i refuse to watch this world cup bc there are so many awful things going on to make it happen but im just really ugh im drowning my frustrations in spamano fanfics

this is technically my second aph fic, but i havent posted the first one yet bc it still needs a lot of cutting and editing unu hopefully itll be posted by the end of the month! this one sucks since i wrote it in a rush, bluh bluh bluh

All's Fair in Love and Football

Alternate Title: Red Luigi Strikers

by luckylucyheartfilia

"There, there, you blubbering goddamn pansy."

Lovino's soothing words of comfort fell on deaf ears as Antonio simply wailed louder into his shoulder. The Italian sighed, aggravated by the complete disregard for his designer outfit but unable to bring himself to kick his boyfriend's ass for ruining it.

These kind of scenes are usually painted as romantic in movies, the Italian mused, fidgeting slightly to shift Antonio into a more comfortable position. The beautiful girl— man, nation? It doesn't matter— collapses into the stunningly handsome male protagonist's arms, and clutches at him delicately. He pulls them in close and supports them firmly, holding them tight as he whispers sweet nothings into their ears and promises not to let go as they stand alone in the rain. Shit, I'm starting to sound like Alfred. He can watch his stupid chick flicks by himself from now on.

How long had they been standing out here again? Everyone was gone, back to their hotels to mope or to restaurants to celebrate, but Lovino and Antonio hadn't moved since the very end of the game. Lovino managed to reach the pitch just in time for Antonio to spin around and throw himself in his arms, teary-eyed and mortified. It was a completely different Antonio from the last World Cup, where he was the one to catch Lovino and spin him around all excited, sweaty, adrenaline-filled and victorious. That Antonio was hot. This one was not.

Honestly, he kind of wanted to laugh at him at first. Obviously it wasn't going to be as easy as it was four years ago, and Antonio really should have known better. But the defeat by Lars' team was humiliating, and Lovino wasn't perfect either, so he'd let it slid just this once.

God, you are so lucky I'm in love with you. Lovino couldn't keep the fondness out of his eyes as he looked down at the head of brown curls nestled into the crook of his neck. His Spanish loser's crying had softened a bit, reduced to quiet sniffles instead. Idiot.

Still, it troubled Lovino how badly the loss affected Antonio. Spain had lost many times before, but this one was the hardest of all to take. If the score was 1-2, or 2-3, that would have been okay, but 1-5? Lars was a ruthless bastard.

And so, it was out of love that Lovino Vargas decided to enlist the help of several friends to carve the Spanish flag, coat of arms and all, onto the hood of Lars' precious, ridiculously expensive custom car that he had sent over from Europe.

Revenge is the best medicine, right? Or was that laughter?

"Lovitje." Emma remained cautious and threaded lightly as knocked on the door of Antonio and Lovino's hotel room, only to be surprised when it swung open easily at her touch. They clearly didn't give two and a half waffles about security. Slowly, she poked her head around the door of the room, bracing herself for the worst. "Do you know who painted Lars' entire car red and yellow? And who carved a Spanish flag onto the hood?" Well, of course it was Lovino, because anyone with eyes could see how protective the Italian was of his boyfriend no matter how much he tried to deny it, but Emma knew better than to accuse him of it directly.

"Dunno." Lovino didn't look away from the TV once, fingers mashing buttons furiously. Whatever sight Emma might have expected to see when entering, it definitely wasn't the one in front of her. Things looked relatively normal, with Antonio sleeping against Lovino's chest, a blanket draped gently over his shoulders while Lovino muttered soft curses underneath his breath. Next to them, Matthew and Alfred were sharing a blanket, although it was a rather lost cause while they were elbowing each other in the side furiously and muttering insults to each other. Francis and Gilbert were passed out on the beds, faces painted red and yellow and snoring loudly. Carlos was the final member of their group with his own blanket, but he looked like he was planning on strangling Alfred with it very soon. The four nations currently awake had their gazes completely devoted to the TV screen in front of them and the game they were playing. "He really shouldn't leave his car in places where people can vandalize it, though."

