I’m Be (the shopkeeper), and this is where I keep the stories I write and the things I love to talk about. Think of this space like a quiet corner with warm lights, soft music, and shelves full of different blends waiting to be chosen.
If you’ve stepped inside, consider this your invitation to sit by the window, listen to the quiet clink of porcelain, and choose a blend that suits your mood.
Each character has their own flavor here . You’ll find them under the menu. I do my best to keep it updated… but sometimes the orders pile up and the menu lags behind a little. (feel free to use the tags as well :p)
So take your time, pick whatever feels comforting for you today.
And stay as long as you like. ☕🍃
Here's the menu
Craving a particular flavor? Request a custom cup (Request's status: closed!! Working on the event's requests)
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The way your eyes linger on his mouth when he’s talking, how you press your thighs together when he stretches and his shirt rides up, the little breathy sighs that slip out when his hand “accidentally” brushes your lower back.
Every single tell screams it.
He starts smirking whenever he catches you staring—that lazy, knowing grin spreading slow, like he’s already won.
It tells him everything he needs to know: you like what you see. You like it a lot.
So he weaponizes every fucking glance, every brush, every kiss because he loves seeing that little obsessed gaze of yours.
Summary: You ask him to teach you how to smoke a cigarette
Warnings: None
“You wanna what?”
“You heard me,” you said, leaning against the doorway of the balcony. The city lights sprawled behind you, forming a hazy constellation. “Teach me how to smoke.”
Enjin set his can down with a definitive clack. “No. Hell no. Why? You got a head injury while I was at the store?”
"I’m curious,” you shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “You always look… I don’t know. Thoughtful. When you do it.”
He barked a laugh. “Thoughtful? That's bullshit. It’s a disgusting habit. You’re not doing it.”
“Since when do you get to tell me what I do?” You fired back, and he glared at you. It was safer than admitting the truth: that you wanted to understand this one quiet, solitary part of his rhythm. That you wanted to share even the bad habits, just to be closer.
"Since I’m the idiot who’d have to hear you cough up a lung afterward,” he grumbled, but he was already reaching for the crumpled pack on the rusty table. He shook one out for himself, lit it with a quick flick of his wrist, and took a drag, watching you through the plume. “It’s not cool. It tastes like ash."
“ You do it. Why can't I?"
“I have a rich and storied history of poor decisions. You’re supposed to be the smart one.”
You just held his gaze, stubborn. With a long-suffering sigh that dissolved into smoke, he shook his head and gave in to the idea. He knew you were annoying enough to keep insisting. “Fine. Fine! But you’re gonna hate it. And I’m not buying you your own pack. This is a one-time demo.”
He patted the space beside him on the worn-out balcony couch. You sat, the cold night air raising goosebumps on your arms. He took the cigarette from his mouth, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “Okay, first rule: don’t inhale like you’re trying to suck a golf ball through a garden hose. It’s not oxygen, " He said in a low, strange, focused teacher-mode tone of voice that you rarely heard. “Small sip. Let it just sit in your mouth for a sec, like you’re tasting shitty wine.”
He handed it to you. Your fingers brushed and suddenly you were nervous. You put the filter to your lips, the paper already damp from him.
“Go on,” he said, his eyes on yours.
You took a small, tentative pull. The smoke hit your tongue, bitter and dry. You held it in your mouth as instructed, the unfamiliar acridness bloomed and... It was awful.
“Now,” he said, his voice closer. “Open your mouth a little, and just… breathe in past it. Gently.”
You did as he said, drawing a short, sharp breath. The smoke shot down your throat, a hot, chemical invasion. Your body rebelled instantly. A violent, wrenching cough tore through you, doubling you over, making tears sprung to your eyes.
“Told you,” Enjin said, but there was no triumph in it. His hand came to your back, rubbing firm circles between your shoulder blades as you sputtered. “It’s a defense mechanism. Your body’s smarter than you.”
When the coughing subsided into shaky breaths, you wiped your eyes, glaring at him. “That was horrible.”
"Yeah, no shit.” He took the cigarette back from your trembling fingers. He took a drag, this time holding the smoke in his own mouth before breathing it out to the side, away from you. “See? You don’t even gotta inhale it deep to look like you know what you’re doing. It’s all for show."
“Then why the fuck do you do it?” You asked again, your throat still burning.
He was quiet for a moment, watching the ember glow. “Gives me something to do with my hands. Makes a minute feel like a minute. And it… gives me an excuse to stand out here and think. Or not think.” He glanced at you. “You don’t need an excuse. You just come out here.”
