#narancia x fugo

[rohansoutsidemydoor]

NARAFUGO!!!

SORRY FOR MAKING IT SAD

[pfpanimes]

⌕ jojo's bizarre adventure - narancia ghirga.

like or reblog if you save/use.

[silly-lil-jojo-blog]

Buon Compleanno, Narancia🧡🍊

[nemo-not-okay]

I actually forgot to post these fugonara sketches

I love this dudes deeply 😭😭✋

[purplecraze]

Massive W for being a fugonara shipper

(It was brought to my attention that W means ‘win’, It was a bit unclear;; but thank you very much~~

have a rant

We start of with the opening scene of the boys. And let me just address the elephant in the room right away:

is this an okay thing for Fugo to do? No :) But does it define his entire personality? NO :)))

People always misinterpret this scene. Yes, he is sticking his fork in his friend's cheek, yes it is to establish that he is an unstable and bipolar character.

however, people often fail to see the full context.

Narancia was complaining that he didn't feel like studying. You know, in the way students complain more often. And Fugo replied to him in a sweet and encouraging way, giving him compliments and showing him that he has already gotten very far as he is now.

(the literal translation if this line is 'If it's you, you can do it.')

also, from this line, we can conclude that it was in fact Narancia who asked Fugo to teach him, not the other way around. If it was something so unpleasant, he wouldn't have asked Fugo about it.

So Fugo was trying very hard for him, trying to keep it at Narancia’s level. And I’d also just like to point out that Fugo asked him to solve ONE problem, and then it would be over. He didn’t assign him a row of different sums to solve. Just one.

if you look at the sideline, Narancia was already making stupid little doodles, having lost his attention span. Narancia really just didn’t bother thinking of a proper answer.

from the intonation Narancia is using in Japanese, it’s very clear that he’s provoking Fugo. He knows it’s not correct, he’s just trying to annoy him.

Fugo was already annoyed with Mista too, so even if it’s exaggerated, it’s not strange that Fugo got upset about it. He had tried his best to use a kind and gentle approach, but clearly that didn’t work.

so yeah. Fugo had ground for saying this.

Then, people are always all ‘uwu, Narancia innocent baby boy.’

Please give the boy some credit, damn. Yes, he’s cute and spunky. But if he wanted to gut Fugo, he would. The boy is feral.

And most importantly: anti’s always ignore the scene after it.

this scene is just..... so absolutely brilliant. Because it conveys 2 things at the same time: 1. They both apologize instantly. Just look at how tenderly Fugo is reaching for Narancia’s face(/shoulder in the manga), and Nara for Fugo’s hand. It just shows how they’re 2 messy teenagers who fight and make up. 2. they INSTANTLY and SIMULTANIOUSLY decided to fucking ignore Giorno. Just straight up in his face went like ‘nope. Time to be brats.’ They were so in sync about it too.

mother is not pleased~

Also considering this entire introduction scene. It was written out to bring across that all 4 of them at the table are FUCKING SHITS.

They are a group of terrible degenerates. That’s the entire stick! So why the fuck complain that Fugo is being mean to Narancia as if they’re not all equally terrible towards one another??? They’re teenagers! They mess with one another! That’s a thing!

And aside from that, they are in the mafia! And as much as I also dislike how people make Bucciarati the milf mom of the group, people just don’t understand how crime organizations work. if you don’t give one another some tough love, your buddy may very well be dead in no time.

The moments Fugo gets upset with Narancia is at moments where Narancia is being careless. For Fugo, who is a senior in this kind of lifestyle, he is warning Narancia the hard way. Because if he’s not harsh with Narancia, Narancia will find himself dead in the gutter. You wouldn’t survive that kind of lifestyle if you dote on one another and be overly kind and polite. That’s not the kind of relationship ANY of them have with one another! They’re all trying to SURVIVE in this world of crime and know that it’s better to punch one another, if it means they won’t get punched by someone who thinks less favorable of them.

If Narancia would have shown disrespect to a Capo less lenient that mr Pericole, it could have meant his death. If Narancia would be followed to the vineyard, they’d all be dead. Fugo’s aggression doesn’t sprout from anger: it sprouts from worry.

Because we see him worry and care for Narancia in particular a lot.

and it’s undeniable that there’s a lot of trust between the 2, often turning towards one another for assistance.

And there’s a connection. I can only describe it as fate. The moment Fugo saw Narancia, he felt the need to help him. Even thought that highly contradicts everything we know about Fugo, all the more when he was younger. He’s not the type who selflessly reach out a hand, yet with Narancia he did.

The way how Fugo shouted that Narancia needs some spaghetti was hilarious. But the thought behind it is just so beautiful. Narancia looked all dirty, in rags, starved. He probably didn’t want anyone to see him. Yet Fugo SHOUTED. That boldness that the other had the right to stand there proudly might have had an even bigger impact on Narancia than just getting a free meal.

He walks in all hunched and small, but once Fugo shouts, he stands up straight.

Also, in PHF, Fugo gets upset with the restaurant owner for looking down on Narancia.

Also, considering Bucciarati didn’t want Narancia to join and just getting to meet Polpo isn’t something an outsider could do, it’s inefitable that Fugo was the one who referenced Narancia. Narancia couldn’t have joined if not for Fugo.

If we look at Fugo’s background, I think it’s not far-fetched to say the boy knew absolutely NOTHING of modern pop culture and music and dancing. So then HOW THE HELL was HE part of the Torture Dance???? I can only imagine that Narancia told him all about music and dance and popular artists. He must have been so proud that there was something he knew and Fugo didn’t. And for them to be so in sync with the dance, they have definitely spend a long time practicing, maybe already far before Mista joined the gang. You wouldn’t do that if you weren’t very close with someone, all the more because it’s not that much in Fugo’s character.

