#sakamoto days

[tipanot]

The greatest assassins fear only one thing:

[tabsters]

if I had a nickel every time there was an anime about a light-haired dude who kills (or used to kill) people for a living

with his black haired "wife" who's just as scary as him

and their purehearted daughter who deserves nothing but the best in the world:

and the show's about the adults trying to maintain their life of violence out of necessity while also trying to raise their new found family:

i would have 15 cents. watch all of these guys.

[retribution7]

[dmplk9503]

see you

[penginius]

[ttvck]

[itsmerelliwellie]

Too Close | Y. Nagumo x Reader

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For this pretty over here

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12.) "If you’re gonna patch me up like that, I should at least get a warning before you get THAT close.”

Prompts

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Warning(s): Blood (kinda)

Important Warning: NOT REALLY BETA READ

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The door creaked open around midnight.

You didn’t look up at first, used to this. Nagumo kept his missions tightly under wraps, slipping in and out of your life like a shadow with perfect hair and too many knives. But when the door didn’t shut right away, and the silence stretched too long, your instincts kicked in.

You turned from the kitchen counter, eyes narrowing then widening the moment you saw him.

“Yoichi.”

He was leaning against the wall, one shoulder dipped, shirt half untucked and stained with blood. His usual cocky expression was dulled by exhaustion, though a smirk still tugged at the edge of his lips.

“Hey,” he said, breathless. “You home?”

“Don’t you dare pass out on my floor,” you snapped, already moving toward him.

“You wound me,” he murmured with a crooked grin, even as his knees buckled slightly.

You caught him before he hit the ground.

He hissed through his teeth as your arm slid around his waist. His body was too warm. You felt the tension in his muscles, the way he leaned into your support just a little too easily.

“Idiot,” you muttered under your breath, guiding him to the worn couch. “What the hell happened?”

“Mission went fine,” he said with a wince, dropping into the cushions like a puppet with its strings cut. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Turns out five guys is a bit much when one of them has a grenade launcher.”

You shot him a glare so sharp he actually flinched.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he said, raising his hands. “Don’t be mad. I didn’t die.”

“Only because your enemies are apparently as stupid as you are.”

He grinned. “You say that like it’s not part of my charm.”

You rolled your eyes and disappeared into the bathroom, returning moments later with a well-stocked first aid kit, disinfectant, and a damp cloth. You knelt in front of him, eyes scanning over the damage.

His shirt was hanging in tatters off one side, revealing an ugly cut slashing across his ribs. Blood streaked his arm and collarbone. A bruise was blooming over his jaw.

“Take your shirt off,” you said flatly.

“Normally I’d say buy me dinner first, but…” He gave a breathless chuckle, then winced. “Ow. Okay. Not joking time.”

You helped him peel the fabric off carefully. He sucked in a sharp breath as it caught on the wound, knuckles turning white where they gripped the edge of the couch.

And then your fingers brushed against bare skin.

He stilled.

Not from pain.

But because your touch was gentle. Focused. Tender in a way he wasn’t used to. Something he can only receive from you. The person he’d spent far too many nights thinking about, despite trying not to.

You leaned in a little closer to clean the wound, the warmth of your breath ghosting across his collarbone.

“If you’re gonna patch me up like that, I should at least get a warning before you get that close.”

You paused, cotton pad hovering above his skin.

“Is that a complaint?”

“God, no,” he muttered, eyes locked on yours. “Just… unexpected. Kinda dangerous, honestly.”

“Dangerous?” You raised a brow. “You’re literally bleeding out from fighting five guys with military-grade weapons, and I’m the danger?”

He smirked. “You have no idea.”

There was a tension in the air now—slow and heavy, charged with the unspoken. You could feel his gaze on you as you cleaned and dressed the gash along his ribs, his muscles twitching under your touch. But he didn’t pull away.

He never did with you.

“You shouldn’t come here like this,” you murmured after a moment, voice quieter now. “Battered. Barely standing. I’m not a safehouse.”

