NB: Some fics contain mature themes, explicit sexual content and dark content. Appropriate content warnings and tags have been used, so please make note of them!
Characters: Hoshina, Narumi, Kafka, Reno, Mina (for now!)
ღ Monster Hunter Wilds Masterlist
Includes series and stand-alone fics.
Genres: Romance, humour, smut, fluff.
Characters: Olivia, Erik, Hunter.
Fire Force
Friday Night Fire Fight
Synopsis: [Obi Akitaru x Scientist Reader] A chance encounter with the charismatic captain of the Eighth Company leaves you more than a little enamoured. Obi Akitaru is nothing less than thorough in his own pursuit of you.
Contents: Romance, smut, humour, fluff, angst.
Link
ღ Original Writing/Reflections
Vanishings
Songbirds
Poetry Appreciation: In Detention (Chris van Wyk)
Thanks to @tsukimefuku for creating this beautiful masterlist post for me! Credit to @strangergraphics for dividers.
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When the sand around them isn’t whipping at their exposed skin and leather. When the whizz of bullets has died into the humid air. When the sun pitches deep purple, the deep orange of flames licking up into the air, burning wood fizzling around them. When it’s all quiet and nothing else matters…
What does he think about?
Probably too much.
For someone as otherworldly, there would never be a moment that’s not too heavy, too consequential, too anxious to keep down for very long. Does he think about his family? The two who took him in as a prisoner and left him as a young boy with far too much love than he knew what to do with. And to the other part of himself, does he hear them? When he presses his forehead to cold glass, gentle hands pushing dust away from the surface from neglect. When the markings on his skin illuminate, flickering softly in an unspoken language unthinkable to the human ear, does he hear them?
He must.
The level of exhaustion that colors his face afterwards. The way he drags his feet through the sand. The way he slumps his head into the press of shoulder blades, gentle snores in an ear over the hum of Angelina. Whatever he hears, whatever he does, it must take so much. For someone who holds the world on his shoulders, everything about him is too much.
Wolfwood thinks his head is too big. His hair is too spikey. His body too lanky for this world of violence and brutality. There’s so much more he could say, so much he has already said aloud that he wouldn't mind saying again. He’s made that face droop in disappointment. Watched his words color hurt in sea glass eyes. Ignored the sour feeling in his stomach while watching glass hands scratch the back of a neck in nervous anxiety.
His words know no bounds.
Does he think about how a fallen man still follows him around after an entire city disappeared? Does he wonder why someone who has killed so many chooses to hold back that urge when he says the word? Does he ever get the urge to get rid of the mistaken priest? To channel that power that thrums through his veins and colors his hair black as time goes by. To use that strength and wrap hands around a dusky neck?
Does he think about it?
The answer is always no.
It’s enough to make anyone nauseous. Enough to make one throw up their hands in defeat, to spew nasty words and to not give a damn about how they land. Wolfwood could spit and bite and bark as much as he wants.
But they will never mean a thing anymore.
They stopped meaning a thing the moment tears stained pale cheeks that cried over a child too late to save. When glass and flesh hands pressed next to his on a sandsteamer. Pushing with all his might to save Hopeland.
Probably before all of that.
But that’s between him and the man upstairs. If that man is even listening.
The last time he ever felt any sort of divinity. The last time the rush of religious exaltation ran through his veins like ice water. The last time he could entertain falling to his knees in supplication was when his eyes landed on tangled black, webbed veins fanned out into feathers, glowing with energy from another dimension. When those wings swooped down to protect humans with their guns aimed at him. That night two angels fought and rose to the sky before only one plunged down. Gabriel in another life. Delivering destruction instead of salvation.
It should have been a wake up call. To turn the other way. To rip up the contract that kept him tethered to uncertainty and never look back. But like the fool he is. He followed. Month after month until he felt that divinity again. Saw it with the peek of sea glass through curtains of honey gold.
What did he think about then?
The angel has an uncanny ability to show one thing and mean a thousand others. Beneath that smile, was there disappointment? Behind that “Nico,” was there “turn the other way and never come back?”
The masochist in him wants to say yes. Wants to revel in the rejection. But the other part of him, the hopeful and sticky and borderline aggravating part of him that Miss Melanie raised knows he is cherished.
