@larosadelanoche

larosadelanoche:

frannybonnefoy:

larosadelanoche:

frannybonnefoy:

His lips quirked at the offer, and the starts of a lopsided smile began to overtake the previously unpleasant arrangement of his face. With a short exhale of breath, issued forth as a result of almost incredulity, his hand came up to run through the loose curls of his hair in a display of half-flattered thought. “Yes…” He thought momentarily about his sister, though he dismissed it with another pass of his hand through his hair. “Yes, we certainly could.”

They continued to drink and exchange talk for a long time. Aracelis felt strangely exhilarated. At one point, very late at night, Antonio came downstairs, looking sleepy and rumpled, his hair messy. “What the hell, Ari? Do you know how late it is—oh, hello, Francis,” he said, slightly surprised. He stood in the doorway for a second longer, looking slightly lost, before he finally withered under the combined stare of the two of them and walked away. Aracelis laughed a good deal over this event, although it seemed that Francis did not find it as funny. Eventually, the time came for Francis to leave, and Ari showed him to the doorway. They stood on the porch for a second, unsure of what to do next. 

“I could stay,” he finally said, after a long minute of standing there in the warm Spanish breeze, face glowing with an agitatedly tender flush and arms refolded across his chest as if he had just arrived there like he did that afternoon. His lips had lost the faint smile that he had gained after Aracelis’ laughter over her brother had finally caught onto him just an hour before, but instead had poised themselves, parted, as if baiting his breath.

When Franny’s lips parted, Aracelis felt a surge of adrenaline course through her, and before she knew what she was doing, she had risen to her toes—for Francis was a good deal taller than her—and pressed her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck and closing her eyes in the heat and passion of the moment.

She had a brief moment of panic when Franny didn’t immediately kiss her back, but eventually he melted into her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and she relaxed, relieved. She returned his motions, running her hands into his long blonde hair. She wished that this moment would never end, that she had no other obligations to attend to, and that she and the Frenchman could just stay standing on her brother’s porch and kissing for all of eternity.

@larosadelanoche

frannybonnefoy:

larosadelanoche:

frannybonnefoy:

His lips quirked at the offer, and the starts of a lopsided smile began to overtake the previously unpleasant arrangement of his face. With a short exhale of breath, issued forth as a result of almost incredulity, his hand came up to run through the loose curls of his hair in a display of half-flattered thought. “Yes…” He thought momentarily about his sister, though he dismissed it with another pass of his hand through his hair. “Yes, we certainly could.”

They continued to drink and exchange talk for a long time. Aracelis felt strangely exhilarated. At one point, very late at night, Antonio came downstairs, looking sleepy and rumpled, his hair messy. “What the hell, Ari? Do you know how late it is—oh, hello, Francis,” he said, slightly surprised. He stood in the doorway for a second longer, looking slightly lost, before he finally withered under the combined stare of the two of them and walked away. Aracelis laughed a good deal over this event, although it seemed that Francis did not find it as funny. Eventually, the time came for Francis to leave, and Ari showed him to the doorway. They stood on the porch for a second, unsure of what to do next. 

“I could stay,” he finally said, after a long minute of standing there in the warm Spanish breeze, face glowing with an agitatedly tender flush and arms refolded across his chest as if he had just arrived there like he did that afternoon. His lips had lost the faint smile that he had gained after Aracelis’ laughter over her brother had finally caught onto him just an hour before, but instead had poised themselves, parted, as if baiting his breath.

When Franny’s lips parted, Aracelis felt a surge of adrenaline course through her, and before she knew what she was doing, she had risen to her toes—for Francis was a good deal taller than her—and pressed her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck and closing her eyes in the heat and passion of the moment.

@larosadelanoche

frannybonnefoy:

His lips quirked at the offer, and the starts of a lopsided smile began to overtake the previosuly unpleasant arrangement of his face. With a short exhale of breath, issued forth as a result of almost incredulity, his hand came up to run through the loose curls of his hair in a display of half-flattered thought. “Yes…” He thought momentarily about his sister, though he dismissed it with another pass of his hand through his hair. “Yes, we certainly could.”