“No,” he said, watching your hands as they moved. “You’re worse.”

“Worse?”

“You’re the only place I actually feel safe,” he said, almost like it was a joke. Almost. “Which is annoying, because that’s how people end up doing stupid things.”

You completely stopped what you were doing, heart skipping a beat.

“Like what?”

“Like thinking maybe I could stay longer next time,” he said softly. “Maybe let myself want things I’m not supposed to.”

Your chest tightened. He wasn’t smirking anymore.

The flirty edge was gone. It was just him—tired, bruised, but still trying to protect you from the messy parts of him.

“You think I wouldn’t want that too?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at you then. Really looked at you. His eyes weren’t teasing or sharp. They were open. Vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache.

“I think,” he said slowly, “if I let myself want you, I won’t be able to stop.”

You swallowed hard.

And still, your hand found his.

“You don’t have to stop,” you said.

He didn’t respond right away. Just squeezed your fingers gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand like he needed it to stay grounded.

Then, leaning forward slightly, he pressed his forehead to yours. It was soft and careful, like he was asking for permission.

And when you didn’t pull away, he exhaled. Relief. Or maybe surrender.

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he said. “But not tonight.”

You blinked, surprised. “Why not?”

“Because right now, I’m covered in blood and half-delirious,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes again. “And the first time I kiss you, I want you to remember it.”

Your breath caught.

“Deal,” you whispered.

He gave you a tired smile, the kind that made your heart twist in your chest.

And when you finally got him to lie down, covered him with a blanket, and stayed beside him while he drifted into an exhausted sleep. You didn’t say what was on your mind.

That maybe you’d already fallen for him.

But he didn’t need to hear it.

Not yet.

Because for now, your fingers resting in his, your quiet presence by his side. It said enough.

It had been a week since the night you patched him up.

Seven days.

Not that you were counting.

You’d expected him to disappear after that like he always did. Off to another mission. Another name. Another city. That was how Yoichi Nagumo operated. In and out. A blur of knives, smirks, and carefully built walls.

But this time… he stayed.

Not in a loud way. Just in the way he lingered. Dropped by with coffee at noon. Rested his arm over the back of your chair when he leaned down to tease you. Offered to cook (badly). Asked about your day in a voice that pretended not to care but lingered too long on your answers.

He didn’t kiss you.

Not yet.

But the space between you felt like it was on fire every time you so much as brushed fingers.

And tonight?

Tonight felt different.

The air was warmer, heavy with something unsaid. He stood in your kitchen, freshly showered, wearing one of his quieter expressions—the one he only ever showed when he thought you weren’t looking.

You watched him from the other side of the counter, your tea cooling in your hands. “You said you’d kiss me.”

He turned toward you slowly, brows raised. “Did I?”

You gave him a look. “You absolutely did.”

“Eh?” His lips curved in that infuriating, slow way. “Guess I’m running out of excuses, huh?”

“You don’t need one.”

He paused. Really paused this time. That subtle shift in his expression. The way his smile faltered, just slightly, told you more than words ever could.

This wasn’t just flirting anymore.

He rounded the counter, footsteps soft against the kitchen floor. Stopped when he was in front of you, close enough that your knees brushed when you shifted.

“Say it again,” he murmured.

You looked up at him, confused. “Say what?”

“That I don’t need an excuse.”

You held his gaze. “You don’t.”

Yoichi’s smile softened, not his usual cocky grin, but something slower. Real.

“Great,” he said. “Because I don’t have one. I just want to.”

His hand found your jaw, warm and steady. His thumb brushed your cheek like a question. When you didn’t pull away, he leaned in slower than you thought he would. Like he needed to be sure. Like this wasn’t a mission he could afford to screw up.

And then, finally—finally—he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed.

It was deliberate.

