literature

Romano x Reader: Romano and Juliet

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For the sake of this fic, S.Italy's name is Romano, not Lovino.
******************************

Arthur frowned at the people on stage. Half of them were dozing, a quarter where being perverts, and only a few were being silent; but he couldn’t remember the kid’s name. At the sight of Antonio’s shirt being lifted up by Francis, Arthur immediately announced the start of the auditions.

 

You nervously went up stage, and seemingly became a whole another person, and went into your persona perfectly.

 

Arthur smiled. He found his Juliet. He frowned at Francis, who was trying to be Romeo. He wouldn't make it.

________________________________________________________________________

“….What?!”

 

Your best friend frowned at your reaction.

 


“Come on, (Name), you got the lead! What else could a girl hope for?”

 

You glared angrily at her, and barked: “The part she actually tried out for!”

 

Your friend frowned, and asked you what part you tried out for.

 

“I tried out for Mercutio!”

 

Your friend promptly facedesked. Really. Of all the choices you could have done, you picked Romeo’s best friend who was a guy and in many fanfictions, was gay for him, but let’s not go there.

 

“Well, (Name), you’re going to have to go to practice anyway. Besides, at least you won’t be a tree.”

 

You pouted and stuck out your lower lip.

 

You friend smacked you on the head and told you that you looked like you were a sniveling llama.

You had the most epic friend ever.

____________________________________________________________________

At the rehearsal, you gaped in horror at the person in front of you who was Romeo.

 

Romano Vargas, also known as the loudmouthed, tomato eating, people cussing Italian. Who always spoke in Italian. And yelled at his brother.

 

Great. Wasn't Shakespeare English? Why would they choose him?

 

You looked to Arthur, and seeing your reaction, he sighed.

 

“I know Shakespeare was English, but I’m directing the play, Alfred can’t pronounce those words correctly for the heck of it, and Francis would probably grope you on stage.”

 

You heard a protest coming from the back, before you also detected a faint “honhonhon” coming from the same direction.

 

“Therefore, (Name), the board decided it would be best to include Romano.”

 

Looking at the Italian, you gaped in horror as he stared weirdly at you. Then he scoffed and turned away. Your eyebrow twitched in anger; arrogant bastard.

 

“One day,” you mumbled to yourself, “I’ll cut that annoying curl off your head and see how much longer you can scoff at me.

 

“Arthur?”

 

The director turned towards you, tilting his head to ask what was wrong.

 

“…I thought the title was ‘Romeo and Juliet’, not ‘Romano and Juliet’.”

 

Romano shot you a glare.


There went the peacefulness of this rehearsal.

___________________________________________________

“…I bet if the play goes badly, and the audience throws tomatoes at you guys, Antonio and Romano would dive to rescue the tomatoes.”

 

You burst out into laughter after hearing what your best friend said. She smiled arrogantly, and then directed her head across the lunchroom to where Romano and his brother were.

 

“…You know what?” Your best friend looked at you. “I bet if the audience actually threw tomatoes at us, Romano would dive in there and catch every single tomato in his mouth, and then swallow it all without getting the stage dirty.”

 

The two of you snorted. Because giggling is girly. Real men snort and grunt.

 

From far away, a sulking Romano and a comforting Feliciano were in the realm of your obliviousness. Feliciano handed Romano another tomato. Feli sighed. The two of you were pretty loud….what with your manly snorts and stuff.

________________________________________________

On the day of the actual play, you were standing up on the balcony, thinking about how romantic this really was.

 

It wasn’t romantic at all.

 

I mean, seriously, “A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet” made about as much sense “a person by any other name would be a potato”.

 

Really. What was the logic in that?

 

So, you were staring down at Romano, trying to keep boredom off of your face, when he said: “’Tis the east; and Juliet is the sun.”

 

“Great. You just compared me to a giant ball of flaming gas. How does that work again?”

 

Everyone gaped at you as you realized that you actually said that out loud. Crap.

 

Curl twitching, Romano looked up at you.

 

“It’s because you are so bright it blinds me, Juliet.” You could see that glare directed towards you by the Italian.

 

Behind stage, Arthur slammed his head into the wall. He hoped that you guys knew where you were taking this.

 

“So now you’re saying that I give off light…” You deadpanned.

 

“You are the beacon in my heart, Juliet.” He looked like he was about to murder you.

 

The play ended with the audience laughing their heads off at the supposed satire parody, and Arthur sighed in relief. That is, until Gilbert as Paris stormed on the stage and loudly proclaimed, “I’m so awesome even Juliet wants me!” And dragged you off the stage.

 

Your friend later on described your face then as a baked potato with carrots and celery stuffed inside.

________________________________________________________

After the play, Romano sought you out.

 

You raised an eyebrow.

 

“…Don’t you think that you should thank me?”

 

You gaped at the absurdness in that statement. Or question. Or whatever it was. Like a boss.

 

“…Why exactly should I do that?”

 

Romano looked away.

 

“For saving you at the play, you stupid ragazza!”

 

You stared at him like he was a complete idiot.

 

“…I didn’t need to be saved. Besides, if I did, wouldn’t I call Alfred first?”

 

Romano’s face suddenly changed, and now you could even see faint lines running down from the sky as he started sulking.

 

“…Are you sulking?”

 

He turned to look at you.

 

“Of course I’m not sulking!”

 

“Then why are there anime lines running down onto your face, a cartoon sweatdrop located in your hair and your curl just wilted?”

 

“It’s because you like that idiot Hamburger bastard!”

 

You couldn’t hold it in anymore.

 

You burst out snorting. Because only a true man snorts okay we get it now.

 

“I don’t like Alfred. Sure, I like to make fun of him when he’s scared of ghost movies, and to have him cling onto me for support, but other than that, I just take his hamburgers. It’s a win-win situation.”

 

Romano looked at you, in a deadpan expression.

 

“I mean, I get the benefit of having my ego boosted, and I get free food. Therefore, it’s a win-win for me.”

 

Then you stopped for a moment, softened your currently horrendous expression (just so you know, your friend told you that you looked like a braying donkey), looked at Romano and sighed.

 

“Although, we might get to be friends. And maybe something more after this.”

 

Romano stared blushing.

 

“Idiota.”

 

From far away, your best friend was giving a manly yell. Because squealing was girly.

What is this, I don't even

Ahah, I would like to put this in a contest for ~percabethshipper22 for this contest: countryxreader.deviantart.com/…

This is my first Romano fic, so I failed

But really, who else thinks that comparing a person to a ball of gas is not romantic at all?
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awesomegirl37's avatar
this... is... amazing XD :rofl: