JJBA Oneshots

Pannacotta Fugo; Touch.

A/N: requested by @drywallbread.
Fugo x Male reader😊 Hope It's okay, my first time writing m!character x m!reader.
A few different jump cuts, I hope I portrayed what you wanted nicely!
Warning: trauma and ptsd symptoms related to assault. I used a bit of my own experiences towards that as a way to make it seem realistic. Please don't read if that is going to trigger you!

Alsooo my 99th chapter! I literally can't believe it.

—

The grip on Fugo's shoulder is soft. It is gentle, but insurmountable. He feels his muscles tense up, yet his body go numb strangely at the same time. He blinks and feels like he's in that stuffy room again, the smell of lignin from the books, the breath against his neck. The man behind him now is also out of breath, after appearing from nowhere; but he is not the same man from his memories. The thought jostles around in his brain before Fugo is able to pull himself back to reality. He shakes it off. 'This is not the same man'. He repeats to himself, in his head.

This was not his childhood professor, no, this was (Y/n) (L/n). He had been part of the gang for a few months now, and had been working closely with Pannacotta, but he was still reserved. The man behind him caught his breath, before his familiar voice called from behind Fugo. "We have to go or else we're going to be late!."

Fugo shook his head, letting in a deep inhale. He turned on his heels, his dress-shoes squeaking against the floor, to face his colleague. "Sorry. I was a bit distracted. We can leave now."

Fugo had to admit you were a bit irritating at times, but so were most people to him. You were constantly in a hurry, almost hyper-like and you never seemed to slow down. Since you had been paired with Fugo from basically the beginning, you clung onto him like a lost puppy. It didn't help the fact you had a slight crush on the blonde haired man...well, slight was a bit of an understatement. You were constantly talking to him, trying to get to know him better, and you often did small things like that, touching his shoulder or just anything to come into contact with him. You liked being close to Fugo. Panacotta on the other hand felt a bit perturbed. It reminded him of things he didn't necessarily want to think about, not more than he already did to begin with anyway...but he knew it was different. You were a good man, you came from a good place. You were gentle and kind and polite, even if your personality was a bit antsy at times. On one hand, Fugo didn't mind the personal displays of attention. The other half wanted to scream until you let go of him.

The day carried on as usual after that, and so did the night. Fugo stared up at the ceiling for hours. His thoughts wouldn't let him sleep. He thought about how you interacted with him, and his stomach churned. You were so different. Your actions were so different. How could your touch remind Fugo of him, that disgusting vile creature? To be fair, Fugo did not have to deal with physical attention much. Everyone was aware he was not necessarily a fan. You didn't seem to get the memo. He couldn't blame you. You were harmless, and honestly Fugo was mad at himself. You didn't deserve to be compared in that way. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't tell the difference between your hands.

—

"Excuse me, Fugo." You made great effort to push past the blonde haired man in the crowded kitchen, placing a hand on his arm as you moved by. Fugo felt like time had frozen. You had brushed him a little too closely, and your hand on his arm did not help. The kitchen was loud and chaotic, as it was most mornings; Fugo just wanted his coffee. His mug clattered to the tile, shattering in a million pieces. Panacotta snapped his head to look at you. Everything was in slow motion. "What is wrong with you?!."

Your eyes were wide, and you looked at him puzzled. You were confused, understandably so, you didn't understood what you did wrong? The entire gang's eyes were on the both of you. Fugo was red in the face. "Stop fucking touching me!."