rooftop smoke
soshiro hoshina x gn!reader mentions of smoking wordcount: 1270
you weren’t drafted into the kaiju war effort because you were particularly strong or even because you were particularly good with handling a gun or a sword.
you’re a ballistics expert.
you’ve helped to perfect the rounds that izumo tech makes for guns, helped perfect missiles in the name of eradicating kaiju. you were hand-picked for the third division by mina ashiro herself, her thirst for revenge against kaiju rivaling your own.
you’d met soshiro hoshina through mina, too.
you remember him, at first. almost twitchy, a fresh-faced stranger to the third division, desperate to prove himself. the two of you had gotten along quite well—enough to share a strained kiss or two after a tough battle or two, initially—but the two of you had never talked about it for any longer than a faint touch of the lips, and you’d tasted something floral and fruity on his tongue, like he’d indulged in some kind of candy before he left to fight.
but you’d never talked about it at all beyond a quick well-wishing for his safety before he holstered the katanas at the back of his suit, and turned away to meet his destiny.
in the days after the fungal honju and yoju attack, you find yourself hanging out with hoshina—there’s an unspoken agreement, here—hoshina could have easily lost his life to kaiju no.8, which was still at large.
“fancy a smoke?” hoshina holds out the pack of cigarettes to you—it’s the kind you like specifically—a little too sweet for most people, with an underlying cloy of tar that gets most people.
“mm. when don’t i?” you say, taking the pack from him. “thought you didn’t. smoke, i mean. doesn’t it ruin your whole…” as you pull a cigarette from the pack, you gesture at him. “your whole image?”
he snickers, a peek of a fang showing at the corner of his mouth.
“i bought them for you,” he says. “lend me your ear for a moment, yeah?”
so that’s how you wind up on the rooftop with hoshina.
he’s staring daggers at the horizon, his jacket ever-so-slightly unzipped to reveal the hints of his collarbones. you definitely don’t stare, not even a little.
tokyo’s skyline is peaceful. quiet. there is still reconstruction to do after the previous honju attacks–but it’s quiet for now, with no kaiju in sight.
you flick open your lighter, snapping it several times to produce a small and unsteady flame. there’s a breeze, strong enough that the flame almost goes out, and hoshina leans forward to cup the flame in his palm, his crimson eyes peeking out for a moment.
“what’s with the intense expression?” you drawl, taking a long drag of your cigarette, letting a puff of smoke escape your lips. “mighty scary there, hoshina.”
hoshina’s usually all smiles—the cold kind that never reach his eyes, and this one is no different. he leans on his cheek, stares at you. he smirks.
“thinking about last night,” he says, the smile on his lips twisting the tone of his words. “might’ve said a few things here and there, y’know. to the newbies.”
you stare for a moment.
the newbies had gotten closer than you’d expected them to—you’d hardly gotten to know your fellow soldiers when you were inducted into the force, quite frankly—your skillset as a ballistics engineer kept you far and away from the majority of any grueling training, of seeing beloved companions being taken away in body bags.
“ah, i get it. you told the newbies they weren’t allowed to fraternize. and now you’re getting cold feet about all of this?” you guess, sharp wit as always. hoshina snorts, pushing back from the railing of the rooftop before stepping closer to you.
his bangs fall in front of his eyes, and in faint moonlight, you can see the faintest blemishes of his skin, where he might have scratched at his face too hard.
“you don’t want this?” hoshina’s voice is quiet.
“i’ve always been honest about what i want, soshiro,” you say. “just wondering if you know what you want.”
“what i want,” hoshina says. he sounds almost bitter as he looks away. “i want to be useful.” the pale column of his neck is something indeed.
“you’re vice captain of the third division,” you say. “and mina’s yet to reach her full potential. she’ll be climbing up there in the ranks, with you by her side.”
“using an obsolete method of kaiju slaying that hasn’t been useful for a century,” hoshina says, his placid demeanor belying bitter frustration underneath. he sighs for a moment. “i’m only useful in the sense that mina might still want something from me. without that, am i truly of use to anyone? am i any better than some toy you pick up for a little while, have your fun with, and then throw away?”
you take another drag of your cigarette, letting the smoke fill your lungs for a moment before you exhale upwards, careful not to get smoke in his face.
hoshina laughs.
“you’re useful to me,” you say. “a cliche line, i know. no romance behind it.”
hoshina watches you, the peek of crimson eyes turning almost bloodred in the faint light.
“useful,” he repeats. “to you.”
“got a problem with it, pretty boy?” you rasp, staring up at him.
his face is boyish when he leans in close, curious as his hand touches your face.
“mm. no,” hoshina says. “pretty boy?” he cocks his head. his thumb touches at your lower lip, right at the corner of your mouth where your cigarette hangs from your lip.
“that’s you,” you say. you lean into his touch subconsciously, chasing the callused touch of a palm that has held up the weight of the world. “if you want to be of use to someone, you can keep being of use to me. by promising you’ll come back alive, to me.”
you’re not the confessing type. you’re not. you’ve never talked about your feelings for soshiro hoshina besides admitting that you’ve had them once to yourself during a smoke break, when you pulled your cigarette from your lips and wished that hoshina was there to close the gap, to kiss you again like he meant it, instead of in a rushed, half-sloppy affair.
hoshina’s eyes consider yours for a moment–searching your gaze for something. his thumb on your bottom lip shifts up, and touches the corner of your mouth. he plucks the cigarette from your lips, and you stare up at him, embarrassingly entranced.
“you’d like that,” hoshina whispers, and then he takes a drag of the cigarette. the tip of the cigarette glows a brilliant orange-yellow, and you wonder if hoshina will make fun of you for staring, before he exhales, half-coughing. “ha. what i get for trying to look cool in front of you, huh?”
his smile is all fangs, barely reaching the cold crimson of his eyes.
you stare at his lips shamelessly, at the way they upturn.
“aren’t you going to kiss me?” hoshina asks.
“huh?”
you blink at him.
“i’ve decided what i want,” hoshina murmurs. “and all you have to do is take it.”
so you do. you pull him forward by the collar of his plain shirt, poking out from his jacket, and he falls against you, presses his lips to yours in a move that might be described as reverent. he tastes faintly of your sweet cigarettes, and you kiss him and kiss him until you hope you can plunge your hands into his chest, and rewrite his core so that he might live and breathe for you.
