Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The Proposal

• Being completely honest, he probably didn’t even think about it until someone brought it up. More than likely it was Bucciarati seeing you with some new jewelry and asking if Leone had finally asked, or Narancia demanding to know when he was going to pop the question. That’s not to say he hasn’t considered getting married or marriage with you before, but the mafia is a dangerous job and he’s insecure, so it never seemed like a viable option. It still probably takes some light convincing from the people he’s close to, just because he’s terrified of rejection, of that much attachment to someone he could lose, etc. 
• It’s absolutely a lowkey thing. There are no huge gestures from this man- it’s just not Abbacchio’s style. He’s too nervous to screw them up anyways. It probably happens when you least expect it, when he’s so comfortable in your presence and it feels so right. Falling into your arms after a long exhausting mission, or early mornings when you remember just how he takes his coffee, down to the brand of beans. He blurts out the words without even thinking, all soft and impulsive. And it’s more of a “I want to marry you” rather than an actual “will you marry me?” 
• Panic ensues, he definitely tries to backtrack, you talk about it, it’s all good. It’s mostly a conversation about what you want, what he wants, dangers and all that, but knowing it’s worth it. Unfortunately he doesn’t have a ring because this wasn’t planned at all, but he seems like the type who’d want to get your rings together anyways. It definitely happened this way because you just make him feel like he can relax and be himself, though, which is very sweet. 

Members of the Wedding

• Being a part of the mafia doesn’t give you the privilege of having many close friends or family. If Abbacchio has remaining family, I don’t believe he speaks to them, for their safety and his own insecurity. He sincerely doesn’t give a shit about politeness or reputation. Leone has a distaste for most other members of the mafia, so you don’t have many guests or members of the wedding. 
• More than likely the wedding is confined to your actual wedding party in the first place. His best man is obviously Bucciarati, and his groomsmen are the rest of the boys, Mista, Fugo, and Giorno. All except Narancia, who demanded to be the ringbearer/flower girl, and it was safer to just let him than argue. 
• More than likely your bridesmaids are the few close friends or family you’ve gained from Passione, and Trish would probably be in this group. Even if you’re a more outgoing person who has a lot of less close friends inside or outside the mafia, I think you’d attempt to keep the number small, simply because Abbacchio really doesn’t want something big, and you want him to enjoy things as well. I can see you having someone really close, like a lifelong friend or a sister who is also involved in the mafia walking you down the aisle rather than a father, while also taking position as your maid of honor. 

Pre-Festivities

• Abbacchio honestly doesn’t want a bachelor party but there’s no way the team will let that slide. Of course Giorno and Bruno are leading this, so there’s no clubbing or anything, much to Mista and Narancia’s dismay. It’s probably something more classy. Call it girly, but the idea of wine tasting at Bruno’s restaurant sounds perfect, honestly. He fucking loves wine, would enjoy the different flavors and getting tipsy and eating some good food with his closest friends/family sounds fantastic. Again, it’s probably just the passione boys around a table. 
• You’re probably more of a party girl, but you never should have agreed to let Trish plan the party. She definitely had to be reeled in on some things, both because of budget and because of unnecessary extravagance. You’re still not getting out of something over-the-top, though. You’re renting out an entire luxury spa for yourself, her, and whatever few close friends and family in your wedding party. And Trish doesn’t do things small- you’re getting the works. Mud baths, full body massages, facials, etc. 