He finished the cigarette, grinding it out in the overflowing ashtray with finality. “Lesson over. You failed. Congratulations.” He pulled you into his side, tucking you under his arm. Your head fit against his shoulder, the scent of night air and faint smoke clinging to his hoodie.
“It was a terrible lesson,” you muttered.
“The worst. Don’t ask again.” He kissed the top of your head. “If you want thoughtful, I’ll teach you how to take apart a controller. Less carcinogenic. Same level of quiet.”
You smiled into the fabric of his sleeve. You’d learned nothing about smoking, but definitely a little more about him.
Do you think you could pretty please write Gachiakuta angst?! Like them saying something hurtful to us in an argument🙏🙏I LOVE ANGSTT
I LOVE ANGSTT AS WELL!!! OF COURSE, all here for the pain, my lady! ⚘️⚘️ also, it was really fun writing for Zodyl
Enjin - Are you done?
“Are you even listening to me?” you asked, quieter this time.
Enjin sat at the table, nursing a coffee that had long since gone cold. While you laid out, for the fifth time, how disappearing into No Man’s Land without so much as an “I’m alive” text was completely fucked up, he didn’t seem to hear a word.
He tilted his head, blond hair sliding into his eyes. That same half-smile clung to his mouth like it had been tattooed there. “I heard you. You’re upset because I didn’t come back when I said I would. Again.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Got caught up. Happens.”
You glared, heat crawling up your throat. “yeah, and?"
“Look, I thought you knew who you were dealing with by now, princess.” His tone stayed light, almost playful. “I don’t do the whole ‘check-in on time’ thing. Never have.”
You took a deep breath, told yourself to be the bigger person, to not let his dismissiveness burn you alive. “That’s not an excuse, Enjin. That’s just you choosing not to try.”
He finally pushed the mug aside and slid his hands into his pockets. “You’re doing that thing again. Where you talk like I’m supposed to turn into someone else if I like you enough—which I do.” The smile didn’t reach his eyes anymore. “But spoiler: I’m not gonna.”
“Are you fucking stupid? I’m not asking you to change who you are. I’m asking you to give a damn whether I’m okay when you vanish for three days. That’s not a personality transplant. That’s the bare minimum.”
He watched you for a long second, then exhaled through his nose—almost a laugh, sharp enough to cut. “Alright. You done?”
The question landed like a slap.
Your mouth opened, closed. Heat rushed behind your eyes, but you refused to let the tears fall. Not in front of him. “You are a real fucking asshole, you know that?” Your voice came out small, then steadier, colder. “You can sit there looking bored while I’m falling apart, and your only concern is whether the conversation is over yet. Like I’m just background noise.”
Enjin’s jaw flexed—the first crack in his armor. But he didn’t take anything back. Didn’t soften. “You knew I wasn’t good at this,” he said quietly. “I told you that from the start.”
“Yeah. You did.” You swallowed hard. “But I thought maybe… maybe you’d at least try not to make me feel like garbage for caring about you.”
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.
“Babe, that’s not what I—”
“I don’t wanna hear it.” You stood, chair scraping against the floor like a scream. “I’m done. That’s what you want, right? So I’m done.”
You turned your back on him before the tears could spill before your chest could crack open in front of the one person who didn't seem to care enough to stop it. The door clicked shut behind you, leaving him alone in the apartment you used to share, wondering—if he was even capable of wondering—whether this time he had finally pushed you too far to come back.
Zodyl - You are a waste of my time
The lab smelled like scorched metal and something faintly organic—rotting vitality, maybe. Zodyl stood at the central workbench, sleeves of his Watchman coat rolled to the elbows, purple markings under his sunken eyes looking darker in the half-shadow. He didn’t look up when you entered.
You’d waited two weeks for him to surface from this place. Two weeks of messages ignored, of footsteps echoing down empty corridors, of the quiet dread that maybe this time he really had forgotten you existed outside the periphery of his theories.
“Zodyl.”
His scalpel paused mid-incision on whatever grotesque imitation core lay splayed open before him. Only then did he glance over—expression blank, eyes flat as polished amethyst.
“You’ve been down here for days,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I thought… maybe we could go somewhere. Just for a few hours. Away from all this.”
He exhaled once through his nose. Not quite a sigh. More like registering an irrelevant variable.
“I’m working.”
“I know. But you always are.” You stepped closer, boots scuffing against concrete flecked with dried blood and chemical residue. “I’m not asking you to stop. Just… pause. For me.”