Like he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, the way your breath hitched when he tilted his head just slightly, the way your fingers curled into the front of his shirt. His other hand slid around your waist, anchoring you against him, pulling you into the heat of him without hesitation.

And when he pulled back, barely an inch, his voice was rough with something deeper than desire.

“I thought about this for a long time,” he said, eyes flickering from your mouth to your eyes. “Too long.”

Your fingers curled around his wrist. “Was it worth the wait?”

He gave a breath of a laugh.

“I don’t think I can stop now,” he said. “So you tell me if that’s gonna be a problem.”

“It’s not.”

“Good,” he whispered.

He kissed you again. A little less gentle, a little more him. Confident. Intense. Just a touch reckless. His fingers tangled in your hair, his body slotted against yours, and the space between you disappeared entirely.

And when you finally came up for air, your breath caught in your throat as he rested his forehead against yours, thumb tracing slow circles on your hip.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said quietly. “The normal thing. The… feeling things thing.”

“You’re doing fine,” you whispered back.

He exhaled something that sounded like relief. Or maybe surrender.

“Just—don’t look away from me, alright?” he murmured.

You didn’t.

Not when he kissed you again.

Not when he let the mask slip for good.

And not when you realized you’d both just crossed the point of no return.

---

A/N: *sighs* (That's it. That's the note)

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[fuku28]

watching the anime and re-realizing that he's very wife coded

[b0sya]

when your stupid dads get drunk and you have to drag them home😔

[skullpuke]

i like how their breakup only lasted 5 seconds

[kumasakka]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍 ! ❞

⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. asakura shin x reader .

⋆.˚ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. even during the adversity between you two, you should never doubt his love for you again.

⋆.˚ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. ~1.2k words .

⋆.˚ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. ardet sine fin — (n.) »burns without end« passion that endures, fueled through adversity. crack. hurt with comfort. f!reader. old married couple trope. safe for minors ! crappy writing. shin and sakamoto may seem ooc. cross-posted on wattpad.

　"STOP nagging me, woman..." the boy rolled his eyes before hissing at the stinging pain.

"Call me what?" you added extra pressure against his open wound, the piece of cotton getting tainted by his blood.

It didn't stop there — with 'it' you mean the little fighting and scolding. Oh damn, you sounded like an old hang just like Shin said. Sakamoto was also forced to listen to the bantering at the other end of the room. Yeah well until, he closed his eyes and began sleeping, not wanting to listen how you two were acting like some old married couple. He even requested earplugs like the old man he is.

"Can you not be a little more gentle?" Shin complained, tears welling up in the corner of his eyes, "please— Ouch! Hey!"

"You're such a baby." you narrowed your eyes as Shin squirmed under your grip.

"I'm sorry that it hurts!?"

"It wouldn't hurt in first place if you were more careful!" you wrapped the bandage around his arm, tightened it so it would suck up his blood.

"You act like an old woman, stop that." he knitted his eyebrows in annoyance as he bit his lip, watching you mishandle his delicate body hurts in his eyes. See

"So I should stop carrying about you?" you raised a brow.

"No— Yes!"

"Ugh." you took a needle into your hands, "I'm seriously going to stab you to death with this."

"Yeah sure, you do."

"Take care of your body. It's getting unhealthy."

"I will try."

"Don't try, you should do it." you glared at him.

"Sometimes it's inevitable." he shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't care an ounce about his body. "Sometimes I can't avoid getting hurt."

"Sometimes." you repeated, putting more weight into the word, "try living like a normal adult."

"Hard." he replied.

"Not impossible." you countered, "I mean Sakamoto-san still pulled it off. Man has a wife and a daughter, even owns a store.

"Wife and daughter..." he repeated, the image stuck in his head.

Maybe he will have a daughter one day. And hopefully you're the mother.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing!" he choked on his own saliva before coming back to the topic, "[name], a little reminder that it's the former legendary assassin we're talking about."

"Mmh he still is a human." you began stitching his wound.

"Of course he was able to pull it off. I can't do that from today to tomorrow."