And then there’s that beautiful last scene. I know it’s anime only, but the staff wouldn’t put it in if it wasn’t canonically plausible. Fugo was on the other side of the country, he had no way of knowing what was going on with the rest. Yet he felt the premonition that something had happened. And Narancia’s soul, in those last moments, turned to Fugo.

[demonontheroad]

The reunion we wanted but didnt deserve

[goddess-mixmi]

Random fan art of Part 6 bucci gang members (no negative comments plz)

Fugo is Consigliere in training and he’s very exhausted from all the work plus being a father of two. So he tends to nap on the floor in his office, Narancia and Trish found him knocked out and decided to bug him by laying on top of him and teasing him.

In my au everyone in the gang is alive and are parents, so yes Trish is avoiding her responsibilities as a mom rn and Narancia isn’t being a good co parent rn by watch his and Fugo’s kids lmao.

[princescribblez]

school gay….

[aweirdartist]

shhhhh they are dancing 💃

[lustastarte]

✧ ♤ ♠strawberry boy | fugonara♠ ♤ ✧

genre: angst/fluff/smut

the royal family takes in a charity case, and things don't go over so well with fugo

published: 2020

early 1900s royalty au

written by request

The Fugo Family palace was an old country mansion that had been extended over the centuries. It now had four sides centered around a quadrangle and over five hundred rooms, with a beautiful, gargantuan foliage-ruled garden. It took a small army of housemaids to upkeep such a large abode and indeed most of the rooms were never used. The monarchs dwelled in only one corner on one floor and rarely stepped foot in the rest of their dwelling. But the palace was a status symbol, it set them above the peasants and that is where they believed they needed to be, separate, apart, superior, untouchable.

The palace had architecture like no other in the district. The reigning monarchs some three centuries earlier, Prince Pannacotta’s great-great-great-great-great grandparents had shipped in an architect from an overseas district. They knew his ideas, although perhaps unspeakably common where he came from, would be sufficiently exotic in their kingdom to inspire awe in the populous, to remind their people of their power and wealth. And so instead of the peaks in the roof, they had 24k gold domed towers instead. They had an open porch at the forefront of the palace held up with most ostentatiously detailed pillars, painted in a blinding, brilliant white. Inside, there were no doors on the ground floor, only arches. The marble floor had been shipped in also and was made with a grey stone full of soft pink and gold hued striations that had never before been seen in the district. After completion, its designer had been carelessly executed to fully ensure he could never and would never make a replica.

The palace was high upon the hill overlooking the town, it's many pointed towers and golden domes giving it the look of a gracefully eccentric, somewhat phallic crown. The walls were a green-tinted white stone that glistened in the summer sun and the roof was a metallic grey slate. It was as big as twenty of the ordinary houses in the town and employed a good number of the townsfolk as housemaids. Around the palace were the horse pastures and kitchen gardens for the royal family, and around that was a iron reinforced stone wall topped with wrought iron spikes and guarded day and night, ensuring the safety of the Fugo family.

The prince had been born on a starlit night, amid the cold of late winter. Some say it became part of him, that dull light from above and frozen heart remaining from snow clouds behind and ahead. Everyone he had ever met saw that in him, always assured that there was a speck of darkness in every light, behind every sun was a void. It was as if when the warmth came he was the cold front, as if his baby skin took it all in and kept it safe. His voice had a slowness, as if he had all the time in the world to talk with people, yet his words and thoughts were smushed together in a haughty tone, seemingly repulsed by talking to someone without royal blood. Most can say that there is no person who ever held them in his gaze the way he did, even though another might need use of arms. Yet in all that cold, harsh spirit there was a kind heart, a small boy who would make any sacrifice to save others, to guard them, pay any price to protect the lives of his people.

Fugo woke to the sound of his housemaids conversing loudly in the hallway.

“I thought I told you to prepare the bedroom next to the prince’s!”

He stood and stretched, padding closer to the door.

“Are you sure the King and Queen told you to-?”

Fugo was intrigued, he had no idea what they were talking about, but if it had something to do with the room next to him, he believed he should know.

“Yes! Hurry along now, you’ve wasted enough time! You have two hours before he gets here-“

Pannacotta swung the door open. “Before who gets here?”

The two maids nearly jumped out of their skin. “Prince Fugo! G-Goodmorn-!”

His voice became much colder. “Before WHO gets here?”

“I am not sure we’re the ones to tell you that, my lord,” one of the maids said quietly, hanging her head.

“Where are my parents?”

“Having breakfast, sir.”

Fugo rolled his eyes and retreated back into his room, quickly throwing on a pressed light blue dress shirt and navy suit pants to compliment the pinstripes on his silk shirt. He slipped his small, pale feet into a pair of grey faux suede dress shoes and made his way to the breakfast room.

“Mother? Father? I would like to speak with you,” he called as he rounded the corner.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Why is the room next to mine being prepared for someone?”

“Oh,” his father smiled. “Your mother and I decided to take in a charity case. That way he gets a nice life and we can use him to deflect the townswomen away from you.”

“Why deflecting people...?”

“Just the women, because we have a wedding planned for you.”

“You really think I am going to just be okay with being assigned a spouse?”

His father sighed. “She is very beau-“

“I don’t care if she’s god, I will not marry someone I don’t love.”

The king took a long drink of his breakfast coffee, sighing in annoyance. “You will do whatever I say you will,” he lowly stated. “You will be marrying the princess of Spain, and you will provide me with a second heir. I want their land and money.”

“I won’t do a thing. I will marry if I so choose, and if I decide to, it will be to someone of my choosing,” the prince argued, face heating up. “Who have you let into this palace?”

His mother placed her dainty hands on her lap. “Panna, please calm down-“

“Answer my question.”

“We have taken in a peasant boy. His name is Narancia.”