When a quarter of leftover donut is pushed toward him at whatever diner they can relax at. When calloused hands press gently against blood soaked bandages, a scowl directed internally as he’s patched up. When they share one too many drinks, getting hazy from the alcohol and giggly when the music is too loud. When he smiles at Wolfwood. When he laughs at Wolfwood, loud and boisterous and all neck and fanged teeth, rapturous and contagious enough to tickle his ribs.
When that feeling pools in his throat thick enough to choke him, pressing against the back of his tongue to force the words out and swallowed down with bile. When this otherworldly, devastating angel does anything for him…
“Wolfwood?”
Soft words pitch through the air, smothering internal monologue with the present bleeding back from the edges. Thoughts buried for another time. Another night filled with cigarette smoke in a dingy hotel they can barely afford. There’s only now.
Now when he takes in the chill of the desert air. The feel of nylon beneath him from a sleeping bag that’s thin enough for the breezy air. Now when he counts to ten to gather the courage to finally look across the fire. Burnt orange whipping around them, pushing heat in every direction, parting like divinity itself to reveal messy blonde with dark underneath. A red coat folded neatly and bare arms on display through leather. Pale skin lightly flush from the heat and sea glass directed toward him once more.
Wolfwood offers a gruff noise from his throat, ignoring the honeyed feeling in his stomach to reach for the pack of cigarettes in his sleeping bag.
“You were quiet for longer than usual. I got nervous.”
He flicks his lighter, forgoing the flip before lighting his cigarette and sucking hard to almost catch filter. It keeps him quiet.
Because Vash has started rambling as he always does. Animated and smiling, with one wild hand, the other detached and resting beside him. For as much as he talks, Wolfwood hates how much he listens. Every random tidbit. Every bad joke. Every laugh that makes him believe in a higher power for just a second.
“It’s just funny,” Vash chuckles, finishing the end of a thought Wolfwood didn’t catch through the nicotine hitting his veins. “I often wonder so much about you.”
“Ain’t exactly a closed book, Spikey.” He lies, exhaling toward the fire, watches the flames catch the smoke and grow. “What do you wanna know?”
Vash hums, a discordant note that plucks some string in Wolfwood’s chest with a ferocity that almost makes him bowl over.
“I always find myself wondering at least once a day…. ‘What does he think about?’”
And Wolfwood—
Wolfwood pinches the edge of his cigarette, takes in a harsher drag. Revels in what it brings. It’s destructive enough to make a great habit. Ash coats his throat, burns away his health and most thoughts that bother him for longer than necessary. But it does little against the honey in his chest. With the way it coats his lungs and colors the back of his throat.
Because he thinks about too much.
How Vash’s head is too big. His hair too spikey. His morals too hypocritical. How Vash thinks too much about others but how he would never change it for anything. How Vash takes in the hatred and violence of those around him, directed at him, and still offers nothing but forgiveness they do not deserve.
He thinks too much about how his dumb ass red coat gives him away no matter where they go. How he smiles and plays with children when they’re brave enough to run alongside him. How he helps everyone who needs it no matter what it costs him.
How it only makes that disgusting feeling inside of him grow and emulsify into a gooey madness that might kill him. How—like now—he tilts his head in question, sea glass too honest and too something fucking else he has been fighting for too long.
What the fuck does Vash think about?
Wolfwood would like to think that through the guilt and self-sacrificial bullshit, Vash thinks of cigarette smoke and backs pressed together while bullets rain down from all angles. He likes to think Vash thinks about a suit jacket with one too many buttons undone. Of the way he swings The Punisher when he wants to show off for him.
But Wolfwood won’t go there. Because he knows when to back away from something that might kill him.
And ain’t that a lie?
Because here he is, sitting across from an angel that he hopes will bring him divinity until he stops breathing.
Honey syrup lays against his tongue, threatening to pry his mouth open and let it pool on the sand. So he takes another drag, lets the burn do nothing, offers Vash a simple shrug before he says,
“Not much, Tongari.”
Even though what he wants to say is far too much. Far too romantic. Far too hopeful for the both of them. The less he says, the longer Vash will stay.
So he keeps praying to a man upstairs that probably isn't listening anyway.
