ft:Enjin Follo, Zanka, Gris, Zodyl, Riyo, Eisha x gn reader
a/n: might make a part two :p
Enjin:
"his kisses are fiery and playful"
"You look so good right now" He purred, placing his hands on your hips and pulling your back flush against his chest. You smiled "Really now?" "Mhm... really" He grinned, before leaning down. He kissed just behind your ear, then brushed some of your hair back. You spun around to face him again. His eyes never once left the clothes you were wearing, you always looked so good in his eyes. No matter if you were dressed up, wearing your pyjamas or anything in between. His eyes wandered back up to your face, taking a quick glance at your eyes before focusing on your lips again. You put your hands on his chest and tilted your head at him "Hm? Something wrong?" You pretended, and he chuckled "Not at all." His hand lightly stroked your waist up and down, before leaning down to kiss you. He pressed his lips against yours, slow and steady at first but growing more hungry with each passing second. He licked your bottom lip, just to tease you a little. Then he pulled back with a big smirk. "What's the occasion anyway?"
Follo:
"his kisses are desperate and sweet at the same time"
It was late already, you should've probably already been back in your room a long time ago. But you weren't, you were in his instead. "Follo, I think I should go back." The moonlight was damped by the clouds in the sky, it barely shone down through the window of his room, the one you were sag right in front of with him. You could barely see his face, despite being so close to him. "No, stay-" His hands tightened around yours waist, keeping you in place. "Please, baby, just five more minutes." His tone of voice alone made all protests die in the back of your throat, especially when his finger gently pushed back some of your hair. You sighed, putting your hand back on his cheek and pulling his face towards you again. His lips met yours and he kissed you so desperately, like he never planned on letting you leave. One of his hands left your waist and wandered to your back, to pull you even closer towards him. You melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and tilting your head to deepen the kiss, cradling the back of his head, running your hands through his hair. His body shivered under your touch, a soft, broken whimper broke past his lips right against yours.
Zanka:
"his kisses are awkward at first, but end up passionate"
"Zanka! I missed you!" You instantly draped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He had been away for two weeks, on a random mission. so when you heard about him finally being back, it didn't take much time for you to find him. You found him in a hallway, he was probably on his way to his room. He looked dead tired. "Missed ya too" He chuckled lightly, putting one of his hands on your waist and the other on the small of your back. A few awkward beats of silence passed, then you pulled away. Your eyes met his, and he could tell from the glint in them already what you were expecting. He took in a deep breath, then leaned in and clumsily pressed his lips against yours. You felt his hand tense on your waist, probably from embarrassment. It made you smile and pull away for a second, then you two tried again. This time it went a bit smoother, he moved his lips against yours again. Just a lot slower, and definitely more relaxed. His hand moved from your waist to your hip, tugging you closer towards him.
Gris:
"his kisses are soft and slow"
"I was so worried about you-" You sighed, holding onto his hand. He was lying on the bed, with half of his torso patched up. Gris had been sent out on a mission and got hurt really badly, as far as you knew he had been stabbed and then infected with poison. You didn't know the exact details, just that it was some sick giver or something... Either way it didn't matter. "But I'm okay now." He assured you, giving your hand a heartfelt squeeze. "Eisha healed me back up again" You looked into his eyes. He could see the worry in them, it made him feel bad about himself. He didn't like worrying you. He scooted over. "come here" he asked you to sit beside him. you sat beside him on the bed, leaning your head against his shoulder. He caressed the back of your hand with his thumb, watching you sulk just a little. Of course he appreciated your worry, and he understood that you were worried. But he'd be just fine again in no time. After a few minutes of silence, he let go of your hand and cupped your jaw instead. He looked at your still troubled face and sighed with a little smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Don't make such a long face" he said, leaning his forehead against yours "I'm fine really" "Yeah I know." You exhaled. He smiled again. and gently pressed his lips against yours. You wrapped your arm around his neck, pulling him closer and kissing him back. only when your lungs ached with the need for oxygen did you pull away again, but he didn't miss the littlest smile grazing your lips.
Zodyl:
"his kisses are few, but never meaningless"
Zodyl had been acting weird lately, sure he'd never been the sunniest but somehow he felt even more distant than usual. You wondered why... did it have something to do with the cleaners? Or maybe with the raiders?.... Or you? You didn't know if you should ask him, even as you sat beside him. The air was filled with silence, he didn't speak a word and neither did you. Actually he wasn't even looking at you, he was staring straight ahead, as if he were thinking about something. He looked lost in thought. After a few seconds of internal debating, you cleared your throat. "So... what's going on?" He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, still not moving his head towards you. Not even a bit. "Why the sudden question?" he asked right back. You knew he'd do that, but it still irked you. You suppressed a groan. "... you're quiet? Like quieter than usual...." He turned his head towards you. He didn't speak, just looked into your eyes. Almost as if he was trying to read your thoughts... Then he put a hand on your cheek, your breath hitched at the unexpected touch. "Don't worry about it." He told you. His thumb caressed your cheek, lightly. It wasn't often that he was affectionate, so you decided to savour the moment while it lasted. you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch. Next thing you felt were his lips against yours. He was soft and slow. his other hand moved to your waist, holding you in place. Once he pulled away, he pulled away completely.
Riyo:
"her kisses are always quick and playful"
You watched the way Riyo swung her scissors around with her legs, successfully hitting the trash beast multiple times. She always looked so effortlessly cool whenever she fought, you really couldn't help gawking. Maybe you should stop, yeah, probably get to work as well.... But watching just a few more seconds couldn't hurt. A big pile of smoke formed, you heard a loud thud and for a moment the red haired girl disappeared completely. Then you saw it, a quick flash of something, charging straight at you! You prepared to strike back, but instead of a trash beast it was just Riyo. She landed right in front of you, grinning. You didn't have much time to react, she pulled you in by the waist for a kiss. You could feel her smiling against your lips the entire time. "Stop gawking so much, you gotta work to you know" She grinned. The smoke behind her started to clean up and you saw the trash beast lay flat on it's back. "But you already took care of everything" You smiled. She rolled her eyes at you, playfully pushing you by the shoulder. Then she pulled you right back by your collar. but before she could lean in for her second kiss, the trash beast roared back to life. "Awh, what a shame." She let go of your collar, smiling despite trying to feign annoyance. "Guess you'll have to wait some more." Then she was gone.