The blonde prince’s face contorted, turning from white to red. “A peasant?! Did you seriously allow one of those dirty, disgusting, unwashed, inbred slugs into our palace? A perverted, coagulated bottle of expired snake oil like them? Those blasted fiends that take and take from us and never give back? A bony, blubbering buffoon who wouldn’t know a shower if it hit him dead in the face?”

“Pannacotta Fugo! You are going to be kind to him!”

Fugo rolled his eyes and laughed coldly. “He’s a peasant, mother. I don’t even have to give him a thought.”

“He belongs to one of the housemaids!”

“Okay, and?”

A small brunette housemaid scurried through the doorway. “S-Sorry to interrupt my lords, but your guest has arrived...”

“Show him to his room please, Eliza.”

“Yes, my lord!” She turned her back to them, motioning for the person behind her to follow her. The prince watched as a lean teenager followed close behind his housemaid. He couldn’t have been much older than Fugo, maybe a couple years at the most. He was beautifully feminine in the most masculine way. He was built, small, sun soaked frame, defined cherrywood muscles. Over those muscles hung ragged clothes, shredded and stained, pitifully sewn together. But his face is what captured Fugo’s attention. The virtually untouched, androgynous face the boy had, framed by short, choppy locks of purple-stained black hair. His hair was sectioned into two pieces by a cloth headband. Fugo’s eyes traveled with him as he walked timidly through the breakfast room behind the housemaid.

He stared at the arched doorway the boy slipped through for another full second.

“Panna, you ought to make friends with him. He is going to be living next to you-“

“No. I will not ‘make friends’ with him,” Fugo mocked, placing in-air quotations around some of his words. He turned his back to his parents, gliding haughtily out of the palace and into the flora-rich garden. Taking a deep breath, he sticks his hand through a section of bushes, grabbing on to a door knob. He smiled and turned it, the familiar click making his heart soar. Making sure no one was around, he fled his parent’s garden, stepping eagerly into the grandeur of his own.

The prince’s secret garden could easily be described as a formal zen escape. The bonsai trees dotted across the perfectly patterned sand in their wooden boxes. In the very centre, with large, flattened elliptical granite stepping stones leading up to and away from it, there was a two tiered freshwater pond as large as a small lake, with flowering lily pads, a trickling waterfall, and a handmade wooden bridge that crossed the middle so he could look down at the beautifully colored koi fish. The flower beds were an angry riot of vibrant spring colors, and even on close inspection, they were absolutely, undeniably weed-free, as Fugo always kept them.

The orange tree was to be the crown jewel of the prince’s secret garden. The way Fugo planned it, he would be drinking in the aromas of the late summer blooms, drowning in serene bliss, soothed by the waterfall between the two ponds and delicately preparing and sipping homemade, fresh squeezed orange juice. Leaf loam, rough bark, rich colours, iridescent blues and greens, sharp, blade-like leaves, clumps of shaggy, weeping willow trees, a miniature vegetable patch, caterpillar eaten leaves, daffodils, massive flower gardens, geraniums, fushias, heliotropes, chrysanthemums, dahlias, michaelmas daises, begonias, and lavender spotted and lined the beautiful, secret expanse of land.

Fugo came here to escape the stresses of his everyday life, to have a small moment of rest. He gazed calmly across the wind-ruffed pond surface to the lily pads in bloom, their white and magenta petals catching the breeze. The teen inhaled slowly. Peace, at last. His little piece of heaven in this gnarly, tangled royal jungle. As he laid there, basking in the golden warmth of the sun, he caught wind of the two landkeepers conversing in the palace’s garden.

“Did you hear about the charity case the King and Queen took in?”

“Yeah,” a deeper voice responded. “From what I heard through housemaid gossip, the Prince is not happy. I don’t believe they have told the Princess, however.”

“They have, she is very excited to have someone who will actually spend time with her.”

Fugo sat up, listening intently now.

“Good, the Prince is too old to spend time with h-“

“No,” said the second landkeeper. “Prince Pannacotta is not too old, merely too fond of himself to care for anyone but himself. Why hang out with Princess Trish if he could spend all day in his room, sulking and planning for his terrible reign?”

Fugo’s forehead screwed up, as he was absolutely appalled by what the landkeepers had said. He marched to the secret garden door and flung it open, slipping back into the palace garden.

“Excuse me, just what do you think gives you the right to speak of me like that?!”

The men hit the lawn, bowing to the lanky teen. “O-Oh! Prince Pannacotta! How lovely to see you!”

“Cut the act. I would suggest you pack your bags tonight, because as of tomorrow you will be banned from this palace.”

“My lord, please-!”

“Our conversation has ended,” Fugo snarled as he turned and stormed back to the palace.

The menacing click of the Prince’s shoes grew ever louder as the King attempted to enjoy his lunchtime affogato.

“Father!”

“Yes, son?” He turned in his chair.

“Have one of the housemaids find new landkeeps,” he said with a fake smile. “Preferably, they should start tomorrow.”

“What have you done?”

Fugo smiled again. “Just what should have been done,” he turned on his heel and carried himself out of the King’s office, down to his room.

A few minutes after he entered his room, he heard a knock on the door. Refusing to move from his plush, Queen size bed, he looked up from his book and said, “Come in.” His eyes traveled back to the book.

“Hello,” a soft, quiet voice spoke.

Fugo barely lifted his eyes, just enough to see the intruder’s body. The familiar small frame sported a beautifully tailored, dark orange dress shirt, stylishly unbuttoned, and black dress pants that seemed to stick to every curve of his lower body.  His shoes were of the finest leather, stained black and custom made for his feet. Fugo did not recognize him.

“Who are you?” The Prince looked up, still confused.

“I’m the um-... the head housemaid’s adopted son, Narancia?”

