Nov 23, 2025
No. 1 - Captain Narumi
Hoshina || Narumi || Kikoru
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No. 1 - Captain Narumi
Hoshina || Narumi || Kikoru
In honor of them fixing Narumi for season 2
Inspired by @iizuumi ‘s art❤️
Hey hey! Wanted to let you know that everytime before going to sleep, I search for fanfics to read (mostly Soshiro rn). And till now I enjoyed everything you wrote :9 I wanted to ask if you could do one with him (and or Narumi if you want a change) were the reader has a fever or smt so he takes care of them? Thank you for feeding us and have a good day/night! \(^q^)/
Gen Narumi/Soshiro Hoshina
When you have a fever
Gen narumi x reader Soshiro Hoshina x reader
Small note Ofcourse I can do that for you <3 and thank you for requesting I was happy to write this for you and my other lovely readers I hope Yall enjoy
Soshiro hoshina
Soshiro knew something was wrong before you said a word.
You were quieter than usual that morning. Your movements slower. When you walked past him in the kitchen, your shoulder brushed his arm—and you were burning.
He caught your wrist gently.
“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re warm.”
“I’m fine,” you mumbled automatically, trying to pull away. “Just tired.”
He didn’t let go.
His thumb pressed lightly to your pulse, then moved to your forehead. His expression shifted instantly from calm to concerned.
“…You have a fever.”
You sighed. “It’s not that bad, I can still—”
“No,” he said immediately, voice firm but not raised. “You can’t.”
You blinked at him.
Soshiro wasn’t loud when he was serious. He got quiet. Controlled. The kind of tone that didn’t leave room for arguing.
“You’re going back to bed,” he continued. “Right now.”
“I can at least make tea—”
“I’ll make it.”
“I can walk myself—”
“I’ll walk you.”
“I can—”
“You can rest,” he interrupted gently. “That’s it.”
Before you could protest further, his hand moved to the small of your back, guiding you carefully toward the bedroom. Not pushing. Just steady. Protective.
You huffed quietly. “You’re treating me like I’m made of glass.”
He pulled the blankets back for you. “You are. Right now.”
You rolled your eyes but let him help you sit down. Your head felt heavy, body sluggish, skin too warm.
He tucked the blankets around you carefully, like you might disappear if he didn’t.
“I can still get up if I need something,” you muttered.
“No,” he replied instantly.
You frowned. “Soshiro.”
“No getting up,” he repeated, softer but just as firm. “If you need something, you call me. I will do it.”
“I’m not helpless,” you said weakly.
“I know,” he said, brushing hair off your forehead. “But you’re sick. Let me take care of you.”
You sighed, too tired to argue.
He disappeared into the kitchen and came back minutes later with water, medicine, and a cool cloth. He helped you sit up just enough to take the medicine, holding the glass for you when your hands shook slightly.
“Slow,” he murmured. “No rush.”
You leaned back into the pillows, eyes half-closed.
“I feel gross,” you muttered.
He smiled faintly. “You look cute.”
You groaned. “Don’t lie to me when I’m vulnerable.”
He pressed the cool cloth to your forehead, and you melted instantly into the sensation.
“Better?” he asked quietly.
“…Yeah.”
He stayed sitting beside you, one hand resting lightly on your arm like he was making sure you were still there.
After a while, you shifted.
“I have to use the bathroom,” you said.
He was on his feet immediately. “Okay.”
“I can go myself.”
“I’m walking you.”
You stared at him. “Soshiro.”
He gave you a look that said don’t argue with me right now.
You sighed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Probably,” he agreed.
But he still guided you gently, waited outside the door, and walked you back to bed like you might collapse if left alone for two seconds.
When you settled again, you looked up at him.
“…You don’t have to hover.”
“I want to,” he said simply.
You blinked at him.
He adjusted the blanket again, unnecessarily, then sat back down.
“You’re not doing anything today,” he added. “No chores. No phone. No moving unless I say so.”
You smiled weakly. “Yes, sir.”
He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.
“Rest,” he whispered.
You drifted in and out of sleep with him there the entire time. Every time you woke up, he was either reading quietly, checking your temperature, or brushing your hair back gently.
At one point, you opened your eyes to find him watching you.
“…Creepy,” you mumbled.
He chuckled softly. “Just making sure you’re okay.”