Eisha:
"her kisses are always hesitant and shy"
"How are you feeling now?" She asked, putting a hand on your shoulder. You sat on the bed, your head was covered in bandages and your body too. You had gotten hurt pretty badly on your last mission, and of course Eisha was right there to heal you again. She looked at you with her big eyes, anxiously waiting for a reply. "I'm fine. Thanks" You smiled at her, pulling her a bit closer towards you. "You're the best, y'know that?" You smiled. Her face flushed at the sudden closeness, and she avoided your gaze. "I didn't really do much- It was no big deal really- I... I'm just glad you're okay" she stumbled a little over her words. Her heart was beating so fast... she tried to keep her breathing even, because she didn't want to be weird! You looked at her, smiling. Slowly you leaned your head towards her, gently brushing your nose against hers. "You saved me, babe" You reminded her. She stiffened a little, and looked at you with her big eyes. She didn't know what to say, but you noticed the flush from her cheeks going all the way up to her ears now. You chuckled just a little, before pressing your lips against hers. She kissed back right away, but hesitantly. She didn't know what to do, so she just let you take the lead. When you pulled away again, you gave her a smile again. This time she returned it, but she couldn't keep eye contact for long. She looked away really quickly. "I'll-I'll get you some water! I'll be right back!" She was so sweet, always caring for you.
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hii could I request for a gachiakuta one shot where it's the gachiakuta cast (you can add the girlies cause why not) x GN! Reader who's really highly intelligent, stoic, and sarcastic but confusedly analytical, irresponsible, and carefree when they're drunk? So it's like how the cast react or deal with them at their drunken state
Headcanons about a GN! Reader who is normally highly intelligent, stoic, sarcastic, and painfully analytical—but becomes irresponsible, carefree, and wildly unfiltered when drunk. The cast is forced to deal with the whiplash.
━━━━━━ ☁︎ ♡ ☁︎ ━━━━━━
[ beginning of oneshot ]
━━━━━━ ♡ written with care ♡ ━━━━━━
✎ StrawberyLover 🍓
☁︎ ♡ Tamsy ♡ ☁︎
Tamsy realizes you’re drunk when you start talking through your steps like they require active calculation.
“Okay—one foot. Two foot. Why is the floor… angled?” you mutter, arms spread wide as if balance is a suggestion.
He watches from the table, posture relaxed, expression calm. You’re not reckless enough to hurt yourself. Just loose around the edges. Less guarded than usual.
“You seem relaxed,” he says amused.
You brighten. “I am. Drunk me is fearless. Drunk me doesn’t spiral over every possible consequence before doing anything.”
“That must be refreshing,” he replies, voice easy, agreeable.
You drop down beside him far too close, thigh pressing into his, shoulder knocking his arm. You don’t even notice. “You’re glowing tonight,” you inform him solemnly. “Like… morally. Or shiny. One of those.”
“Mm,” he hums. “I’ll take that.”
Then you peer at him, suddenly serious. “Don’t move.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“If you move,” you insist, poking his chest for emphasis, “the world tilts. So. Stay.”
Tamsy stays.
He lets you talk. That’s his favorite part.
You ramble about trivial things—food you crave, places you swear you’ll visit someday, how everyone is so rigid, so obsessed with rules and expectations. You complain about responsibility like it personally wronged you. About how thinking too much ruins everything.
“I think,” you say, waving an unsteady finger, “life would be better if people just stopped thinking so hard.”
Something sharp flickers behind his eyes.
But his voice stays gentle. “That’s dangerous thinking.”
You laugh it off. “You’re worrying again. You’re like the opposite of me right now.”
“Someone has to keep their head,” he answers calmly.
When you stand, it’s clearly a mistake. Your balance goes instantly. Tamsy’s already there, hands firm at your waist, stopping you before you fall.
“That’s enough,” he says calmly. Not sharp. Just final.
You scowl. “You’re mean.”
“Mm,” he hums, guiding you back down properly this time. He crouches in front of you so you’re eye level, voice still light. “You’re just tired.”
He studies you—not clinically, not obviously. Just enough.
“You’re very honest when you drink,” he says. “You say things you usually won't even think about.”
You blink. “That’s bad, right?”
“Not necessarily,” he replies. Then, after a pause, “It means you trust easily.”
You smile, unbothered. “People should be nice enough to deserve it. Like you.”
The smile he gives you is warm, reassuring. Exactly what you expect.
“I’ll take care of things tonight,” he says. “You don’t need to worry about anything.”
You yawn, leaning forward without thinking. “You say that a lot.”
“Because it’s true.”
He stays until your movements slow, until the restless energy drains out of you and your thoughts stop racing. Anyone watching would see a steady presence, patient and responsible, making sure you’re safe.
And when you finally relax enough to sleep, it feels natural—like you were always meant to let him handle it.
Only Tamsy knows how carefully each step was guided.
How easily you leaned when he gave you something steady.
And how satisfying it is to be trusted by someone who never realizes they’re being led.
Especially if that someone is clever—smart enough to notice patterns, to puzzle through things when sober, yet blissfully unaware when they’re not. To guide them so effortlessly in those moments, to have their confidence in you without question… it’s almost intoxicating.
Tamsy lets a small, almost imperceptible smile linger, watching the way you relax against him, thinking you’re making your own choices, when in reality every step was carefully nudged.
☁︎ ♡ Enjin ♡ ☁︎
Enjin realizes you’re drunk when you start applauding yourself.
Not for anything impressive. Just for successfully opening a door.
“There it is,” he says, grinning. “That’s the face. That’s the I’ve made terrible decisions face.”
You spin around, pointing at him dramatically. “Excuse you. I am making excellent decisions. I am relaxed. I am free. I am—”
You immediately trip over nothing.
Enjin catches you without looking, one arm around your waist like it’s muscle memory. He sighs, amused, not even a little surprised.
“See, this is why I worry,” he says. “You get all fearless and forget gravity exists.”
You laugh, leaning into him far too comfortably. “You’re hovering.”
“I am not hovering.”
“You are,” you insist. “You hover like a worried mom.”
He gasps dramatically.
“This is slander.”
He still doesn’t let go.
Drunk-you is a menace. You wander. You touch things you shouldn’t. You announce observations no one asked for. Normally, you’re sharp, sarcastic, composed. Now? You’re carefree to the point of recklessness, running on vibes alone.
Enjin trails you like a shadow.
He gently redirects you away from danger with a hand on your shoulder, a tug at your sleeve, an arm blocking your path like it just happened to be there. Every time you try to wander off, he’s already anticipating it.
“You don’t trust me,” you accuse.
“I trust you, the sober you” he says easily. “I just don’t trust drunk-you.”
You narrow your eyes. “Coward.”
He laughs, loud and bright. “Oh, I’m terrified.”
At one point, you flop down beside him and stare up at the ceiling.
“You’re very loud when you care,” you mumble.
He pauses.
“…Am I?”
“Yeah,” you say. “You pretend you’re chill, but you’re not. You’re like—protective loud.”
Enjin scratches the back of his head, embarrassed. “That obvious, huh?”
You nod, then yawn. “It’s nice.”
