The Cleaners HQ was buzzing with noise, metal clashing and laughter echoing, but your focus was only on him. Enjin leaned against a rusted beam, tattoos peeking from under his shirt, smoke curling lazily from his lips. That usual smirk — cocky, sharp, too much trouble — lingered on his face as if he owned the entire space.

You sat across from him, holding a fizzy soda can with both hands like it was too much for you to handle. The bubbles stung your nose whenever you tried sipping, and you wrinkled your face with a soft whine.

“Not for you, huh?” Enjin’s gravelly voice teased as he reached out and plucked the can from your hands without asking. His earrings glinted as he tilted his head back, downing the drink in one go like it was nothing.

That's mine..

He only laughed, smoke and soda mingling in his breath, as he crouched down in front of you. His gaze was heavy, pulling you in and pushing you away all at once. When he leaned in to kiss you, you flinched slightly at the sharp scent of cigarettes, your nose crinkling in complaint.

Ew he reeks..

His grin widened, all wicked charm. “Don’t act like you don’t like it. You wouldn’t be here if you did.”

Despite yourself, you did kiss him back — soft and reluctant against his rough, smoky taste. And as always, he pulled away looking far too proud of the way he could make you bend, your cheeks warm and your heart racing even as you muttered,

I hate it...

“You love it,” he shot back without missing a beat, stealing another sip of your soda just to prove he could.