You reached for his hand lazily, and he intertwined your fingers instantly.
“You’re very bossy when I’m sick,” you murmured.
“Because you’re stubborn when you’re sick,” he replied.
You smiled faintly. “…Thank you.”
He squeezed your hand.
“Don’t thank me,” he said. “This is my job.”
You blinked sleepily. “Since when?”
“Since I fell in love with you.”
That made you smile before sleep pulled you under again.
And Soshiro stayed right there, watching over you, making sure you didn’t have to lift a single finger until you were better.
Gen Narumi
Gen Narumi was loud before he even stepped through the front door.
“—and THEN I beat the boss in under three minutes. Three! Kikoru didn’t even see the final phase coming. I told her, ‘You can’t rush greatness.’ Natural talent, baby—”
His voice echoed through the apartment as he kicked his shoes off carelessly, tossing his jacket onto the couch. He was still grinning, still riding the high of his so-called “training session,” thumbs moving quickly over his Switch as he walked.
“YN? You will not believe the score I just—”
Silence.
He didn’t look up at first. He just kept walking toward the kitchen, still talking.
“You know, some people say gaming doesn’t build reflexes, but I think it’s basically combat training. I mean, if a kaiju had quick-time events, I’d be the number one—”
No response.
His thumbs paused.
That was weird.
You always answered. Even if it was just a tired “hi,” or teasing him for being dramatic. You always came to greet him, even if you pretended you weren’t excited to see him.
Gen slowly lowered the Switch from his face.
“YN?”
The apartment felt… off. Quiet in a way it never was.
He frowned and started walking toward the bedroom, a strange tightness forming in his chest. He didn’t know why yet. He just knew something wasn’t right.
He pushed the bedroom door open.
And froze.
You were curled up in the blankets, barely visible under them, breathing uneven. Your face was flushed a deep red, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat. Your lips parted as a rough cough left your throat, and the sound made his stomach drop.
The Switch nearly slipped from his hand.
“Hey—hey, hey, hey—”
All the loud energy drained out of him in a second.
He crossed the room quickly, kneeling beside the bed. His hand went straight to your forehead.
He sucked in a sharp breath.
“You’re burning up.”
You blinked slowly at him, eyes hazy, trying to focus.
“Gen…?”
Your voice was weak. Scratchy.
He hated it.
“Why didn’t you text me?” he asked quietly, brushing the hair from your face.
You gave a tiny shrug. “Didn’t wanna… bother you.”
He looked like you’d just told him you hated him.
“Bother me?” he repeated, offended. “You think you could ever bother me?”
Another cough shook through you and he immediately stood up.
“Okay. No. Nope. This is bad. This is bad. Operation: Fix My Favorite Person is now in motion.”
He moved fast.
He grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen, came back with medicine, wet a cloth with cool water, turned the fan on low. He wasn’t loud anymore. He wasn’t boasting. He wasn’t joking.
He was focused.
He gently helped you sit up, sliding an arm behind your back.
“Slowly. Easy. Don’t rush,” he murmured, holding the glass to your lips. “Sip. Not chug.”
You listened, too tired to argue.
He held the cup steady until you finished, then gave you the medicine, watching carefully to make sure you swallowed it.
“Good. Good job,” he praised softly, like you’d just won a medal.
You tried to smile, but it came out weak.
He noticed.
He always noticed.
Gen took the damp cloth and laid it over your forehead, then pulled the blanket back over you. His hand never left you for more than a second.
“You’re freezing?” he asked.
You nodded.
“Okay. Got it.”
He slid into the bed beside you without hesitation, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against his chest. His body was warm, solid, grounding. One hand stayed around you, thumb rubbing slow circles against your shoulder.
The other?
Still holding his Switch.
You would’ve laughed if you had the energy.
He propped it up slightly, volume low, but his attention was split now. Every few seconds he’d glance down at you instead of the screen.
You coughed again.
He immediately paused the game.
“Still hurting?”
You nodded against his chest.
He pressed his lips gently to the top of your head.
“I’m here. Don’t worry. You just rest.”
His fingers slid into your hair, lightly combing through it, gently massaging your scalp in slow motions. He knew you loved that. Knew it helped you relax.
You melted into him, breathing evening out just a little.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
The room was quiet except for soft game sounds, your breathing, and the occasional cough.
Every time you shifted, his hand tightened around you slightly.
