Abbacchio's Daughter Scenarios

Someone Might Die

You're twelve

The sunshine shined brightly on your back as Trish painted your fingernails (f/c). Abbacchio, Narancia, and Fugo were all on a mission to take out a small gang that had formed to kill Giorno, and Giorno was off on a trip to Morioh to meet some relatives. Bucciarati was sitting out in the grass with You and Trish and Mista was still sleeping.

It was enjoyable being with them. Your mom and your big sister were so fun to hang out with. Your (e/c) eyes shimmered as you watched Trish smile as she painted your fingernails.

"They're looking good (y/n)!" Trish spoke as she finished up. You thanked her by giving her a big hug and sat to the side.

"My turn." Bucciarati chuckled as he sat in front of Trish. She giggled and asked him which color he wanted. He said he'd let you pick, so you asked her to do a rainbow combination with all of the colors. Her green eyes lit up with excitement, and she got the red out.

Trish was about to make contact with Bucciarati's hand when they heard shouts erupt from the entrance of their home. All three of your heads turned like a deer's. You all got up and ran to the entrance.

It was an atrocious sight. It was worse than anything you'd seen before. Hurt filled your heart and you couldn't move with how shocked you were. You felt numb, and feeling of worry flooded over your body.

Narancia and Fugo were dragging Abbacchio with his arms over their shoulders into the area. Blood was dripping down their foreheads as they shouted for help desperately.

Abbacchio's body was limp in their grasp. His eyes were shut and blood was streaming down his mouth. Following the blood with your eyes, you saw a giant white cloth that had been stained with crimson blood wrapped around his lower chest. He was somehow still breathing, and his heart could barely keep up.

Rushing over to him as fast has you had ever ran before, you shivered with fear. The two men carrying him kept on rushing as fast as they could. By this time Bucciarati was in shock, but helped them lay Abbacchio down on a bed inside. 

Unwrapping the soaking wet cloth, a medium sized hole was revealed. Tears spilled from your eyes as you fell onto the floor, sobbing. Your hands were covering your mouth, and Trish held you, trying to comfort you."

"We went to their last know location and traced their steps to about a mile from here, but we were ambushed. I-I  didn't have time to get a good look at their stands, but I used Purple Haze on them. When I turned around, Abbacchio collapsed onto the floor with a woman behind him. Her stand fists weren't very big or strong considering the fact that she didn't punch him all the way through. She was headed for me next, but Narancia used Aerosmith and killed her." Fugo said, holding a rag to his head cleaning off the blood. Bucciarati nodded, holding Abbacchio's limp hand in his own two hands while sitting in a chair next to his bed.

There was deep concern painted on his face, and very faint tears were forming in his eyes. He was trying not to show it, but he wanted to sob right there right then. Giorno wasn't around to heal him, so death was a very realistic possibility if any of his organs were ruptured.

"Fugo, Narancia, Trish,"Bucciarati strained as he tried not to stutter.

"Go wake Mista up and tell him to get his ass over here immediately. I have an idea." Bucciarati ordered the two. The two dropped their rags, and they all ran to Mista's quarters getting ready to scream in his ear until he got up.

Finally, a shining clear tear slid down Bucciarati's face from his blue eye. Abbacchio's hand met Bucciarati's lips as he softly kissed his hand. Bruno ran his soft hand down Abbacchio's face.

"Don't leave just yet il mio amore." He whispered sweetly to the unconscious man. You were devastated, and got off the floor. Looking at your father, you placed a hand on his leg, and quit your crying. Crying wouldn't make him better, so why cry over it?

His purple-yellow ombré eyes slowly opened, and his pain struck him. Wincing, he bit his lip. Bucciarati saw that he was awake, and held his hand tighter. A chuckle escaped him.

"Stay with me Leone, I'm here for you." He looked deep into Abbacchio mystical eyes which were filled with agony. Giving a slight nod, he looked at you. You walked by his side, embracing him.

"Don't you dare go just yet you bastard." He gave a hoarse chuckle.

"I'll try n-not to."

Eventually Mista arrived and saw Abbacchio's condition. His face was shocked and he stood there, not really sure what to do. Bucciarati's head was resting on Abbacchio's hand which Bruno was holding.

"Where's Giorno when you need him dammit!?" The rest of the gang stood there hand clasped together, straight posture, respectfully. They looked at their dying friend with sad eyes. Bucciarati looked Mista straight in his eyes as if he was staring at his very soul.

"Mista, make the bullets enter his wound. They're going to check for ruptured organs. If they're aren't any ruptures, we can stitch the wound back up until Giorno gets back to replace the lost flesh."

For the first time, Mista didn't make a stupid comment or complain. He got bullet number three and bullet number five to do the job. They hopped onto his chest, and dropped into the wound. Abbacchio's eyes widened with pain and he squeezed Bucciarati's hand a little more to cope with the pain.

It had been a few minutes, and the two came back up from the wound covered in sangria colored blood. A desolate expression was on their faces. Everyone knew, and Bucciarati let a few more tears fall. You felt like you were going to pass out.

Number three laughed. "Hahaha! We got you! There aren't any ruptures!" Mista immediately scolded them and told them that they would receive no dinner. Number three began to cry and number five got grumpy. A sigh of relief escaped your lips.

"Trish, stitch the poor man up." Fugo ordered.

"Why me?" She replied not wanting to get her hands dirty.

"Because you're a girl so you probably know how to sew or something." Mista said.

Trish socked Mista in the nose and made him bleed. Narancia got the things necessary for stitches, and gave them to Bucciarati. Bruno knew how to sew considering the fact that his father taught him when he was little. Working around fish hooks and sharp things all day would require that knowledge.

Bruno didn't take his eyes off of Abbacchio's wound. If he did, he would see the amount of pain he was in, and that wouldn't end well. All Bruno could hear, was hard breathing and small grunts of pain from time to time.

Once the stitches were complete, Bruno gave Abbacchio his phone. Abbacchio typed in digits onto the phone, called a number, put it on speaker, Bruno covered your ears, and everyone began to swear relentlessly at Giorno over the phone for not being there to heal Abbacchio. Giorno's phone was clearly on speaker, because in the background they heard a quiet "yare yare daze". You wondered who that could have been.

 He hung up, and had help walking to his bed. Taking some pain medicine, he slowly laid down on his bed with Bucciarati sitting besides him, and went to sleep. You didn't care that your father was hurt, you were going to enjoy the rest of your day. How you may ask? You were going to go into town and buy some frogs so you could put them in Mista's hat. You would also visit Polnareff, but the frogs were priority number one. You went right to work.

Sorry it's not my best chapter! I only had thirty minutes and I tried! I'll be sure to make this next one great. Again, sorry!