You’d always thought Enjin was intimidating when you first met him—his sharp eyes, that quiet, calculating air around him, the way he spoke like he already had the whole room figured out. But the longer you were around him, the more the edges softened just for you. He’d check if you’d eaten, brush stray dust off your shoulder, and mutter in that low voice of his, “Don’t push yourself too hard, idiot.”

And every time he did something even slightly considerate? Oh, it was over for you. Your heart would just melt.

You’d catch yourself staring at him mid-conversation, your brain screaming: He’s so unfairly perfect. Why is he looking like a whole husband right now?

One evening, the two of you were walking back after a messy encounter, the air still tense with the aftermath. Enjin walked slightly ahead, hands tucked in his pockets, his usual calm presence almost grounding. You trailed behind, cheeks hot.

He's so..ugh. Marryable.

He stopped mid-step and looked back at you, one eyebrow raised. “What did you just say?”

But that little smirk tugged at his lips, the one that drove you insane because he knew. He always knew. He walked back up to you, leaning down just enough that his voice brushed against your ear: “If you’re gonna simp for me out loud, at least have the guts to say it to my face.”

Your whole body lit up like a furnace. Meanwhile, Enjin just chuckled, reaching out to ruffle your hair before straightening again. “You’re ridiculous. But…” He paused, his eyes softening for a second, “…don’t stop.”