I'm not even going to ask where this came from, but you NAILED their dynamic so well, from the way they are an antithesis to each other, to the way that this makes their bond so much stronger, to what it is they seek (and find) in each other, an age-old symmetry.
Even though I don't know the lore as well as you do, the way you dove into what makes them each tick, from Vash's selfless, unapologetic pureness of heart, that refuses to take on the colours of the jaded, no matter how many times he's hurt, physically and mentally. And Wolfwood's constantly search for something worthwhile in the world to call his own, to match the divinity he knows is out there in unsuspecting form. Just perfect.
The prose is so atmospheric, conjuring everything from the recklessness and danger of their journey across this wasteland, to the dusty intimacy of the campfire and the forbidden thoughts that swim too close to the surface.
You've encapsulated what a romance between them would be so clearly, the way hearts dance around each other, even while understanding of their own feelings comes all too clearly.
You bring up that vital idea: on this journey together, there might not be time or space for tender feelings, but it doesn't negate their presence, or the dozens of unspoken ways that love can be shown.
Brilliant, evocative writing, from a master who can only return stronger!
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I did a bit of quick work with this (to be fair had other ideas for this piece and had already started it) but I hope you enjoy Hoshina entering the sauna and being all sassy about it 🤭😫🤤
I mean he IS all sassy manspreading invitingly like that sooo…
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I don't know if you take request but I really love your writing so I'm giving it a shot. If you do, I was thinking of Narumi Gen/Hoshina Soshiro discovering that proper and sweet subordinate has nipple piercings?
Fearful Symmetry
Summary: Written for the above request from Anon! I hope I've done it justice, lol. I've written one for Hoshina, and maybe I'll do another for Narumi!
In which a field test for speed results in an embarrassing situation, when Numbers Weapon 10 blows your shirt into oblivion while taking off at close range.
Contents: Humour, romance, Hoshina x Reader, suggestive themes.
WC: 2705
Dividers by: @uzmacchiato
There was little in the world of the defence force that could rattle Hoshina Soshiro.
He'd faced the ever-evolving threat of kaiju, the adrenaline of a close-won battle, the speed and high stakes of fighting for the lives of all around him.
Yet, it seemed that something had finally breached even these supposedly impermeable defenses.
You.
More precisely, the small gift you'd granted yourself a few years ago, unknown to most.
The sequence of events that moved the unflappable Vice-Captain to a near-speechless state started on a deceptively calm Saturday.
Your role, as one of the on-the-ground technicians, had seen you run quite a few field tests for simulating battle with Numbers suits.
While you, and your fellow officers, held a key role in operations, you were very much under the wing of the Third Division, and by extension, the Vice Captain himself.
That day's test was supposed to have been a routine one.
Weekends, when the majority of the repairs to Tachikawa Base were on pause for the work crews, were the ideal times to run such tests.
The subject was simple: speed.
The Vice Captain, all of his skills considered, had been having some trouble co-ordinating with his suit. Temperamental, capricious, never operating within the expected parameters, it was a wonder that the Number 10 suit even allowed him autonomy.
Your monitoring equipment and sensitive measuring instruments had all been calibrated and set to function earlier, and you now awaited him in the temporary testing chamber that had finally been declared fit for use a few weeks earlier.
As always, you'd arrived earliest, born of an earnest desire to make sure everything was in working order, and perhaps, also a product of wanting to steady your nerves before meeting the Vice-Captain.
God, was he charming, deadly and handsome, an altogether unfair combination.
Even while working through the possibly life-threatening consequences of wearing a prototype weapon made from a powerful kaiju, one that had once nearly eaten him no less, he managed to possess a singular confidence, charisma, humour and passion that made him very compelling to watch.
To put it in plain terms, you were crushing rather hard, and every interaction you had with him only made you sink further into this self-inflicted hole of adoration.
Those things aside, you were of a practical inclination, more than determined to see the man the whole division admired so much overcome this trying set of test runs.
The doors to the chamber hissed open, and the subject of your thoughts marched in, offering a jaunty salute.
"Oh, it's you, Officer. You're here early. Couldn't wait to start?"
His gentle teasing would be the death of you.
Clearing your throat, you offered a grimace.
"Just making sure everything's in order, sir. You know what happened with the sensors the last time around."