Fugo observed the boy, not entirely sure it was the same person. Instead of looking unkempt and dirty, he looked formally feminine. Many beautiful silver necklaces lined his chest as a black lace choker watched over them. His hair had been perfectly styled, accented with an orange headband and large, dangling silver earrings. The Prince’s eyes traveled over the boy’s face. His skin was perfect, even without the layer of powder. His cheekbones and nose shimmered with a beautiful silver tint, and his violet eyes were lightly lined with a dusty orange eyeshadow. His lips looked to be soft, pillowy gloss coating them, parting for his magnificently white teeth to appear with his sun-competitive shining smile. Fugo had to force himself to frown.

“Oh,” he mumbled, flicking Narancia a disgusted look.

Narancia picked up on the obvious hatred radiating from Fugo. “So... I was wondering if you’d like to get to know each other?”

“No. It’s late and I’m tired. I also have no reason to talk to a housemaid’s shit-for-brains adoptive son, so leave me be.”

The violet-eyed boy dropped his head. “Sorry,” he muttered, leaving the room reluctantly. Fugo scoffed in his wake and closed his book. He was asleep before his head ever hit the pillow.

The next morning, as he strolled across the dew covered palace grounds, Fugo thought about his actions the night before. He sat down on the limestone benches installed in the garden, sipping on a cup of highly sweetened blonde roast coffee. Narancia approached him, carrying him breakfast and hoping to start a conversation.

“Good morning Panna-!“

“Why are you here?”

Narancia’s face dropped. “I just wanted to talk...”

Fugo scoffed. “Talk? As if.”

“You don’t have to be so rude...”

“If you’d take the hint that I don’t talk to the lower class, I wouldn’t be.”

The sparkle from yesterday was extinguished. Narancia’s watery eyes moved slower and always more down-cast, skimming the floor, rarely raising to hip level. It was in his voice too, as he spoke. Quieter, with a scrawny meekness that wasn't usually part of his speech pattern when he apologized. Fugo’s only response was an eye roll.

          The defeated teen, with his drooping shoulders and downturned lips, turned and walked away, platter in hand. He wanted so badly to make friends with the Prince, but it seemed as if that was out of the question. Fugo watched as Narancia brokenly stepped toward the place, only having enough strength to carry the breakfast he had made for them. He brought it back inside, handing it to Trish dejectedly.

“Did he-?”

“Yeah... it’s fine, you can have it. I’m not very hungry anymore,” the violet-eyed boy assured her before returning to his room.

“Panna, why are you being such an ass to Narancia?”

“He doesn’t belong here. He’s not fit for this, Trish,”  he responded, not looking up from his coffee.

“At least give him a chance!”

“Why should I?”

“Because,” Trish sighed. “I felt the same as you before he came to get to know me. He’s a good boy, Panna. Just give him a chance.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Maybe you can get some of the unwarranted hatred out of your heart,” Trish spat, shoving her brother.

“You’re the one to talk-“

“I’m not here to argue. Get your pompous ass inside and talk to Narancia!”

“No, I’m not starting a conversation with him.”

“Fine,” Trish huffed. “Be that way. But don’t be surprised when you have no one, asshole.” She furiously power-walked back through the garden and into the living tower.

Later that evening, Fugo sat cross-legged on his bed, eyes glued to a book. Narancia knocked and entered on command, not making eye contact with Fugo.

“I know you probably do not want to talk to me-“

“Sit down,” the Prince commanded, pointing to a brilliantly embroidered couch. Narancia nodded, quickly taking a seat and placing his hands in his lap.

“What do you want?”

The older boy stumbled over his words. “I wanted to get to know you, b-but I get it if you don’t-“

“What do you want to know?”

“Oh, um... anything you mind telling me...?”

Fugo sighed. “I’m 18. My favorite food is fresh strawberry tarts and pastry cream. I like my coffee very sweetened and full of cream, Irish, preferably. My favorite color is green,” he droned in a bored tone, still not looking up from his book.

“I like strawberries,” Narancia beamed, thankful to have found something they have in common. “Do you have any special interests?”

Fugo glanced up for a millisecond. “I like gardening.” He paused. “I have a garden here, actually. I am the only one who tends to it.”

The Prince’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake. Why did I tell him that?

“Oh, is it the one in front of the palace?”

“No... it’s secret. Mine is so much better than whatever those amateur gardeners can do,” Fugo stated snottily.

“I’m sure it is, I’d love to see it one day,” Narancia agreed.

“Sure.” Why did I say yes? I’m supposed to hate him!

The older boy grinned, blinding Fugo with his shimmering smile. “Is there anything else?”

“I like to read,” Fugo replied hesitantly. What could he be up to?

“Must be nice,” Narancia laughed.

Fugo smiled slightly. “Yeah... Yeah, it is nice. Are you going to tell me about yourself?”

“Well, um- Not if you don’t want me to...”

The guilt sat not only on Fugo’s chest but inside his brain as well. What he had done was something he could not un-do. He could attempt to make amends with Narancia in subtle ways, but a confession was out of the question, even to his personal priest. Only in his silent prayers could he speak his guilt-ridden heart to God and beg for His mercy, for forgiveness for the way he had broken the boy in front of him. He closed his book and looked up at the older boy for the first time, genuinely smiling.

“I’d like to know, yes.”

Narancia’s eyes widened, lashes flicking slightly upward in his haste. “Do you really?”

The Prince nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“Oh, alright! I’m 18 too and my favorite food is Margherita pizza. I don’t really enjoy coffee, but I do like Italian cream soda!” His eyes lit up like the stars after sunset. “My favorite color is orange, and I like admiring formal gardens.”

Fugo smiled. “Italian cream soda is extremely addictive, I do not blame you for liking it so much.”

