#fugonara au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

purplecraze · 2 years ago

Text

Beauty and the Beast AU 1

orange-plane-boy — 08/26/2021 2:18 PM

If being homeless in modern time was shit, being homeless in some not specific 18th century fairytale setting is not so well too.

Sometimes the boy could manage, finding some work at some farm in excange of sleeping in the barn and a bit of food; but sadly as winter comes and the crops dry, people dont really need another mouth to feed; So the other option Narancia had was just sneak in the villages around Naples, grabbing, stealing and pickpocketing everything he could before people would notice him and then dissapear for some months, going to the next town and so on so on till spring came.

He grew old enough to know he should avoid Naples if not for sell the shit he stole, the competion was a bit too much and full of smaller gangs of delinquents or older man using kids quick hands to pickpocket for them only to keep most of the money and paying the kids with cents and a slap on the face; another thing the boy lived on his skin and swore to never act like that. He may be a thief but not a monster.

Speaking of thief, there are times he could get a bit too greedy. But could they really blame him? The coat he tried to stole looked so nice and warm, while his own was old and full of holes, he just wanted something nice to wear!!

Too bad the guards chasing him didnt really agreed, as Narancia runned for his life in the woods nearby the town.

He knows how it goes, if you go to jail you will get sick and if you get sick in jail you will die and he sure dosent want to die!

So he runned as fast he could; luckly he got his mother strong legs, the same legs that would run with him in her arms.

But after the relief when he outranned the men; he also got the rellization to be complete lost in the woods in the middle of the winter.

"Well shit-" he murmured, taking time to breath and then walking around, trying to find maybe some river or a street.

None of those was found, but not even 30 minutes later he found himself in front of what seemed like an abbandoned villa

"Well shit!"

God blessed him? Probabily even if he found a single silver fork he could sell it for enough money to eat for days! And maybe even some nice nee gloves and a scarf or!

The boy grinned and with some hassle he crawled down the fence, getting inside, opening his tatter leather bag, ready to filled it.

Now, where he could find the most fancy stuff?? Probabily the kitchen? Or the masteroom? Living room?

As he thinked his quick hands started to grab everything he saw sparkle, squinting his eyes as the sun from the windows was his only source of light

purplecraze — 08/26/2021 3:34 PM

The amount of silverware was abundant, he couldn't possibly carry it in one go. but a large amount of them were bend out of shape or even broken. The interior of the house aswell, seemed like it was run down. Furniture was broken, the plants were dead, it was eerily quiet.

And yet, it looked like someone was still living here. The house was warm and candles burned as he checked further down the hallway. and most of all: it felt like someone or something was watching him.

The guards had seized their pursuit long before Narancia had reached the gate. But it wasn't because they had lost the boy. they had simply......halted at some point. As if they were afraid of what lay beyond.

A pleasant scent tempted Narancia to look further into the house. The smell of fresh bread and roasted chicken and juicy fruits.

orange-plane-boy — 08/26/2021 3:46 PM

Aw shit. Of course he wasnt the only one that found that place- how dumb of him thinking about that!

Yeah the house was abbandoned, but if someone lived there probabily it was some other gang of homeless that stuck gold and found a nice place before him to pass the winter.

"Ughh" he sighed, he knew how it worked, the best would be grab the most he could and ran away before being noticed.

He sneaked in the dining hall, a bit quized about why the hell someone would bend good silverwear like this; and grabbed the best looking ones.

He then finally set his eyes on the table, feeling his stomatch grumble.

...Cmon no one is gonna notice if some loaf of breads are missing-

He shoved one in his mouth and sighed, sure was a while till he had something that was not stale or moldy

purplecraze — 08/26/2021 4:00 PM

The table didn't even remotely look like how some random tramp would eat his meal. everything was served according to etiquette, candle holders lit, arranged to look inviting and classy. But despite being served to be eaten, there wasn't a single soul to do so, save for Narancia.

The house was too quiet. Even though it was during the day, there wasn't a single sound. Not the sound of gang members talking or walking around. Not the sound of someone pillaging the place.

The only other sign of living was a note, neatly folded on top of the plate.

orange-plane-boy — 08/26/2021 4:05 PM

To be fair; Narancia is a bit dumb and dosent really belive in ghosts, so some people living here was the only option he had in mind

He looked at the pice of paper, curious, opening it and squinting his eyes, reading was not really his forte; he knew how to write his name and kinda knew how put letters together but it took him a while

purplecraze — 08/26/2021 4:07 PM

the note was simple and short:

'Take what you wish, I care not.

But don't wander the halls after nightfall.'

orange-plane-boy — 08/26/2021 4:12 PM

"Umh..."

Ok maybe there was a ghost in the house.

But jesus, if getting cursed was the price for eating a whole meal after years then hello demons its ya boy!

After another second of hesitation he sat down and started to eat, now even following an order

Fruit sliced on bread? Eating an apple and a chicken leg at the same time? Flilling the bread with the meat? Yeah to all.

Sorry for the bad manners but he was starving

purplecraze — 08/26/2021 4:14 PM

above the sounds of his own eating, he could hear a very soft sound ring around the hall. It was like a breath, like a whisper of the wind.