Every time you made a small noise, he looked down at you.
Eventually, your body went completely limp against him.
Asleep.
Gen stopped playing.
He didn’t even realize he’d done it.
He just looked at you.
Your face still flushed. Your breathing still warm against his chest. He brushed your hair back again, thumb tracing the line of your cheek carefully.
He spoke quietly, almost to himself.
“Don’t scare me like that, okay?”
He adjusted you slightly so you were more comfortable, pulling the blanket higher. His hand stayed in your hair, slowly combing through it again.
After a few minutes, he picked the Switch back up.
But this time?
He didn’t brag.
Didn’t cheer.
Didn’t talk.
He just played quietly, one arm wrapped securely around you, occasionally glancing down to check your temperature with his hand, making sure you were still okay.
Hours passed like that.
You stirred at some point, half awake, pressing closer to him.
Without even looking away from the screen, he murmured, “I’m still here.”
And you fell back asleep instantly.
Gen Narumi might be loud.
Might be dramatic.
Might be unbelievably unserious.
But when it came to you?
He was careful.
Gentle.
Attentive.
His hand never stopped playing with your hair.
And his arm never left you for the rest of the night.
My master list here
Pretty sure I forgot someone. Oops... 😅
[kn8] : “Before the _” (character studies)
Gen is out for blood 😭 Kafka.... You can regenerate quickly, Right... Right?!?!
The Man Who Watches the Battlefield Like a Game
(Captain Narumi x Officer Reader)
[Angst]
CHAPTER 1
You quickly learn that Gen Narumi does not look at people the way others do.
Most officers scan for rank. Some look for weakness. Some for usefulness.
Narumi looks like he is already bored and ten steps ahead. Probably thinking about his next game, or how someone will screw up and make his afternoon interesting.
You first notice it during a First Division operation briefing. Screens glow across the room, kaiju activity maps pulsing like slow heartbeats. You stand near the back, tablet in hand, posture perfect, expression neutral. You do not speak unless spoken to. That is the rule.
Narumi is leaned back in his chair, boots crossed on the table, chin resting in his palm. He isn’t looking at the maps. He isn’t looking at the officers.
He’s looking at you.
“Hey,” he says suddenly, cutting through the briefing. “You.”
The room stiffens.
You straighten. “Sir.”
He tilts his head. “You were on the cleanup mission last week.”
“Yes.”
“You hesitated.”
A few officers glance your way. Your jaw tightens.
“I followed protocol.”
Narumi smirks. Not kindly. Not cruelly. Like someone amused by a puzzle.
“Protocol would’ve gotten two civilians crushed,” he says. “You broke formation.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t request permission.”
“No.”
Silence stretches.
Then he laughs, short and sharp.
“Good,” he says. “That means you think.”
The briefing officer shuffles papers awkwardly. Narumi ignores it entirely; his vice-captain handles all that.
“What’s your specialty,” he asks, eyes narrowing slightly.
“Medical response and post-combat analysis.”
“Hm.” He studies you again, slower this time. “That explains why you noticed the delay.”
You do not ask what delay. You already know.
After the briefing, the room empties fast. People avoid him unless they want attention—or trouble. You gather your tablet, and a shadow falls across your hands.
Narumi is standing far too close.
“You’re quiet,” he says. “Most people get defensive.”
“I don’t waste energy on things that don’t change outcomes.”
His smirk widens. “Careful. That kind of answer makes people nervous.”
“Are you nervous, sir?”
He laughs, softer now, playful. “Interesting. You’re not afraid of me.”
You meet his gaze. “Should I be?”
He leans down slightly, voice dropping. “Most people are.”
Your pulse betrays you, just a little. He notices.
Narumi straightens, shrugging casually. “Report to my division tomorrow. Temporary assignment.”
Your eyes widen. “Sir?”
“I want to see how you move when things stop being theoretical.”
“Is that an order?”
“Yes.”
You hesitate only a second. “Understood.”
As you turn to leave, he speaks again.
“Hey. Don’t die before I get bored of you.”
You pause. Then, without looking back, you say, “Try not to be disappointed.”
Behind you, Gen Narumi laughs.
And for reasons you do not yet understand, that laugh feels like the start of something dangerous.
Next Chapter
(I'm back yall!! Sorry is rushed and short although... it will be 10 chapters;))....)