That gets him.
He softens without realizing it, voice dropping, movements gentler. He offers you water. You complain. He makes you drink it anyway. He sits close enough that you can lean on him, but not so close that it feels overwhelming.
When you start dozing off mid-sentence, Enjin laughs quietly and adjusts so you don’t slump awkwardly.
“Man,” he mutters fondly, “you’re gonna regret this tomorrow."
You hum, half-asleep. “Worth it.”
He watches you for a moment longer than necessary.
“Yeah,” Enjin says softly. “I’ll make sure it is.”
☁︎ ♡ Jabber ♡ ☁︎
You’re a mess. A loud, wobbling, unstoppable mess. Jabber notices the smell of alcohol first—then the way you stagger toward him, hiccupping and flailing your arms like you’re conducting an invisible orchestra.
He grins. Wide. Maniacal. That grin that usually comes out before he’s about to turn a fight into a bloodbath.
“Well,” he says, voice low and sharp, “if this isn’t… entertaining.”
You lunge at him dramatically, almost falling over. “I… I’m… amazing, right?” you slur.
“You’re a disaster,” he replies, circling you like a predator with a playful edge. “This is new and absolutely fucking chaotic. I love it.”
And here’s the part that makes your stomach lurch—he indulges it. He doesn’t scold you, doesn’t steady you. He pushes a little. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to test your balance, to make you stumble and squeal, arms flailing. He thrives on it, eyes alight with that unhinged energy you’ve come to find terrifying and thrilling.
“Careful,” he teases, one hand brushing against your arm, “or I might… get carried away.”
You blink at him, trying to form coherent words. “G-Get… what?”
“Mankira,” he whispers, smirking, activating the edge of his Vital Instrument just enough to shift the tension in the air, the weight of the room tilting like a sparring match. “Or maybe just a little chaos for fun.”
You gasp, wobble, and fall against him. He catches you effortlessly, though he doesn’t hold you still. He lets you flail, lets you laugh, lets you grab at him, squealing and hiccupping.
He laughs too. That loud, unhinged laugh, like a storm about to break. “This… this is perfect. You’re perfect.”
He’s indulgent, almost tender in his own violent way. You’re drunk, ridiculous, slurring nonsense—but he treats it like the most entertaining fight of his life. He bounces you lightly, spins you in a mock sparring motion, lets you hit him lightly (and he grins when it hurts, of course).
Eventually, you collapse into him, exhausted, hiccupping and sleepy. Jabber catches you in his arms, still grinning, still wild, but careful enough not to let you actually fall.
“You actually made it through,” he mutters, his voice softer now, a strange warmth threading through the usual chaos. “Took everything I threw at you… and didn’t die.”
You slump against him, hiccuping and mumbling nonsense, nuzzling into his chest without care. He shakes his head, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “You’re ridiculous… but somehow, I like it.”
Even in all his chaos, his violence, his unhinged energy—he’s letting you be messy, letting you fall into him without holding back. And for a brief, ridiculous moment, wrapped up in his arms, it actually feels… safe.
☁︎ ♡ Zanka ♡ ☁︎
Zanka thrives on control. He thrives on precision, on knowing the exact rhythm of every situation. And then you appear—wobbly, spilling your drink, giggling at nothing, slurring words with that chaotic charm that makes his sharp eyes twitch in equal parts exasperation and fascination.
“Careful,” he says, voice low and measured, hand darting out instinctively to catch you as you stagger sideways. You lean into him without thinking, giggling, your head tipped lazily.
“I said I’m fine,” you slur, but he just narrows his eyes, voice flat: “You’re not.” The words sound like a reprimand—but there’s heat in the way he holds you close, grounding you with firm fingers pressed to your side.
You press a sloppy kiss to his shoulder, muttering something incomprehensible. He stiffens for a fraction of a second, and you can feel him analyzing—trying to figure out the pattern in your chaos, even though there is none. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, voice deadpan, yet his fingers tighten slightly around your waist.
“Wait… are you… protecting me?” you ask, leaning your forehead against him. You’re drunk, yes, carefree and spilling over with warmth, but sober-you would have analyzed his stance, his body language, the subtle tension in his arms, the half-step back he takes when the balance shifts. Zanka grunts, sarcastic but quiet: “Don’t flatter yourself. I just… don’t want Enjin to scold me.”
He watches you sway, notices how your focus fractures, how your brain—usually razor-sharp, endlessly analytical—now fizzles in the haze of alcohol. And still, even as you flail, he lets you lean against him, tethering your momentum with slow, deliberate movements, steadying you in a way that’s intimate but not suffocating.
“You know,” he mutters, voice almost soft, almost grudging, “you’re ridiculous.” You laugh, loud and messy, and he tilts his head, brow furrowed, trying to process why he’s smiling. Because his mind is always running and right now… he can’t figure out why this makes him feel so… protective, so warm.
“You’re lucky,” he murmurs, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, voice quieter now, a mixture of sarcasm and sincerity. “…that I like this. That I like you.” The words come out clipped, controlled, but there’s heat in them, raw and quiet, and when you giggle and press closer, he lets a small, restrained smile slip.
“You’re insane,” he whispers, hand resting at your lower back, keeping you steady. “…And I’d rather deal with your chaos than let you go.”
For a moment, drunk-you and Zanka collide: your warmth, messy and unpredictable, his calm, sarcastic, inwardly turbulent nature. The world outside ceases to matter. He’s the anchor. You’re the storm. And somehow, it feels perfectly… right.
☁︎ ♡ Corvus ♡ ☁︎
Corvus notices everything—every flicker of movement, every subtle shift in your posture. And yet tonight, he’s utterly unprepared for the way you stumble into the room, cheeks flushed, words tumbling out in a nonsensical stream, eyes half-lidded with that lazy, carefree gaze.
“You’re… highly inefficient tonight,” he remarks dryly, arms crossed, though there’s a subtle tilt of his head, the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. You trip over your own foot and lean into him without thought, muttering, “I… totally got this.” He raises an eyebrow. “Totally,” he echoes, voice flat, though his hand moves automatically to steady you at the waist.
You hiccup and slur something sarcastic about the “evil cleaning duties,” and Corvus can’t help but exhale a quiet laugh—sharp, restrained, but unmistakable. There’s a rhythm to his movements, a careful anchoring that keeps you upright without ever smothering you.
He notices the way your normally sharp, calculating mind has softened into disarray, and for the first time, he allows himself to appreciate your chaos.
“You’re a mess,” he murmurs, voice low but teasing. “…And somehow, I don’t hate it.” You grin and press your forehead against his shoulder, mumbling incoherently. He sighs, a mixture of exasperation and affection, and his hand rests lightly on the back of your neck, tilting your head slightly, keeping you steady.