"You should probably lock the door," Carlos advised, eyes still locked on the screen. He gritted his teeth against the unlit cigar in his mouth when Alfred scored another goal. "He's going to be pissed once he realizes who did it. America, touch that ball again and I swear to Matthew's gods of maple syrup I will rip off your—"

"Let him," Lovino almost snarled, making a big show of having Luigi use his Mega Strike to shut up the two nations preparing to start a fist fight. "Bastard deserves it for making Antonio cry."

"Hey, Vins, I'm not gonna tell you what to do or anything, 'specially since I helped..." Alfred shoved Carlos away before taking a long sip of his juice box, making a loud slurping noise that cause Carlos to look at him with loathing. "...but don'tcha think ordering a hit on him is going a little too far?"

"You ordered a hit on my brother?" Emma shrieked, slamming the door to draw their attention away from the screen. Amazingly, the slumbering Bad Friends didn't even twitch. The petite Belgian was nearly livid. There were more important things than video games! How could they be talking about this kind of thing so casually?

"Settle down, Emita," the Cuban ordered, turning away from the screen for the first time to look at her along with Alfred and Lovino. "We're nations, we can't die, remember?"

"But that doesn't mean we can't get seriously injured and be forced to stay in a hospital for months!" Something clicked in her head. Why were the others in Lovino and Antonio's hotel room anyway? The one they usually ended up trashing was Alfred and Matthew's. "Are you guys helping him?" Obviously Francis and Gilbert would do anything to help Antonio and got their life force from chaos, while Carlos and Alfred were always up to messing with other people, but innocent little Matthew? The same Matthew who Lars sent flowers to every year? The same Matthew who came with his brother for moral support? The same Matthew who fawned over polar bears and hugged trees and ate nothing but donuts and maple syrup and lived in an igloo and did whatever it is Canadians do? The same Matthew who was still looking at the screen and scoring goals while the others weren't paying attent— wwwaaaait a second.

"Emma, please don't wake up Antonio. It took forever to get him to shut up and go to sleep." Antonio slept like a rock, but when Lovino dropped the subject he wanted it to stay that way. He glanced back at the screen, only for his jaw to drop in surprise as he whipped his head around to look at it fully. "Not again! Matteo, you piece of—"

The brunette in the doorway frowned as she watched three of the boys start wrestling each other, some more with the intent of murder than others while Lovino buried his face in Antonio's hair and tried not to screech angrily. She didn't like what they were planning at all, or how at ease they were about it, but it wasn't like anything she had to say could stop them. Plus, Lars was rather merciless to Antonio...

"...Can I play?" But she wasn't going to let them off the hook that easily. You're playing with the big girls now.

"Hey, hey, Luddy, Kiku! Look at this car, they must really be big supporters of Big Brother Antonio! Oh, and look, there's an Italian flag on the back! Isn't that nice?"

"Yes, it is quite a shame Spain-san lost so horrendously against Netherlands-san. But this is rather strange. I believe this car belongs to—"

"Do you two feel something odd?"

"What do you mean?"

"It feels like we're being watched."

"Oh, there's a couple of my people on the roofs! I think they're from Lovi's place, though. That's weird, why would they be up there?"

"There is Netherlands-san now, he is coming this way. I did not know he could turn that particular shade of red."

"My brother is a master of that colour, ve! His face looks kinda weird, like he ate something really bitter!"

"...Feliciano, is your brother with Antonio right now?"

"Yep! Why?"

"I think we should leave. Come on, Kiku. Don't make eye contact with the scary Dutch man, Feli."

"Huh?"

"LOVINO VARGAS, I AM GOING TO STRANGLE YOU WITH YOUR OWN FLAG!"

Up in the hotel, Lovino curled up closer to Antonio on the floor, eyes shut and listening to the comforting sounds of Emma beating the crap out of their friends in a video game, followed by the distant sound of what might have been gunshots. So maybe he'd have to seek refuge in Canada for a few months, but seeing Antonio smile again would make it all worth it.

Revenge was sweet.

nee nee mama move the fuck over you dont mess with nonna roma

calm down losers spain still has a chance jeez

the alt title is supposed to be like mario strikers. mario. italian. theyre playing soccer. lars strikes back as revenge for 2010s world cup. lovi strikes back as revenge for his boyfriend. please pretend to be amazed (luigi is the best mario bro fight me) (no one ever plays as mario willingly lets be real here)