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a-cross-the-universe · 2 months ago

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SHAPR TONGUE

Nagumo Yoichi x f!reader | Part X: Heat Beneath The Tension 🔥💖💫

***

You woke up at 3 a.m. to the sound of someone snoring lightly.

Nagumo had fallen asleep in the chair, arms crossed, head tilted back. His weapon leaned against the corner, and his jacket half-slipped off one shoulder.

You stared for a moment, heartbeat annoyingly loud. Then you reached for your phone and snapped a picture.

For insurance. Or blackmail. Probably both.

***

The room was finally quiet. No nurses, no Shin or Lu barging in, no beeping machines or sterile overhead lights. Just sunlight seeping through half-drawn curtains, warming the scratchy blanket on your legs. You were dressed again in civilian clothes—well, what passed for them, anyway—and had your bag slung over one shoulder.

Nagumo leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with that unreadable smirk.

"You gonna miss the five-star treatment?"

You snorted, tugging your zipper higher. "Definitely. Loved being stabbed with needles and told to rest every five minutes. A dream, really."

He tilted his head. "You gonna miss me?"

You hesitated—just for a second—but that was all it took. His grin turned sharper, like he’d caught you blinking during a spar.

"You were here maybe twice without Lu or Shin acting as chaperones."

"Yeah, well," he said, pushing off the doorframe and walking closer, "you don’t exactly make it easy to get a moment alone."

You met his gaze. He was close now—close enough that if you leaned forward even a little…

You looked away instead. “You didn’t have to stay.”

Nagumo’s voice softened. “Didn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Your chest tightened. The easy way he said it, like it wasn’t a big deal—like it didn’t knock the air out of you.

You shifted your bag. “So... that night.”

He raised an eyebrow. “The one where you pretended to be asleep and definitely didn’t hear me say something embarrassing?”

You smiled faintly. “Yeah. That one.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Still stand by it. I didn’t mean to screw things up between us. I just… I didn’t think you’d take it that hard.”

You looked at him, really looked. “It wasn’t just about the mission. You were the one person I thought I could trust.”

Silence. Then, quietly:

“I want to again. But you can’t keep pushing and pulling like this.”

Nagumo’s face was uncharacteristically serious. “Then let’s stop pushing. Just… tell me what you want.”

You exhaled. “I don’t know yet. But I want to figure it out.”

He smiled—small, almost hesitant. “That’s a start.”

You turned to the door. “Come on. I’m getting out of here before they try to inject me with vitamins or something.”

Nagumo opened the door for you, mock bowing. “After you, princess.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him. He followed with a smirk—and maybe, just maybe, a little less tension between you.

Outside, the sun was warm, and for once, things felt almost normal.

***

Week 1 after being discharged from the hospital.

It was a slow afternoon at the shop, the kind where the sun came in through the blinds in golden strips and even Shin looked half-asleep at his station.

You were perched on a stool by the snack shelf, flipping through an inventory sheet. For whatever reason, Nagumo had decided that his new favorite pastime was hovering. He leaned over your shoulder, close enough that you could feel the whisper of his breath against your ear.

“Your handwriting still sucks,” he murmured.

You didn’t look up. “Thanks for the input. I’ll make sure to write your name extra ugly on my kill list.”

“That mean I’m finally making the top spot?”

You turned a page. “Depends. How long are you planning to keep breathing on me like that?”

He tilted his head. “Wouldn’t dream of stopping. You smell nice. Like antiseptic and danger.”

You shot him a flat look. “You have a thing, don’t you?”

“Only for deadly women who tried to kiss me in hospital beds,” he said casually, plucking a pen from behind your ear and spinning it through his fingers. “And then pretend they didn’t.”

Your cheeks betrayed you with a slow burn, but you held your ground. “Pretty sure that was you.”

He smirked. “Semantics. Let’s test it again sometime. For science.”

“Oh my god,” Shin muttered from across the room.

Lu let out a groan and dropped the magazine she was reading. “Nope. That’s it. Time out.”

You and Nagumo looked up at the same time, innocent in unison.

“What?” you asked.

“I knew something was up,” Lu said, pointing between the two of you like she was holding a grudge. “The minute you walked in, it was like watching a tension-filled rom-com, but with more knives.”

Shin added, “I’ve seen hostage negotiations with less intensity.”

You blinked. “We’re just talking.”