"Try it then, silly." you sighed out.

"I'm not silly!"

"Just accept the truth."

There are days you're extremely mean to him. Like — above mean. And there are less days where you show how much you care. There are also days where you two don't interact at all.

Of course he will doubt the relationship between you and him — in his eyes, it seemed like your relationship is on the verge of its end.

A flower that is about to wither.

Yes. He does think that. But one thing he won't doubt though, are his feelings. He loves you, no doubt. Just like how Sakamoto loves Aoi and also how Aoi loves Sakamoto.

One thing he does doubt though? Your feelings. He isn't even sure if you still feel the same for him, compared to the beginning of this all.

Do you love him?

Silence. Awkward silence. Shin watched you but you didn't bother lifting your head. He assumed you were just focused on stitching up his wound. Was he too mean towards you? Should he just endure the rest of the treatment without letting out another sound? Maybe he really should keep his mouth shut. Maybe a look into your mind would explain some things?

"Shin?" your voice grabbed him out of his senses.

"Y-Yes?" he spluttered out, stuttering at that. The heck? Did he just stutter?

"I'm tired." you admitted and cut off the strings, tying it together.

Tired of the relationship?

"Of what?" his voice sounded more fearful than he intended to.

"Worrying about Sakamoto-san and most importantly you, makes me tired." you still didn't meet his gaze yet.

"Sorry..." he apologised. Yet he wasn't sure — what was his apology for?

"...You two always leave without a trace and then Aoi-san has to assure me that you two are fine." you started, "and the moment you show up again, you two look like you're on the verge of death."

"Sorry." this time, the apology sounded a lot more firm.

"I feel stupid for patching you two up." your eyes stay glued to the scissor in your hands, "maybe I should stop and let you bleed to death so I don't have to worry anymore."

"W-Wait what?!" he exclaimed.

'I hate you so much.'

He heard, dreams coming crushing down. His heart felt heavy, heavy enough to drop into a depth. A clump was stuck in his throat, he can't talk yet.

'Why can't he listen for once? Does he even care about my feelings? That stupid—'

Almost. He almost choked. Did you think the same?

'Perhaps he just doesn't care that I'm on the brink of death because of my worries. It's getting unhealthy. Maybe... Maybe I should take a pause of this. Of this relationship?'

"[name]." your name sounded weird on the tip of his tongue. The affection he held for you made it weird. When was the last time he called you this lovingly?

"What?" your reply bit him like a snake would.

He didn't continue further, his hand finding its way to yours. It felt like the typical — his hands were rough and calloused while your hands were a lot softer and had a touch of warmth. It displayed your childhood. He had a rather awful one, full of blood and coldness. Your childhood was another type of different.

"I'm sorry for worrying you to the brink of death..." he started slowly, "next time, I will make sure you know beforehand. Where I'm going and why I'm going. I'm going to try my best to not come back with wounds. But sometimes I really can't avoid getting hurt."

[e/c]-coloured eyes met black ones. You finally lifted your head, he was able to take a glimpse of your face. His expression looked firm and serious while you held uncertainty on your face.

"Forgive me if it seemed like I didn't care about your feelings." he continued.

"Stop... Or else I will regret it."

"Regret loving me?" he whispered. "I'm sorry. I never intended to make you regret."

He raised your hand to cover the back of it with gentle kisses, not caring if your hands were tainted with his blood. Because you always held his hand that was covered with the blood of others.

But at least he repents by being a better man than yesterday. He tries to repent for his sins. So perhaps he can go to heaven with you.

"I can promise you one thing though." he said against your hand.

"Promise what?" your voice was so quiet, almost breaking.

"Asakura Shin promises [lastname] [name] that one day, I will be a better man than I am today. Someone you can be proud of and someone you don't have to worry about. And then I will live a normal life as an adult with you as my wife.

"Stop being so cheesy." you huffed, hot cheeks betraying your thoughts though.

