Living in this life, you've never gotten to have much say in anything. What you wear, who you hang out with, and now, who you marry and you're dreading your arranged marriage to the Italian mob boss, Chris Evans. Expecting to suffer through a life o...
Arranged Series Add-On : Morning After the First Date
Pairing: Mafia!chris evans x female!reader
Warnings:18+ only! mention of guns, violence, and killing someone, language. (Y/F/N = your father's name, Y/M/N = your mother's name)
W/C: 179
This is a work of fiction.
Italian and Italian translation in italics. (The translations were run by someone who fluently speaks Italian, if there are any corrections to be made, please let me know!)
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"Pompelmo."
You chewed on your lip, brow furrowed in concentration, "pompelmo, pompelmo, pompelmo." after a second, you pointed your fork at the pink fruit cut into small pieces on your plate, "Grapefruit?"
He smiled, nodding, "Bene. Now...pane tostato."
"Mmm, easy!" you chewed on the piece of fruit for a second before answering, "Toast."
His smiled widened, "Easy, huh?" his lips pursed as he looked around the table, "stoviglie."
You sighed, trying to follow the path that his eyes had taken, "Say it again."
"stoviglie," he smirked.
"stoviglie," you repeated, humming while you tried to translate, "It's on the table?"
He dipped his chin.
"Are you fucking with me? I have never heard that word before."
"I'm not fucking with you, I promise," he laughed again, "stoviglie."
You weren't sure exactly how long you sat there, but eventually, you gave in, "shit... tradurre."
"Quitter," he teased, "stoviglie. Cutlery, kitchenware."
You dropped your fork against the table, rolling your eyes, "That's not food!"
"I didn't say food, cara, I said things on the table."