“Yeah,” Nagumo said, slouching against the counter with the most obvious fake-casual tone ever, “just a little banter between friends.”

Lu raised an eyebrow. “Right. ‘You smell like danger’ is how I greet all my friends too.”

You tried not to laugh. Nagumo didn’t even bother hiding his grin. You did glance at him, though—and of course, he was already looking at you again. That lazy, too-sure look that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

Heat crept up your neck.

Lu threw her arms up. “There it is again! The look!”

You deadpanned, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Me either,” Nagumo added, tilting his head innocently. “We’re just professionals.”

Shin muttered under his breath, “Professionals my ass.”

***

Two weeks after that...

The shop buzzed with its usual rhythm: the scent of grilled fish in the air, Lu singing off-key in the background, and Sakamoto humming as he wiped down the counter. You were seated on a stool, flipping through a mission log, pretending not to notice the way Nagumo leaned across the counter, watching you like you were the most interesting thing in the room.

“Report that boring, huh?” he asked lazily. “Or is it that you miss me already?”

You didn’t look up. “I was enjoying the peace and quiet. Then you spoke.”

He clicked his tongue. “Mean. You always this grumpy when you’re trying not to smile?”

Your lips twitched, but you kept your eyes on the page. “If you’re trying to flirt, it’s not working.”

“I’m not flirting,” he said, way too quickly.

“Sure,” Aoi muttered from a nearby table.

Nagumo turned her way. “We’re just talking. Normal coworkers. Totally professional.”

Aoi blinked. “You called her sunshine with a pistol last week.”

“That was a metaphor.”

“That was disgusting,” Sakamoto added as he stepped into the room, arms crossed. “And you were staring at her like a kicked puppy when she got injured.”

You glanced at Nagumo. “Were you?”

He snorted. “Please. I was mostly annoyed you didn’t finish the mission.”

You threw a wadded a pen at his face. He caught it without looking, winked.

“I’m just saying,” Aoi said, pointing between the two of you, “the tension is getting out of hand.”

“There is no tension,” you and Nagumo said in unison.

Aoi looked at Sakamoto. “You hear that?”

“Loud and clear,” he deadpanned. “They’re totally not into each other while throwing bedroom eyes across my shop.”

Nagumo raised his brows at you. “Do I throw bedroom eyes?”

You gave him a once-over. “Your face looks like it’s stuck on ‘smug idiot’ mode.”

“Hot,” he said, grinning. “You think I’m hot.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But you’re not denying it either,” he said, still smirking.

You opened your mouth, but Aoi cut in. “Okay, seriously, I need a spray bottle or something.”

You shook your head and turned back to your report, cheeks just a little warmer than before. Nagumo leaned on his elbow, watching you in silence for a moment, and then—

“I’m still not flirting,” he said.

“Neither am I,” you replied without looking up.

And neither of you believed a word of it.

***

You and Nagumo sat across from each other at the long table, supposedly reviewing blueprints for an upcoming infiltration op. Supposedly.

In reality, every time you looked up, Nagumo was already looking at you—like he’d been waiting for it. He smirked, kicked your foot lightly under the table, and raised an eyebrow in challenge. You narrowed your eyes, nudged him back—harder—and kept talking to Hyo like nothing happened.

“You’ll need to bypass the upper level sensors before the second shift arrives,” Hyo was saying, glancing between the two of you with an amused look tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Assuming you’re both... focused?”

Nagumo didn’t even look away from you. “I’m laser focused.”

You crossed your arms and gave him a look. “Funny, your brain’s usually set to stun.”

Osaragi coughed behind her hand—definitely a laugh.

Shishiba just sighed from where he was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “If you two are done flirting with your shoes, maybe pay attention?”

“We’re paying attention,” you both said at the same time, then exchanged a blink of surprised silence.

“that was creepy,” Osaragi muttered, sipping her drink.

Naoko, who had been silently fuming in the corner since the meeting started, finally spoke up. “Unbelievable. This is what we’ve come to? Flirty bickering and footsies during ops?”

You turned to her, expression neutral. “We’re working.”

“Sure you are,” she snapped, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at you like she could set you on fire with sheer hatred. “You’re always so efficient with Nagumo, huh?”

Nagumo looked over, brows raised. “You jealous?”

Naoko scoffed. “Please.”

Shishiba cut in before it got any uglier. “I don’t care who is jealous. Just don’t screw up the mission with whatever this weird will-they-won’t-they situation is.”

