Abbacchio's Daughter Scenarios

Your First Breakup

You're sixteen

Quickly placing a kiss on Mama Bruno's cheek, you left for a date. This was your-...10th? (M/f/n) was so sweet! You couldn't help but swoon at the mere though of him kissing your cheek. That was something to be kept secret between the two of you. Thankfully, he never went any further than a kiss on the cheek, but still. If Abbacchio found out (M/f/n) had been putting his mouth on you...shivers. Only shivers.

Your thoughts entertained you until you reached the park. Bathed in splendid sunlight added such ambience to the autumn-bitten trees. You found him sitting patiently by himself with two carry out boxes of divine steaming pasta. (M/f/n) waved to you and patted next to him on the park bench with a cute smile on his face. 

"Missed you!" You eagerly sat down and placed a kiss on his cheek. He turned his head slightly away with something like guilt on his pasta sauce stained face. He wiped the dollops of thick green away and tried to find the right words.

"(Y/n)...listen, I...you know I care for you a lot, right?" (M/f/n) tucked some loose strands of hair back behind your ear.

"Uh huh?" You suspiciously stuffed pasta into your starved of flavor mouth. He seemed distant. His legs crossed, his hands wiping sweat onto his pants, the way his eyes looked at you. Dissatisfied. Disappointment. Dull.

"I just feel like this isn't...I don't feel...I think we should break up," It finally seeped into your mind. All feeling was lost for you. You were a tool for him to feel love, and you were broken. He was tossing you away like the corpse of a shrew. 

"No, I get it...you're breaking up with me because you're bored with me," You forced those poisonous words out through your lips and stood up, your boxed pasta in hand. 

"That's not it-,"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me that," You spat. He looked you in the eyes, opened his mouth, but no words came out. He averted your hurt gaze, and mumbled.

"I'm sorry..." 

Your heart and been stabbed and drained of all love and emotion. You turned your back and reached into your pocket. Your fingers wrapped around the Colt M1911A1 pistol Mista had gotten you for Christmas when you were ten. Locked and loaded baby. Put a bullet through that son of a gun's head...just like your father had taught you. You flipped the safety off. Second thoughts...

"I hope you find someone who can satisfy you, (M/f/n)...also your taste in pasta sucks. Find a place that can actually cook, bastardo." You took the pasta from the box and sprinkled it sauce and all onto his new jeans. "Get pastaed," you turned your back and hurried out of the park. Your heart was hurting bad.

I...I need Uncle PolPol cuddles...or an avacado-bang! The gun's safety was still off.

"M-maledetto Mista!" It was shock at first, but You realized what had just occurred as you watched your leg spill red onto the floor. Make that two avocados... Your hand rushed to clasp your leg and was coated in the thick stuff through your stained pants. You could muster so much as a limp and tried to hurry home, every step hurting worse than the previous. Half way there. Fortunately, remaining unseen wasn't a challenge thanks to Creed and the shadows. You set sight on the mansion and its gates. Grass fields with happy green and the sparkling waters that laid right next to it. Your leg gave out on you, your head spinning like a record player. So easy to sprawl out and rest your weary head. I think...I'll just rest here for a moment...or...for a while. I dunno... The thought of closing your eyes made you internally grin, but then an important lesson Fugo had taught you reminded you that closing your eyes was stupid. Then a brilliant idea struck you like lightening. You opened your mouth wide, inhaled, and let it out.