When you attempt to grab a nearby bottle, wobbly fingers missing entirely, Corvus intercepts it effortlessly. “Careful,” he says, tone clipped, but there’s warmth in his eyes—hard to detect if you weren’t looking closely. “I can’t have you breaking yourself over something so trivial.” You giggle, slurring, “I’m not… breaking!” and he suppresses a smile behind his calm, stoic mask.
He steps a little closer, wrapping an arm around your waist—firm, protective, precise—keeping you from swaying too far, letting you lean against him in a way that’s intimate but not overwhelming. Your head tips lazily against his shoulder, and he feels the faint heat radiating from you, the softness that only comes when your calculated defenses fall away.
“You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, voice barely audible, a mix of sarcasm and affection. You laugh at him, loud and carefree, and he lets himself relax for a fraction of a second, letting the anchor he’s always been be just for you.
“You’re lucky,” he adds, tone clipped but warm. “…That I don’t let you wander off completely drunk.” You nuzzle into him, mumbling a sarcastic “Oh, such a hero,” and he can’t help the quiet smirk that tugs at his lips.
In that messy, drunk blur, Corvus is steady—calm, precise, unwavering—and right now you’re free, chaotic, warm. Together, it’s an imperfect balance of chaos and control, and somehow… it feels exactly like home.
☁︎ ♡ Zodyl ♡ ☁︎
Zodyl doesn’t usually lose his patience. Precision is his nature, control his mantra. But tonight… tonight is testing him.
You stumble into the room, heels at odd angles, hair disheveled, words tumbling out in a ridiculous, almost poetic slur. “Zod…yl… you… think the… chair likes me?” you ask, tipping dangerously backward.
He steps forward, hands out like a general corralling troops. “Careful,” he says, voice sharp, measured—but there’s a flicker of humor in his dark eyes. Catching your elbow, he steadies you with minimal effort. “I don’t think furniture has opinions.”
You blink up at him, a sloppy grin spreading across your face. “Liar… they… all have opinions,” you insist, wobbling slightly. He sighs softly, straightening you without a word. Even as he does, his fingers linger on your arm a fraction too long—protective, careful, like he’s anchoring you to the floor and to reality at the same time.
Zodyl watches your chaotic movements with a mix of mild exasperation and fascination. You’re reckless, laughing at your own hiccupping jokes, slurring observations about everything from the wallpaper pattern to the “secret intelligence” of his coat.
And while you’re careless and messy, he notices the subtleties he usually sees in your sober, analytical self—the way your brows crease when thinking, even under the influence; the twitch of your fingers when excitement strikes; the tiny smirk that betrays your humor.
“You’re absurd,” he mutters, though the corner of his mouth quirks upward. “…But I don't mind it.” He helps you sit down properly, hands firm on your shoulders, adjusting you until you’re not threatening to topple again. He doesn’t let go entirely, not because he thinks you can’t handle yourself, but because he refuses to let anything have the idea of harming you.
When you attempt to reach for another drink, he intercepts it casually, a raised brow demanding compliance without words. “No,” he says flatly, and you pout, hiccupping, “I… need… data,” and he can’t help but let out a quiet chuckle.
Leaning closer, Zodyl tilts your chin gently so your eyes meet his. “You’re lucky I'm her,” he murmurs softly, voice low, slight teasing, but with unmistakable care. You lean against him, muttering something unintelligible, and he lets a small smile slip.
In that moment, he’s all control and steadiness; you’re all wild, drunk, and chaotic. And somehow, it’s perfect. He doesn’t coddle you, doesn’t fuss unnecessarily—he guides, anchors, observes. And when you finally slump against him, giggling, hiccuping, he rests a hand lightly on your back, just enough to remind you that someone’s got you… always.
“Try not to topple over again,” he says, voice quiet, with the faintest smirk. “…Or I’ll make sure you pay for it.” You laugh, swaying in his steadied hold, and he allows it—because tonight, letting you be messy is part of the charm.
☁︎ ♡ Eishia ♡ ☁︎
You stumble through the quiet streets, the cool night brushing against your flushed cheeks, muttering incoherently about stars, heroes, and things that probably don’t exist. Somehow, you make it to Eishia’s little clinic, knocking on the door in a sloppy rhythm that’s half drumming, half desperate plea.
The door opens slowly, and there she is—Eishia Stilza, head bowed slightly, hands clutched in front of her, looking like she’s about to apologize for something she didn’t do. Her eyes widen when she takes in your wobbly figure. “Y-you…” she starts, voice soft, hesitant. “…you shouldn’t be out here at this time...”
“I… I… needed… you,” you slur, swaying and grinning at her like it’s the most profound confession in history. You nearly topple over, and she gasps softly, stepping forward to catch you before you crash into a stack of carefully folded cloths.
She guides you gently to a chair, fumbling slightly with the blanket she wraps around your shoulders. “Sit… carefully,” she whispers, almost more to herself than to you. You flop into the chair like it’s a throne, hiccuping loudly. “I… am… a queen,” you declare. Eishia snorts quietly, a rare, soft laugh, and adjusts the blanket around you again.
“Drink this,” she murmurs, handing over a cup of water. You take it upside down, sputtering, and she quickly grabs the cup back, gently tilting it until you finally drink without choking. She shakes her head, cheeks pink, but her eyes are soft with worry and fondness.
“I… love… you,” you mumble suddenly, leaning your head against her shoulder. Her whole body stiffens, a little flustered, and then she relaxes, letting out a quiet, almost inaudible laugh. “I… I love you too,” she whispers back, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
For the next few minutes, you babble nonsense—stars, constellations, why bread is secretly a hero—but she just listens. She smooths your hair, adjusts your blanket, and keeps you upright, her patience endless. There’s something grounding about her gentle presence, like a lighthouse in your chaotic, tipsy storm.
When your eyelids droop, finally surrendering to sleep, she lifts you gently into a bed, tucking you in as you mumble happily about your “adventures with Eishia.” She watches you for a while, smiling softly, whispering to herself, “You’re safe… I’ll always keep you safe.”
Even in your drunken mess, even in your careless, stumbling state, she feels that warmth swell in her chest. You’re chaotic, unpredictable, maybe even reckless—but you’re hers. And right now, that’s enough.
☁︎ ♡ Semiu ♡ ☁︎
The office was quiet—too quiet, until you stumbled in, half-drunk and unsteady, waving your arms like you were conducting some invisible orchestra. “Se… miu… strategy… stars… calculations… all wrong…” you mumbled, words slurring and looping back on themselves. You swayed on your feet, gestures grand, expression intense in a way only intoxication could produce.
