuckin’ Yoongi,” you whistle, visibly impressed by his audacity. “Did you find a sense of humor on that sabbatical of yours?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs. Then, he winks. “Guess you’ll hear about it in an hour, huh, greaseball?”