uelle [hetalia x reader]

lazy sunday [romano x reader]

this is a songfic k

—-lena

(///)

Sunday morning rain is falling

Steal some covers share some skin

Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable

You twist to fit the mold that I am in

As the drizzles of rain kissed your windowpanes, a lazy hand coming up to mask a yawn, the mess of auburn hair beside you moving slightly you smiled, it was a Sunday morning and you had nothing to do but relax. How perfect.

Your husband, Lovino murmured as he rolled over, amber eyes fluttering open, in slight annoyance but his frown softening seeing you.

"Buongiorno, bella" His voice was deeper in the morning, which you adored.

"Morning, Lovi" You replied, stealing a kiss. "Do you have anything planned for today?" He shook his head.

"No, not until later. But now, we can be together."

But things just get so crazy living life gets hard to do

And I would gladly hit the road get up and go if I knew

That someday it would lead me back to you

(///)

flashback

You were playing the part of an 'eager tourist' that was for sure. Camera always out, constantly snapping pictures left and right of the amazing sights of Rome. As you squinted, trying to frame the perfect shot of a fallen pillar, a voice startled you.

"Ciao." It wasn't particularly loud, but it surprised you nonetheless. You fumbled for your lens cap, that you had dropped in your confusion. In the most perfectly clichéd way, another hand reached for it, covering yours.

"Mi dispiace per te sorprendente. . . Come ti chiami?" He asked, handing the cap to you and eyeing you with amber eyes. You tipped your head, not understanding. Comprehension seemed to click, and he repeated the phrase in flawless English, surprising you for the second time.

"Sorry for startling you. . . What's your name?"

"(f/n) (l/n)" You replied, cocking your head. The Italian smiled.

"Lovino Vargas, al vostro servizio" He quipped. "At your service, in Italian." You laughed and he reddened quickly.

"What's the matter?" You asked, glancing at him. He stared at the dirt, scuffing his shoe like a embarrassed schoolboy.

"You're laughing, dammit! You're making fun of me." You laughed again, as he muttered in Italian.

"I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing. . . with you!" Yeah, that's it. You thought to yourself, smirking a little.

But as the two of you continued to talk, it was evident there was something between you, especially once he offered to give you a personal tour of the ruins.

Worked for you.

(///)

present