Semiu raised one eyebrow, her usual calm, precise gaze settling on you. Normally, she’d listen to your sober analysis—careful, sharp, sarcastic insights that left her quietly impressed and occasionally exasperated. But this version of you? Completely different. Chaotic. Unpredictable. Ridiculous.
She set her pen down, folded her hands over the paperwork, and tilted her head slightly. “Sit,” she commanded, voice smooth, low, with that subtle authority that left no room for argument. You stumbled toward the chair, almost tripping, but she didn’t move to catch you—not immediately. Instead, her eyes followed every wobble, every stagger, every shallow breath.
You collapsed into the chair with a soft sigh, your head tilting toward her shoulder unconsciously. “Se… miu… the… monsters… plotting… math… evil…” you rambled, waving your hands and hiccuping dramatically. Semiu’s lips twitched, almost a smile. She let you talk, let you flail, letting your carefree, messy energy fill the space.
Then, carefully, she slid her arm behind your back, just enough to steady you without touching too much. Her other hand took the bottle from you before you could spill it, tilting it so you could sip properly. She didn’t lecture. She didn’t correct. She didn’t need to. Her calm presence alone grounded you.
“You’ll regret tomorrow,” she said softly, a note of amusement in her usually measured voice. “But for tonight… just stay.” Her sharp, analytical eyes softened as they traced the line of your jaw, the subtle tension in your shoulders, the flicker of vulnerability beneath the drunken chaos.
You hiccuped again, muttering something about “calculating trajectories of stars and monsters,” and Semiu let a small chuckle escape—rare, quiet, only for you. Her thumb brushed lightly against your hand. “Ridiculous,” she murmured, almost affectionately. “And somehow… I kind of like it.”
Even drunk and incoherent, Semiu could see the same analytical, stoic brilliance that defined your sober self—just tangled in a mess of carefree chaos. And she stayed, patient, protective, and quietly enchanted, letting you exist in this unguarded state.
━━━━━━ ☁︎ ♡ ☁︎ ━━━━━━
[ end of oneshot ]
━━━━━━ ♡ written with care ♡ ━━━━━━
✎ StrawberyLover 🍓
Author’s Note: Some of the dialogue may feel similar to previous posts—sorry if it comes across that way! I tried to keep it fresh.
Hello I saw the Big 'PLEASE REQUEST SOMETHING!!!' so here's my request. Eisha stilza x a more shyer male reader... That's it
MY FIRST REQUEST LET'S GOOO!!!
this is lowkey ass considering I took two weeks to write it😭 hope you like it tho ≧﹏≦
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It was the aftermath of a yet successful mission, with a few scratches here and there of course. Team akuta was sent to clear out a trash beast and when they returned... It looked like they'd seen better days. The injuries weren't severe but still needed care which all fell in the hands of the only healer in the cleaners. Eisha.
They weren't in too bad of a condition or anything. Nothing eisha couldn't handle. It did tire her a bit tho, using her jinki four times back to back wasn't easy.
She was just putting away the medical stuff and cleaning a bit when she heard a soft knock
(Reader POV)
You were talking with Semiu when the group arrived. Taking one good look at them it was obvious they were headed to eisha. That was a slight inconvenience. You *were* planing on visiting her. Guess it had to wait.
After a few hours they came out. You finally had the chance to see her. Slowly you walked to the medbay stopping right in front of it's door. You raised your hand and knocked a few times ignoring the nervousness that was building up.
Knock
Knock
Knock
After a second of silence the door opened, the sight of eisha greeting you. You froze then and there your brain short circuiting once you were actually in front of her.
"Oh h-hey I was looking for you. I mean not in a weird way of course since we're dating and I haven't seen you the whole day I was just-" your rambling was cut off by eisha
'Wanna come in'
"Yes please"
You entered the room a strong smell of rubbing alcohol hitting you in the face. Walking further you sat on one of the hospital beds. Eisha followed sitting right next to you.
...
There Was a silence between you. A comfortable one. Something that happened quite often with both of you. You were both shy to say the least. Not knowing what to say or where to put your hands. You were still learning one step at a time and one hand over the other.
She started making small talk trying to get her even shyer boyfriend out of his shell. And it worked. After a while you became more talkative. Finding comfort when with her.
"You free this afternoon" you asked trying not to sound nervous
'Yeah I don't think there's another mission so the gang can't get hurt. Did you have something in mind?'
"Maybe I thought we could Netflix and chill y'know? "
'I would love that'
...
You were now laying on your couch watching a random movie. Eisha was laying in front of you, her body nestled against yours. You had one arm draped over her keeping her close. It wasn't something new but you still couldnt help your flushing face. Which she noticed. She stilled for a second constipating her thoughts before leaning in, closing the distance between your faces. Your face was red as a tomato now but you couldn't get yourself to move. Then it happened. Her lips met yours. It was a soft kiss. Slow and gentle. Your limbs relaxed as if you weren't in a intimate position. Your shyness making itself less prominent as you enjoyed her lips. After a solid five seconds you pulled away. You both stared at each other the reality sinking in. You blushed at the same time, her profusely apologizing as you covered your face in embarrassment. ;)
Could I request Eisha Stilza platonic headcanons? Reader is one of the only other nurses of the cleaners and helps comfort Eisha, tutors with her, and incentivizes her to be more self-assured and what not. :>
Birds of a feather 🩺
Platonic Eisha x nurse!reader headcannons
——————————————————
Eisha has always had trouble making friends. It’s not that she doesn’t get along with people it’s just that whenever she meets someone new her nerves kick in and she’s suddenly too anxious to keep a conversation.
So when you walked in; someone with the same interests as her and who has patience in spades, it was like penicillin to strep throat.
You start by asking her to help you read through medical journals, after all you have to keep up to date on any advances in medicine and refresh your memories.
It helps to bring her out of her shell a bit and she’s more comfortable talking with people when it’s related to her job.
You didn’t tell her to hurry up when her voice stuttered, you didn’t push her to speak when there were long stretches of silence between you, letting her choose your interactions on her own terms and with her own confidence.
Her self-esteem grows everyday with you.
And if she ever has a bad day you’re right there to assure her in her abilities.
You defend her if a patient or loved one of a patient or anyone really gets out of line and starts to question her nursing skills.
She appreciates your help and support more than she can ever tell you.
Overtime, she becomes more sure of herself and a more outspoken young woman. Sticking up for herself and actually starting conversations with other people outside of a professional capacity.
You help her grow not only as a person but as a nurse too. Since you’re more experienced, you’re always ready to help teach her more effective treatments or give a second opinion on a diagnosis.
She still makes mistakes of course but you’re there to gently correct her when she does.
One day you’re both prepping the infirmary in the morning and she walks up to you and gives you a tight hug.
With heartfelt tears in your eyes she thanks you for all that you’ve done for her.