Narancia’s heart fluttered, and he felt the heat rise to his cheeks as Fugo looked in his direction. The younger grinned and Narancia snapped his head away, knowing all too well that if he had continued to stare, he would get lost in his sharp, yet warm red eyes. He could feel his eyes still on him, heart pounding in his head. Narancia silently inhaled and exhaled, hoping that Fugo’s internal thoughts about him were good. He watched the other boy’s mouth move, but he never heard a sound through the fog in his mind.

“Are you listening to me?”

“S-Sorry!” Narancia snapped out of his haze. “I was... distracted.”

Fugo nodded and looked back to his book.

“Do you want me to- Do I need to go...?”

The Prince looked up, preparing to be a jerk once more. “Whatever you feel like doing, I honestly don’t care.”

Narancia’s face fell and he nodded, slowly raising off the couch and carrying himself out of the room. Fugo felt the harsh, familiar twang of guilt in his chest, but chose to ignore it, flinching slightly as the door slammed shut.

Narancia flopped onto his bed, body going limp. His crying was both ferocious and soft. The boy blinked briny tears from bloodshot eyes, violet coated in crimson. His long, thick lashes stuck together in clumps as if he'd been swimming with mascara on. The tears made wet tracks down his face and dripped from his wobbling chin. Clear watery snot streaked from his flaring nostrils down his red mottled skin to his open quivering lips. His hands open and closed, rhythmically clenching as if there could be some violent solution to his pain. Shoving his head into the mattress, he began to sob.

Why did he believe Fugo wanted anything to do with him? He should have known that smile was fake...

Narancia decided to leave the younger boy alone the next day, unable to take any more rejection. Without changing position or clothing, the teen cried himself to sleep, face covering a large, wet spot on the emerald duvet.

Fugo lifted his head upon hearing faint sobs. Was that Narancia? What had he done? He waited until silence had fallen, and left to check on the other boy. He opened the door to find Narancia sleeping face down in a pool of tears. Guilt hit him again, like hail hitting the ground during a tornado. Pulling back the dry side of the large comforter, Fugo gently lifted the older boy, placing him in the cleared space before removing his shoes and covering him up. He left quickly, returning to his own room, hopeful for a good night’s sleep. Yet guilt kept him up. Fugo watched the large, intricate antique clock tick, revealing hour after hour, his red eyes not missing a second. Around 6:30 a.m., the Prince got up, making his way to the palace kitchen. While waiting for his coffee to brew, he thought of what to make to apologize to Narancia.

He said he likes strawberries... and cream soda... but I can’t make him a pizza for breakfast. Fugo fills a gorgeous platter with pastries, biscuits, jellies and jams, fresh fruit, cheeses, and cold cuts. He also prepares two tall, wide glasses of strawberry Italian cream soda, and places them, along with the platter, on a small cart. He leaves his coffee, planning to grab it as he sneaks back through the kitchen and into the garden. Almost silently, he pushed the cart to Narancia’s door and knocked. Never had he rounded a corner so quickly, running at a speed which he had never seen anyone else run. Once safely through the kitchen, he traveled, coffee in hand, to the garden. Fugo enjoyed watching the town as it wakes up in the early hours of the morning, his people bustling around as if they were sugar ants.

Narancia sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked around, wondering how his shoes neatly placed themselves back in his closet, and how he ended up on the other side of the bed, underneath the bedsheets. He shook his head. Maybe he had just had a strange dream. He changed out of yesterday’s outfit, slipped into a pair of soft house shoes, and walked to his en-suite bathroom. A knock on the door rang through the room, sending Narancia’s soul out of his body momentarily. Shakily, the black-haired boy approached the door, opening it to a small cart of food. He stuck his head out of his door, but could find no one, so he pulled the cart into his room to observe. Two cream sodas and an Italian breakfast platter was all that was there. Did Fugo do this? He furrowed his eyebrows, shuffling across the fluffy carpet to the enormous bay window, sitting on the cushion attached to the extended windowsill. He gazed down into the courtyard, spotting Fugo in a wine-colored suit, in his usual spot with coffee in hand. He turned away from the window and sat on his bed, nibbling on different items from the tray and gulping his cream soda greedily. He knows he shouldn’t take gifts from Fugo, because he only wanted to save his image, but why did he feel as though there was some sincerity in the gift? And someone had to have moved him after he fell asleep. Who else would it be, if not Fugo?

After his breakfast, Narancia decided a day dancing in the ballroom couldn’t hurt him. He did not know how to dance, and with the King and Queen’s party being held in a day, learning to ballroom dance was the only saving grace he had. As beautiful classical music played from a record player, he twirled himself and a mannequin across the floor, occasionally stumbling over his own feet. He practiced for hours before the music ended suddenly, only halfway through a song.

As he made his way up the grand palace stairs, Fugo could hear music from the ballroom. Naturally, he had the overwhelming urge to know what was happening, so he snuck in. To his amazement, he was met with a waltzing Narancia, tripping over his own shoes. Fugo glided to the record player and pulled the needle up, smiling when Narancia looked up.

“Sorry, I-“

“Do you want help?”

“Huh?”

Fugo stepped closer, pointing at the mannequin. “It isn’t very easy to learn with a fake partner, and you look like you need help. Do you want help?”

Narancia looked around awkwardly. “Y-Yeah but I don’t want to bother Trish or the housemai-“

“You won’t bother me.”

Narancia’s face flushed as he dropped the mannequin out of shock.

“Do you want my help?”

The violet-eyed boy nodded, queueing Fugo to step forward, kick the mannequin to the side, and stop a few inches from the older boy. He slipped his hand into one of Narancia’s, placing the other teen’s second hand on his waist, and his other hand on the older’s shoulder. He instructed him on how to move his feet and arms to different dances, and soon, the two were foxtrotting up and down the massive ballroom. Fugo’s determined gaze over Narancia’s shoulder quickly softened and refocused on the other’s face when the vinyl began playing a beautiful slow song, one of Fugo’s personal favorites. He smiled warmly at the older teen, who blushed heavily.