The scalpel resumed its path. A thin line of dark fluid welled up. He spoke without looking at you again.
“Pausing is inefficiency. Every second I spend not advancing the work is a second the Sphere stays untouched."
Your chest tightened. You’d heard versions of this before—cold logic delivered like fact, never cruelty, because cruelty would require feeling something first.
“I get that you want to tear it all down,” you said quieter, soft, trying to make it sound like a joke. “..B-but I’m here. I’ve always been here. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
He set the scalpel down with surgical precision. Finally turned to face you fully. Tall, broad-shouldered, coat hanging like a shroud. Those thick brows framed eyes that held nothing—no warmth, no irritation, just evaluation.
“You’re asking if sentiment has utility.” His voice was low, almost clinical. “It doesn’t. Not in this equation.”
“I’m not an equation, Zodyl.”
“You are when you stand between me and progress.” He tilted his head slightly, the white streaks catching light again. “You want time. Time is the only currency that matters here, and you’re asking me to waste it. On what? Conversation? Touch? Distraction?” A pause, shorter than a heartbeat. “You’re a waste of my time.”
Silence swallowed the room. The faint drip of something viscous from the table was suddenly deafening.
You stared at him—really stared—searching for the crack, the flicker, anything that might prove the man who once let you lean against his shoulder after a failed experiment still existed somewhere under the ice. Nothing. Just the same unreadable mask.
“…Right.” Your voice cracked on the single word. You swallowed it back. “I guess I finally understand.”
You turned before the burn behind your eyes could betray you. Footsteps echoed too loud in the empty space as you walked away.
He didn’t call after you.
He didn’t need to.
The door hissed shut behind you, sealing the lab—and him—away again. Somewhere in the dark, Zodyl returned to his work without a second thought, the scalpel picking up exactly where it left off.
It wasn’t a ritual born from any grand declaration. Somewhere along the line, between scraped knuckles, close calls, and the adrenaline crash that left you both buzzing and hollow, it had become law.
Mission done? Get food
If it was a full crew job—you, Enjin, Zanka, Rudo and the rest of Akuta Team —then it was a loud, boisterous affair at the 24-hour diner three blocks from the usual rendezvous point. The one with the sticky vinyl booths and the waitress, who’d seen it all and didn’t blink at bloodstains or the smell of spent cordite. Plates of greasy eggs, towers of pancakes at 2 AM, coffee strong enough to strip paint. Debriefing happened here, disguised as shit-talking and laughter.
Enjin was always at the center of it, holding court, replaying his favorite moments with sound effects with the others.
But.
If it was just the two of you? Then, it was your tradition.
He’d pull the car into the lot of your favorite spot, or the alleyway joint that made perfect french fries, and the energy would shift. The performative, post-mission hype would melt away, leaving behind a bone-deep tiredness and a quiet, shared understanding.
“You good?” he’d ask, killing the engine. Not the loud ‘WE’RE ALL GOOD, RIGHT?’ he’d shout to the group. This was quieter, just for you. A checklist of one.
“Yeah. You?”
“Peachy. Starving, though. C’mon.”
You’d slide into a booth in the corner. He’d order for both of you without looking at the menu, because he knew what you liked after a hard night. A large hamburguer for him, the spicy miso for you, extra fries on the side because he knew you’d steal his.
The first few minutes were always silent, just the sound of slurping noodles. The world would slowly stop feeling like a threat matrix and start feeling real again—the chatter of other patrons, the steam from the kitchen, the solid press of his leg against yours under the small table.
You lived for these moments.
“You were quiet on the drive back,” he’d say, not looking at you, concentrating on capturing a perfect bite.
“Just thinking.”
“About this place shitty interior design? I was. That wallpaper was a crime."
A half-smile would touch your lips. “Something like that.”
Or he’d nudge your foot with his. “You kicked that guy's ass back there. That sweep you did on the guy in the hallway? Clean.”
“You’re just saying that because you didn’t have to do any work.”
“Damn right I am. Efficiency, baby. Let my partner show off.”
It was in these moments, over steaming bowls and under the fluorescent lights of some hole-in-the-wall, that the lines blurred completely. He wasn’t just your chaos-agent best friend, or your insatiable fuckbuddy. He was your partner. The one who had your back when it mattered, and the one who knew you needed the spicy miso, not any soup, when your nerves were shot.
Sometimes, if it had been a particularly rough one, he’d reach over after the bowls were empty and just… hold your hand. His thumb would rub slow circles over your knuckles. No words. Just the anchor point of his touch, the shared warmth, the unspoken we’re out, we’re safe, we’re here.