They continued to drink and exchange talk for a long time. Aracelis felt strangely exhilarated. At one point, very late at night, Antonio came downstairs, looking sleepy and rumpled, his hair messy. “What the hell, Ari? Do you know how late it is—oh, hello, Francis,” he said, slightly surprised. He stood in the doorway for a second longer, looking slightly lost, before he finally withered under the combined stare of the two of them and walked away. Aracelis laughed a good deal over this event, although it seemed that Francis did not find it as funny. Eventually, the time came for Francis to leave, and Ari showed him to the doorway. They stood on the porch for a second, unsure of what to do next. 

(Fuente: larosadelanoche)

larosadelanoche started following you

my-bielarusy:

… Privyet

Hola, Señorita Belarús. How are you?

The Spanish-American War

spain-flirts-andtomatoes:

Spain: I didn’t blow up your Maine cosa-thing America

America: Yes you did, the hero will have justice!!!

America: hahahhahahahahahah you fucking loser! I got Puerto Rico, Guam, and the Philippines! hahhahahahha!

Spain: 

After that a few years later they found out it was never Spain who blew up the Maine, and America never did apologize. 

America:

Spain:

I’m so glad you just said “no homo” after complimenting me, bro.

I was real worried for a sec that I’d have to bend you over a counter and fuck you.

@larosadelanoche

frannybonnefoy:

larosadelanoche:

frannybonnefoy:

larosadelanoche:

frannybonnefoy:

A chuckle sounded from somewhere in the back of his throat, enriched by the sight of her shameless drinking. Not that he expected her to sip it, or to leave it untouched for the sake of conversation, but the vigor with which she took her shot pleasantly surprised him; it was almost friendly, and something familiar. “I have another to spare,” he joked, setting his shot glass down on the counter at his side. “and you aren’t seeing what I’m seeing~” Which, he decided, was a very pretty, rum-fueled woman.

Aracelis laughed a little. She poured herself and Francis second rounds. They talked for a few minutes more about insignificant things. Ari opened up to him, and it felt good. She hadn’t been open with anybody except her brother for a long time. After about a half an hour, Ari felt compelled to tell Francis what had been bothering her earlier. “Franny, I slept with your sister,” she said frankly, swirling her rum. “I felt like it’d be odd starting something with you after having that with her.” She looked away, a little apprehensive for his reaction.

He was unsure what to say at first. The present shot of rum had a particularly hard time going down, but he was not certain whether it was because it surprised him that his sister managed to bed Aracelis, or because he managed to get her to open up to him. He made a soft sound of understanding that lumped up in his burning throat, and paid an intense attention to the craftsmanship of his shot glass for an extended moment out of courtesy for her; he figured she would be quite flustered with the statement, and offered her some time for her assumed blush to fade back to the alcohol-pink they had both developed. Finally, though, his eyes darted up to her’s, and he said, “I admire your faithfulness.”

A wave of relief flooded Aracelis. She had feared that Francis would be angry. She supposed she wouldn’t be angry if their situations had been reversed. She smiled a little weakly and sipped her drink. “I’m hardly faithful, am I?” she said. Ari could hear the bitterness creeping into her voice. She didn’t want to be that way in front of Francis, but she couldn’t help it. Sometimes the alcohol brought it out in her. 

He nearly choked on the new shot he had taken the liberty to pour himself, a laugh rising in his throat; sputtering with alcoholic amusement. “I-” he took a moment to clear his burning throat, wipe a tearing eye, before responding with a flushed humility, “I don’t really think I’m the correct person to have a discussion with on this…” He smiled at her - it would have been terse if the alcohol had not eased his whole body, almost indefinitely - and attempted the shot again. When he withdrew from his glass, however, his face had turned moderately wry in spite of itself. “Faithfulness.”

Aracelis laughed and knocked back her shot. The drink went down much easier now that she had gotten what she had to say to Franny off of her chest. She listened to what he had to say and contemplated it, silently, for a moment. An idea wandered into her mind, and it was so unlike anything that she had ever said to anyone before that she was tempted to blame the drink. Despite how appropriate it seemed to the situation, it took her a few minutes to find the courage to voice it. “Maybe we could try being faithful to each other,” she said quietly, fighting to keep eye contact with Franny.

God damn fucking economy.