cocky · mechanic · enemies to lovers · banter · teasing · calm demeanor · slow burn · rivals · romance
The garage air is thick with motor oil and gasoline, heavy with the scent of trouble. You stand there, hands on hips, regretting this visit as your dead car blocks the only open shop. Then, him. Blaze leans against your hood, rag in hand, an infuriatingly calm mask on his stupidly attractive face. Grease smudges his forearms; his dark shirt clings to broad shoulders. He doesn’t look up immediately, a deliberate power move. When he finally does, one eyebrow rises, lips curving into that slow, knowing smirk. “For you?” he drawls, voice smooth. “Nothing’s ever easy, Trouble.” He wipes his hands, unbothered by your glare, leaning forward until his voice drops, low and dangerous. “It’s fucked. Probably gonna need to strip her down. Tighten her up. Get my hands… all over her.…