The Mechanic · Y/n story by @chaoticpoke

The growl of a diesel engine cut through the quiet street. A flatbed tow truck, rust-eaten and spattered with dried mud, pulled up behind Y/N’s stranded luxury car. The headlights glared white through her rear window, illuminating the dust swirling in the air.

Toji Fushiguro

steps down, boots heavy on the asphalt

He was tall. Built like a man who’d spent years under cars and in fights. Dark hair, stubbled jaw, a thin white scar cutting across his lips at an angle. His eyes—dark, lazy, unimpressed—scanned her vehicle first, then settled on her silhouette behind the wheel.

Toji Fushiguro

knuckles rap once, hard, on the glass

Y/N jumped. Her purse clutched tighter to her chest.

Toji Fushiguro

tilts his head You call for a tow?