“Padre! I can’t take it anymore!” The little girl moaned dejectedly, shrugging off the basket of tomatoes from her shoulders and crossed her little arms adorably, a little frown tugging the corner of her lips downwards. “I’m tired!” The sun’s scorching rays wasn’t helping; siestas were almost a must in Las Islas Filipinas, as well as in España. The sun’s heat was at its peak by noon, and it was already half past noon.
But the Spaniard was determined in keeping his little daughter harvest the plump crimson fruit known as a ‘tomato.’ Antonio spared the little girl a small concerned glance, gently shrugging the basket from his shoulders and turned to the little girl. “But mija, we still have lots to harvest! We can’t let these tomatoes go to waste, sí?” The Spaniard’s tone was gentle, but the message was clear.
She can’t get off the hook.
“Padre!” Maria Carriedo pouted, uncrossing her little arms and waved it around, nearly hitting the Spaniard’s side in the process. “Why doesn’t Lovi do anything?” Glancing behind her, she pointed dramatically at the boy napping peacefully by the trunk of a tree, wide brown eyes shifting between her father and her brother. “Have him help out, por favor, Padre!”
Antonio resisted the urge to answer that Maria was the only one willing to pick tomatoes with him, and Lovino gets a little sluggish when picking tomatoes with him. “Mija,” he still kept a gentle tone. “If it was Lovi, he would have eaten the tomatoes by now!” By now, the Spaniard knelt down on both knees and took the little girl’s hands in his, lacing his fingers with hers.
“I don’t want to pick tomatoes!” The little girl was getting somewhere closer to a tantrum, getting a little cranky when she doesn’t get her daily bouts of afternoon naps. Sometimes, he pampered her too much. “Padre, por favor?” Really, it was a hard day harvesting tomatoes. And Maria wanted her sleep.
“Mija…” He was well aware he was cracking under that adorable little pout and the wide brown eyes glancing at him, pleading for her escape from the scorching sun’s rays. “But the tomatoes…” His tone was starting to crack, his words easily trailing off the look of the little girl, aged five or six, was giving him.
“Padre…” Maria let her tone drawl, wide brown eyes getting wider and wider, and Antonio found it hard to resist the little girl’s wishes.
Antonio said no more and simply gestured the little girl along his back, lowering his height. Almost immediately, the little girl jumped on his back, wrapping her little arms around his neck as he hoisted her up, earning a little giggle from his daughter. Maria did not see the small smile on his face, but he was sure she knew. She nestled her cheek in the crook of her father’s neck, gently smiling at the Spaniard’s scent. He smelt of soap and… tomatoes, and a little bit of sweat. She giggled softly, unminding the dampness of her father’s clothes.
He led her to their favorite tree. It was the largest tree there is in her father’s home, its branches and leaves extending out to shadow themselves from the sun. Gently, he let her down, and sat himself by the trunk of the Narra tree. Its seeds were imported from Las Filipinas, transported from the harbor of Manila and had it sent to Madrid, so his little daughter might have a bit of nostalgia from home. When he patted his knees, the little girl knew exactly what the man meant.
Maria scrambled to lay herself down her father’s knees, twisting and turning about to get a perfect position, until she finally lay on her back, wide brown eyes staring back into her father’s jade green eyes. “Mi hija is tired,” he sang cheerfully, earning a small blush from his little daughter, “And papa wants his pequeña to rest as long as she wants so she wouldn’t be tired!”
The gentle, smooth movement of her father’s fingers gently lulled her to sleep. Antonio’s fingers moved in a rhythmic motion, one that could easily lull her to sleep. “Mi pequeña… te amo…” A ghost of a smile gently lifted the Spaniard’s lips, his own eyes closing in tiredness.
‘Come with me to a place
Come feel my warm embrace
There's is so much I have to give
(You don't know, you don't know)
Come feel my passion rise
There's so much I have inside
So much more life you have to live
And I never will abandon what we share
For I cherish every moment that you're near
I will never let you shed a tear for me
‘Cause every ounce of love I give to you
You're my Spanish lullaby
And I'll be your Spanish lullaby
I'll be the star that lights your night
And I'll make all your dreams come true, yeah
Underneath the starlit moon.’
--
This is a Hetalia fanfiction I did on Wattpad. I just decided to post it here!
