#and since it's been awhile and my students are currently on quarantine i offer y'all two fics today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imaginethebeautifulworld · 3 years

Text

romano x reader: in estasi

You’re certain you had never experienced bliss until you had met Lovino Vargas.

Each and every single day, he makes you smile in some way or another, his presence alone bringing a sense of inner peace you’re not sure you would have found anywhere else.

You love him for it, so much sometimes that it hurts. But he’s always giving you new reasons to fall for him, even after all this time with him by your side.

You fall a little bit more in love him whenever he gets carried away talking about his hopes for the future, words full of passion and determination, in how he still sometimes stutters afterward, his embarrassment growing when you reassure him that you could gladly listen to him talk for an infinity.

Your love overwhelms you whenever you catch hints of saffron coming from the kitchen, and seeing his grin as he throws together another meal that lets him bring out the walnut oil. The candlelight reflects off the copper faucet, and a warmth that has little to do with the double ovens fills you when he leaves lingering kisses between your shoulder blades.

You sometimes lose yourself entirely when you watch the elegant dance of his fingers when he sculpts, and sometimes you’re mildly envious of the flecks of mud clinging to him after he wanders back inside from doing yard work, yet again having forgotten or flat-out refused to wear shoes.

You’re weakest whenever you catch the soft smile he wears whenever he thinks you’re not looking, lips only just upturned at the corners, eyes inherently wistful.

You could live forever in those moments when he sighs out your name, the weight of the world finally leaving his shoulders as he collapses into you, surrendering all he is and ever has been and ever will be to your care.

You keep falling in love through the playful, carefree swing of his arm when you walk hand-in-hand through the market, in how he still firmly rests his hand on the small of your back whenever you’re both required at a formal function.

You love- and loathe- that shit-eating grin he wears whenever he teases you about your favorite shows and books, and one of these days you’re sure you won’t be able to resist smacking away that smug, triumphant grin when he surprises you with expensive (yet always pleasantly thoughtful) gifts.

You could live forever just to listen to hear him singing when he washes dishes, trying to distract himself from how much the water disgusts him.

You love that he rarely resists any opportunity to dance, happily whisking you away before you can even think to agree to it.

You love watching his eyes light up when he talks to Felice and Cello, in the soft, fond smile whenever he’s “arguing” with Toni.

You utterly adore the way he always kneels to speak with the local children, in how he seemingly knows each and every one of them by name. You can’t help but feel a flicker of warmth when he waits with them, always making sure that they have a guardian nearby before he’s comfortable enough to leave them again, your heart aching when he later confesses that he never wants a child to feel as alone as he once did.

You’re breathless every time starlight kisses his irises, his smile wide and bright as he guides your hand along the sapphire sky, tracing the sparkling constellations, his voice low and quiet as he tells you tales of sorcerers and dreamers and explorers long forgotten by history.

You melt when faced with his delicate cartography, breathless and wanton as he maps out every ridge and blemish with gentle fingertips and lips, constantly murmuring how perfect you are, complimenting you even when you look a mess.

You’re grateful how, any time you fight, he visibly restrains his temper, keeps himself from saying anything that could truly hurt you.

Maybe it’s wrong, but you also love when his jealousy shines as possessiveness, a withering scowl and the firm weight of his arm filling you with twisted satisfaction that you are his and he is yours.

And dammit; you’re kind of addicted to that dark flicker in his eyes whenever he whispers temptations in passing, and the soft smirk- the damnable wink- as you try to catch your breath and return to the conversation with your friends.

But his softer moments-

His bemusement whenever you bicker with him, casually, carelessly tossing insults and senseless jests-

How he’s learned each of your favorite recipes, is always willing to try something new just to see your smile-

How he lends a hand to the neighbors without a thought, clearing his weekends to help with every harvest, and constantly offering to pick up groceries for the elderly couple the next farm over-

The way his mouth is usually open in his sleep, always just shy of snoring-

-you love those softer moments, too.

You adore the inflection in his voice whenever he mocks any of the other Nations, tempered by the warmth of his gaze as he talks about that crazy, eclectic family.

You love how he holds you while sitting in the ugly couch you had ironically suggested buying, cradling you gently in his embrace, how tenderly he whispers he adores you, shaping your name like a prayer whenever he breathes it against your skin.

You love how he has never treated you as anything less than his equal, how he’ll never hesitate to ask you for your opinions or advice.

You love how he has come to bond with your loved ones, how he makes time for them as much as he does his own family. You especially love his valiant efforts to let them come visit, in spite of his social anxiety and general prickliness.

And there’s something so edifying and pure in seeing his vulnerabilities- like how he always trips over himself in the mornings to go make his espresso, hair a disheveled mess of curls you secretly wish he would never straighten, the first of a dozen yawns making its appearance.

There’s something utterly divine in the languid way he sometimes kisses you, hovering centimeters away from you as his eyes- every impossible shade of citrine and topaz and verdite and cassiterite and enstatite- dart between your own with unbridled affection, a fragile reverence that steals your breath long before his lips have even brushed against your own.

There’s a feeling that teeters on the sublime whenever he brushes a kiss to your temple, whispering a soft “Ti amo” as his arms wrap around you, the warmth of the sun caressing you both in the quiet morn.

And even now, as he’s cursing up a storm and trying to weave around the cats on the way to their food bowls, earning your laughter over all the chaos (and a particularly rude gesture from him in return), you can’t quite shake the fondness away.

You love him- Stars above, do you love him- so much it sometimes aches.

“Bliss” and “peace” and “contentment” and “complete and incandescent happiness” may sound oxymoronic to outsiders when used in conjunction with his name, but really there is no other way to describe how he makes you feel, to describe just how much you’ve come to love him-

This utter disaster of a man, who trips over air, who often fumbles for his words, who disguises his affection with cheek and superiority-

You love him.

You love Lovino Vargas.

The man who makes you feel like the most important person in the entire Universe.

312 notes · View notes