“I…” So Alice piped up with something different. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your call earlier.” It was almost an apology, but not one that helped very much. She was just trying to break the silence her sister was ignoring, because Chiara had already decided that his presence just wasn’t worth acknowledging: she was more interested in stirring the small cup of coffee by her elbow and looking down at the magazine open and folded over on the counter beside her. Feliciano knew he was watching her closely, and he knew she knew he was watching, but it was like a train wreck: he wanted to know what she’d have to say next, and he wasn’t going to let her catch him off-guard with it.
So it was a shame Alice took her turn with him instead, because even if he had been looking at her, Feliciano would never have expected the words that came out of her mouth:
“Is your wife doing alright?”
Someone bring me a thing where Romano starts kissing his lover and he doesn’t stop until he/she is woozy and love-drunk and like they don’t even have to sex because they’re just like “wow” in his arms and he’s a smug pup.
Because Romano isn’t the instigator nearly enough imo.
Whoops I OTP
It takes long enough to wake up that it doesn’t even feel like waking up anymore. It’s so quiet that just breathing together is too loud, but at the same time it’s perfect, because it isn’t even a rhythmic sound so much as a steady hum on the edge of consciousness.
The warmth is consuming, thick but light as the sensation of a cotton comforter stuffed with down feathers shifts over his bare shoulders. Something moves across his neck and somewhere, beyond the dimensions of the bed, a window is open and the breeze is coaxing him back to sleep. He can’t smell cotton sheets and city air though, because as his sense of touch returns to his limbs and the curtains of sleep remain closed behind his eyes, the first thing Feliciano does while lying face-down and barely awake is touch his lips to the soft, warm skin beneath him.
That ask is beign weird and just cut off my story for some reason *grr*
So here’s the whole thing:
Q:Trick or Treat, Sunny~! <3
Every morning she comes in at exactly 6:45 and orders a tall black coffee and a poppyseed muffin, and every morning at 6:43 Feliciano tells himself he’ll buy it for her, or at least tell her she looks lovely today, or even dare to sit at her usual spot by the window and have a chat with her.
Or maybe, as always, he’ll sit at his table on the other side of the coffee-shop with a pile of marking and tell himself that today’s not a good day, and tomorrow he’ll definitely do it instead.
She’s beautiful, he thinks, but not in that knock-em-dead kind of super-model way. She’s got that quiet beauty that shimmers and glows very faintly under the dark military green of her starched uniform, her green pants are sometimes replaced with a pencil skirt which show off long and shapely calves and modest kitten heels that are more practical than fashionable. He’s pretty sure she doesn’t wear make-up, and her flaxen blonde hair is too short for styling, but she’s utterly gorgeous.
She works in the military department of something something a block away from the coffee shop, which is another block away from where he works as a high school teacher. Usually she brings paperwork with her, but more often than not she’ll open the file and either only get about half of it done or just not bother and spend the next ten minutes enjoying her breakfast and watching the people walk by the cafe window.
But sometimes she brings a book. It’s usually a library book so it’s hard to figure out titles or genres, but on the days she brings a book she leaves her files in her briefcase and usually forgets about her muffin and coffee. She reads and reads and reads until 6:55 hits and she picks herself up and leaves with a brief nod to the barista.
It’s weird for him not to be able to talk to a woman, it’s very very strange. The closest he ever came was the day he bought a tall black coffee and a poppyseed muffin and left them on her table. Then he sat at his table and waited.
He got to 6:44 before he chickened out and took the items back, discovering that poppyseeds get stuck in your teeth and he really never will like straight black coffee.
Right now it’s 6:46 and she’s just sat down at her table, and todays one of the days she ha
I have a PhD.
Yeah, in kitting or something.
I am going to pinch off your nipples sorellona, how dare you.
I’ve got a question for you:
If you had a crooked pene as a guy, what do you look like as a girl?
… … … … … …