Exasperating°•°•°

Idea of the scenario :

They were both arguing and Carlo start scolding/ arguing with her in Italian but she doesn't understand it so suddenly she start yelling at him random simple Italian words she learnt from him but words that had completely no context with the argument like random "mama mia ; mozzarella ; pasta ; Ferrari" etc...

Carlo was flabbergasted at her at first and soon just abandoned when she threw random Italian words at him, having an exasperated expression yet he laughed softly at her cuteness of trying to argue back at him in Italian.

The oneshot :

Carlo stormed into the expansive living room of their luxurious villa, his tailored suit jacket hanging off one shoulder and his tie loosened like a noose he was itching to rip off.

His dark eyes, sharp as knives, locked onto [Y/n], who sat perched on the edge of the velvet couch with her arms crossed and an expression that screamed defiance.

"[Y/n] !" He growled, his voice like thunder echoing through the marble halls.

"𝐓𝐢 𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨, 𝐧𝐨, 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐢 𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐢 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐢 ! 𝐓𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐭𝐮𝐚 !"

(Use google translate just like I did, I'm too lazy to do it.)

His hands flew up in a cascade of dramatic Italian gestures as he paced the room like a caged lion.

[Y/n] blinked at him, her lips parting slightly. "...Carlo. What did you just say ?"

"You heard me !" He snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut steel.

"No, I didn't ! I don't speak Italian, remember ?!"

Carlo groaned, switching briefly to English, though his voice was still heated. "I said you shouldn't stick your nose into things that don't concern you ! Do you have any idea what you've done ?"

[Y/n] leapt to her feet, her arms waving in frustration. "Oh, forgive me for caring, [Y/n] ! Maybe if you actually told me what was going on, I wouldn't have to 'stick my nose' into anything !"

But instead of responding, he launched right back into Italian, the words tumbling out of his mouth like bullets from a machine gun.

"𝐌𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐥'𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐢 𝐃𝐢𝐨, [Y/n], 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐢 𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐞̀ 𝐮𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐨 ? 𝐍𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐮𝐨𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞—"

[Y/n] threw up her hands, cutting him off. "Carlo ! Are you even listening ? I. Don't. Speak. Italian !"

He kept going, entirely ignoring her protests.

"𝐌𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 ? 𝐌𝐢 𝐟𝐚𝐢 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐫𝐞 ! 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐞̀ 𝐮𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐜𝐨, 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 ! 𝐄̀ 𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐢 𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚 𝐨 𝐝𝐢 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞 !"

[Y/n], now utterly exasperated, did the only thing she could think of. She jabbed a finger in his direction, stood up straight, and yelled back, "Oh yeah ? Well... Mamma mia ! What do you think about that ?"

Carlo froze mid-step, his hands pausing in mid-air as he stared at her. "𝐂𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐚 ?"

She wasn't finished. "Yeah, you heard me ! Mozzarella ! How about pasta ! You like that ? Ferrari ! Cannoli ! Spaghetti ! What else you got, huh ?"

He blinked at her, completely flabbergasted. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Oh, I'm not done !" She fired back, her confidence growing as she watched his expression shift from anger to utter confusion.

"Tiramisu ! Gondola ! Lasagna ! Bet you weren't ready for that one !"

Carlo opened his mouth to speak but found no words. Instead, he simply stared at her, his dark brows furrowed as though trying to process the absurdity unfolding in front of him.

"Amore..." He finally murmured, shaking his head slightly.

"What ?" She said defiantly, folding her arms across her chest. "You wanna argue with me in Italian ? Fine ! 2 can play that game, mister !"

Carlo pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath in Italian– probably a prayer for patience.

But as he looked at her again, standing there with her chest puffed out, ready to hurl another round of random Italian words, he couldn't help it. His lips twitched.

A laugh– low and soft at first– escaped him.

[Y/n] squinted at him. "Oh, so now you're laughing ? What's so funny, huh ?"

That did it. He threw his head back and laughed, the sound rich and deep, filling the room. His shoulders shook as he tried to compose himself but every time he looked at her indignant expression, he lost it all over again.

"[Y/n]", he said, finally managing to breathe, "are you seriously trying to argue with me using random food names and... Ferrari ?"

She huffed but her lips twitched as if suppressing a smile. "Well, it got your attention, didn't it ?"

The Mafia boss stepped closer to her still chuckling as he cupped her face in his hands. "Amore, you are completely impossible."