Walking back to the car, the city night air cool on your skin, shoulders brushing, the buzz of danger fully replaced by a full stomach and a deep, settled contentment. It was better than any victory celebration with the gang. This was yours. A ritual of survival, and comfort, and something that felt dangerously, beautifully like coming home.
He’d unlock the passenger door for you an as you slid in, he’d lean in the open door, bracing his arms on the roof and the frame, caging you in gently. The streetlight would halo his messy hair.
“Home?” he’d ask, his enlow.
“Home,” you’d agree.
And it meant more than just the base of the cleaners. It meant the end of the mission. The start of whatever came next. Together.
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Summary: You are his shy and sweet girlfriend, but that doesn't mean he can't teach you how to suck him off properly in the best way possible
Warnings: dirty language, praise kink, blowjob, handjob, deepthroating, dick description
The dim glow from the Abyss's scattered lights filtered through your room's windows, casting shadows over your bed, where you and Enjin were tangled up again. The rain had picked up once more, a steady drum against the roof that muffled the world outside, turning this cramped space into your own little haven—or hell, depending on how nervous you felt. You'd already come twice on his tongue, body still buzzing from the overstimulation, but now it was his turn, and the way he looked at you—dark eyes soft with that mix of hunger and patience—made your stomach flip.
He'd shifted so he was sitting up, back against the bed frame, pants shoved down just enough to free himself. And god, when you finally looked—really looked—your breath caught. He was big. Thick, veined, curving slightly upward with a flushed head already beading with precum. It twitched under your wide-eyed stare, and you felt a fresh wave of shyness crash over you, thighs pressing together instinctively.
"Enjin... I don't really know what to do," you whispered, voice tiny, cheeks burning as you knelt between his spread legs. "I don't wanna mess things up or hurt you"
He chuckled—that low, goofy rumble that always eased the tension—reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Baby, you're not gonna hurt me. And mess up? Nah, impossible. Just you touchin' me is gonna feel like heaven." His hand cupped your jaw gently, thumb stroking your lower lip. "We don't gotta do this if you're scared."
You bit your lip, glancing down at his cock again—it looked even more intimidating up close, heavy and hot against his thigh. But the way he was looking at you, all sweet and filthy encouragement, made you want to try. For him. "Okay. Teach me?"
His grin turned wicked, but his touch stayed soft as he guided your hand to wrap around the base. Your fingers didn't quite meet—god, he was thick—and you felt him throb under your palm, warm and velvety-smooth. "Start here. Grip it firm but not too tight, kay? Yeah, just like that. Now stroke slow... up and down. Feel that?"
You did, tentatively pumping your hand along his length, watching his abs tense and a low groan escape his lips. Precum slicked the way, making it glide easier, and you marveled at the contrast—hard steel under soft skin. "Like this?"
"Fuck yeah," he breathed, head tipping back for a second before he refocused on you. "Twist your wrist a little at the top—right under the head. That's sensitive as hell."
You nodded and did exactly what he told you, getting mesmerized by how he bit his lips. You looked down at his dick and used your thumb to rub the slit a little curious, and using your thumb, you collected the drip on it and spread it around.
He hissed softly, hips twitching. "Good girl. See how it's gettin' wetter? That's 'cause of you. Now... lean in. Kiss it first if you want. Get comfy."
Your heart hammered as you dipped your head, pressing a tentative kiss to the head—salty, musky, not bad at all. You parted your lips and licked a stripe up the underside, tracing a vein with your tongue. Enjin's hand threaded into your hair—not pulling, just guiding. "Shit, baby... open wider. Take the tip in your mouth. Suck gentle, like a popsicle. No teeth—use your lips to cover 'em."
You did, wrapping your lips around the tip, sucking softly while your tongue swirled. It filled your mouth more than you'd expected, stretching your jaw a bit, but the way he moaned—deep and wrecked—sent a thrill through you. "That's it... bob your head a little. Take more if you can, but don't force it. Use your hand for the rest, yeah?"
The rhythm came slowly—up and down, hand twisting, mouth sucking with wet, sloppy sounds that made your face heat up.
But god, you started liking it. The weight on your tongue, the salty taste, the way his thighs tensed under your free hand. It felt powerful, and the praise spilling from his lips was like honey in your ears, making you feel bolder.