August’s–who you had just recently learned the name of–hair was hitting your face, tickling your nose as the two of you went at eighty five miles per hour on the bumpy dirt roads. A wide grin spread out on your face as you felt the wind hit your body, the adrenaline of the ride probably being the only thing that kept you from flying off from his shitty driving.
Dust particles flew into your eyes, but you didn’t want to close them in case the exhilarating feeling you felt from watching the city disappear behind you went away. Your arms wrapped tightly around his torso, hugging his body to yours.
“So, why’re you heading to a hospital, girl?” He yelled over the motor, but you got the feeling this was just his regular tone of voice.
Your head was resting against his shoulder, your mouth by his ear so you didn’t have to break the sound barrier like him to respond. “My sister! It’s her birthday tomorrow, I wanna take her out for some fun.”
He took a sharp turn, and you almost thought you were for sure a goner that time. “THATS ssZiickkk!” He howled back. “I got a sis too! She’s one of them doctor peeps! If ya’ sister’s hurt, she’ll fix’r right up!”
Shaking your head, you slightly loosened your grip. “Nah, she’s terminal.” You said quieter, enough for him to hear.
He grinned, his head turned back to look at you. “No problem! Eisha is a witch when it comes to all things healing, one trip to her and your sister’ll be brand new!”
Biting your lip, you became hopeful. No doctor has been able to help. Ten years of her sickness, been through twenty-somethin’ doctors–which was damn near every single one on the ground–and she’d never shown any signs of getting better. At thirteen, she’s been in the hospital for three quarters of her life, her health akin to a roller coaster. You were there for all of it, no matter what you were doing or how much trouble you were in, the second she called you were there.
Mama’s never been there, always sleepin’ on the couch like nothing mattered to her. Best thing she gave you was your sister, and all the rest had been up to you. Despite your impulsivity and eccentric personality, your sister turned out a respectful kid. She never stole or threw a punch in her life, always using her manners and scolding you when you didn’t watch your tongue.
You didn’t trust people easily, not in the sense of reliability, anyway. You’d be friends with anyone, go along with whatever if asked. It was always for fun with you, never caring if they had bad intentions or if they were as dumb as a rock. But when this guy you just met told you he had a way to save your sister, you wanted to trust that.
“I’m being played so hard right now..”
He cackled, shaking the bike a little. “Nah, I’m seriously serious! She’ll get yo sis right!”
Your eyes flickered down, getting lost in the feeling of the wind and hope. “Kay.. you pinky promise?”
August turned, sticking his gloved pinky out with a big, toothy grin. You mirrored his actions, your pinkies locking momentarily before you hit a bump, the bike along with the two of you getting air time.
“If we don’t die first! Ha!”
And shockingly enough, you didn’t. After more air time then ground, very fucking sharp turns, and getting whiplash, y’all pulled up to the hospital like a fucking police chase. The motorcycle swerved, sliding into the curb when August stopped it with his foot.
The sudden halting of motion jolted you, sending your body tumbling off of the motorcycle. The landing was not graceful whatsoever, in fact you landed on your back, upside down with half of your body still on the damn thing.
“ow, fuck!” You groaned, laughing at yourself as your vision spun.
“Damn homie! Up you go, you good!” He held his hand out to you, grabbing your arms in his and pulling you up. Blinking a few times, you were surprised at his strength but then again, his lean muscle was pretty apparent now that you look at it.
Turning on your heel, you looked up at the hospital. One so familiar, yet felt so foreign all at once. Like maybe some part of you believed you’d be in that basement forever, sleeping on a dirty mattress and getting drugged and cut open forever. A smile crawled up your face, happy to be back.
“Well, let’s go!” August cheered enthusiastically, grabbing your hand and starting to drag you toward the hospital.
“The hospital ain’t gonna run away! Slow down track star!” You laughed behind him, jogging to keep up with his long strides. One would think he’s the one visiting, not you.
The two of you walked into the hospital looking like two clowns in a rodeo, hard to miss. Nurses that recognized you immediately greeted you with surprise, their faces a mix of confusion and pity.
“Mrs.(L/N)! You haven’t been here, we were beginning to get worried..” One rushed over, an elderly lady who always looked out for you like you were her own. She had on a dark blue doctor’s uniform and a mask, but you could still see the look of concern on her face.
Nodding, you let her take your hands in hers, checking in between your bandages for underlying injuries. Your sister was sick, but you always ended up the one being fussed over half the time for injuries that were mostly your fault.
Behind you, August was looking around the place trying his very hardest not to disturb the peace.
“Yeah, been busy this past month. Wanted to stop by sooner but I got caught up,” You said, assuring her you were fine. Which you were, physically at least. Your mind was still back in the room, cold and sticky with old blood. Trauma is key to having a fucking backbone!
“I hope you didn’t get yourself into trouble again hon, there’s dangerous people ‘round here.” She sighed, letting go of your nimble fingers. “Your sister hasn’t been well, we’ve been trying to keep her stable, but she’s been asking about you ‘least once a day. She looks up to you, try to be a good example.” The old lady said, giving you a firm nod.
Another nurse stepped into her place, a younger woman with a clip board in hand and a stick back bun. “This way, you’re Mary’s sister, aren’t you?”
“Yes maam,” you nodded, your brows knitted at the old woman’s words. ‘your sister hasn’t been well’ played over in your mind. You needed to see her.
Grabbing August by the wrist, you began following the lady with him trailing behind. The three of you walked up three flights of stairs, down a hallway, and took one left before you arrived in front of her door. A room you’ve been in more than your own, one you could remember by every detail.
The nurse sighed as she reached for the door handle, cracking it open just enough to peek her head inside. “Mary?” She called out, her voice soft as she spoke to the patient inside. “Your sister came to see you. Are you okay for visitors?”
A silence followed, then a string of coughs as the bed squeaked, a sign of movement.
“..yeah, of course. Thank you miss.” A small voice called out, excitement underlying the clear tiredness of it.
The nurse turned to you and August. “Just give a call if you need anything, okay?” She politely stepped past you, walking away.
Not waiting for August, you pushed the door open to see your younger sister. She was small for her age, with more tired eyes than others too. Her hair matched yours in color, draped over her hospital gown. Machines surrounded her small body, her arms and mouth hooked up to them like it was keeping her alive.
Her eyes lit up when she saw you, immediately trying to lift herself out of bed. “(Y/N)! Where have you be—” She paused, a fit of coughs coming over her. Calmly you walked over to her, putting your arms around her and letting her cough into your shoulder. You held her for a moment, one hand on her head and the other holding her up around her back. She returned the gesture, holding you tightly as tears pricked at her eyes.
“M’sorry Mary, hope you can forgive me.” You ruffled her hair, still holding her close to you. Her hair tickled your nose, smelling like hospital and strawberries. You released your hold on her slightly, stepping back so you could look at her.