Planning

• Most of the wedding is your thing, honestly. Abbacchio just really isn’t one for huge, shared gestures- he’d rather get married privately and start your honeymoon early. But he’s also incredibly weak for you, and if you want a wedding, you’re getting one. 
• He’s not extremely invested but he has strong opinions on certain things, and if you ask his opinion on something he’s happy to let you know what he thinks. 
• (There was definitely some input from the other members of Passione as well.)
• Would prefer an indoor wedding, honestly. There’s way less mess that way, it’s more private, and the season doesn’t matter. More than likely your wedding is during the summer, though, so you can do more on your honeymoon. 
• Probably in a small, gorgeous little church by the sea that Trish found. Pretty tiny, but very cottagey and cute. All brick walls and mahogany pews and traditional arches. 
• You don’t follow all of the Italian wedding traditions, but you do take quite a few of them. Italian weddings are pretty close to standard American, Christian/Catholic weddings, so it’s pretty modern with some traditions sprinkled in. You and Leone aren’t wildly spiritual or religious. 
• The church has one of those beautiful stained glass window displays, and the sun shines in perfectly over the altar so it lights you both up with colors. 
• One of those stunning and charming little traditional churches with the dark tiled floors, the carved marble decor on the walls, the ornate podiums and the wooden beaming in the steeples. 
• Your actual wedding colors are a deep plum, lavenders, and cream, with some light blues thrown in. There’s so many flowers, literally grown the day-of by Giorno. It’s sort of a huge myriad of different flowers, but the main ones are plum hydrangeas, lavenders, and camellias. In truth though, Giorno has no control-
• Flowers on the arch of the door, flowers on the ends of each pew, the entire arch at the altar is made of flowers. 
• The reception is also at Bruno’s restaurant. There may be a few extra people invited that weren’t at the wedding, maybe some work people that were invited more by Giorno or Bruno rather than you or Leone, but it’s mostly just the wedding party. 
• The whole restaurant is closed down for just you and the wedding party. There is probably an area that’s cleared out for an actually open area. There’s not much else done for decoration, save for flowers added by Giorno, breaking out the nicer tablecloths and centerpieces, and some adjusted lighting. 
• I imagine you’d get an actual band, not a DJ. Abbacchio isn’t much of a dancer, obviously, but there’s something special about dancing on your wedding day, and there aren’t that many people there to see. The music is definitely lighter, but ranges from more upbeat to slow. 
• Fantastic food of many options and never-ending drinks, since Bruno literally owns the place. He does 100% cut things off at a certain point, though. Even though the wedding party isn’t that large, it is big money, and he doesn’t need everyone getting too rowdy anyways. 
• You do follow the tradition of not seeing each other for the entire day before. You literally stay at your own apartment with Trish and your bridesmaids/maid of honor- and you can’t remember the last time you actually stayed there instead of Leone’s. He stays at Bruno’s with the boys because he can’t sleep in an empty apartment anymore.
• He also buys and gives you your bouquet the day of the wedding, per Italian tradition. He specifically gets this from a flower shop, not Giorno. 

The Wedding

• The flowers and the attire are the only places your colors really show up. Leone didn’t give a shit what the others wore, and you didn’t mind different styles, but for the sake of photos you wanted things in the colors, so essentially the bridesmaids and groomsmen could wear whatever formal things they pleased as long as they stayed within the colors (and no white or cream!). 
• Abbacchio got a deep purple suit, and absolutely refused to button the jacket. You’re lucky you got him in the jacket. He wore a cream undershirt that was only buttoned up halfway, and wore black, formal shoes with a little more heel to them. His hair was up in a sleek, long ponytail, and his makeup was pretty close to typical, but wore his lighter, lavender lip instead of his darker shade, to contrast the suit and to not leave dark marks on you. 
• Your dress was an a-line dress with a thin plunging, sweetheart neckline and off the shoulder, draping sleeves. The bodice and sleeves were covered in lace flowers, which tapered down and out sporadically throughout the skirt, and the skirt was made of a soft tulle. Your hair was in loose, blown out curls, and you didn’t have a veil. You also wore heels, but mostly to reach Leone’s height a little better. 
• You picked out your rings together, so it wasn’t much of a surprise at the altar. Leone wasn’t too picky, but he didn’t want something super flashy, and honestly, you didn’t need some giant stone to feel good. Both of your rings are simple, polished gold bands, his being thicker than yours, with each others’ fingerprint engraved into them. They’re incredibly romantic, but so is Leone, so-
• The standard wedding vows, most likely in Italian, performed by a little old Italian priest. It’s not a full mass or anything, which Fugo definitely commented on, but it’s short and sweet and lets Leone kiss you sooner. 
• Also upheld the tradition of throwing rice on the newlywed couple, although Narancia and Mista might have thrown it a bit too hard. 