"Fuck, you're a natural... look at you, takin' my cock so sweet. Hollow your cheeks—yeah, like that... Mhm. Goddamn, baby, you're gonna make me lose it." His voice was filthy-sweet, hips rocking gently to meet your mouth, but he kept control, letting you set the pace.
The more you did it, the more the fear melted away—replaced by a hungry ache between your legs. You took him deeper, gagging a little but recovering, tears pricking your eyes from the stretch. You loved the way he filled you, the musky scent of him, the little grunts he made when you tongued the slit.
He played with your hair, telling himself it was unfair for you to look so damn cute with his dick in your mouth. It only made him want to cum faster. He didn't want to overwhelm you by asking you to swallow it in the first time or accidently cum inside so his hand tightened in your hair—gentle pull, easing you off. "Whoa, slow down, gorgeous. Gotta stop or I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat."
You popped off with a wet sound, lips swollen and shiny, looking up at him with wide eyes. A pout formed before you could stop it, like he'd taken away your favorite toy. "But... I want to. Please? Let me keep going. I like it—making you feel good. Don't stop me..."
Enjin's eyes widened, disbelief flashing across his face before it melted into something hotter, fonder. "Holy shit. Look at you—my shy little princess, pouting 'cause she wants my cock back in her mouth." He groaned, dragging a hand over his face, but his grin was all adoration. "Fuck, how can I say no to that? You're too pliant, too sweet. Okay, baby. Go ahead. Make me cum."
You dove back in eagerly, no hesitation now—sucking harder, bobbing faster, hand stroking what your mouth couldn't reach. His breaths came ragged, praises turning incoherent. "So good—fuck, yes—gonna fill your mouth—"
He came with a guttural moan, hips stuttering as hot spurts hit your tongue—salty, thick, more than you'd expected. You swallowed instinctively, some dribbling down your chin, but you kept sucking through it, milking every drop until he was shuddering and pulling you up gently.
"Fuck, princess," he panted, wiping your chin with his thumb before kissing you deep—tasting himself on your lips without a care. He pulled you into his lap, arms wrapping tight, nuzzling your neck. "You were...perfect. You okay? Not too much?"
You shook your head, hiding a shy smile against his shoulder. "Liked it. A lot."
He laughed, soft and sweet. "Yeah? C'mere. Let me hold you while this storm blows over." And just like that, in the midst of the chaos outside, everything felt perfectly... right.
Congratulations to all of us on chapter 165! I would really like to hear your thoughts about the revealed Enjin's backstory and how it all shaped his character. I still think you're incredibly good at conveying his personality in your work <3
I was SHOCKED when I read his name. I have been curious since the day we learned "enjin" wasn't his birth name, then I read it on the manga and asked myself how could he ever introduce himself to someone with that o.o
Kay, so spoilers ahead
One of the things I find most interesting about Enjin after Chapter 165 is that his personality suddenly makes so much sense.
Before the flashback, it's easy to see him as simply the cool, laid-back mentor archetype. He's charismatic, patient, approachable, and somehow always seems to know exactly what people need to hear.
Chapter 165 reveals that these traits aren't just personality quirks. They're the result of the kindness he received as a child.
As a child, Enjin desperately wanted to improve the lives of the people around him. He wanted to help. Instead, his actions contributed to making things worse. The orphanage he grew up in became even more exploitative, and he carried the guilt of that failure with him.
What's fascinating is that he doesn't respond to this guilt by becoming cynical.
He responds by dedicating his life to people.
The name "Enjin" itself is symbolic. Alto tells him it means someone who connects people, and from that moment onward, Enjin seems to build his entire identity around fulfilling that role.
When we look back at the story, that's exactly what he does.
He connects Rudo to the Cleaners.
He supports Riyo when she struggles with her own burdens.
He helps Zanka open up to others and deal with his insecurities.
He constantly creates spaces where people can trust each other.
It's almost as if he's trying to make up for the damage he believes he caused in the past by ensuring that no one around him is left alone.
Even his relaxed attitude starts to feel different after the flashback. Rather than being naturally carefree, it can be interpreted as something he consciously cultivated. Someone who grew up surrounded by suffering and guilt would understand better than anyone how valuable a sense of safety can be. Plus, he becomes that "safety" cuz he is the character that everyone looks to when shit gets difficult. People know they can count on him.
Alto gave him a new identity and a new purpose. Years later, Enjin ends up becoming that same figure for Rudo, which is a sweet parallel.
Alto found a lost child and offered him shelter.
Enjin found a lost child and did the same.
