hi valentine!! idk exactly what to call you but i am honestly completely enamoured by your writing - its genuinely just perfect imo! i wanted to ask you if maybe you could write a enjin x reader fic, where is is actually like himself, not this crazy lustful man i see everywhere. im honestly thinking something like him dancing with the reader while everyone else parties after a long and gruelling mission or something fluffy like that! its in your hands 😚
tots love your content and happy new year as well!💗
somethin' different about you - enjin
⤷ synopsis.ᐟ ˎˊ˗ lots of members in the cleaners see enjin as the biggest "ladies' man" ever to exist in this world.
he's so flirty, especially when he changes his voice when he's with women, the deep voice with his legs spread out, smoking his cigarette with those low eyes.
he's the most loyal guy ever, especially towards the woman he worships like a goddess, which is you.
besides all that "ladies' man" energy, he's not lustful or anything. he genuinely loves you, he's a pure angel with you, behaves for you, and always makes sure you know his love is real.
⤷ may contain.ᐟ ˎˊ˗ no use of y/n, pure fluff, cute ending, no playboy enjin, loyal enjin, praises you, cute moments together, smoking parts, yearner! enjin, loverboy! enjin.
⤷ pairing .ᐟ ˎˊ˗ enjin! x fem! reader
SOMETHIN' DIFFERENT ABOUT
YOU LOVE IT WHEN HE HIT AND SMACK TOO
BABY, LEMME LICK ON YOUR TATTOOS
THAT'S TRUE THAT I LIKE PDA
TAKE IT TO A SEEDY PLACE
SUCK A LITTLE DICK IN THE BATHROOM
WHO THAT MAN WITH THE BIG STRONG HANDS
ON HER ASS IN THE CLUB WITH THE PAPS?
BABY, THAT'S YOU
- DOJA CAT
the cleaners always thought enjin was a ladies’ man.
the way he sat with his legs spread, relaxed like he owned the room. the cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling around his face.
the way his voice dropped lower when women talked to him, smooth and teasing, eyes half closed like he was flirting without even trying. they joked about it. teased him. said he’d break hearts without caring.
but they were wrong. completely wrong.
because that version of enjin was just a front. a role he played so no one would look too close.
when it came to you, everything about him changed.
his voice didn’t stay low and lazy. it softened. it became gentle, careful, real. the man who looked dangerous to everyone else suddenly sat closer, leaned in instead of leaning back.
the cigarette was forgotten. his eyes were no longer heavy with fake charm, but warm, focused only on you.
he wasn’t lustful. not careless. not greedy for attention.
he loved you in a quiet, honest way. the kind of love that shows in small actions. the way he listens when you speak. the way he remembers tiny things about you. the way he makes sure you feel safe before anything else.
to him, you weren’t just someone he liked. you were someone he worshiped. like a goddess he never wanted to disappoint.
he behaved for you. softened for you. showed a side of himself no one else ever got to see.
and he always made sure you knew—his love wasn’t a joke, or a game, or an act. it was real. pure. steady.
the night felt lighter after the fight.
the raiders were gone. everyone was tired, bruised, but alive.
so the cleaners threw a small party, loud music, cheap drinks, laughter filling the space like it was trying to chase away all the bad memories.
you were standing near enjin when he noticed you.
the dress you wore caught the light every time you moved. it wasn’t flashy, but on you it looked perfect. enjin’s eyes lingered longer than usual, and for once, he didn’t try to hide it.
“you look good,” he said quietly, just for you, his voice soft instead of teasing.
then the music got louder, and somehow he pulled you into dancing.
he moved easily, cigarette between his fingers, smoke drifting as he swayed with you. one hand rested on your waist, warm and steady, the other guiding you close.
sometimes his hands moved a little, gentle, familiar, never rough. it wasn’t lustful.
it was affectionate. like he was proud to be seen with you.
rudo froze when he noticed.
riyo blinked twice, staring. zanka nearly dropped his drink.
they had never seen enjin like this. never seen him touch someone with care instead of hunger. never seen him smile so softly, like the whole world was reduced to just one person in his arms.
to them, it was shocking.
after a while, the dancing slowed. your feet started to ache, the heels biting into you with every step. enjin noticed immediately. he always did.
