#pls boost

You could feel it in the quiet mornings when you shared coffee after missions — him leaning on the counter, hair tied up messily, dice spinning between his fingers. “Man, you’d make a scary wife if we were actually serious,” he’d say, half a smirk, half something else.

But neither of you talked about it. You weren’t supposed to.

The night it happened, Nagumo had just come back from a week-long mission. Bloody, bruised, tired — and in desperate need of alcohol. He dragged Haruma and the others into a bar, slumping into a booth with that same grin plastered on his face.

“You know what I miss right now?” he said, halfway through his second bottle. “My wife.”

The table went silent.

“...You what?” “You’re married? Since when!?” “Oh, don’t play dumb,” Nagumo chuckled, twirling his drink. “She’s beautiful, scary when mad, makes the best coffee… ugh, I’m obsessed.”

They thought he was joking — Nagumo always joked. Except this time, his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I miss her so much...

Hours later, the group stumbled into another bar down the street — and there you were. Sitting at the counter, still in your casual work clothes, talking politely to a man who looked way too comfortable leaning toward you.

Nagumo froze. The dice slipped from his hand and clattered onto the floor.

“Yoichi,” Haruma warned quietly, but it was already too late.

Nagumo was across the room in seconds, one arm slinging around your shoulders like it was second nature. His grin was sharp, almost dangerous. “Sweetheart,” he drawled, voice dripping with casual venom. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

You blinked, startled. “Nagumo—”

The man at the counter looked between you both. “You… know him?”

Nagumo’s grin widened. “Know me? Oh, she better. I’m her husband.”

Your blood ran cold.

The man stammered, paling instantly, muttering something about “not knowing” before practically sprinting out the door. You didn’t even get a word in before Nagumo pulled you aside, still wearing that fake smile, though his voice had softened now.

“You really shouldn’t talk to guys like that alone, you know,” he said, eyes half-lidded but tone protective.

You sighed. “He was just asking about the specials, Nagumo. And since when do you care who I talk to?”

He stared at you for a long moment — quiet, which was rare for him. Then, softly, “Since the second they started looking at you like you weren’t mine.”

You froze.

The words hung between you, heavier than either of you wanted to admit.

Then, he laughed again — that signature playful Nagumo laugh — trying to brush it off. “Damn, listen to me sounding like some jealous husband. Guess the booze’s hitting harder than I thought.”

But when you caught his eyes, that smile didn’t fool you. Not this time.

Later, when you two walked home — the night quiet around you — he walked a step closer than usual. He didn’t reach for your hand, didn’t say anything. Just… stayed beside you.

Before you could unlock your door, he spoke again, voice low, almost steady. “Hey.” You turned. “Yeah?”

His gaze was unusually soft, his usual teasing nowhere to be found. “You ever think… maybe this paper marriage thing isn’t just for the JAA anymore?”

You blinked. “Nagumo—”

He chuckled, cutting you off. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. Forget I said anything.”

He turned to leave, spinning his dice between his fingers again — that familiar motion that meant he was hiding something.

But as he walked away, his voice carried softly through the quiet street:

“Still… if I get to call you my wife — even just on paper — maybe that’s enough for me.”

Nam-Gyu, for some reason wants Su-Bong to perform again. Maybe it’s the way he pronounces his words, or the random bursts of English strewn into his music that he can’t understand, or it could possibly be his voice and how low and gravelly it is… it’s the kind of music that he’d want at the club more regularly, just to break the garage band over-production.

Or maybe it’s because… geez…

Nam-Gyu was so distracted by Su-Bong’s fuckboy attitude, and his horrendous fashion choices that he had completely forgotten to look at the rest of him until now. It’s not fair that the guy is toned, tan, pretty, fit, and is hardly blowing a sweat jumping around on the stage. It’s like God just chucked him in a mould of “Nam-Gyu’s perfect type” and shook it around until something perfect came out.

Despite Nam-Gyu’s initial attitude towards him, Su-Bong is… sort of attractive to him.

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Based on the Chappell Roan album "rise and fall of the Mid-West princess", Thanos is a struggling rapper when he meets Nam-Gyu, but soon he gets caught up in the fame and loses sight of what's most important to him.

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Since you guys seemed interested in the idea :) (just lmk if you don't want to be tagged ahaha TuT