Enjin's entire life has been a continuation of the kindness he once received 😭😭😭
That's why I think this flashback is so important. It doesn't change who Enjin is. It reveals that he has been the same person all along: someone trying to connect people, because he knows what it feels like to be alone, and because someone once reached out a hand to him when he needed it most. Makes me love him even more
(This chapter gave me a whole ass idea for a fic that I have been dying to write. Once the event posts are done, I am gonna start working on it)
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Hii I just discovered your account today and so many of your sasuke x reader headcannons fit the personality and story he has with my Naruto!oc and I've been looking for something like this for so long and he's been my favourite character for 7 years now and I absolutely adore the way you write and the way you write him and you're so incredibly talented I love your account sm!!!
Sasuke was my first love. I mean it, like genuinely. Every crush I had after him was similar to him physically for that reason. In that regard, he will always have my heart, and it's always fun to write for him. Although I have not been posting for him a lot lately, he is definitely one of my favorites, so it warms my heart to know you see him in my stories.
Tell me about your naruto!oc if you want to. I am curious about it
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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This is really silly and cliché, but could I request Enjin with a reader who is a chef? Someone that cooks and bakes incredibly tasty food.
Loooooove this idea. So so cute
Stress baking
Summary: He was out for a mission, and you got a little worried and baked enough sweets for the whole base.
Warnings: none, pure fluff
The first thing Enjin noticed when he stepped into your shared quarters was the smell. Warm, buttery, sweet, and savory all at once. The entire place smelled like a bakery had exploded.
He kicked off his dirty boots, blonde hair still messy from the mission, and followed the scent into the tiny kitchen area, knowing he would find you there and there you were.
Apron on, hair tied up messily with a bandana, flour on your cheek, and that focused little frown you always got when you were deep in cooking mode. The counter was covered — trays of cookies, two different cakes, a big pot of stew simmering, fresh bread cooling on a rack, and what looked like handmade dumplings waiting to be steamed.
Enjin leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you for a moment with a lazy smirk.
“You’re stress-cooking again,” he said, voice low and amused.
You, who didn't notice him, jumped slightly, then turned around with a sheepish smile. “I… got bored. And a little worried. Your mission ran long.”
He walked over, wrapped his arms around you from behind, and buried his face in your neck, breathing in the mix of your scent and vanilla and sugar.
“Mmm. I'm sorry, baby, but I'm back now” he mumbled against your skin. “and...my cute little chef trying to feed an entire Cleaner base.”
You leaned back into him, cheeks warming. “I just wanted to do something with my hands. Then I kept thinking you don’t eat properly when you’re out there and when I realized..."
You looked around seeing all the things you made.
Enjin chuckled, the sound vibrating against your back. He reached around you, stole a still-warm cookie from the tray, and bit into it with a satisfied groan.
“Fuck,” he muttered, mouth full. “This is dangerous. One day I’m gonna get fat because of you.”
You laughed softly. “You are an idiot."
He turned you around in his arms so he could look at you properly. His eyes softened when he saw the faint tiredness in your expression — the stress you tried to hide by baking half the pantry.
“You were really worried, huh?” he asked, brushing flour off your cheek with his thumb.
“A little,” you admitted, looking down at his chest. “The mission sounded dangerous this time.”
Enjin tilted your chin up and kissed you slowly, deep, and grateful for all the love you gave him through your eyes and baking. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.
“I always come back to you,” he said quietly. “Especially when I know you’re waiting with food this good.”
You smiled shyly, then reached behind you and picked up one of the small savory pies you’d made specifically for him. You lifted it to his lips.
He took a bite, eyes fluttering closed in bliss.
“Marry me,” he said immediately, still chewing. “Right now. I’ll fight the boss for the paperwork.”
You burst out laughing. “You say that every time I cook.”
“Because I mean it every time.” He stole another kiss, tasting like butter and spices. “You’re too good to me. Gonna spoil me rotten with all this food, and then I’ll never wanna leave your bed.”
You poked his chest, cheeks burning. “You already don’t want to leave my bed.”
“Exactly.” He grinned, that signature cocky smirk returning as he hugged you tighter, lifting you slightly off the ground. “that only means I’ll keep coming home starving to eat whatever masterpiece you made while you were worrying about my stupid ass.” He kissed your forehead, then your flour-dusted cheek, then the tip of your nose.
You melted against him, arms wrapping around his neck. "Okay, now let me go, I gotta check the oven."
"Five more minutes"
"Enjin, it's gonna burn..." You moved around, trying to get rid of his arms, and he only hugged you more tightly.