“Panna, I don’t know how to slow da-“

“Just follow me, okay?”

Narancia nodded as he returned Fugo’s deep stare, heart fluttering. Time seemed to stop, and the two had no idea how long they had danced. The slow music twirled like fine, golden thread around them. Fugo rested his head upon Narancia’s chest unexpectedly for ‘practice’ and let him sway his body around and around the polished marble floors again. The angelic voices of the violins came in, then the beautifully tenor-voiced piano, and then the slow and steady tap of a drum.

Narancia had no idea how to act. There was no way Fugo couldn’t hear the intense pounding in his chest. He was so close, and as much as the younger wanted to deny it, he did this for more than just ‘girl practice.’ Once the vinyl had finally run its course, the two decided to take a break on the plush couches lining the walls.

“Why did you leave me breakfast this morning?”

“Oh,” Fugo’s cheeks flooded with a soft pink. “I just wanted to make amends with you... I didn’t mean to make you cry last night-“

“How’d you know I cried?”

“I came to check on you and you were asleep in a puddle of tears. I hope you don’t mind that I actually put you to bed...”

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Fugo glanced up. “I thought I hated you but there’s something I can’t get out of my head.”

“Which is...?”

The Prince sighed. “Just you in general. Something about you speaks to me. I need it in my life.”

“So you have a love interest...?”

The blonde’s cheeks darkened, pink to crimson in a millisecond. He looked away. “I don’t know...”

“Wanna find out?” Narancia’s eyes fluttered shut and he leaned forward, planting his soft lips on Fugo’s. Fugo, while surprised, leaned into the kiss with equal fervor.

They separated moments later.

“Did you feel it?”

Fugo nodded. “The butterflies? There were so many.”

“So you do have an interest in me! Good for me,” Narancia giggled. “Let’s keep dancing.”

The party buzzed with conversation, the faint lyrical music could be heard occasionally. Fugo looked heartbroken as he talked to the woman he was supposed to marry. She is not who he wants, but he obviously is exactly what she wants. He seemed like a puppet as he forced himself to dance with her. Thankfully, Narancia asked him to dance as a “joke,” and he gratefully obliged.  The music eagerly spun around them, instantly lifting away gravity. Narancia couldn't count how many times he had squished Fugo’s foot under his own. Still he smiled brightly as their heels clicked over the ballroom floor. Fugo watched as Narancia’s makeup glittered like a piece of platinum more and more with each move and beat. This was Narancia’s form of perfect. This was thousands of years of dancing and art coming to life. For Fugo, all that mattered was the person in front of him. A few hours later, during the prime of the party, because Fugo and Narancia had had a good amount of champagne, the blonde was now somewhat dizzily dragging the older teen to his room. Once the door had been closed and locked, he slammed his lips against the other’s in a passionate display of affection and power.

Narancia slipped a hand into Fugo’s hair as they stumbled toward the bed. The younger moaned as the other pulled on his hair and fought his tongue for dominance. In the dimly lit room, Narancia grabbed onto Fugo’s hips forcefully, carrying him toward the bed and letting him fall with a soft bounce on the mattress. The two locked nervous eyes for just a moment, just enough for them to feel safe with one another. Then Narancia became all business, undoing Fugo’s pants, greedily pulling them off, kissing from the younger’s knees upward, slowly, Narancia’s hands on his legs, always just a little higher than the kisses. Fugo feels his back arch in anticipation, knowing where Narancia’s fingers will soon reach. Eagerly, he throws off his own top. His head gracefully rocks back against the pillow as he does, the first moan escaping Fugo’s thin lips.

Narancia wraps his gloss covered lips around Fugo’s swollen head, looking up at him questioningly. The younger nodded, and Narancia continued, maneuvering his mouth so perfectly Fugo couldn’t think straight. He had never been touched by anyone but himself, it was strange, but more than enjoyable. The younger dug perfectly manicured nails into his embroidered duvet as his hips bucked up into Narancia’s mouth, twisting the tight knot in his stomach. However, it ended early when the older slipped off and undressed himself.

“Are you sure about this?”

Fugo nodded, and Narancia brought his lips to his neck, his collarbone, his chest, his stomach, and back up. He placed two fingers on Fugo’s lips, who took them in his mouth with a gentle moan. Once soaked, the older teen inserted one, then two fingers, comforting and encouraging the younger. Soon, Fugo was pushing his hips back into Narancia’s fingers, whimpering and hiding his face. The older laughed and pumped them in and out, smirking at the way the younger’s body curved in a desperate attempt to get closer.

Narancia gently kissed Fugo as he adjusted to his size, tears in his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhmm,” Fugo nodded, exhaling forcefully. Not a minute later, he commanded Narancia to move, seeing stars. He couldn’t help the loud, unfiltered raw noises escaping his body, especially not when Narancia had one hand in his hair and one gripping his hip. He moaned higher and higher pitched each time the older pulled his hair and slammed into him. Despite the fun he was having, Fugo began to panic when he heard his father’s footsteps coming down the hall.

“My- Narancia- My dad-,” he breathed, eyes half lidded. Narancia cupped a hand over his mouth and whispered in his ear.

“Shhh ragazzino , your father might hear,” the older purred, still slamming into him like before. To be a jerk, he decided to thrust into Fugo’s prostate just as the King passed his bedroom door. The Prince’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he moaned loudly, frantically grabbing at Narancia’s arms.

He felt a heat bubbling in his abdomen, and his breathing began to falter. Narancia moved his hand and moved to kiss Fugo’s neck, still thrusting into him.

“Ah! Ahh~ Nara- Narancia~!”

He moved faster, bringing Fugo to his first sex induced orgasm. He pulled on Fugo’s hair as cum splattered across his stomach and his hole tightened around him. The older fucked into him a few more times before quickly pulling out and coming on Fugo’s stomach.