He nodded thoughtfully, already taking off his jacket and undershirt to prepare for the electrode stickers you'd place on him, a sight you tried very hard to maintain a professional facade for.
"Made 'em go haywire. I remember. Managed to fix it?"
"Pretty sure."
"Ain't you a reliable one. Makin' me look bad."
He gave a small rueful laugh, probably a callback to his own flagging ability to successfully synchronize with Numbers Weapon 10.
Your usual amusement died in your throat.
Standing, you approached him, able to meet his eyes with a serious look when he raised a querying brow.
"Sir, we all know you're doing your best. Please keep at it. There's nobody who could do this as well as you have so far. A sentient suit ... that's way out of the ordinary, and you know it."
Hoshina regarded you with frank surprise for a moment.
You didn't blame him.
His presence usually made you tongue-tied and shy enough to stick to tech-speak with him, something he took some delight in teasing you about.
He gave a small smile, head tilting to one side, never on the wrong foot for long.
"Thanks."
Simple as the gratitude was, it was honest, sincerely delivered.
Nodding, you immediately turned to fumble with the electrodes on the tray beside you.
It really should be illegal for anyone to look this cute while expressing a very ordinary sentiment.
Then, it was time to place the sticker-backed sensors on him, and you had to fight a whole new slew of issues.
As if Hoshina suspected all too well what your difficulties were, he kept up a stream of 'helpful' comments while the powerful flex and shift of muscle in his arms and shoulders came to full display as he raised them obediently at his sides.
"These electrodes are kinda cold, y'know. Can feel 'em when I'm moving. Oh, damn. Hey, you're gonna keep that a secret, all right? Can't have 'em knowing how ticklish I am. Kills the street cred, know what I mean? Did the sticker fall off? They just don't stay on my stomach. I wonder why. What d'you mean keep my pectorals still? I can't do much about that. Okay, maybe they can jump, just a little. Like they're about to get some Mont Blanc."
He was clearly trying to ease the tension that rose before every test run, and all he'd managed to do was undo all of your determination not to transform into a flustered mess.
You slapped the last sticker onto him a little more forcefully than you intended and shot him a slight glare.
He grinned back, completely unapologetic.
"So, am I ready, Officer?"
"As ready as can be, sir."
Hoshina made his way to an adjoining chamber to get suited up, your teammates having already taken up position in the control room above.
Over the speakers, the sync stats and combat potential, as well as the monitoring of the Vice-Captain's vitals, were all provided with swift punctuality.
Emerging back into the test room, Hoshina appeared in the Number 10 combat suit, gleaming ominous red in the glare of the artificial lighting, the tail flicking like that of large, highly dangerous predator.
His swords had been holstered in their usual position, at the small of his back, and he drew them experimentally, flipping them deftly into reverse grip before beginning his warm up.
Seeing him like this was a significant transformation. Every movement was graceful, contained, lethal, drawn out along a thin wire of control until motion snapped into powerful stances.
You could have watched him like this all day, but there were tests to be run.
Limbering up, Hoshina kicked out one leg, then the other, before jumping lightly on the spot, knees and elbows loose.
"What's on the menu today?"
"A standard speed test. The objective is simple, Vice-Captain. Go as fast as the suit allows you."
"Weapons?"
"Let's do a control run with them sheathed first."
"Sure thing."
Over the speakers, protocols were observed, the suit activated remotely.
The change in the room was immediate.
Something vast, cold, inhuman, clawed its way to consciousness as the red light gleamed on Hoshina's chest, like a great beast that had been sealed away for centuries.
You shuddered as that voice, one that had audibly been trained to mimic human vocal patterns and sounds, an accent wholly monstrous, clicked and hissed in the quiet of the room.
"Hoshina. It's you."
"Who else would it be?"
"Arrogant as always."
"Huh. You're one to talk. Get with the programme. We're running some field tests today."
"How boring. Bring me some real enemies. Ha. How about that one, standing over there. Can we kill her?"
Hearing your own demise bandied about so freely made you stumble slightly over a cord.
Hoshina's scowl grew deeper, raising a fist to bash against the sentient panel on his chest.
"You threaten her one more time, and you're kaiju mincemeat."
"An idle threat. What do they wish us to do?"