She was duller than before, her cheeks slightly sunken in like she wasn’t eating. “Where were you?” She asked weakly, trying to hide the way she was holding back her tears.
You’d hate to lie to the girl, but telling her the truth might be worse now.
“I was,” You paused, glancing to August out of the corner of your eye who was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I was lookin’ for this guy here, he says his sister might be able to help, I wanna give it a shot.”
Your sister’s heart thrummed in her chest at the notation. Not just normal doctors, if you brought them it must be something special. But she never wanted to get her hopes up for something like that. She’d been sick all her life, what could they do? But she trusted you, more than anyone.
“Oh, okay.” She nodded, the two of you looking toward the blonde man.
“WHaaTzzz uuUPP?!” August shot her a peace sign, padding over to the two of you. “My sis gonna get you right, homie!” He grinned, shooting her finger guns. Your sister looked unimpressed, shuffling closer to you.
“Um..okay, where is she?” She asked, leaning her head against your arm. You kept an arm slung around her, figuring August was probably stressing her out.
He grinned, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “She’s back at HQ, soo I’ma go get her for youz.”
She smiled, slightly untensing her shoulders. “Alright, thank you Mr…” She paused, looking between the loud man and you for a name that he clearly wasn’t getting the hint of. You whispered it to her as he went on.
“iTZ NO PROBLEM! Anything for my homegirl (Y/N)!” He patted your shoulder rather aggressively, to which you grinned back at him.
August started walking out the door, waving big at the two of you. “I’ll be back tomorrow with my sis, you hold tight, kay?!”
Grinning, you shoot him a peace sign as he struts out. “For sure, my home skillet! Don’t let her down!” Your arm around your sister got tighter, holding her frail body closer to yours. She smiled against you, waving goodbye at August until he was out of the room.
As his loud footsteps grew fainter with each step he took down the hallway, your sister turned to you with a certain wonder in her eyes.
"You really think he can help me?" She asks timidly, like it were a stupid question. Shrugging, you flop down against the pillows of the hospital bed. A lot more comfortable than your living situation for the past month.
"Worth a shot, ain't it, Mary?"
She nods, scooching back until she's lying next to you. "Yeah, of course it is."
The next day you woke up early, creeping out of bed to buy a cake for your sister because god knows you can’t bake for shit. The hospital was kind of remote, mostly full of long-term patients, so the trip to town was a little long, but being able to walk freely, just being able to take a long stroll as you watched the sun rise, made you feel a sense of freedom that you had taken for granted before your imprisonment.
In the basement, it was easier to forget the bigger picture of what Tamsy was doing. Like your body had began to adapt to the conditions, so you became more relaxed around the man. Less cautious, less angry. You were always angry, but Tamsy had a softness in his voice that had a way of soothing your mind. The pain stung real bad, but it was so good, too. It made you feel like you were floating when it hurt real bad, making your head spin and lull to the side. The softer pain was adrenaline inducing, like you should’ve been looking forward to something.
But being out of that environment made you see how refreshing it was to feel the sun, being able to come and go as you please, and being in control of your daily tasks.
Sauntering into the town, you quickly located the bakery by the sweet smell being emitted. It slipped through the brisk morning air, a contrast that made it more potent to follow.
You lazily glanced over the options at the stall, looking for something you thought Mary would want.
“Lookin’ for something special?” A rough voice came from beside you, and by the tone you could practically see the lopsided grin on his face without looking. Not thinking much of it, you didn’t bother looking up from the selection, looking at different small cakes.
“Little sister’s birthday, she likes raspberries.” You muttered unconsciously, not really in the mood for small talk, but you were never one to not talk at all.
“Huh. I’m more of a spice kinda guy, but here’s a lil raspberry treat for ‘er,” He handed you a box from the other side of the cart with a slice of raspberry cake inside, creamy filling oozing out of the middle and mixing with the berry juice leaking down the side. Not bad, not bad at all.
“Thanks, stranger.” You grinned, your eyes trailing to a large hand that was centimeters from grazing yours with big rings on each finger. He was crouching over but even with his god awful posture, he towered over you by inches. His dreads hung low in a lose ponytail, draping over his broad shoulders.
Finally, your gaze met his. Eyes magenta and predatory, looking at you like you were the singular most interesting thing he’s ever laid eyes on.
“Jabber, Jabber Wonger. Whas’ your name, lil lady?” He asked, leaning against the food vendor where the owner was awkwardly watching the exchange.
You set the cake down, bringing a sum of cash from your pocket and sliding it over to the woman to count. “(Y/N).” You cut it short, not wanting to give some dude the name you and your sister shared. This was something you always tried to do, especially now.
Grabbing your cake, you turned to walk off when his voice called out to you.
“Ay, (Y/N),” you stopped, turning around to where he stood still feet away from the cart, his hands shoved in his pockets. He stood slightly more straight now, in a way that almost unnerved you. “You smoke?”
And see, a responsible person would have said no. Would have,, perchance, booked it the fuck out of there. But a smoke sounded real fucking good right about now, and it was still the crisp hours of the morning so you had time before your sister woke up. A morning bake sesh with spooky dread head man? What could go wrong?
So you ended up siting on a roof of some pancake shop, dangling your feet off of the jagged metal. He had a joint on hand, not surprisingly, and lit it with the ease of a guy who has been doing this for his whole life.
“Someone’s eager,” He laughed, handing the joint over to you. To him, your eyes were damn near sparkling as you put it to your lips. Chuckling, you inhaled, enjoying the burn as it crawled down your throat.
“Thanks, it’s been a while,” you wheezed out, trying to hold in a cough. Passing back the joint, you succumbed to the fizzling in your throat that begged for relief, coughing into your arm.
“It’s chill,” Jabber took the joint to his mouth, taking a big hit, and blew it out like a pro. “Anytime you want to light up, I’m here. But I do a lil’ traveling too, I guess.”
You lifted a brow at this, leaning back on your hands as you finally recovering from the coughing fit you’d been in. “You got a job?”
He laughed, passing the thing back to you. “Nah, nothing like that. Not yet, at least. I’m jus’ trying to find somethin’ exciting to do, y’know?”
Nodding, you agreed with him and the two of you got into a rhythm, you’d pass the joint to him and you’d talk, and then he’d pass it back to you so he could talk. Y’all sat like this for the next hour and a half, watching the sun rise over the city.
Realizing the time, you cursed, grabbing the boxed cake and holding it to your hip. “This was nice ‘nd all, but I gotta get back now,” Standing up, you grabbed onto the underside of the roof so you’d be able to get down. Looking back one last time, you flashed Jabber a smile and a peace sign, your face being eliminated by the morning light. “Catch ya later, Jabs. Don’t die, kay?”