"And yet, here you are", she shot back, her smirk now fully blossomed.

He tilted his head, his dark eyes softening as he gazed at her. "I don't know whether to yell at you or kiss you."

"Well", she said playfully, leaning in, "you were doing a lot of yelling already, so..."

Carlo shook his head, his smile widening. "You drive me insane, [Y/n]."

"Right back at you, boss man."

With a resigned laugh, he pulled her into his arms, resting his forehead against hers. "Next time, if you want to argue in Italian, at least make it make sense. Mozzarella ? Really ?"

[Y/n] giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Don't act like you didn't love it."

He let out a dramatic sigh though the corners of his mouth were still curved upward. "What am I going to do with you ?"

"Keep loving me ?" She suggested with a cheeky grin.

"Always", he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

And just like that, the storm passed, leaving only laughter and love in its wake.

[Y/n] leaned back in Carlo's arms, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she tilted her head.

"You know, if you really want to argue, I can always Google more Italian words. I'll start throwing out stuff like... Colosseo ! Or wait, isn't there a famous Italian artist ? Da Vinci ! There, how's that ?"

Carlo let out a mock groan, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Please, amore mio, don't butcher my culture any further. The Colosseo doesn't belong in an argument and Da Vinci wasn't part of this conversation."

She smirked, poking him lightly in the chest. "Oh, come on. Admit it– you love it when I speak your language."

His lips twitched, betraying his attempt at seriousness. "If you think yelling mozzarella at me qualifies as 'speaking my language', then we have very different definitions."

She shrugged, stepping out of his embrace and walking toward the kitchen with an exaggerated sway of her hips.

"Well, you're the one who decided to marry someone who doesn't speak Italian. So technically, this is your fault."

He followed her, his hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze softening as he watched her rummage through the cabinets.

"You do realize that half of what you said wasn't even insults, right ? You were basically listing foods."

"And ?" [Y/n] called over her shoulder, pulling out a box of pasta. She held it up with a triumphant grin. "Look ! I'm in theme !"

He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorway with a smirk. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously adorable", she shot back, tossing the box onto the counter.

He crossed the room in a few quick strides, trapping her between the counter and his chest.

"Oh, you think you've won this little argument, huh ?" His voice was low, teasing, as he leaned closer, his dark eyes locking onto hers.

[Y/n] blinked up at him, feigning innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just over here, planning dinner."

She gestured to the pasta, her lips twitching. "Do you want spaghetti or ravioli, signore ?"

Carlo chuckled, shaking his head as he cupped her chin in his hand. "You've got a smart mouth, you know that ?"

"Why, thank you", she said sweetly.

His thumb brushed over her cheek as he gazed at her with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "It's a good thing I love you. Otherwise, I might actually lose my mind."

"You're already halfway there", she teased, standing on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his.

(Carlo's stomach : 🦋🦋🦋)

He sighed, resting his forehead against hers once more. "Why do I even try to argue with you ? You always find some way to twist it into chaos."

"Because you secretly enjoy it", she whispered, her tone smug.

Carlo pulled back, giving her a long, meaningful look before a rare, genuine laugh escaped him. "You're impossible, [Y/n]. Truly."

"And yet", she said, mimicking his earlier words with a wink, "you married me."

He shook his head, stepping back and throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "Fine. You win. But only because I have a weakness for your insanity."

She grinned triumphantly, grabbing the box of pasta again. "And don't you forget it. Now, how about some spaghetti alla vittoria ? That's Italian for 'victory spaghetti'."

He rolled his eyes but the corners of his mouth lifted in another smile. "That is absolutely not what it means."

"Sure it does", she quipped, tossing him a cheeky grin over her shoulder as she started boiling water.

Carlo sat at the counter, watching her with an exasperated but thoroughly entertained expression. "You're lucky you're cute, amore mio. Otherwise, this would be grounds for divorce."

[Y/n] laughed, turning to blow him a kiss. "Admit it, Carlo. You wouldn't know what to do without me."

He shook his head, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "Oh, I'll admit it. But don't push your luck or I'll start arguing in Sicilian next time."

"Bring it on", she challenged, brandishing a wooden spoon like a weapon.

•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

(A/n) : Give me names for Italian or just Mafia men ! I'm out of ideas, naming the characters aren't my thing, that's for sure.

See ya ! 😘