Hello! Could you write a nagumo x reader fic in which they're friends who are always bickering and accidentally acting like an old married couple, but whenever someone refers to them as husband and wife, the reader immediately corrects them. And then one time reader doesn't correct them for some reason (maybe just got tired of it or whatever) and nagumo starts seeing fireworks and hearing wedding bells, thinking he's finally got a chance.
HII thank you for your request, I hope this alright.... Since I thought maybe a good ending for this story on the end would be good
Fireworks & Wedding bells
Nagumo Yoichi x reader
You and Nagumo have always been that duo who argue over everything — from missions to lunch orders — yet somehow end up acting like an old married couple without realizing it. Everyone teases you about it, but you always deny it… until one day, you don’t. And that one tiny silence makes Nagumo think maybe, just maybe, he finally has a chance.
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You didn’t mean to become Nagumo Yoichi’s partner. It just sort of… happened. One day, he was leaning over your desk with that smug grin, spinning his phone between his fingers, and the next thing you knew, you were stuck with him on missions.
You’d expected chaos — you just didn’t expect domestic chaos.
“Oi, don’t tell me you’re bringing that cheap bento again,” he says one morning, leaning against the wall of the JAA briefing room. His tone is teasing, light, the usual. He’s got his hands in his pockets, sunglasses pushed up into his messy hair, tie loosened like he’s allergic to dressing properly.
You sigh, setting your lunch down. “It’s not cheap. It’s homemade.”
He grins. “Homemade doesn’t mean edible, sweetheart.”
You grab your pen and throw it at him. He catches it midair, still smiling. “See? I’m saving lives already. Yours, probably.”
That’s how it always goes — banter, teasing, and bickering that somehow makes the others at HQ exchange knowing looks. They say it’s like watching an old married couple argue about who forgot the anniversary.
You deny it every time.
Nagumo doesn’t bother. He just smirks and says, “Yeah, but if we were married, I’d make a great husband.”
You always roll your eyes and tell him to shut up.
The teasing never stops, especially on missions.
Like today — you’re crouched behind a wall, bullets whizzing past, and Nagumo’s beside you, as calm as if he’s ordering takeout.
“Alright, honey,” he says, reloading. “You go left, I’ll take the front. Sound good, wifey?”
“Call me that again and I’ll shoot you.”
“You say that every time, but you never do,” he hums, leaning just close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath near your ear. “Kinda suspicious, don’t you think?”
You elbow him. “Focus, Nagumo.”
He laughs — that low, smooth, infuriatingly charming laugh — and dashes out like it’s nothing. You cover him, heart pounding, though you’ll never admit it’s not just from the gunfire.
When the job’s done and the target’s gone, you’re panting, sweat sticking to your collar, and he’s smiling like he just went for a jog.
“Not bad, Mrs. Nagumo.”
You glare. “For the last time, we’re not—”
But before you can finish, Sakamoto’s voice crackles over the comms.
“Nice work, you two. You’re like a married couple the way you coordinate.”
And there it is. Again.
“WE’RE NOT—” you start, but Nagumo interrupts, his grin widening.
“She wishes,” he says, winking.
You shove him hard enough to make him stumble, but he just laughs, brushing imaginary dust from his jacket. “So violent. Definitely wife material.”
That’s the pattern.
You argue. He teases. You deny.
And somehow, it becomes your rhythm — your version of normal.
Even when you go out for ramen after missions, he’s there sitting across from you, slurping noodles way too loudly on purpose, making the old man at the counter snicker.
“Could you not eat like that?” you complain.
He swallows, wiping his mouth dramatically with a napkin. “Sorry, sweetheart. Thought you liked loud guys.”
“I like quiet ones who don’t embarrass me in public.”
He smirks, leaning forward. “So you do like guys.”
You blink. “That’s not—”
“Not denying it, huh?”
You toss your chopsticks at him. “Eat your ramen before I drown you in it.”
He just laughs again, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. You hate how nice that looks on him.
You hate even more that sometimes, you catch yourself smiling too.
The jokes keep coming.
So do the rumors.
