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 : The Reader and Chris Discuss a Holiday Card
Pairing: Mafia!chris evans x female!reader
Warnings: 18+ please.
W/C: 373
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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"You have a what coming?"
You rolled your eyes, "A photographer, Chris," you scrolled through a few different holiday card templates on your laptop while Chris stared at you from the kitchen.
"You're bringing a photographer... into our home?" He asked, raising his glass to his lips.
"Yes... we need holiday cards," you watched him as he obnoxiously sipped water from his cup.
His head shook, eyes locked on you, "But do we? I've never done holiday cards before."
You let out a laugh, finally picking a simple design to frame your picture after the photographer came, "You've never been married to me before. Come on, it'll be like 5 minutes out of your day. You already dress like you're attending a red carpet event every day, so it's not like you're going to need to change," you paused, raising an eye brow, "It's happening."
He tried to keep the smirk from forming on his face before setting his glass on the counter and sauntering over to you. He leaned down, one hand on the back of the couch, the other on the arm, caging you in, "You're bossy."
You smiled, closing your Macbook Air and gently tossing it to the other end, "you love it," you responded, reaching up and gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him down.
"You have no idea," he winked. The hand on the back of the couch snaked around your waist and gripped tight, flipping the two of you so he was on the couch and you straddled his thighs, "Do I have to be in the picture?"
Your hands raked through his hair as you rolled your eyes, "Chris, seriously? We're gonna send out a holiday card that says 'Happy Holidays from the Evans Family' and it's gonna be just me? That makes no fucking sense!"
Chris chuckled, his large hands gripping your ass, "Makes sense to me."
"It's happening. You'll be in it. I'll be in it. And we'll send it out," you shook your head, placing your hands on his shoulders, "So shush. Whatever I want."
"How long am I going to be paying for that comment?"
You grinned, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips, "A lifetime, Mr. Evans."
