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gregrulzok · 1 year

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Honestly thinking about Fugo drives me up the goddamn wall sometimes like-- Like--

The gang were his family. He was with Buccellati the longest out of anyone, and he loved and admired him, and he helped bring the rest of the gang together, and he was such close friends with Mista and Narancia and they goofed off and did stupid teenage shit and choreographed little dances

And he'd grown so used to A. His boss being generally very sensible and caring for them all and B. His boss coming to him for advice

And then one day someone shows up and just... Takes over leadership basically entirely. Just. Has so much influence over the man who practically raised Fugo. And immediately starts directing him towards what is basically guaranteed death for at least some of them

When Fugo stays behind, digs his heels in and says "No, this is a bad idea, someone's going to get killed" don't you think he thinks, deep down, that Buccellati will listen to him? Will snap out of whatever rose-tinted glasses he's put on and take the advice of the person he's been relying on this whole time?

Because Fugo is smart, Fugo is rational, Fugo advises Buccellati and helps keep everyone safe, just as Buccellati helps Fugo not do anything impulsive out of anger. They know each-other and balance each-other and they TRUST each-other. And Fugo was looking for that trust. In that moment don't you think he expected that Buccellati would trust him?

And instead he gets left behind on the shore basically without a second thought. Just. "Okay. We won't force you. Bye." From his best friends. From the man that has been with him since he was a lost, scared little kid in need of a home. Even the boy he rescued from the goddamn streets leaves him behind, not for a noble cause, but for the sake of a girl they just met.

And Fugo was RIGHT, he was correct, they did die, his best friend died, his father figure died. Only One Of his actual friends survived.

There's no triumph in that though. No I-Told-You-So. It's just guilt because he could've saved them. If he hadn't assumed that they'd listen to him, and cared for his input. If he'd somehow known that he was that dispensable and could be left behind without a second thought. He could've gone with and literally just stood in the same room as Diavolo and killed him. Everyone else could stay outside.

Only one of them really had to die for everything to resolve, and that one was Fugo.

Why do you think he was so eager to go rushing to his death for the sake of what little remains of his family in Purple Haze Feedback.

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webofpassione · 1 year

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Pannacotta

Fugo x Reader

Content Warnings: Referenced Polygamy

***

Everything on the dessert menu called out to you in small whispers, tempting your attention away from the others in brief increments. Tiramasu, ice cream, cannoli… you found yourself increasingly hungry but with no actual decision made.

You sighed dramatically and glanced up from the menu, offering an apologetic smile to the waiter at your indecisiveness. Fugo gave you a curious look and an idea popped into your head.

“La panna cotta alle fragola, per favore.”

Fugo rolled his eyes as the waiter took your menus. “I thought you’d grown bored of that joke.”

“It’s not a joke. I just feel like some panna cotta.”

He ran a finger around the rim of his glass, violet eyes turned plum in the dim lighting. “Really? Because you’ve been talking about nothing but gelato for almost three days now.”

“Maybe I changed my mind. Or maybe I didn’t want gelato, I just wanted to nag Mista into replacing the tub the Pistols ate.” You’d been unimpressed with them for that and all they’d done was laugh and ask why it was bad to share with them.

Though the last thing you’d expected Fugo to do was take your nagging seriously.

“It’s a shame, their gelato is fairly good.”

Your eyes crinkled at your smile. “Aw, thank you so much. At least you ordered some so maybe I can steal it off your plate.”

“No.”

“I’ll trade you some panna cotta even if it is cannibalism.”

“You must stop stealing jokes from Narancia before you begin devolving into him.”

You laughed a little loudly and glanced around to ensure nobody glared at you for it. Thankfully, the only other table that had been occupied upon your entrance had made their way out, leaving your couple alone in the sweet little restaurant.

Through the windows, the ocean fell against a dark shore – playing a melody alongside the soft songs drifting through the speakers.

“I love how sweet this place is,” you mused. “It’s so quaint.”

“Ironically, it’s one Mista dragged me to with an idea of ‘trying new things’ but he’s got a strange talent at finding small restaurants.”

“Maybe that’s what the Pistols are meant to do and kicking bullets is a secondary hobby.”

Fugo tilted his head to the side and sipped at his drink. “If that were true, it would make them a little less useless.”

You held a hand to your heart in mock offense for the small creatures. Fugo didn’t mean it with true harshness though they had been making annoyances of themselves of late by refusing to eat and getting into bad moods from it. You wondered if it had caused or been caused by the strange mood Mista was in.

But rather than thinking of why the Pistols had grown uncooperative as of late, you focused more on the desserts being placed before you.

Your panna cotta was adorable, set out with coulis and strawberries decorating the plate. You popped one into your mouth and almost immediately regretted it, eyes watering from the bitterness.

“Something wrong?”

You shook your head. “Strawberries aren’t really the sweetest.”

“That’s your fault for buying them out of season.”

With a sigh, you snuck your spoon forward to steal some of Fugo’s gelato trio. He had three different flavours and you needed to try at least some of each. “Who even came up with panna cotta?”

He smacked your spoon away with the back of his own. “I have no idea.”

“Really?”

The look he fixed you with could slice through the air. “What, do you think because it’s my name, I should know everything about it?”