“It’s not a situation,” you said.

“It’s definitely a situation,” Osaragi replied.

Hyo finally gave in to a quiet chuckle. “They look at each other like they’re one smirk away from making out in the middle of a briefing.”

You opened your mouth to argue—but then Nagumo tilted his head at you, slow and amused, eyes glittering with challenge. That look that said go on, prove them wrong.

You closed your mouth. Damn him.

Naoko looked like she was about to combust.

“Great,” Shishiba muttered. “You broke Naoko.”

***

You adjusted the wire in your ear, voice low as you crouched behind a stack of rusted barrels. “Two guards by the door. One’s asleep. The other’s dumb.”

Nagumo’s voice came through, cocky as ever. “So basically, you’re saying it’s unfair. Should we even bother?”

“I’d hate for you to strain yourself,” you murmured, peering through your scope. “Wouldn’t want to damage that fragile ego.”

“Please. My ego’s made of steel.” A pause. “Though it does bruise a little when you pretend you don’t miss me.”

You rolled your eyes. “We saw each other three hours ago.”

“And yet, here we are again. Me, risking life and limb just to be by your side.”

“Funny. I thought this was an infiltrating mission.”

“Call it whatever you want.”

You smirked and gave the signal to move. You made it to the second floor in near silence, Nagumo close behind. The tension between you wasn’t just professional—it never was, not lately. When your hands brushed as you crouched by the vent, you glanced sideways.

“Your heart always beat this fast?” he teased, breath tickling your ear.

You deadpanned, “That’s yours, genius.”

He grinned, but just as he leaned in to quip again—

Bang.

An explosion rocked the north side of the building. Instantly, smoke began pouring through the vents.

“Poison gas!” you yelled. “We have to move.”

“Plan’s blown,” Nagumo cursed. “Stick close.”

You ducked low, sprinting through the narrow hallway, vision blurring from the smoke. Someone fired from above—Nagumo threw himself in front of you, knocking you down behind cover.

“I had that,” you snapped, coughing.

“I know,” he said, checking you over quickly. “But I still get to protect you.”

Your breath hitched. You stared up at him, taken aback by the fierceness in his eyes.

“I’m not saying you need it,” he added, a little softer now. “I just want to.”

You blinked, heart hammering, adrenaline mixing with something warmer. “…You’re such a dumbass.”

“You like it,” he muttered, pulling you to your feet.

The rest of the mission was a blur—gunfire, gas, sprinting through collapsing scaffolding. You didn’t realize how much gas you'd inhaled until you stumbled, the edges of your vision dimming. Nagumo caught you before you hit the ground.

“Hey,” his voice echoed, panicked now, urgent. “Stay with me. You’re fine. I’ve got you.”

***

Hospital Room – Late Morning

You blinked against the white light, groaning. “Ugh. Not again.”

Nagumo was sitting beside you, arms crossed, expression caught between relief and exasperation. “You seriously need to stop making a habit of waking up in hospitals.”

“Maybe if someone didn’t tackle me—”

“You passed out from gas exposure, smartass.”

You smiled. “Still. You carried me out?”

“I made someone else do the heavy lifting. I just yelled a lot.”

“Hmm.” You reached for the cup of water on the nightstand. “Still want to protect me?”

He leaned in, eyes half-lidded. “Every damn time.”

You bit your lip, the flutter in your stomach too strong to ignore. “You’re being way too sweet. Are you sure the gas didn’t affect your brain?”

“Just your face,” he said casually. “Nearly gave me a heart attack. I’d rather get shot than see you drop like that again.”

You swallowed, the sincerity cutting through the banter. “I’m okay now.”

“I know.” He leaned forward, brushing your hair away from your face. “Still—you scared me.”

You flushed, breath catching. “You’re scaring me now. Where’s the annoying guy who calls me names and makes fun of me?”

He grinned. “Still here. Just—might also want to kiss you when you’re not dying.”

You raised a brow. “That a confession?”

He shrugged. “More like a warning.”

You laughed, and he took your hand casually like it wasn’t a big deal—but it was. His thumb brushed your knuckles like he couldn’t help it. When the nurse came in to discharge you, neither of you moved for a second.

“Guess you’re stuck with me again,” he said once you were dressed and gathering your things.

You gave him a sideways glance. “I can live with that.”

As you walked out of the hospital room—banged up, hearts racing, and hands almost brushing again—you both pretended not to notice how you kept smiling.