"We gotta go fast. As fast as we're capable of."
"Oh? A race?"
"Against our own previous time. Try to keep up."
It never failed to amaze you how flippant and antagonistic Hoshina was when dealing with Numbers Weapon 10, all considering the fact that his life lay in the balance if Number10 decided that he wasn't worth protecting.
Giving him a thumbs up as signal that you were ready for him to proceed, you were about to retreat to somewhere behind the monitor when Number 10 growled impatiently.
"This is taking too long."
Hoshina tensed, obviously fighting back against some sensation the suit had initiated.
"Oi, what are you - "
The blast that echoed through the testing chamber was deafening.
Blown back, face scrunched in disorientation, you picked yourself off the floor, then hunched over on your knees as the ringing in your ears slowly subsided.
The force with which Hoshina had taken off was indescribable, beyond anything you'd yet experienced while testing the suit.
Shaking your head slightly, the world swam into view as you hesitantly opened your eyes, in time to catch Hoshina skidding to a stop a few feet away, aggravation clear in his bearing.
" ... the hell you're doing? You obey me. You don't just take off like - "
He glanced over at you, presumably to check if you'd been injured by Number 10's precipitous movement, and froze, eyes opening in rare surprise.
Even his irritation seemed forgotten.
Wondering if, perhaps, you really had been injured somehow, you slowly straightened.
This was a strange sensation.
You were quite certain that it hadn't been so chilly in here a moment ago -
One glance down at yourself was enough to gather what the Vice-Captain had seen.
The incredible speed which Number 10 had employed had blown your loose cotton shirt apart, the buttons scattered somewhere beyond your sight. It hung down around your elbows, and even the bra you wore beneath had been tugged so hard, one of the straps had torn, rendering the entire garment shoved to one side.
You were essentially topless in front of Hoshina Soshiro.
If his current expression was anything to go by, he'd also registered the sight of your nipple piercings, a small, daring concession to your wishes when it had been your birthday a few years ago.
You stared at him.
He stared back at you.
The red eye on his chest swiveled towards you.
"Human, what is that? Are you training your own resistance to pain?"
"Huh? I - "
The kaiju's voice seemed to snap Hoshina out of whatever frozen state he'd entered.
"Stop asking her about that."
He wrenched his gaze away from you, a stilted element in his stride as he marched towards the table where he had left his folded clothes.
Now that you'd hunched over once more, arms crossed tightly across your chest, you registered the warm drape of his jacket over your shoulders.
His voice sounded, close, too close, warm and reassuring beside your ear.
"Sorry about that. It just doesn't listen to me, sometimes."
You shook your head, as if to tell him that you placed no blame on him at all, still unable to form words.
Hoshina had just seen your -
It seemed that even your brain refused to complete the thought.
He cleared his throat.
"Um. Well. Maybe you should go up and find some - "
"Human, what is the purpose of placing those on your chest?"
Number 10 was not to be disuaded.
You nearly let out a hysterical laugh as Hoshina slammed a fist dangerously hard into the panel on his chest. His grip on your shoulder was reassuring and protective, even as his ears tinged a tell-tale scarlet.
"Shut the hell up, you damn freak!"
"Freak? I'm not the one with metal lodged in my mammary - "
"Enough!"
You raised a placating hand as Hoshina's voice rose in frustration, the other still holding the edges of the jacket together.
"Sir, it's fine. It's just a kaiju, it doesn't know about, well ... "
You gestured at your chest and Hoshina's eyes slid downward, almost against his will. Maybe you were imagining things, but you didn't think you'd ever seen his eyes open for such a prolonged period before.
Number 10 spoke up yet again.
"Ah, now I understand. This is some kind of human mating ritual."
Your mouth fell open in disbelief, a hoarse croak emerging.
"Wha - what do you mean?"
"This is how a weaker specimen such as yourself attracts a strong mate, such as the swordsman. Such modifications to your body can show that you're more than capable of taking him on during - "
In desperation, you slapped your hands over Hoshina's chest, as if covering the kaiju's mouth.
The jacket fell open once again.
"That is a profoundly stupid way to attempt to silence me, human. And now you've got his heart rate up again. I suppose such methods do work. How primitive."