Every other JAA member has made at least one comment about you two. Takamura calls you “the lovebirds,” Akira once asked if you were “like, married for real,” and Sakamoto just shakes his head with that knowing grin every time you bicker in front of him.
Normally, you’d correct them instantly — “We’re not married” — in that annoyed tone you’ve perfected.
But that day, something’s different.
You and Nagumo had just finished a long, messy mission. You were both exhausted, bruised, and covered in dust. You were sitting on a bench outside the convenience store near JAA HQ, half-asleep, sharing a single drink because neither of you had enough energy to argue about buying another.
Nagumo was unusually quiet, sipping from the straw before handing it back to you.
You glanced at him. “What, no stupid nickname today?”
He smiled faintly. “Didn’t think you’d have the energy to argue back.”
You chuckled. “Guess you’re right.”
He looked at you then — really looked. The fading evening light softened the sharp lines of his face, turning his usual smirk into something gentler. For a moment, he didn’t look like the reckless assassin who jokes his way through life. He just looked… peaceful.
That’s when the store clerk came out, looked at the two of you, and said with a laugh,
“You two are such a cute couple. Husband and wife, right?”
Normally, your mouth would move before your brain — “We’re not—!”
But this time, you just… didn’t.
You were too tired, too calm. You simply took another sip of the drink and said nothing.
And Nagumo froze.
You didn’t see it — his stunned expression, the way his eyes widened a little, the faint flush creeping up his neck. You didn’t see the way his heart stuttered like a broken record, the way he suddenly felt like someone had just lit fireworks in his chest.
To you, it was nothing.
To him, it was everything.
You didn’t correct them.
For the first time ever, you didn’t correct them.
And for Nagumo Yoichi — the man who always knew what to say, who laughed through everything — that silence was louder than gunfire.
He couldn’t stop thinking about it.
For the next few days, you noticed he was acting weird. Not dramatically, just… off.
He still teased you, still called you “sweetheart” or “wifey,” but sometimes he’d stop mid-sentence, looking at you with a thoughtful expression.
You’d catch him spacing out, twirling his knife absentmindedly, eyes flicking to you and away again.
Finally, one afternoon, you snapped.
“Okay, what’s your deal?”
“My deal?”
“Yes. You’ve been weird ever since that mission.”
He smirked — but it looked nervous, somehow. “Weird’s a strong word. Handsome, maybe. Mysterious. Irresistible—”
“Nagumo.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Fine, fine. I just… keep thinking about something.”
You frowned. “About what?”
“You didn’t deny it.”
You blinked. “What?”
“That day,” he said, looking at you directly now. “The clerk called us a couple. You didn’t say anything.”
You stare at him, stunned. You hadn’t even realized he noticed.
“I was tired,” you mutter. “Didn’t feel like correcting strangers.”
“Yeah,” he says, voice quieter now. “But you always do.”
Something in the air shifts — heavier, slower.
You cross your arms. “Why does it matter?”
“Because,” he says, leaning in just a bit, grin softening into something more real, “for a second, it felt like maybe… you didn’t mind.”
Your heart skips a beat.
He’s close now — closer than he’s ever been when he’s teasing you. There’s no mocking tone, no playful smirk. Just honesty, rare and raw.
“I’ve been waiting,” he admits quietly. “For you to stop denying it. For you to give me even a second to believe maybe I actually have a chance.”
You stare at him, wide-eyed. “Nagumo…”
He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck again, breaking the tension just slightly. “Man, listen to me — I sound like some idiot in a drama, huh?”
You can’t help but smile a little. “A bit.”
“But,” he continues, smile soft now, “it’s true.”
The silence stretches between you — not awkward, but charged.
You finally look up and meet his eyes. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
You laugh. “You really had to make it sound like a mission.”
He grins. “Everything’s a mission with me, sweetheart. Especially getting you to like me back.”
You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch upward. “You’re ridiculous.”
He takes a step closer. “But you like me anyway.”
You open your mouth to argue, but no words come out. He’s standing too close, looking too sincere, and you realize — you do like him. You have for a while. You were just too stubborn to see it.
You sigh, smiling despite yourself. “You’re infuriating.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
You shake your head, laughing softly. “Fine, Nagumo. You win.”
