A Pinch of Sugar | ( unita speciale x Fem!Reader)

17- Quality Time With a Bastard

Yall im sorry i forgot this fic existed literally

I know you guys love this trope so here's some as an apology

sorry for any errors :<

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Apparently, parties and balls are a big thing in the underground, and for whatever reason, you've found yourself invited to one.

Even as a member of Unita Speciale, you don't consider yourself a big enough fish to be in a place like that, full of people with a status much higher than your own, with tastes and likes far different. 

But you were still going. And why was that? Because Cioccolata didn't give you a choice, for he was the one handing you the invitation, demanding you as his plus one. You asked, what about Secco? And he told you he was coming regardless, but that you were going to be his official date.

So that's how your Saturday is going. Doppio said he'd rather die than go back to the mall anytime soon, so you turned to the only other partially tolerable person on the team that'd give you honest opinions-- Tiziano.

It was not that you dreaded his company-- he was actually a decent enough person to get along with. It was his boyfriend (you think they're boyfriends, but no one has ever said anything), Squalo.

Little by little then all at once, you supposed, it became apparent he did not like you. To even look in your direction is a punishment. To speak your name is to poison his tongue, and to acknowledge the fact that you exist at all is about as desirable as a rock in his shoe.

For him to know that his partner(?) is so buddy-buddy with you is, as you would imagine it to be, torture. You don't even know why; but Tiziano doesn't much seem to care, so you don't either.

Perhaps there's something you're missing, but do you really want to dwell on it while you're dress shopping? Nope.

"For the last time, Pink Floyd, I'm not wearing that." 

Your stand almost looked comically displeased with your words despite not having a face, tweaking its head side to side as if to mock you while putting the dress it picked back onto the rack. To be fair, a ball isn't the place for a club dress, as much as you'd like it to be.

"You should try this one on and this one too." When Tiziano had made it behind you was a complete mystery, but he was there, and he scared the shit out of you.

 He didn't seem to acknowledge how you squealed like a pig from surprise as he dropped a pile of dresses into your arms. 

"There's also a couple short ones in there, ones Floyd picked out," He continues, and your stand chirps from somewhere between the clothing racks, lost. "Go try them out, I'll be at the changing rooms in a second."

He said it like you were meant to be able to move with the weight of a thousand dresses weighing you down. Somehow, you managed to trudge through the maze of clothing racks like a burdened soldier and collapse in the dressing room despite.

How many were there, could you even count them all? Some dresses seemed to reveal themselves from between two others, and when you'd pick that one up, one would spawn beneath it.

It was as if Tiziano had taken everything off an entire line of dresses and handed them to you, with the help of Pink Floyd continuously throwing things on top of it, apparently whatever met its sight. Why were there a pair of socks?

Filtering out things that were definitely unacceptable, like a denim dress you could only picture Dolly Parton pulling off, your options fell to a special five. Five, out of whatever three digit number stared back at you in a multi-colored mass of sparkles and satin.

First one was decent-- but too small. You probably wouldn't have picked it if it fit anyways.

Second one was also decent, a bit better than the first, though not quite. The sewn in sparkles itched and bit your sides like million mosquito needles.

Third one required a zipper to be pulled all the way to your upper back, something you weren't able to achieve on your own of course. Curse your lack of flexibility.

Now, this would normally be the part where you'd call in Pink Floyd to help you, but seeing as how its still pouting like a child, hiding in the circular center of the clothing racks, that option was out of the window.

You peeked out of the curtain to the dressing room, "Tiziano, can you help me really quick?"

An unmistakable length of white hair peeked out from between the rows, "Coming, one moment."

The moment you caught sight of the seven-million dresses in his hands, you'd nearly sent him back the other way, though considering he was one of the only people nice to you in the squad, if barely that, you kept quiet. 

Perhaps your fake smile was a bit obvious, but at least you didn't give him a look that told him of your approaching fall to insanity. 

Tiziano didn't seem to mind, and maybe even understood your exhaust, and yet sat his addition of options to the side all the same. 

"Tired already? I thought you loved shopping." His jokes weren't that funny. "After all, I keep hearing about how much lighter Cioccolata's wallet feels."

"First of all, he doesn't even let me leave the house without it, and secondly, I do love shopping and I am definitely not tired at all. Just need you to zip up this dress really quick?"

"Oh, certainly! Allow me.."

Facing the mirror to watch how it'd fit, you waited for the dress to grow even the slightest bit tighter, or maybe even fit perfectly if you were lucky. But, for some reason or another, it seemed to only fall loose, more and more turning into something that just draped against you rather than actually fitting.

And that was when you noticed the cold hands helping you were going down rather than up. 

"Tiziano, zip it up." You said, resisting the urge to smack him. 

He laughed innocently, "Oops~! Sorry, guess I heard you wrong..."

A terrible liar, or maybe a slight perv who liked getting caught, but to waste your time thinking about it is, like just mentioned, wasting time.

Finally buttoned and zipped in every place that needed it, all that was left was deciding if you liked it or not. It was something form-fitting that kissed the floor with its detailed hem, its color one you wouldn't normally choose but still looked nice.

Now, would you like to settle for an okay dress, or spend hours going through all the ones beside you to find a great dress?

...

You'll be here for a little while.