Right yes. His love for you burns without end and gets fueled even through adversity.

SHIN LOVES YOU ENDLESSLY.

© 2024 kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

a/n's note — I'm sosososo sorry it only followed half of the request! AHHH I JUST WENT WITH THE FLOWWWW and smh the ending is so corny. gng I should just stop writing 🥀

[a-cross-the-universe]

SHARP TONGUE

Nagumo Yoichi x f!reader | Part IX: A Close Call ☎️���🚘

TW: Mentions of (Your Name). I really didn’t wanna bring it up, but…

***

The safehouse was cramped, dimly lit, and smelled faintly of burnt coffee and old ramen cups. You’d been stuck inside with Nagumo for six hours now, observing the target’s building through the cracked blinds. Nothing had happened—no movement, no signals, just you, Nagumo, and the increasingly heavy silence between you.

You sat on opposite sides of the tiny table. He lounged with his feet kicked up, tapping his pen against a notebook. You stared through the binoculars, pretending to focus but all too aware of how close he was. It was the first time you were alone with him since the kiss.

"You’re quiet," he finally said.

"You’re loud," you shot back without looking at him.

"Still got it," he smirked, leaning forward. "Thought maybe you lost your bite after kissing me."

You turned slowly. "You kissed me."

Nagumo tilted his head, mock thinking. "Did I? Huh. Guess it was mutual, though. I didn’t hear any complaints."

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the binoculars. "Maybe I was in shock."

"That would explain why you didn’t slap me."

It was playful, the same banter from before—but underneath it all, there was something raw. Unspoken. You wanted to bring it up, to just ask what are we doing, but something stopped you.

Hours passed. Night fell. You pretended to sleep on the couch, but your eyes cracked open when you heard Nagumo mutter quietly.

"...didn’t mean to screw things up."

You stayed still, breath slow, heartbeat loud.

                                    ***

The JAA debriefing room was colder than usual—or maybe that was just your mood. You stood with your arms crossed as the mission results were reviewed. Naoko leaned against the opposite wall, fake-smiling.

"Infiltration was successful," one of the heads said. "Thanks to Agent (Your Name)’s intel and Nagumo’s execution. Impressive work."

"Hmm," Naoko hummed. "Would’ve thought she’d be stuck in recon again. But I guess when you’ve got...personal help, anything’s possible."

You turned. "Excuse me?"

Nagumo’s voice cut in—lazy and smooth, but with an unmistakable edge.

"Naoko, you ever get tired of talking out of your ass?"

The room stilled.

Naoko’s expression froze—half-offended, half-stunned.

Nagumo grinned, tilting his head. "So unless you’re planning to contribute something besides jealousy and delusions, maybe shut up before you embarrass yourself again."

No one said a word. Even the director coughed and moved the meeting along.

After the debriefing, you caught up with him in the hallway. He was halfway into a protein bar when you stepped in front of him.

"What was that back there?"

He shrugged. “You’re gonna have to be more specific. I say a lot of things.”

You blinked at him, torn between amusement and exasperation. ��Look. I appreciate you stepping up. Really. But you don’t have to do that. I can handle Naoko.”

He smirked but nodded. ““I know. But maybe I let her get away with too much before. That’s on me. Besides, watching you handle her isn’t nearly as fun as watching her squirm when I step in.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Since when do you take accountability?”

He smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”

You shook your head, half-laughing. “You’re impossible.”

“Not true. I’m highly possible. Just slightly chaotic.”

                                     ***

The car crash hadn’t been part of the plan.

One second, you were tailing the suspect—tight turns, sirens in the distance, your team a few blocks behind—and the next, the brakes locked. A truck swerved into your path, and all you saw was blinding headlights and the violent twist of metal before everything went black.

                                      ***

Nagumo had just walked out of the JAA meeting room when Shishiba caught up with him.

“You need to head to Tokyo General,” Shishiba said bluntly.

