𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞; n. ghirga
˚ · . notes ¡!
vento aureo; narancia ghirga x gn! reader
fluff!!
"WHAT DO you mean, "I don’t know"?!” Fugo yelled from Narancia’s side, far too close to shoving a pencil in the other boy’s cheek for comfort. “I mean I don’t know! Why the hell do I need to know multiplication anyways?!” screeched Narancia while pulling out a pocket knife and stabbing it into the worksheet. As the two boys bickered, you hummed a small tune and worked on your newest concoction: orangeade.
While you poured the orange juice and lemon juice into a pitcher filled with water and sugar, you let their yelling fill in for the parts of the song you didn’t remember and began to stir. Once finished, you poured the liquid into three separate cups filled with ice and topped it off with some basil and an orange slice, grinning proudly just at how the cups looked. The fighting was pure background noise as you approached the coffee table the two boys sat at with the juice.
“Maybe Narancia just needs a break,” you suggested calmly while setting the cups down, just for Fugo to leap from the couch in a rage. “Narancia needs a break?! Huh?! If anything I need a break!” Fugo said with a grimace while snatching a cup off the table as you raised a brow. “Teaching him can’t be that bad.” Fugo almost did a spit-take while Narancia glared and let out a huff that blew up his fringe.
“I- Y’know what- you take him for an hour and tell me how it goes!”
You blinked owlishly after Fugo who grumbled as he left the living room, taking harsh sips of his juice while doing so. You held back a short laugh until he was completely out of sight before turning to face a frustrated Narancia. “Stupid Fugo,” he mumbled while fiddling with the rim of the glass and the orange slice that rested on it, “he’s always so angry for no reason! It’s not my fault math is hard!” You smiled and ruffled his hair, taking a seat beside him.
“Well then, let’s take a look.”
Narancia’s face burned as you rested against his side, pointing out an equation in the workbook Fugo had just been screaming at him for. “So…sixteen times fifty-five,” you began as Narancia tried his best not to let his heart explode over your closeness. It wasn’t a secret to the gang that he had started crushing on you after the Diavolo mission but you were the epitome of oblivious to these things— or at least that’s what everyone thought. Only Trish knew, but you were very much the opposite of oblivious and well-aware of Narancia’s feelings for you (which were also reciprocated).
“Nara?”— Oh did Narancia’s poor heart explode when you called him by that nickname— “what’s wrong?” Albeit actually being over-the-moon by you snuggling up to him, he was anything but happy about doing math. “I just- I don’t wanna do it!” he whined while you took a sip from your glass of orangeade. You leaned back against the bottom of the couch, humming softly; “How about this? If you get it right, I’ll give you a surprise.” Narancia’s eyes lit up at your incentive.
“What kind?!” he beamed as you held back a laugh behind your hand. “It’s a surprise, dumbass.” Narancia gave a boisterous laugh before folding over and furiously writing on the paper. “Got it!” When he held up the paper, you were met with the number twenty-eight scratchily written on the page. You raised a brow and you could feel Narancia sulk beside her. “Hm, well, how’d you get your answer?” Narancia groaned and threw his head back, looking at you while tilting his head to the side.
“I dunno… the answer is two eights and a zero but zero doesn’t mean anything so it’s two eights.” You raised a brow before doing your own math, finding that it was in fact two eights and a zero: 880. Your eyes widened, and you smiled cheekily at him, sending the poor boy’s heart surging with ears aflame. “W-Why’re you looking at me like that?! Y-You got a problem?” You grinned and rested your head back against the couch like he was, resting it so close to his head that you could feel his shuddering breaths.
“You got it right…kind of. Two eights and a zero would be 880,” you grinned, making Narancia smile in turn, “but it's close enough so I say you get the prize anyway.” As you leaned in, Narancia gasped, staring straight ahead until your noses were touching. “Can I kiss you?” Narancia’s head felt like it was doing cartwheels as he quickly shook his head, a shiver running down his spine at your low laugh and smile. As your eyes fluttered shut, he shut his eyes tightly, cheeks blowing up as he puckered his lips.
When your lips found his, he felt as though he had died and come back, bringing his shaking hands behind your head to pull you closer as his cheeks deflated. He could almost taste the lingering flavor of orangeade as he tried to deepen the kiss, only for you to place your hands gently on his shoulders and push him away. Your flushed features made a surge of pride rush through him. As he swooped in for another peck, you put a finger on his lips.
He blinked at you, lips still very puckered and cheeks very red. “If you get another question right, we can do that again.” Before another word could leave your mouth, Narancia was straight back to the paper, a goofy smile on his lips that reached his crimson cheeks. You smiled in turn, leaning against the palm of your hand.
FUGO WAS DEFINITELY GOING TO LOSE HIS SHIT LATER.