This time Hoshina rapidly drew the edges of the jacket closed across your chest.
"Uh, let's just ... get you up to the changing rooms. Ignore anything this shitty kaiju says, all right?"
"Yes. Yes, of course. Absolutely."
You allowed him to steer you by the elbow, half-dazed, that edge of disbelieving laughter still on the verge of bubbling over.
In no universe would you ever have predicted that today, Vice-Captain Hoshina would have got an eyeful of your nipple piercings.
Before you could stop yourself, the words came tumbling out.
"They're a gift to myself. I've wanted them for a long time. So, I had them done a few years ago. On my birthday. "
His grip on your elbow tightened, even as his voice remained almost gentle.
"Stop. You don't have to explain yourself to me. Or anyone else."
"That's not it. I just ... I like it. It makes me feel good."
There was some kind of tension, telegraphing itself between your body and his, some thrumming cord of unspoken intent.
He exhaled sharply.
"Is that so?"
"Yes. I mean, yes sir."
Somewhere, within all of this chaos, you'd slipped into addressing him as an equal. He hadn't seemed to mind, or even register it that much.
Proximity sometimes forced familiarity, and you thought, wryly, that now Hoshina was far more familiar with the sight of you than he'd ever anticipated.
As the changing rooms came into view, he paused at the door, some rigid, invisible line drawn between you both.
You stepped through, turning to regard him shyly.
"Thanks, Vice-Captain. For the jacket."
You knew full well that this wasn't the only thing you were grateful for.
Hoshina shrugged, some of his easy equanimity seeping back in, now that you both were on safe ground.
He was still wearing the Numbers suit, even if it had now fallen oddly silent.
"I hope the shirt can be repaired. I'm real sorry 'bout that."
"Nothing to apologize for, sir. It's a field test. They're bound to be mishaps."
He nodded swiftly, turned to leave, but something seemed to anchor him in place.
You took in the fall of his dark hair, partially obscuring his eyes.
"Not to sound weird or anything, but I'm glad you did what made you feel good. And they look good, too. On you, I mean."
It was testament to the fact that your embarrassment had risen to such unprecedented levels that it had seemed to vanish altogether.
He'd seen everything, after all, and still saw fit to offer some comfort after that debacle.
You brightened, perking up a little.
"Really? You like them?"
"Ah, well, sure. They're ... nice. Very symmetrical."
Laughter came sputtering out of you in an uncontrollable fit. Hoshina's ears had turned red once more, but now he was laughing along, the awkwardness between you both diffusing.
"Symmetrical?"
"Shhhh. Don't kick a guy when he's down, y'know?"
"I'm glad they're to your exacting standards, sir."
"Of all the days to not have a ruler on me."
It dawned on you that you were in the realm of joking (and perhaps flirting) with your superior.
Lower lip caught between your teeth, you took another step backward.
"Anyway, thanks again, Vice-Captain."
"Sure thing."
This time, he did make it to the passageway before Numbers Weapon 10 struck again.
"You are aroused. Why are you not acting upon it, Swordsman?"
Scrolling through my feed and my eyes are arrested, held prisoner, thrown in the slammer, never to see the light of anything but Hoshina's slipping towel again ... and I am supremely content. Leave me. Don't rescue me.
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I'm new to this whole digital art thing.. but I do draw traditionally. Just not used to digital art. I drew Soshiro Hoshina from Kn8 because I've been fixated on him lately, lmao. I love Soshiro. I just wanted to put this out there even though it's not really perfect or thought out. It WAS supposed to be a doodle but I just finished it. I'm a beginner, so I'd appreciate it if you're not mean or harsh if you want to leave a comment or something. :)
You da real art, Soshiro!
Also, Speed is in the background because I can't draw backgrounds. So I added him there, LMAO. Speedpaint down below! (I drew it on a different device, hence the lower quality! sorry. I draw on my tablet using my fingers.) I'm so sleep deprived, lol.
Hi! Love your take on Soshiro! He's my favourite character as well, in case you can't tell, LOL.
I love your art of him, and the speedpaint that you included just made it even more special. I'm no artist myself, but I love how you created a wispy, dream-like effect with his hair, and also the idea of him being in motion.
Is this the blue shirt from one of the official arts I've seen him in? It looks similar!