Nagumo slowed his steps. “What?”

“(Your Name) ’s in the hospital. That chase last night—her car got totaled.”

He didn’t remember dropping his coffee, but the splatter on the floor said otherwise.

“She alive?”

“Yeah. Barely. Unconscious when they pulled her out.”

Shishiba said something else after that, but Nagumo was already moving.

                                      ***

When you woke up, your whole body throbbed. Ribs screamed, your shoulder was bandaged, and your legs felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each.

Nagumo was leaning against the window, arms crossed, scythe propped beside him.

“You’re awake,” he said, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. Not smug. Just… relieved.

You blinked slowly. “What happened?”

He walked over and handed you a cup of water, watching you drink like he didn’t quite believe you were real. “Car flipped three times. You were half-buried under the wreck when they found you. Broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, nasty concussion.”

You took another sip, wincing at the movement. “Didn’t know you cared.”

He shrugged, lips twitching. “You’d be surprised.”

There was a pause. You watched him closely. Then you said, “About the kiss. And what you said the other day.”

You locked eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips. It felt weirdly normal. He moved closer, pulling a chair beside the bed, tossing you a candy bar.

His posture tensed, just a bit. “You heard that?”

“Yeah.”

You studied him. “You said you didn’t mean to screw things up.”

“Wasn’t about the mission,” he said after a second. “I screwed things up with you. That’s what I meant.”

You nodded. “I figured.”

A pause. Then, without thinking, you added, “So… about the kiss”

He held up a hand. "If you’re gonna say it was a mistake, at least wait until I finish this chocolate."

You laughed, genuinely. "I wasn’t going to. I just... wanted to know what that was."

Nagumo looked uncharacteristically unsure. "I don’t know."

He leaned in, slow and smooth.You didn’t move. His thumb brushed your jaw, and for a second, the teasing melted into something softer. Real.

“Wanna try again?” he said, voice low. “For clarity.”

He was close enough that your breath hitched, and as his lips brushed yours—

The door slammed open.

“Oh wow, you’re actually awake!” Lu’s voice rang out.

You jerked back, wide-eyed, as Shin followed behind him holding a fruit basket.

Nagumo groaned, muttering something under his breath as he pulled away. You quickly pulled your blanket up, cheeks burning.

“Seriously, Nagumo?” Lu said, hands on his hips. “Making out in a hospital room?”

“I was checking her pulse,” Nagumo said dryly.

“With your mouth?” Shin asked.

You grabbed the nearest pillow and chucked it at them both.

Behind your back, Lu elbowed Shin and whispered with a smirk, “Pay up. I said under a week.”

Shin grumbled, pulling a bill from his pocket. “Only because I thought they’d be emotionally constipated for another month.”

Neither of them noticed you and Nagumo glance at each other.

But you didn’t notice their quiet high-five either.

                                     ***

Sorry for the delay! I got sick—thought it was just allergies at first, but nope, turned out to be a cold. Can you believe it? Ugh. I’m feeling a lot better now though, and I finally managed to edit the next chapter. Nothing like a near-death experience to bring the lead couple closer, right?

There’s gonna be more fluff and banter in the next chapters, and I should be able to update again sometime this week.

If you’re new, check out my blog for the earlier chapters—thanks! And big thanks to everyone for the likes, reblogs, and sweet messages!

SPOILER ALERT 🚨

P.S. I miss Nagumo so much. We finally got to see him again, and it was just a glimpse of that handsome face! Also, what the hell is Shishiba thinking? That’s literally a suicide mission. If he dies, I swear, I won’t survive it. They already took Gaku from me—Gaku, my precious boy. I’m still holding out hope he’s alive.

[sakamoto-days]

Natsuki illustration for SakaPuzz!

[cute-girls-from-vns-anime-manga]

Osaragi flying through stained glass with her giant circular saw is some peak imagery!

[unxpctedlygreat]

Chapter 1 vs Chapter 106