The Reception 

• As far as receptions go, a little lowkey. 
• 100% everyone is forced to take too many pictures. Most of the time it’s Trish taking the photos for a portfolio she makes for the both of you as well as for her own glamour shots, but there are some from Bruno or your close family or friends. Leone puts up with it for a short amount of time before getting annoyed and putting an end to it. 
• Everyone went to Bruno’s restaurant for food and drinks. Genuinely everyone’s ecstatic for food because Trish refused to let anyone eat so they’d look amazing in the photos. Narancia practically swallowed his pasta whole. 
• A lot of you repeatedly stealing wine from Abbacchio’s glass and him absolutely letting it happen, while occasionally kissing it off your lips. 
• Already doesn’t give a shit about PDA, but once he’s a little buzzed, he really doesn’t give a shit. Touching you, squeezing your waist, burying his face in your neck, kissing you- if the wedding party cares, they won’t say anything, already knowing it’ll do nothing. Truthfully, all Abbacchio really wants is to be alone with you, especially now that you’re officially married. 
• Leone really isn’t a dancer, ok? But he will dance with you a few times, if you ask. He’s such a simp, and he gives in so easy. You’ll get a few slow dances with him, pulled extremely close and intimate, but that’s it. He’s leaving the upbeat shit for Mista or Narancia. 
• There’s no speeches or anything like that, but you do get a lot of separate comments and congratulations and advice. Leone didn’t want some huge spectacle of speeches, but he’s really grateful for the kind congratulations from Bruno, or even the death threats and warnings from your maid of honor. Maybe not the sexual innuendos from a few choice people, but Leone was quick to put a stop to that. 
• There is a cake, but it’s nothing super special. Just something simple, a two-tiered cake with white icing and some plum colored accents. The top is red velvet, Abbacchio’s favorite, and the bottom is vanilla, for a more “likeable” flavor. It was made by the restaurant staff, so it’s just as good as the food. You dipped pieces of it into wine to feed to Abbacchio, a guilty pleasure he didn’t often get to enjoy. 
• Not a ton of gifts, considering the small guest list, but what was given were mostly very nice. Giorno gifted you both an expensive week-long getaway to Barcelona just to see Leone seethe, but you unfortunately wouldn’t let him give the tickets back. 
• About halfway through the night everyone’s a little tipsy and it devolves into a mixture of shouting, storytelling, and petty games like truth or dare. Mista ends up having to switch clothes with Trish (if that isn’t a blast to the past), your maid of honor spills the details about her worst lay, and Giorno ends up destroying his extra fancy shoes. Overall, it’s incredibly personal and fun, and your wedding night is made very special by spending it with your closest friends and family. 

HIGHLIGHTS

Abbacchio had been hoping he could just ignore Narancia, but the younger wasn’t giving up on starting this conversation, and it was attracting the attention of the others, so Leone sighed heavily and dropped his headphones around his neck, leveling Narancia with an irritated look. “What.” 

Narancia rolled his eyes, slamming his hands on the table, “I said , I know what you did!” Abbacchio raised a single eyebrow. He wasn’t exactly the most innocent man on Earth- but he didn’t think he’d done anything particularly deplorable recently. 

Narancia huffed irritably. “Like you don’t know! I saw the ring on (Y/N)’s finger. You finally did it.” 

Mista’s head shot up, “You proposed? Seriously?” 

Abbacchio sat up very quickly, then, caught off guard, “The fuck-”

Fugo’s eyes didn’t leave his dessert. “I certainly hope not. Marriage is a sacred ceremony. It’s not for people of your… nature.” Abbacchio wasn’t sure if he should be offended or confused, still reeling. 

“What the-”

“Abbacchio proposed? That doesn’t sound like him. They may have just decided on it,” Giorno joined the conversation, having just returned from the restroom. 