The dread headed man watched as you skillfully swung yourself down the building to the ground, dodging venders and people who were just coming out to start work. He grinned, putting the roach of your shared blunt in his pocket for safe keeping. He wondered when he’d see you again.
The walk back to the hospital took a solid thirty minutes, but luckily you made it back before Mary woke up. Quietly, you made your way into her room, setting the cake on a plate and putting it on her bedside table. As you watched the rise and fall of her chest, a smile graced your lips. For the first time, you were hopeful about getting her help.
Pulling a lighter out of your pocket, you lit 14 candles, sticking them in the slice of cake. As you finished lighting the last candle, you felt your sister shifting beside you, a tired look in her eyes as they made their way to you, then to the cake, then back to you.
“Goodmorning,” she yawned, sitting up and placing her head on your shoulder. “Is this for me?”
Ruffling her hair, you laughed at her. “Duh, you’re the birthday girl, ain’t ya?”
She giggled, nodding coyly.
After a few minutes, some nurses walked in who had been taking care of her for years. They all wore gentle smiles, their intentions pure as they joined you in singing happy birthday.
At the end, you held her hair back as she blew out the candles, a silent wish passing through the ashes that flew off.
The second she opened her eyes again, a loud crash echoed through the room. The door flew open and a long haired, indoor-sunglasses and overalls-wearing, flashy guy stepped in the room. Behind him, a girl in a long, uniform-like dress stood, trying her best to hold the man back.
"August! You can't just barge into a hospital room!" She scolded, but it sounded more like a whispered pleading. August ignored her, frantically waving in your area.
"YOOOO (Y/N)! My gal, how ya been??" He exclaimed, as if he wasn't just here the day before. You returned his wide grin with one of your own, getting up to dap him up.
"What's shaken bacon?"
He laughed at your vocabulary, sauntering over to your sister and patting her on the head. "This the one I brought ya to fix up, think ya' can do me a solid?!" He smiled widely at his sister, who only sighed at his boisterous actions and offered you and your sister quiet apologies.
Mary looked uneasy, not untrusting but not hopeful. She didn't understand what these two siblings could do to help her. Eisha let your sister describe her illness, symptoms, and what she desires most. As she talked, Eisha took mental notes, nodding along.
"Hm, I see," She sighed, "Well the truth is, I can't help chronic illness go away."
The room stilled, minus August who was busy doing who knows what with the medical equipment in the corner. Your sister seemed unsurprised, but slightly let down.
"However," Eisha continued, which piqued your interest. "I can make some of your pain go away, and any sudden uptick in symptoms decreased so at the very least, you'll be able to live a bit outside of a hospital bed." She explained, but Mary seemed weary still.
"What's the catch..? And how?" She asked politely, not wanting to get her hopes up. During their conversation, you sat by her, holding her close. She melted into your side, needing your support.
"I have a gift that I can guarantee will help you more than medication here would, but I would need you to stay in my care. As for your sister,"
August, suddenly feeling the need to jump into the conversation, interrupted, "AND (Y/N) IS GONNA COME WORK WITH US AS PAYMENT!"
A/N: Hey y’all, lwks been a minute.. i’ve been hella busy w/ school and future building plans fucking me in the ass so from now on i’m keeping my writing short and sweet so i can still put out what’s on my mind without burning myself out. it might disappoint those of you who enjoy a well written story so for that i’m sorry, but i’m just not sure i can manage it right now, so the chapters will look more or less like this. thank you all for your support, it makes me really happy to know that people like my ideas.
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Can you do more writings with eishia maybe dating hcs theres like no works for her and i love her sm
a/n: REAL she's so underrated </3 thanks for the request! <333
Eishia Stilza Dating Headcanons!
She is definitely super shy, especially at first. But I do believe that after a good while of spending time together she becomes a lot more comfortable around you, she still speaks quietly most of the time but it's definitely more confident and a tad bit slower than usual
No matter how much she'd like you, she'd never make the first move! She wouldn't be able to bring herself too. But the problem is... what if you don't either? It's pretty simple: August will blurt it out. Accidentally or not, he'd tell you sooner or later. Preferably when Eisha isn't there, because he wouldn't do that to her. She'd probably never forgive him if she found out
So either way when you (hopefully) ask her out, she's over the moon! She'd be fine with doing anything, as long as it'd be with you
Her ideal date is definitely visiting a cafe with loooots of sweet treats and drinks. I can imagine her having a sweet tooth
Her love language would be acts of service and gift giving! She often lacks words or the courage to initiate touch, so she shows you her love by for example: Giving you small gifts, like flowers, chocolates, or something small like a bracelet, it'd definitely never be to flashy, she prefers her gifts simple but romantic. Or when you had a stressful week, you'd often come back to all of your clothes folded neatly and put away in your drawer, or your desk organised and sometimes fresh bed sheets (you couldn't even remember the last time you changed them).
Of course she still likes physical touch, she's just too nervous to give the head start. The most she could do, especially in public, would be hooking her pinky around yours and sitting really close to you. When you're alone, she could lay with you for hours on end however. She enjoys your arms around her and your warmth. She loves holding your hand, and prefers being hugged. But when you get hurt badly, or when you've been having a bad week, she hugs you instead. And she doesn't let go all night.
Her favorite places to kiss you are: your cheeks, your nose (sometimes because she gets nervous and misses your mouth it happens on accident) and your mouth.
Her favorite places to be kissed by you are: her hands (she always gets so blushy when you do that, but she loves it so much), her forehead and her mouth. Of course she enjoys your affection in general, but if she had to pick, she'd definitely pick those.
She treats all of her patients well, but you're the ultra vip. One time you got hurt really badly and she didn't leave your side for three whole days. When you woke up, you were met with her beyond relieved face, but huge eyebags. She was so worried about you!
Obviously she gets really tired sometimes, she has so much weight to bear, as she's the only giver with healer abilities (poor her), but during times like those all she needs is you. Really, she just wants to lay her head against your shoulder and take a breath, hear you tell her that everything will be fine and then she'll be okay again.
I feel like she would get jealous easily, but not in the upset, mad or obsessive way? More like an insecure way, where she worried you'll find someone better than her. But she never voices those thoughts out loud and it's really hard to tell, because I think she can hide her stress in big situations pretty well, despite being shy and all. Also she would never get upset at you or the person, just worried.
That said, she'd never accuse you of anything. She hates arguing and wouldn't argue with you about anything. She prefers talking about it normally, never yelling. So arguing with her is basically impossible, if you ever try it's just onesided anger. Sure she'd get sad, but she wouldn't yell back at you. She'd probably leave or cry maybe both
Overall she is really sweet and thoughtful, and once she gets comfortable with you she becomes more affectionate as well! She's so cute