His grin widens, like he’s just been handed the world. “Say that again?”
“You win.”
“Nah,” he says, stepping even closer, his voice dropping low. “Say it properly.”
You raise a brow. “Properly?”
“"Yes, Yoichi, I like you too."”
You laugh, pushing at his chest lightly. “You’re impossible.”
He catches your wrist gently, eyes bright with that familiar teasing spark. “But you like me impossible.”
You exhale, smiling, and finally say it.
“Yeah. I do.”
And just like that, Nagumo Yoichi — top assassin, master trickster, eternal flirt — goes quiet.
Then he grins wider than you’ve ever seen him and pulls you in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Finally,” he murmurs. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that.”
You chuckle softly. “Probably as long as I’ve wanted to stop denying it.”
He hums, his hand brushing your cheek. “So… what now, Mrs. Nagumo?”
You glare half-heartedly. “Don’t push it.”
He laughs, and the sound is pure warmth. “C’mon, you love it.”
You shake your head, smiling. “I love you, idiot.”
That shuts him up for exactly three seconds — before he beams like a man hearing wedding bells again.
“Well,” he says, grinning mischievously, “guess that makes it official.”
I needa lock in for that au I’ve been hyping uppppp…so yeah, this might help me focus. Idk tho. Maybe I ain’t meant for au writing but I’m gonna attempt it at least. Cya next post
so, i'm an openly trans dude. my parents are supportive, my school is pretty chill about it (even the homophobic kids like me and are fine with me what??), and im pretty happy with my experience in transitioning so far.
ive always been scared of surgery in case i "change my mind". because, what if one day, i think im a girl again?
but the thing is
now im like. everything.
i feel more attached to my identity as a transmasc dude, but now im just some. genderqueer blob.
i like he/she, i like any and all pronouns, i like being called a girlfriend AND a boyfriend, i like being both
but when someone calls me a girl it gives me the same dysphoria as it has for the past while??
i feel like bigender is the closest label to what im feeling, but "bigender" doesn't sit right. im more attached to my identity as a boy than i ever have been with identifying as a girl, as such.
idk,, maybe im just a trans dude who still enjoys being fem
ever since the start of this year, i've embraced my femininity, but like. calling myself a girl doesnt feel right. it doesnt feel true.
im not a girl, but im a boy. im both, but one. im both, but neither.
idk this is confusing and the way im wording this makes no sense either but this is how i think about it in my head
thank you for reading my crazed rambles about my 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇
P.S: i did not reread this and you do not have to respond
mod aru here. you can be a guy and enjoy feminine clothing and terms! it does not make you any less of a man.
the same way you don't need to be a woman to learn how to cook, or be a man to enjoy sports, please don't let the fact that you enjoy feminine things for yourself discourage you. if transmasc feels like the right label to you, then it's the only one you need.
i hope this helps 🫰 if you want to explore more niche labels, i personally like the pronouns.page dictionary of queer terminology. i learnt a lot from it, though it can be a little overwhelming. ^^ keep enjoying your transition! i'm super happy for you!
Rawr :3 Guess who wrote a ‘Corvus is the one to blow up the breach and get stuck on the Xadian side’ fic? Me, it’s me, I’m writing it right now and the first part should be out soon!!!!!!!!!!
You know how in cartoons when there’s a piano, most of the time the person playing the piano is actually just pressing random keys? something has been ICHING. My mind.
LOOK. DUDE. ⬆️ HAS NO ONE THOUGHT TO PLAY THE KEYS HES ACTUALLY PLAYING?? Like I’m so curious, what keys/notes did the animators actually animate him to press from behind that piano? Either it’s just a bunch of random notes or this is something we missed and it’s another puzzle/code/mystery or maybe someone has already done/asked this.
PLEASE. WHAT IS BILL PLAYING??? I SWEAR HE AINT PLAYING THE WE’LL MEET AGAIN MUSIC!!!!! I’m going crazy I’m going crazy I’m going crazy I’m going crazy AAAAAUAHAGAHAGAHSBDJDBSHAJ
Edit: ok folks the question has been ANSWERED!!!! He’s just hitting random notes 😔 disappointing, but now we know!! I’ll get you next time bill cipher.