“Doesn’t matter to me! When’s the wedding? There better be good cake-” 

“I didn’t fucking propose!” Leone snarled, “What the fuck are you talking about?” He felt something like anxiety rising in his chest, unsure of what was going on. (Y/N) had a ring? From who? And why the fuck was she wearing it?

Narancia sat back in his chair, pouting, “She has a new ring on! I thought you finally did it so we could have a party and stuff.” 

“Finally? The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Leone asked, but was promptly ignored in favor of Giorno. 

“What did it look like?” the blonde questioned. 

“It was like, silver, I guess? It had this cool design, like a snake.” 

“Was it even on the right finger?” Fugo deadpanned, and everyone turned to Narancia, expectant. The dark haired boy contemplated for a moment, then shrugged. 

“What’s the right finger again?” 

Abbacchio sat back, a breath of relief escaping him. 

“ Idiota, ” Mista grumbled, “got my hopes up.” 

“What does my relationship have to do with any of you?” Abbacchio demanded, prickly from the previous scare. 

“Well, nothing, I guess,” Mista said. “You’ve just been together for a long ass time. She basically lives with you. Even Bruno’s been saying you should just get married already.” 

Even Bruno was saying that? Leone… hadn’t really given thought to it. Marriage and all that. Truthfully, he’d spent most of his life thinking he’d never find anyone he loved like that, much less someone who shared the sentiment. 

“Does it really matter?” he said, “Nothing would change. We already live together. We’re basically already married.” He reached for his headphones, intending to return to his music, when Fugo spoke up. 

“Marriage is serious. It’s an intention to lifelong commitment, before the church and the country, and anyone else involved. It’s not for having parties or receiving gifts, or other disgraceful motives,” he sneered at Narancia, who only stuck his tongue out in response, “it’s a sincere occasion for joining yourself with someone you can’t bear to be without,” he picked the strawberry off of his cake when he finished, taking a harsh bite from it. 

Voices could be heard entering the restaurant, specifically yours and Bruno’s, and the group quieted quickly. Abbacchio swiftly replaced his headphones, head full of thoughts. 

Marriage might be a little different than he’d thought. 

***

You stroked the petals of the flowers in your bouquet for what felt like the 10th time since you’d received them. It was nearly becoming a comfort, a placeholder for hands you’d rather be holding. You really didn’t understand the tradition of isolating the day before your wedding, but surprisingly enough, Bruno had been the one to insist upon it, and though you knew Abbacchio must think the action unbelievably stupid , neither of you could argue with your capo. 

He couldn’t even see you when he brought your bouquet this morning, fresh from a little shop in downtown Napoli. Trish had promptly slammed the door in his face after swiping them from his hands, returning to your hair. 

Now there you were, standing in front of those old chapel doors, still thinking it was stupid, hoping it would time already so you could just see him. At least the flowers were beautiful. They looked like Giorno’s work, a perfect mixture of types in various purples and creams, each bud in full bloom, not a wilt in sight. So unlike the flowers in your hands. It was so like Abbacchio to ignore Giorno entirely and purchase them from a place far from the blonde, despite the fact that he had little to no knowledge of floral arrangements. Your bouquet was entirely white snapdragons, because he hated cliches and so did you, and this piece of him only made you more eager to see him. 

“Alright. Ready?” your best friend asked, taking your arm. You clutched your bouquet tighter, nodding impatiently. She laughed, gesturing at Trish, who rolled her eyes, reminded you not to smudge your makeup, and opened the oak doors. 

The wind was stronger by the sea, and it blew into the church once the doors were open, the muted music finally fully audible. Salt on the air, you sucked in a quick breath and stepped inside. The first thing you noticed was that Narancia had been an absolute maniac with the flower petals, poor things crunching under your feet. 

And then your gaze trailed up, and he was there, at the end of the aisle, and- suddenly it made more sense. 