***

You took one step out the hospital doors and sighed like a prisoner tasting freedom for the first time.

Then your stomach let out a dramatic, echoing growl.

Nagumo, leaning lazily against the railing with his hands in his pockets, raised an eyebrow. “...Was that a bear?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, rubbing your stomach. “I want real food. If I have to eat one more cup of bland gelatin, I’m going to start screaming.”

He tilted his head. “Real food, huh?”

You eyed him warily. “Why do you look like that? That’s your ‘I have a dumb idea’ face.”

“Come on.” He was already walking ahead. “I know just the place.”

***

The bell jingled as you walked in, warm steam and the savory scent of broth wrapping around you like a hug. Your stomach practically applauded.

“I swear, if one more person brings me hospital Jell-O, I’m going to strangle someone with my IV line,” you muttered, sliding into a seat at the bar.

Nagumo smirked. “Careful. You say that too loud in public, someone’s gonna think you’re serious.”

“I am serious.”

He gave the ramen chef a casual nod. “Two miso—extra pork, soft-boiled egg, no bamboo. And tea.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did you just order for me?”

“Yup.”

“You know that’s annoying, right?”

“Yup.”

You huffed, crossing your arms—until the bowls arrived, steaming and perfect. You blinked at yours.

“…How did you—this is exactly what I would’ve picked.”

Nagumo shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’m observant. Deal with it.”

“Ugh. Don’t act like you care.”

“Don’t worry. I care about food. You’re just a side dish.”

You kicked his shin under the bar. He didn’t flinch—just nudged his knee back against yours. And then… left it there. Bold.

You pretended to focus very hard on your soup.

After a few minutes of comfortable slurping, Nagumo leaned closer, voice low. “We’re not talking about work.”

You paused. “Huh. Weird.”

“Feels illegal.”

“Feels like a date,” you blurted out—then immediately stared into your bowl like it held the secrets of the universe. “I mean—not that it is. Obviously. I’m just saying. Statistically. Hypothetically. It has date vibes.”

Nagumo stared at you for a second longer than necessary.

“…Wow.”

“What?”

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not!”

“You are.”

“Shut up, Nagumo.”

You turned back to your ramen with a scowl. He just grinned and sipped his tea.

“…Yeah,” he said. “Definitely feels like a date.”

You threw a napkin at him.

...

You both finished your bowls with the kind of silence only satisfied ramen eaters could achieve. The kind where you briefly forget betrayal, poison gas, and complicated feelings—all thanks to perfectly chewy noodles and rich broth.

You stretched, reaching for your wallet. “Alright, I got this. My treat for not dying this week.”

But as soon as you stood, Nagumo was already at the counter, sliding bills into the register tray with the ease of someone who had clearly planned this.

“what are you doing?” you protested, half-standing from your seat.

He looked over his shoulder, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth. “Be quiet. You almost died. Let me buy you noodles.”

You frowned. “That’s not how debt works.”

“No, but it is how flirting works,” he shot back, turning just in time to catch the flush creeping up your neck.

The ramen chef chuckled under his breath. “You two dating or fighting?”

You choked on your own breath. “Neither!”

“Both,” Nagumo answered at the same time.

You elbowed him in the ribs as he rejoined you. “I was gonna pay.”

“I beat you to it. Plus, now you owe me.”

“Oh god,” you muttered. “That’s your whole thing, isn’t it? Making people owe you so you can cash in later.”

He wiggled his eyebrows, smug. “Exactly. I’ll collect in the form of—let’s say—your time, attention, and unwavering affection.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but I just bought you ramen, so technically I’m also irresistible.”

You narrowed your eyes but couldn’t stop the tiny smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. But next time, I pay.”

He opened the door for you, leaning close as you passed.

“We’ll see.”

And maybe it was the steam or the lingering miso warmth—but you didn’t hate the idea of a “next time.”

You both stepped out of the ramen shop, the warm glow from inside contrasting the cool evening air. The streets were quieter now, just a few people milling about, the buzz of the city calming down. Your arms were folded, belly full and mood warm.

“That hit the spot,” you said, stretching slightly. “I was two hospital meals away from chewing my own arm off.”

Nagumo chuckled, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. “I believe it. You looked like you were about to throw hands with that nurse who brought you the soggy rice porridge.”

“It was soggy!” you defended. “And flavorless. I almost reported it as a war crime.”

