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Alternate universe where Lovino is 14-16 years old and Antonio is a 20/30-something family friend, and they're in a secret, but consensual, relationship.
Bonus points for Feliciano knowing and actually managing to keep it a secret.
This writer!anon shall do her best! And incorporate the bonus because anon loves a little Italian conspiracy. :3 I hope even if OP!Anon never sees this since it the request was posted in August, that others will like it?
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"Here you are, chico," Antonio said warmly, taking Lovino's hands and placing the tomato inside the tiny chubby palms ( ... )
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I can't wait for more! 8D
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If I may be a little picky with your grammar, whenever someone new speaks you should have a line break in the dialogue. So instead of having a solid paragraph where everyone talks it's a little more spread out and it's easier to follow conversations. It's something I had trouble with, too, so yeah.
Sorry, I've taken up all this space talking about grammar. Keep up the good work~
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and don't worry about the picky/taking up space. I kept thinking something was wrong when I was writing this but couldn't figure out what exactly --got a little too caught up in writing storyline *nervous laugh*
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Hope to see more soon! :-)
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A few days later...
Lovino winced. Gramps was going to KILL him. One would think that he'd be good at Spanish, since he was Italian, and often spoke Italian with Feliciano when he didn't want their conversation to be overheard... But well, some things were similar here and there and some things weren't. And today's pop quiz had been entirely on the things that weren't. Lovino stared at the paper, as if hoping the numbers would reverse themselves into a more acceptable score.
"Brother~~!"
Lovino hastily stuffed the paper into his pocket as Feliciano skipped over to him, waving, his friends Ludwig Weillschmidt and Honda Kiku trailing after him. Lovino's eyes narrowed. Honda was polite enough, so he could tolerate the Japanese boy, but he absolutely hated Ludwig. He still couldn't understand why his younger brother hung around such a tight-lipped, macho, idiotic bastard-who-ate-nothing-but-potatoes all day. But then again, he thought to ( ... )
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Antonio reached up and touched the top of his head, where a small paper ball was nestled in his thick dark hair. Gingerly, he unfolded it as he walked down the street toward the Vargas house. His eyes widened.
"¡Dios mio!" he cried, clutching the side of his head. "¡Qué horror!"
The string of rapid-fire Spanish that followed, bemoaning the graphite marks that butchered-nay, slaughtered!-his native language, was cut short as he saw the name in the upper right hand corner: Lovino Vargas."What was that ( ... )
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"It's a good idea, no? I'm very qualified: Spanish is my native language, I've been living in Madrid since I was your age, and I'm also studying Spanish literature in college, so you can ask me anything you want about it ( ... )
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