He looked so good, so alive . The contrast of his deep purple suit made him look warm instead of pale, the cut of his shirt so him . His hair was up in that high ponytail, the one you liked to put on him, and his makeup was immaculate, so he’d definitely done it himself. But fuck , his face. You saw it in his eyes, the moment he saw you, amber eyes trailing all the way down and back up, before lighting up like the sun, like he’d never been happier. His lips pulled up into that smile, the bashful, genuine one that was reserved for the most special occasions. 

Trish was gonna kill you, because tears immediately sprung to your eyes, in spite of the curve of your mouth, smiling as well. You hoped this makeup was waterproof, because there was no stopping a few stray drops falling from your eyes before you got ahold of yourself. 

You rushed the walk in order to get to that altar, to him , sooner. Your best friend just snickered beside you, meeting your pace and keeping you steady. Closer and closer, his perfect face became clearer and clearer, until you were climbing short steps and he was right there, flushed cheeks and all, taking your free hand in his calloused one, and your best friend was giving him a firm look before stepping aside. 

Everyone- every thing else was a blur. He squeezed your hand, steady and warm and so much more than you’d ever anticipated. Your vows practically flew by, quick repetition and easy words, until the rings were presented, and he was slipping yours on and you felt like crying again. 

And then finally, finally , you were finished, and you made it to ‘you may kiss the-’ before tossing your arms around his neck and pulling him in, Leone hungrily meeting you halfway with hands on your waist to connect your lips. 

His lips were soft, and warm, and inviting, like he’d been waiting for this all day, just like you had, and you couldn’t stop at one. He gripped your waist, trying to pull you closer , as if it were possible, and when you pulled back after a slightly too long moment, he nearly chased you, forehead against yours, Fugo cursing in the background. 

***

“You don’t have to,” you told him when you were eventually called to perform the “first dance” by your wedding party. Bruno had an area cleared for dancing, everyone’s involvement inevitable, and while you didn’t mind getting on the floor, Abbacchio had never been one for public performances like this. 

There was a chorus from a few others, shouting that he absolutely had to, but you steadfastly ignored it, eyes on Leone. He looked hesitant and… nervous , something he didn’t display often. 

“I- I don’t dance. I haven’t danced. Before,” he admitted, mumbling the words and staring at the embroidered tablecloth. 

“I’m not good at it either,” you told him, taking his hand and kissing the palm of it. He looked up at you, cheeks painting a pretty pink, “It’s just one dance. Then others will join us. Learn with me?” you offered. His mouth opened and closed for a second, stunned quiet, before he stood up shakily, letting you lead him into the floor. 

The band had been playing idly while they waited, but once you arrived, they started a slower, sweeter song, something easy to just sway to. You placed his hands on your waist, Leone taking to the feeling readily, put yours on his shoulders, and slowly began swaying circles to the rhythm. 

“See? You’re dancing.” you teased, and he snorted, fiddling with the lace on your skirt. 

“Thought you said you weren’t good at this,” he accused, pausing when you snagged one of his hands, backed up and spun yourself, skirt flowing with the motion, then pulled back in. 

“I’m not,” you feigned naivety, eyes drawn to and then stroking his exposed collarbone with your thumb. 

He narrowed his eyes at you, grumbling, “Wearing white doesn’t make you any better at lying,” and you laughed in response, delighting at the smirk that crossed his features. 

“This is lame,” Mista called in the background, “If you’re not gonna dance with her, I will!” the man joked, receiving a hard smack to the back of the head from Bruno. Abbacchio’s face went from playful to possessive in an instant, yanking you flush against him with one hand and flipping Mista off with the other. 

You gripped the back of his neck and his shoulder, falling into him, and he caught your weight without effort until you repositioned, tighter together than before. Not that you minded, returning to your swaying after Mista’s shouted, “Yeah, like that!” 

You laid your head on his chest, one of his hands moving to cup the back of your head against him as you shifted back and forth. The song would be over soon, and you knew you’d only get a few dances with Leone -at least not without more drinking- but you’d deeply enjoy it for now, surrounding in his arms and the scent of his cologne.