After cleaning up and getting dressed, the two went their separate ways so as to not look suspicious. Fugo returned to dancing with his assigned wife, who kept advancing on him.

“I saw you with that boy earlier,” she giggled, leaning forward. “I can do so much better than Narancia.”

“I don’t want that,” Fugo denied before being forcefully kissed. He pushed her off and went looking for Narancia, only to see him walking pitifully out of the ballroom.

Narancia heard his name from the nearby dancing Fugo’s conversation and tuned in, turning to watch.

“-Narancia.”

“I don’t want that.”

And that’s when they kissed. Narancia turned, walking sadly back to his room. The teen stained the white floor with his love. It ran from his mouth as he choked on the air and his own sobs. It bled from his ears and dripped from his chin in the form of tears. His head hung low, heavy with thoughts of Fugo. After he had given him everything, he betrayed him. It hurt Narancia, it hurt him like hell. He thought the best solution for him is to leave, so he began to grab whatever he had before he came.

The next morning, Narancia ran down the stairs, unfortunately meeting Fugo at the bottom.

“Narancia! What happened las-?”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“W-What?”

Narancia looked up, tears beginning to cloud his vision. “I heard your conversation and I watched you kiss her. I should have-... I should have known you were no better than a skank.”

Fugo let tears roll down his cheeks. “If you had heard the conversation, you’d know I didn’t want-!”

“Didn’t want me.”

“No! I want you! She told me she could do better than you and I said I didn’t want that!”

“Then why’d you kiss her?!”

“I didn’t!” Fugo threw his hands out. If you hadn’t turned when you did, you would have seen me pushing her off!”

Narancia laughed coldly. “You’ll say anything to save your own ass, won’t you?”

“If I wanted to save my ass I wouldn’t have spoken to you in the first place!”

“Oh,” Narancia nodded as he stood in the doorway. “That’s right. I forgot, I’m nothing but a dirty peasant to you.” He walked out, slamming the door.

Fugo ran after him. “Narancia! Stop! I didn’t mean it like that! If I wanted to save my ass, I’d keep pretending I’m straight! But I don’t want to!”

Narancia turned to look at him.

“I don’t care if I never have a position in the palace ever again, I’d rather have you than my family. I thought I had to hide my feelings at first, but I have had a change of heart, and now I don’t care who knows my feelings for you! I love you, Narancia... Please don’t go,” Fugo ended in barely a whisper.

Tears welled up in Narancia’s eyes. “I don’t know what to believe any more, Panna.”

“Believe me! Please!” Fugo’s face was soaked with tears. “I don’t want anyone but you, Nara! I gave you everything! My first kiss, my first time, everything!”

“Prove it to me.”

Fugo took a deep breath. “Follow me.” He walked out of the palace and through the courtyard, stopping in the garden.

“I’ve seen this before.”

“Not this,” the younger retorted before reaching a hand through the bushes and opening the door to his secret garden. Narancia looked around in awe before Fugo spoke.

“I have never let another person even know about this garden, much less let them in. Only you.”

Narancia looked at him, sad eyes brightening little by little.

“Please stay here,” Fugo begged. “Please.”

Narancia nodded, stepping forward and kissing Fugo as if it were his last day on Earth. He never thought that years later, they would get married in this same spot, hovering over the koi ponds, or that he’d ever be a prince. Yet a decade later, the two began ruling their kingdom, King and King, making the best life they could for everyone.

[rohansoutsidemydoor]

here have some fugonara as a treat

[prince-lazuli]

There is some amazing Giorno x Fugo art on here but if any of yall ship Narancia x Fugo lmk because that is my otp and I need more of it tbh

[nemobeatrice]

@fugio-week0

FuGio Week 2023 Day 2: OT3/Poly - Day After the Dance

Ao3

Quotev

Wattpad

Narancia struggled to sleep when he went home after the dance, thinking about the kiss Giorno and Fugo shared. When they were in the hallway, Narancia watched as they made out, feeling left out. He hugged himself, imagined it was them hugging and giving him warmth and fell asleep.

The next day, Narancia woke up alone in bed. Since it was a Sunday, he had no school but needed tutoring. Before he got dressed, he heard raindrops pattering against the roof. He sighed, gazing through the window and watching the gray clouds. There was no time to waste. Narancia quickly brushed his teeth, got his things, and headed to the restaurant.

When Narancia arrived, Mista was the only one there.

“Hey, buddy!” He waved and pulled a seat out for him. “Come on and sit.”

“Where are the others?” He sat down and brought out a sheet of math homework. “Aren’t they usually here?”

“Not sure. How are you, by the way?”

“I’ve…been better.”

“Rainy days, huh? Don’t worry. I hear it’s going to get sunny later on today.”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s—” He sighed, resting his frowned face on his hand. “Nothing.”

“I’ve never seen you this down before. Come on. Tell me.”

“How are you not jealous?”

“Huh? Jealous?”

Narancia blushed, remembering what happened in Venice. “Come on. I saw everything.”

“Wait, are you talking about when Giorno and I had to fight that guy in the helicopter? We stood close to each other, but that’s because we had to stop the helicopter with a tree.”

“Huh? What?”

“Wait, that’s right. You were in the turtle. Were you talking about when we had to go to the port? No, wait! You thought I liked Giorno because I spent more time with him.”

“Yeah.” Not really.

“I spent more time with you guys than I have with Giorno. Honestly, I’m jealous of Abbacchio. I’d love to get closer to Bucciarati.”

“Why don’t you ask Bucciarati out?”

Mista blushed. “What? Are you crazy? Abbacchio would kill me!”

“Would he? Why not ask him if he doesn’t mind sharing?”

“I guess I could. That reminds me, Narancia, you’re close to Fugo. Are you jealous of Giorno? I remember last night at the dance, you looked upset. Did you catch them kissing?”