Hetalia fans, enjoy!
Maria = OC Philippines
Lovino = South Italy
Antonio = Spain
I don't know whether to make this AU or not, but it's up to your imagination if you want them as countries or humans.
But the Spaniard was determined in keeping his little daughter harvest the plump crimson fruit known as a ‘tomato.’ Antonio spared the little girl a small concerned glance, gently shrugging the basket from his shoulders and turned to the little girl. “But mija, we still have lots to harvest! We can’t let these tomatoes go to waste, sí?” The Spaniard’s tone was gentle, but the message was clear.
She can’t get off the hook.
“Padre!” Maria Carriedo pouted, uncrossing her little arms and waved it around, nearly hitting the Spaniard’s side in the process. “Why doesn’t Lovi do anything?” Glancing behind her, she pointed dramatically at the boy napping peacefully by the trunk of a tree, wide brown eyes shifting between her father and her brother. “Have him help out, por favor, Padre!”
Antonio resisted the urge to answer that Maria was the only one willing to pick tomatoes with him, and Lovino gets a little sluggish when picking tomatoes with him. “Mija,” he still kept a gentle tone. “If it was Lovi, he would have eaten the tomatoes by now!” By now, the Spaniard knelt down on both knees and took the little girl’s hands in his, lacing his fingers with hers.
“I don’t want to pick tomatoes!” The little girl was getting somewhere closer to a tantrum, getting a little cranky when she doesn’t get her daily bouts of afternoon naps. Sometimes, he pampered her too much. “Padre, por favor?” Really, it was a hard day harvesting tomatoes. And Maria wanted her sleep.
“Mija…” He was well aware he was cracking under that adorable little pout and the wide brown eyes glancing at him, pleading for her escape from the scorching sun’s rays. “But the tomatoes…” His tone was starting to crack, his words easily trailing off the look of the little girl, aged five or six, was giving him.
“Padre…” Maria let her tone drawl, wide brown eyes getting wider and wider, and Antonio found it hard to resist the little girl’s wishes.
Antonio said no more and simply gestured the little girl along his back, lowering his height. Almost immediately, the little girl jumped on his back, wrapping her little arms around his neck as he hoisted her up, earning a little giggle from his daughter. Maria did not see the small smile on his face, but he was sure she knew. She nestled her cheek in the crook of her father’s neck, gently smiling at the Spaniard’s scent. He smelt of soap and… tomatoes, and a little bit of sweat. She giggled softly, unminding the dampness of her father’s clothes.
He led her to their favorite tree. It was the largest tree there is in her father’s home, its branches and leaves extending out to shadow themselves from the sun. Gently, he let her down, and sat himself by the trunk of the Narra tree. Its seeds were imported from Las Filipinas, transported from the harbor of Manila and had it sent to Madrid, so his little daughter might have a bit of nostalgia from home. When he patted his knees, the little girl knew exactly what the man meant.
Maria scrambled to lay herself down her father’s knees, twisting and turning about to get a perfect position, until she finally lay on her back, wide brown eyes staring back into her father’s jade green eyes. “Mi hija is tired,” he sang cheerfully, earning a small blush from his little daughter, “And papa wants his pequeña to rest as long as she wants so she wouldn’t be tired!”
The gentle, smooth movement of her father’s fingers gently lulled her to sleep. Antonio’s fingers moved in a rhythmic motion, one that could easily lull her to sleep. “Mi pequeña… te amo…” A ghost of a smile gently lifted the Spaniard’s lips, his own eyes closing in tiredness.
‘Come with me to a place
Come feel my warm embrace
There's is so much I have to give
(You don't know, you don't know)
Come feel my passion rise
There's so much I have inside
So much more life you have to live
And I never will abandon what we share
For I cherish every moment that you're near
I will never let you shed a tear for me
‘Cause every ounce of love I give to you
You're my Spanish lullaby
And I'll be your Spanish lullaby
I'll be the star that lights your night
And I'll make all your dreams come true, yeah
Underneath the starlit moon.’
--
This is a Hetalia fanfiction I did on Wattpad. I just decided to post it here!
Hetalia fans, enjoy! Maria = OC Philippines
Lovino = South Italy
Antonio = Spain
I don't know whether to make this AU or not, but it's up to your imagination if you want them as countries or humans.