......But it sounded like a short chuckle. Mocking, but gentle.

orange-plane-boy — 08/26/2021 4:18 PM

"Uhh- umh- Look mr ghost, sir- Im just gonna stay for the night ok? So dont worry about too much- i promise i will not leave too much mess and leave you to your umh...ghost things??" He murmured, pocketing the bread he didnt ate.

"And umh-- Thanks for the meal?? Uh..Jesus im talking with ghosts now. Bet my ass i hitted my head while i was climbing the fence-" he murmured, more to himself

purplecraze — 08/26/2021 4:23 PM

Well, if he had indeed hit his head, he was now not only hearing things, but also seeing:

On top of the candleholder sat a bird. it was red and orange, shining dimly as if made out of flames.

it flew up and circled around the dining hall before sitting on top of a different candle holder that led to a different hallway.

orange-plane-boy — 08/26/2021 4:25 PM

He rubbed his eye

"What the--"

It was weird ok- but...also cute? He always liked birds after all

"Uh..." he crumbed some of the bread

"Want some? Just dont burn my hand"

purplecraze — 08/26/2021 4:26 PM

the bird tilted its head, fluttering over and perched on his hand.

The flames didn't hurt him. if anything, it felt cool to the touch.

From up close, Narancia could see it was a swallow.

orange-plane-boy — 08/26/2021 4:29 PM

"Cute..." He smiled and since it didnt burned he gently petted its head with his free hand

"So its you that keep the lights on? This house its so big...you do that all your own little one?"

purplecraze — 08/26/2021 4:31 PM

it flew up, circling around once more. For a short moment, there were not one, but 3 of them.

The little thing flew back and sat on the edge of his plate, pecking at the note.

orange-plane-boy — 08/26/2021 4:32 PM

"Oh!!" He smiled

"Ah, yes i read that dont worry" he said but he grabbed it again

purplecraze — 08/26/2021 4:34 PM

It took to the sky once more, flying back to the hallway it had pointed to the first time. it fluttered stationary on its spot, waiting for him to follow.

orange-plane-boy — 08/26/2021 4:36 PM

"Oook"

He murmured following the bird.

Yes Narancia, follow the fire bird in the magic house, nothing wrong will happend!

To be fair; if that was a ghost, a fairy or a demon, whatever the house was, it would still better than sleeping on the ground right?

purplecraze — 08/26/2021 4:41 PM

Honestly, even if the place had a dungeon, that would still be more comfortable.

But the room he was led to was not even close to a dungeon.

A huge, soft bed. the room smelled freshly cleaned and warm. Adjunct to the room, there was even a bathroom.

And this is the part where it gets creepy: there was steamy water in the bathtub.

orange-plane-boy — 08/26/2021 4:47 PM

"Oh--" its been ages since he sleept in a bed!

He peaked in the bathroom

"Uh? The people that made dinner are the same that prepared the tub?" He asked to the bird

"I-It wasnt necessary really- i know how to fill a tub" he murmured, a bit creept out; a bit not wanting to be annoying

purplecraze — 08/26/2021 4:48 PM

The bird sat down on the handle of the door of the bedroom, pecking at the key within the lock.

orange-plane-boy — 08/26/2021 4:48 PM

"Umh want me to lock the door?"

purplecraze — 08/26/2021 4:49 PM

it fluttered for a second, pecking at it again.

orange-plane-boy — 08/26/2021 5:03 PM

"Ok ok!" He nodded and locked the door

"So umh, im gonna take a bath! Gonna take a bit so dont wait for me if you dont want to!"

He said, leaving the bad on the bed and rushed in the bathroom.

He sighed. God what the hell was going on? Magic house with fire birds and some ghost making meals and baths! He really wanted to understand; but after that meal he felt sleepy

But first! A bath! Would be rude dirty the sheets of the bed.

He got inside the tub, closing his eyes... nh... felt so good. Pretty sure his last 'bath'was a lady trowing him a bucket of cold water because he smelled bad.

He giggled to himself and then started to wash himslef, making sure to scrub the filth away from head to toe. When he was done the water was an unhealty brown

"Yuck-!"

He rinsed himsled and let the water go; before exploring the bathroom. He found a fuffy towlel and dried himslef and then curious he cheked the cabinets and closets.

"Oh!-"

He grabbed a clean nightgown, wearing it; it was a bit big for him but still felt way better than his filty clothes.

He then clipped his nails, combed his hair and brushed his teeth. Because c'mon he probabily woulnt have this occasion again!

...He then grabbed some profume bottles and other precious stuff.

He left the bathroom and jumped on the bed

"Soft...."

purplecraze — 08/26/2021 5:08 PM

you dirty sneak~

Well, whoever owned the place said he could take what he wanted, so no harm done.

And perhaps, in a way, it was compensation for the unearthly sounds that terrorized through the house as the night fell.

It sounded chaotic, destructive. If Narancia was still awake or it woke him up, it surely was a rampant like nothing he had heard before.

Not like gangs making havoc. Not like guards searching the place high and low. Not like a heavy thunderstorm.

Really, it could only be described as one thing: A monster....

#purplecraze #orange plane boy #fugo replies #from our discord server #long post #fugonara #beauty and the beast au

10 notes · View notes

lustastarte · 2 years ago

Text

✧ ♤ ♠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.

#fugonara #narancia x fugo #jjba #smut #angst #fluff #royalty au #fanfiction #jjba fanfic

2 notes · View notes