“hey,” he murmured, leaning down, “your feet hurt?”
before you could answer, he crouched down in front of you. right there. no shame. no jokes. he gently took off your heels, one by one, setting them aside like they were something precious.
then, without asking, he picked you up.
one arm under your legs, the other around your back. secure. careful.
the room went quiet for just a second as he carried you past everyone, cigarette gone now, all his attention on you. you could feel his heartbeat through his chest, calm and steady.
he brought you back to your room, set you down gently on the bed, and knelt again to rub your sore feet with slow, careful hands.
“you did good tonight,” he said softly. “i’ll take care of you now.”
and in that moment, it was clear to anyone who saw—
the flirty enjin belonged to rumors.
this enjin belonged to you.
enjin stayed with semiu longer than he meant to.
his shoulders were tense, his hands trembling just a little as he spoke, like every word he said was pulled straight from his chest without permission. his voice kept breaking, going soft in the wrong places, and it embarrassed him, but he didn’t stop.
“i don’t think you understand,” he said, pacing slowly, dragging a hand down his face. “i love her so much that it makes me feel stupid. like i could cry just thinking about her standing there, doing nothing, just existing.”
semiu watched him calmly, arms crossed, expression sharp and unreadable, but her eyes stayed on him the whole time.
“sometimes i look at her and my chest hurts,” enjin continued, laughing weakly through it. “like it’s too full. like my heart doesn’t know what to do with all of it. i swear i could drop to my knees just to tell her thank you for being here.”
semiu sighed and rolled her eyes, slow and deliberate, but there was a small smile on her lips that she didn’t bother hiding.
“you’re dramatic,” she said plainly. “and painfully obvious.”
he sniffed, wiping his face with his sleeve, not even caring how he looked anymore. “yeah. i know. i’m gone. completely.”
semiu shook her head once. “then stop confessing to me and go to her.”
those words stayed with him.
later, when he found you, his steps slowed without him realizing. his heart started pounding again, loud in his ears, like it always did when he saw you. you were just there, calm and real, and it was enough to make his chest tighten all over again.
he walked up to you and didn’t say anything at first.
instead, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, holding you like he needed the contact to stay upright. his face pressed into your shoulder, breath uneven, fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes.
“i love you,” he whispered, voice low and shaky, like he was afraid the words might disappear if he didn’t say them right away. “i love you so much it makes me feel weak.”
he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes glassy, lashes wet, expression open in a way he never let anyone else see. there was no teasing smile, no lazy confidence, only honesty and longing written all over his face.
then, slowly, carefully, he lowered himself.
one knee touched the floor, then the other, and he stayed there, looking up at you like you were something sacred. his hands rested gently against you, not grabbing, not demanding, just there, warm and reverent.
“i don’t want anything from you,” he said softly. “i just want to give. i want to love you the right way. i want to be good for you.”
his voice wavered again, but he didn’t look away.
“i’d kneel like this every day if it meant you felt cherished. i’d worship you just by making sure you’re safe, happy, and loved. that’s all i want.”
he leaned forward, resting his forehead against you, breathing you in like this was where he belonged.
time passed in a slow, gentle way, and with every single day that went by, enjin found himself growing more attached to you than he ever thought possible.
he started choosing the seat next to you without even thinking about it. if there were other open spots, he ignored them. his body naturally leaned toward yours, shoulder brushing yours just barely, like he was testing if it was okay.
when you shifted, he shifted too, adjusting himself so the space between you never really grew.
he followed you around more.
if you went to get food, he went with you. if you stepped outside for air, he was suddenly there too, lighting a cigarette but standing close enough that your sleeves touched. he didn’t say much.
he just liked being near you, like proximity alone made his chest feel lighter.
the cleaners noticed quickly.
they exchanged looks, whispered, raised brows.
