jjba oneshot type beat

Guido Mista • Sweet Apology

Mista stinks pass it on

(y/e/c) = your eye colour :)

•

"These reminded me of you."

What was assumed to be an undemanding mission, turned out to be a lot more than team Bucciarati bargained for.

Bruno Bucciarati had sent Mista and yourself to retrieve fake narcotics from a couple of delinquents, who were selling for a quick buck. It was supposed to be straightforward; lecture them, take the fakes out of their possession, maybe even throw a punch or two.

However, a whole ambush later, you ended up with a bullet through your shoulder.

"I wouldn't have been shot if you weren't so incompetent." You seethed, gripping your bloody shoulder.

Mista, juggling the rather large satchel of fake narcotics, scoffed. You both hadn't stopped passing the blame back and forth and despite your succession, neither of you were evidently very happy.

"Excuse me?" He raised his voice, his already wide eyes somehow wider. "Last time I checked, I wasn't the one they were aiming for!"

You both stormed into the back of Libeccio, straight through to your usual secluded spot.
The team were situated at the table, peacefully preoccupied with their usual things.

"I told you to cover my vulnerable side and you went and done your own thing!" You snapped, wincing.

And that peace was interrupted. The gang's attention diverted to your bickering and Bucciarati stood, without missing a beat.

"Abbacchio, medical supplies," Bucciarati urged. "what in the hell happened?"

Abbacchio pulled his headphones down, resting on his shoulders. He didn't seem pleased to of been disturbed but swiftly made his way to the medical cabinet anyways. Mista dropped the satchel heavily, opting to stand a small distance away from the table. He wasn't sure where to look, how to stand. Being angry made him practically itch.

It was odd. You both usually worked efficiently together due to your blossoming bond, so the sudden change in dynamics left Mista at a loss. Much like him, you never fully lost your temper and that seemed to make matters worse. When you were peeved, you tended to speak patronisingly and Mista would've preferred if you just screamed at him. It wouldn't have felt so belittling.

"Mista, give me a rundown please." Bucciarati prompted, steadily guiding you over to his chair to rest.

Narancia stared with wide eyes at the wound. "Ouch..."

Mista crossed his arms, physically defending himself before he verbally could. "The mission went to plan and we took the fakes with little problem, but then we were ambushed. We took care of it, but (Y/n) was shot during the fight."

Abbacchio had mandatory medical knowledge from his former job and you were thankful for that. Beginning to remedy you, his ever so prominent scowl assured you, however, that he was not pleased in having to put said skills to work.

Bucciarati inspected the fakes in the bag, nodding as Mista recalled. "Considering the circumstances, you both did well."

Mista felt an involuntary pang of guilt in his stomach, at the sound of you stifling your groans of pain. Man, he felt awful. He wasn't even sure if he was really to blame for this unfortunate incident and yet his guilt still sat waist-deep.