“Not because it’s your name. Because you’re ridiculously smart and know everything.”

A slight pink coloured his cheeks at your compliment and you smiled in triumph – taking advantage of his momentary embarrassment to steal a scoop of gelato from his plate. He wouldn’t truly mind sharing.

“As strange as this may seem, the history of random desserts didn’t appear in my textbooks nor did it ever interest me enough to read up on it by myself. Especially not when it came to desserts I don’t even like.”

His expression turned to disgust as he looked down at the poor panna cotta on your plate, still sitting relatively untouched. You picked at another strawberry and considered asking for sugar before giving up and shoving it into your mouth. Just as bad as the last one, this one made you pull a slight face.

“If I was named after a dessert, I wouldn’t mind it being panna cotta.”

“It’s got no actual taste. The toppings do all the work.”

“Isn’t that true for almost every dessert though?”

You waited for Fugo to answer, meeting his gaze almost teasingly as you swiped another mouthful of his gelato. You knew his dislike had to run deeper than something merely tasting bad, he’d tried far worse dishes for far less pushing. You’d even witnessed him attempting to eat Bucciarati’s pasta, made when said man operated on less than an hour of sleep.

Not even Narancia finished that.

Fugo sighed and leaned over the table to take one of your strawberries, explaining, “Panna cotta is my mother’s favourite food. She had it served for us so often I grew exhausted of it. It never came out properly.”

“Fair.”

“And obviously the ridiculous and unending teasing about my name doesn’t make me any fonder of it.” His agitation at the thought had raised but found itself immediately quelled when he took a bite of the strawberry, shock softening any irritation. “That’s awful. Why are you eating those?”

You took the strawberry from his hand and popped it into your mouth, smiling around the wincing. “Because being in your company is sweet enough for me.”

He shook his head and shoved his gelato more into the center of the table. “I’m telling you; panna cotta always has something wrong with it. Either the texture or the toppings or… something.”

“You’re pretty close to perfect.”

“If you’re willing to ignore my stand’s existence.”

You fixed him with the most unimpressed look you could manage while trying not to cringe from a strawberry. “Purple Haze is one of my favourite stands in existence. Don’t be mean to him.” You broke into the pudding, surprised to find it quite gritty and plain.

“How is it?”

Choosing not to admit he was right, you glanced up at him with a coy grin. “I’ve tasted better panna cotta before.”

“I thought I told you to stop stealing jokes from Narancia.”

You covered your mouth to avoid laughing panna cotta over the table. “This place’s food is far better than their desserts. I’ve had good panna cotta before at this one restaurant if you’d like to try it. Or I can make you some.”

Fugo thought about it for long enough that you knew what his answer would be. “I’ll come with you and try something else. We’ll bring Narancia so you can learn some new jokes.”

“I wonder if you dislike it so much, would Purple Haze also?”

He glanced at you, humoured. “You want to feed it food?”

“I want to try.”

Fugo glanced around the restaurant casually, as though looking for something. The building stood mostly empty and, at this hour, you doubted anybody paid the waiters enough to focus on anything. They stood toward the far back of the kitchen, focused on their phones and waiting for you to call them if you needed anything.

You didn’t expect Purple Haze to appear beside your table, a swirling violet vortex running along the ground and over your feet.

“Panna?”

Though Fugo looked a little pained, he shrugged as casually as he could manage. “Nobody’s close enough to get hurt if he goes crazy and he’s always seemed fine with you. As long as you’re okay with this?”

“I’m just worried about whether or not you’re okay with it.”

“I wouldn’t have brought him out if I wasn’t.”

You nodded slowly, drawing your attention back to the stand. Fugo never brought Haze out unless he absolutely had to. This level of trust felt almost surreal. Trust in both him and you to handle any situations.

But you now recognised a problem you hadn’t thought of earlier.

Purple Haze couldn’t try any food with his mouth sewn shut. He stared down at you with curious eyes, remaining perfectly still as the disease cloud churned around his silhouette. You noticed a small bit of drool on the side of its mouth and quickly grabbed a serviette to help the oddly fussy stand.

“He’s not going to be able to eat anything,” you said. “I forgot about the stitches.”

They ran so deep. You winced even thinking about the concept of stitching your mouth closed though Fugo assured you neither he nor Purple Haze could experience any sort of pain from them. At least he had a mouth unlike some other stands.

Still, you ran your fingers over the stitches softly, appreciating how the stand’s often frantic breathing seemed to calm beneath your ministrations.

When you sat back down, it was impossible not to notice the slight flare of red on Fugo’s face. “Are you alright?”

“It’s a strange sensation,” he acknowledged. “I used to never feel any sensations from people touching him. Now it’s always there, faintly.”

“Really?”

Purple Haze made a small noise and disappeared almost immediately after; its user still weary about having it out in public places. You couldn’t help feeling satisfied that you’d gotten to see him at all – remembering how little you used to even acknowledge his existence when you first started seeing stands.

“Thank you for letting me try, Panna.”

Fugo shrugged. “I knew you’d forgotten about the mouth. Now stop pretending to enjoy that and just eat your half of the gelato.”

You laughed and if the waiter looked a little nervous of you when he came back over, you didn’t even notice.

#jjba x reader #pannacotta fugo #fugo x reader #fugo jjba

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