He grinned. “Well, I saved you just in time. Again. That’s two. I should start charging.”

“Charge me and I will report you as a war crime.”

He smirked and glanced at you from the side. “You’d miss me.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks betrayed you. “Anyway… I should head this way. I need to stop by the market before going home.”

“Oh,” he said, still walking alongside you. “Cool. I'll come too."

You paused. “You don’t have to. You probably wanna go home or… do whatever you do when you’re not being annoying.”

He kept walking. “Nah. Groceries are thrilling. What if you collapse trying to lift a bag of rice? I’d never forgive myself.”

You squinted at him. “I lift more than you at the gym and you know it.”

“Exactly why I should come. I like a challenge.”

You nudged him with your shoulder. “Are you flirting with me in the produce aisle already?”

“Only if we get to argue about tomatoes and then buy a bunch of snacks we don’t need.”

You gave him a look—the kind that meant I’m annoyed but charmed and you know it—and he returned it with a wink that screamed I win.

“Fine,” you huffed. “But I’m picking the snacks.”

“As long as you share.”

You shook your head, smiling to yourself as you both turned the corner, the quiet of the street filling with easy laughter and the sound of a bond that, somehow, felt just a little stronger with every step

...

The grocery store was calm. Calm and unsuspecting. Peaceful, even.

Which is why it made zero sense that you and Nagumo were currently standing in front of a shelf of instant curry arguing about spice levels like it was a matter of national security.

“I’m telling you,” he said, holding up a red-labeled box, “this is the superior brand. Spicy, but flavorful.”

“That’s not spicy, that’s aggressive,” you shot back, pointing to your own selection. “I don’t need my tongue to suffer trauma just to enjoy dinner.”

You were bickering like that—playful and far too cozy, hips brushing every few steps as you moved down the aisle, throwing random snacks and drinks into the shared basket—when chaos struck.

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?”

The moment you heard the exaggerated gasp, you froze.

You didn’t need to turn around to know the exact pitch, volume, and utter lack of shame could only belong to one person.

“LU,” you said without looking.

“LU and Shin,” Nagumo sighed, already rubbing his temples as if warding off a headache.

Sure enough, the two of them came marching over with smug grins and the kind of judgmental sparkle in their eyes that only meant one thing: you were never living this down.

“Well, well, well,” Shin drawled, eyeing the shared basket. “What do we have here? Curry for two? Pocky sticks? A romantic stroll in the noodle aisle?”

“We’re literally buying groceries,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms.

“Together,” Lu emphasized, leaning way too close. “At night. Flirting in the spice aisle.”

Nagumo raised a brow. “What kind of flirting do you think involves arguing about MSG content?”

“The foreplay kind,” Shin said with a straight face. Lu snorted.

“We’re not together,” you said, holding up a can of miso soup like it could defend your honor.

Nagumo nodded coolly. “Yeah. We’re just… food-compatible.”

Lu made an exaggerated mmmmhmmm sound while Shin leaned over and inspected your cart like a detective. “This says otherwise. Who buys his and hers instant ramen unless they’re in denial?”

You turned to Nagumo, narrowing your eyes. “See what you did?”

He smirked. “I recall you dragging me here.”

“YOU insisted on coming!”

“You let me!”

“Because you were being weirdly charming!”

“Oh my god,” Lu whispered, clutching her chest. “They’re married.”

“We should go,” you muttered, grabbing Nagumo by the arm and steering him toward the checkout lane.

Lu called after you: “SEND US THE WEDDING INVITE!”

Shin added, “I want curry on the menu!”

Nagumo leaned in close as you paid, whispering, “You know we’re never gonna hear the end of this.”

You groaned. “This is why I usually shop alone.”

“…Wanna do it again next week?”

You glanced at him. “Buy snacks or get heckled by Lu?”

He grinned. “Both.”

***

I'm sorry I didn’t update sooner, but… I wasn’t satisfied (again) with what I wrote. You know I love the tension, so I had like two more chapters with that vibe—but I realized I was dragging it out too much, and it messed with the story’s flow. So… I deleted everything and rewrote it again. 🧍🏻‍♀️

This is what I came up with, and honestly, I like it better this way. The next chapter will most likely be the last one, but I’m not 100% sure—it might take one or two more to wrap everything up. I’m also thinking about changing the title. 🙂⬇️

#nagumo yoichi #nagumo sakamoto days #sakamoto days #nagumo yoichi x reader

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