Abbacchio's Daughter Scenarios

You Get Sick

You were laying sick in bed bored out of your mind while waiting for some company. Your puppy was asleep at the end of the bed flinching and twitching as unknown events occurred in his dreams. He was the only thing you had to entertain you. He was the only thing you had to keep your mind off of the terrible congestion that had gathered in your lungs, the sore throat that tortured you with every breath, and the dripping stuffy nose that haunted your body.

You were getting quite tired of it honestly. The whole stay in bed crap. You untucked your legs from the covers of your bed and stood up, an ache crawling up and down your back. With a slight groan of misery, you approached the door to your room. 

Your face was met with Abbacchio's chest. Bumping him by accident, he spilled the steaming bowl of hot chicken soup all over himself. He dropped the bowl (which you caught) and started yipping with the burning feeling of pain and quickly threw off his gay dress shirt thing. You just stared at your shirtless ripped father. There was a moment of awkward silence.

"Pretty cool huh?" He spoke with pride in his body. Abbacchio had a smirk on his face.

"Yes, so cool. So cool that you didn't fetch a woman when you were young." You mumbled.

"OI! I'll have you know that no woman could compare to your mom."

"I know, I kn-crap-." You felt a bubbling feeling in your stomach. Something was rising and you ran to the bathroom in a panicked hurry. Letting go of the small breakfast you had eaten earlier, you felt a burning feeling in the back of your throat. Abbacchio was by your side, holding your hair back. Coughing up the rest of your breakfast, you wiped your mouth with the sleeve of your (f/c) sweatshirt. Turning around, you flopped sluggishly into your dad's arms.

"Thanks, dad." Abbacchio received a loose hug from you, the slug. He kissed your head and returned the embrace.

"I'd trade places with you if I could, (y/n), I really would."

"You're t-too precious," you kissed his cheek and stood up, stretching. You blew your nose, combed your hair, and exited the room. Abbacchio was right behind you, quickly putting on another dress thing.

"Where are you going? Get back in bed."

"Nah, I'm good. If I can get out of bed I'm good enough to go about the daily routine."

"What? No-."

"Ah ah ah, talking is gay." Your dad stared at you confused but kept his mouth shut even though he was gay. Twas' time to accomplish what you could as a sick slug. You entered Mista's quarters and opened the cookie jar. You coughed on all of his cookies because what you didn't know (except you actually did know) is that you're evil. 

Jotaro was leaving the next day so you decided that you would go see him. You searched and searched for the tall edgy time lord. Checking the last place available you found him sitting down with Giorno sipping tea. 

"OI, old man! Do something cool!" Jotaro looked at you. Curled up in a thick blanket was you. You looked like a giant potato. Without any time passing, he stood behind you and kicked you in the back but in a gentle manner. If he had actually kicked you your spine would have shattered. You fell over on your face, still rolled up in your blanket like a potato. 

"Jooooooot. I'm sick. Help me." Giorno chuckled as he watched Jotaro attempt to deal with you.

"And what am I supposed to do?" Jotaro looked down at sick you who had thrown up all over the floor. 

"I dunno, give me blood or something." A taunt. One that was meant to bring back gay vampire memories. Kujo knew this. You guffawed while huffing strained coughs. 

"Blood you say? Alright." Jotaro took a knife from his pocket and ran it across his hand. Rolling you over, he held you up with your head on his arm and hand. There wasn't nothing at first. Soon, blood gushed from a deep wound on his hand. Jotaro held his hand over your mouth letting a few drops fall onto your lips.

"H-hey! I didn't actually me-," while you were talking, Jotaro opened his hand to let blood flow. It landed straight in the back of your throat. It was warm and thick. It tasted heavily like iron and you gagged on it, trying not to laugh. 

"How is it?" Kujo will be Kujo, cold and strong.

Giorno watched a little bit concerned but let Jotaro carry on. Perhaps a lesson was to be learned. You stretched out your arms towards the floor to get away but his hand remained over your mouth. You weren't sure how much more you could take. It was damn hilarious to you though.

Blood splashed out of your mouth as you coughed it up laughing harder and harder. Throwing up once more, a nasty rust color stained the floor. Apparently laughter wasn't the best medicine. 

"N-nice one, Joot." You gasped as you wiped blood from your face.

"Hopefully that'll teach you Dio was no joke." Jotaro stood up with his hands in his pockets and began to walk away. He stopped for a moment.

"Feel better soon, (Y/n)."

You sat down where Jotaro was sitting with Giorno and drank the rest of his tea. Giovanna didn't say much to you. On occasion he would ask you a simple question like "how are you feeling?", or "how's the tea?" You weren't in the mood for a conversation anyways.

Abbacchio finally caught up to you and saw the stained carpet and your bloodied lip. He kept looking back from the carpet to your face, anger and disgust flushing his face.

"Giorno, I hate you, but who did this to my baby?" He was stern.

"Jotaro, but it was for a reaso-where are you going?" Abbacchio had turned away with duel batons in his hands. Wouldn't that be a battle? PTSD Jotaro vs Angry Father Abbacchio. Sighing, you made your way back to your room in Abbacchio's quarters. Maybe there wasn't much to do outside of bed after all. 

On the couch in the living room sat Bucciarati, a sweet honey comb smile on his face. He had a bowl of warm chicken soup in his hand and he patted the spot next to him. You cuddled up close to him and rested your head on his shoulder as you slowly sipped the soothing soup. 

"Hey mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Jotaro made me drink his blood." Bucciarati just looked down at you with disgust and worry. He lightened up a bit after reconsidering possibilities. 

"I'm sure your father will take care of it." He held you a little closer, holding his baby in his arms. Memories of the past came back to him. Memories of when you were but a mere infant. A mere infant that couldn't do anything. You used to be completely useless. 

"I remember when you got sick when you were little, just like this. Your father and I stayed up all night for three nights in a row to care for you. We tried to feed you chicken soup but you just wouldn't eat it!"

"Heheheh, tastebuds are indeed wacky."

"Yes, I suppose they can be."

You shut your eyes right then and there, falling asleep in Mama Bruno's arms. He rocked you gently and kissed your head. Not soon after, Abbacchio returned. Considering the fact that Abbacchio had returned meant that Abbacchio hadn't fought Jotaro.

"So, what did you do to Signor Kujo?"

"I saw him and decided I didn't want to die, so I put a taser under his pillow."

"Fair enough."

The next day, Mista got sick from eating the cookies you had coughed on.