he became openly clingy, but in a soft, almost sweet way. he’d rest his arm around your shoulders when you were tired, pulling you in gently like it was the most natural thing in the world.
sometimes he’d rest his head against yours, sighing quietly, like he was finally at peace.
one afternoon, you were sitting together while you painted your nails.
enjin sat across from you at first, watching silently. his eyes followed every careful movement of your hands, focused and calm, like he was memorizing the moment. after a long pause, he spoke, voice low and hesitant.
you looked up, surprised by the request.
he slowly held out his hand, palm up, fingers relaxed but unsure, like he didn’t want to push. when you took it, his shoulders visibly softened.
you painted his nails black, one by one.
he stayed perfectly still, barely breathing, eyes never leaving your face. the smell of polish mixed with cigarette smoke, and the moment felt quiet and intimate. when you finished, he turned his hand slightly, admiring it like it meant more than it should.
“i like it,” he said softly.
after that, he found more excuses to be close.
he’d sit behind you and rest his chin on your shoulder, arms loosely around your waist. sometimes he’d lace his fingers with yours, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over your knuckles like a habit he didn’t want to break.
when you were tired, he guided you to sit, making sure you were comfortable before thinking about himself.
every day, his yearning grew heavier.
you could see it in the way he looked at you longer than necessary, eyes warm and full, like he was always holding back something big. his usual teasing tone faded when he spoke to you, replaced with something gentle and honest.
sometimes you’d catch him staring, and instead of looking away, he’d smile slowly, like being seen didn’t bother him anymore.
at night, if you were nearby, he stayed close, arm around you, fingers tracing small, lazy patterns on your sleeve. if you weren’t there, he felt it deeply.
he’d lie awake, cigarette untouched, thinking about you, wondering if you were safe, if you were warm, if you were missing him too.
he missed you in quiet ways.
when you laughed, his chest felt too full. when you leaned into him, he felt like he could disappear right there and be happy.
the others didn’t need to ask.
enjin wasn’t just fond of you. he was deeply, hopelessly yearning for you, more and more with every passing day.
and he didn’t fight it. because loving you felt easy.
because being close to you felt like home.
݁─BONUS SCENARIO ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁
enjin had always smoked. it was part of him, the habit he carried everywhere.
the cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily around him—it was almost a shield, a way to keep people at a distance.
but with you, things began to change.
at first, it was small. he noticed the way you flinched just a little when the smoke drifted near you during cuddles, the quiet wrinkle in your nose when he leaned in close. he hated seeing it.
it made him feel guilty, like even a tiny part of him was making you uncomfortable.
so he started putting off smoking when you were around.
a few minutes longer between drags, a cigarette stubbed out early. sometimes, he’d light one, see your face, and just… let it go cold in his hand, staring at it for a moment before tossing it aside.
slowly, day by day, it became easier. he carried less cigarettes in his pockets, held them only when he was alone.
the habit was still there, still part of him, but for you, he started choosing differently.
when you cuddled, he leaned in closer, chest pressed against yours, fingers tracing over your arms, and every time he felt the urge to smoke, he reminded himself of your soft voice, your gentle scent, the way you looked at him when he held you.
it was stronger than the craving. stronger than any need for a cigarette.
sometimes he would laugh quietly, exhaling a breath,
“you make it hard to smoke anyway,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face as he leaned into your warmth.
and each day, he felt a little lighter. the smoke was gone, but your closeness stayed. the scent of you filled the space he used to fill with smoke, and he realized he didn’t miss it—not really.
not when being near you felt like breathing, like coming home.
enjin didn’t tell anyone about it. the others might have noticed him holding back, seeing fewer cigarettes around him.
but for him, it wasn’t a sacrifice. it was love. the kind of love that made him want to change for you, slowly, quietly, without fanfare.
and every time you nuzzled into him during a cuddle, warm and soft against his chest, he smiled, lips brushing the top of your head, thinking,
"i’d stop a hundred things if it meant keeping you close like this."
the cigarettes faded. you stayed. and that was enough.
「©valentinesxoxo˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ 」
