#frmaggio

[starfelledsky]

“... Formaggio." The greeting, though curt, was not wholly devoid of warmth as Risotto looked up from the desktop computer he had been working at. He glanced at the man swiftly from head to toe to ascertain his state, before he returned to look at the screen. “You’re up early today,” was added offhandedly.

@frmaggio​

[susanofficialpage]

Oggi niente video scemi. Ieri notte ho fatto il pane, oggi ho fatto l hamburger di scottona, tagliato i pomodori fini fini e due fettine di Camembert. MEGLIO DEL BURGER KING! A voi che cibo manca? . . . . #pne #cibo #italianfood #pomodori #frmaggio #chef #ricetta #covidart #foodart #bread #tomato #cheese #burgerking #mcdonalds #junkfood #nostalgia #cucina #iostoacasa #iorestoacasa #iorestoacasaacucinare #giqrdino #sole https://www.instagram.com/p/B-CTrRAoIqo/?igshid=1h7kbhgvvtd5n

[zettaflarc-aa]

@frmaggio​ from X

Pesci was fully aware of just how badly he had messed up — a small tear in the fabric covering his left leg was proof enough. Even after they went back and he had a chance to mend it, the seams would remain as a painful reminder of that one time when he somehow managed to get Beach Boy's hook caught on his own clothing.

The moment he spoke in a thin voice, almost on instinct, as if that would diminish the magnitude of his mistakes, he knew immediately he was about to be snapped on, too. Pesci cowered in fear and shame, his eyes feeling wet all of a sudden. For an instant he envied the fate of their unlucky target — he, too, would love to shrink down to nothing and and disappear from Formaggio's furious glare.

At the mention of Prosciutto, the younger man sniffled and made an effort to pull himself together. Not only he couldn't bear to hear Prosciutto spoken ill of, but also he knew he wouldn’t approve of Pesci staying quiet instead of speaking up for himself after being offended. Prosciutto had put his trust on him, so any insult to Pesci’s competence was also an insult to his judgement.

“F-Fra said my Beach Boy will be essential for the team!” he retorted, although it didn’t sound near as intimidating as he had intended. The mere idea of talking back to Formaggio was scary and his whole posture kept betraying the confidence he tried to convey into his words. “It’s just— it’s hard to master.”

[morteesigarette]

“Quit hogging the blanket.” (ncncuranza.. when dami does let him stay and he's just complaining the entire time LOL)

[ sharing a bed starters ] @frmaggio​ / always accepting

He regretted his decision to stay in Damiano’s bed, knowing that whatever narrative he created in his head could never come to fruition. Damiano wasn’t interested in holding him tightly, kissing his neck, pressing their bodies together to share their warmth as they lazed throughout the night.

No, this was just a futile attempt at entering a castle in the sky.

“Here’s your godforsaken blanket,” Fiorello groaned, tossing it in his direction out of exasperation. Bitterness edged his voice when he spoke, curling up to the mass of Dami’s body, not giving the other a choice other than to push him away as arms tangled themselves around the trunk of Formaggio’s body. 

“If you’re taking the blanket, then I’ll use you as warmth.”