“Yeah, I saw them kissing, but I don’t know if jealous is the right word. I’m jealous of Giorno and Fugo. I wanted to be with them.”

“Why not ask them out?”

“Fugo is dating Giorno, and I don’t know if Giorno likes me that well or if he wants to share.”

“He has to like you! You’ve been in each other's bodies.”

“We have nothing in common, though!”

“Fugo once approached me, wondering what you thought about him.” Mista laughed. “I told him I didn’t know.”

“What? And you didn’t tell me?”

“He didn’t want me to tell you. He was nervous you’d reject him because he thought you and him had nothing in common. Maybe it’s not too late to ask him out.”

Before Narancia could reply, they heard two people enter the restaurant. It was Fugo and Giorno, and their clothes were dirty and wet. Both of them sat at the table, and Fugo sat next to Narancia while Giorno sat next to Mista.

“What happened to you two?” asked Mista.

“A group of drug dealers jumped us,” Giorno answered. “Fugo finished them off, but the last guy was slippery.” He then looked at Narancia’s paper. “Oh, want us to help you?”

“Yeah. Ugh, classes tomorrow are going to suck,” Narancia complained. “I need a break from all this!”

“It’s raining. Nobody’s able to do much today,” Fugo reminded him. “You’re improving with multiplications. You might be able to do long-division questions. Just in case, let’s do a review. What does 16 times 55 equal to?”

“Um”—he wrote the question and the answer on the paper—“is it this?” He wrote 880.

Fugo smiled. “You did it. Excellent!”

“Nice work,” Giorno commented, patting him on the head.

Narancia blushed. “You two are the greatest. I love—I mean, thanks!”

Giorno looked at the boy, knowing what he was about to say but was unsure if he meant it. “Fugo, I need to discuss something with you. Excuse me. We’ll be back.”

He got up with Fugo and went somewhere far from Narancia’s ears.

“Do you think Narancia has a crush on us?” Giorno asked.

“I don’t know,” Fugo answered. “I asked Mista if Narancia liked me, but he said he didn’t know. Why, do you think?”

“I heard him interrupt himself before he thanked us.”

“I thought so too, but I ignored it. Besides, you and I are together.”

“So, you have no feelings for Narancia?”

“If you didn’t join the gang, I would’ve asked him out.”

“We could both date him. Better now than never, right?”

Fugo looked at Narancia, who waved and smiled at them. He smiled and waved back. “Yeah, but let’s wait til Mista leaves. It feels awkward with him around.”

The blonds returned to the table.

“Well, I feel like I should be going,” Mista said. “This rain is making me drowsy.”

He got up and left, leaving the three of them alone. Giorno took Mista’s seat, making Narancia wedged between the two blonds.

“Hey, Narancia,” Giorno spoke, “are you interested in both of us?”

“Um, what?” The boy’s cheeks reddened.

Fugo scooted closer to him. “Were you about to say you loved us when we praised you?”

He tried to look away from them. “M-maybe. Why?”

“Because we love you too,” Giorno answered.

Before the boy could question anymore, the two blonds kissed his cheeks.

“No way? Is this real?” Narancia touched the spots where the two of them kissed. “Did I die and go to heaven?”

“No, you’re here.”

“Could you guys hug me, please?”

The two hugged him, holding him tightly.

“Narancia, I missed you,” Fugo said. “When you got on that boat, I thought you would’ve died.”

I almost died, he wanted to say, but now wasn’t the time for him to say things like that. “I missed you, too, Panna. I’ll study hard for both of you.”

[regularcitrus]

Part 5: Pinto Aureo/Golden Wing 🐞 (1/3)

- might have stolen @/toytle’s fugo and trish/diavolo concepts my bad

- this part takes place a little bit after twilight would become ruler

- Morning Glory already knows how to heal cause of hamon (he doesn’t actually know it’s hamon though)

- poor Glory got thrown out after turning gold cause his parents didn’t recognize him at all :(

- i made Guido flightless because i liked his design too much to make him not a griffin, but at the same time i liked the idea of Divebomb being the team’s sole eye in the sky. plus it’s a lot easier to shoot arrows with digits than hooves

- not a whole lot else to say atm, stay tuned for more

1 / 2 / 3

Phantom Blood / Battle Tendency / Stardust Crusaders / Diamond is Unbreakable / Golden Wind / Stone Ocean

[purplecraze]

I ordered my Fugo and Narancia nendroids together, but Fugo came far earlier than Narancia. so, until Nara was here, he didn’t want to leave his box. Fugo doesn’t like to be in new places....

Once I got news that Narancia was on his way though, Fugo finally wanted to go into the house. But ever since, he had only been staring outside like this. (he’s too small to look through the window, so he had to pile some books...)

Finally, the day has come. But what’s this?? Oh no!! Someone left Narancia’s box out in the rain! Narancia hates rain! Quick, Fugo has to safe him!! (It was definitely not mun who left him there to take a picture...)

‘It’s alright, Narancia, you’re safe now..’

Despite the rain, Narancia seems to be doing fine. But none the less, Fugo demands: ‘hurry and let him out, mun!💢’

‘you poor thing, you’re all drenched. Here’s a towel, let me just-.......... .......’ *kiss*

Of course, finally having Narancia around, there was one thing Fugo wanted to do first of all:

Then it was play time~ They exchanged clothes for fun, imitated GioGio’s famous pose, and did their little dance~ Formagio was chilling with Coco Jumbo in the mean time.

Fugo helped Narancia to think of new skills to use with Aerosmith. That soon ended in playing games too, though. It’s confirmed: Coco can ride on Aerosmith~ (but he’s too heavy to fly with)

All in all, it was a very fun and exciting day. Fugo’s so happy that they’re together now~

good night, little gangster menaces 💕