Summary: Your dreams of kissing your small town life goodbye are about to come true when an unexpected detour leaves you stranded. Meeting the handsome local mechanic has you rethinking your plans. Perhaps happiness is less about where you’re headed and more about the people you meet along the way.
Stepping away you grasped one of his hands in yours while the other slipped the key into the lock and turned. You stepped inside but before he could cross the threshold, he stopped, causing you to look back in question.
“Y/N. Are you sure?” he asked.
You stared at him a moment, his hair mussed and pupils blown wide in lust. Mostly likely, you looked just as wrecked from only a kiss. You needed more. With a nodded, you pulled him forward and shut the door behind him. “I’m positive.”
The moment the lock slid home, his arms were around you with soft, plush lips caressing yours. Bucky’s large, calloused hands brushed down the side of your neck, then teased just under the collar of your shirt down toward your chest. As your fingers worked to unbutton his shirt, his fingers did the same with his mouth never leaving yours.
Characters: Reader (Special Agent Y/N Singer), Sam Winchester, Special Agent Castiel Novak, Dean Winchester, Cindy Stevenson (OC), Ella McKenzie (OC), Rowena Coven,
Pairing: AU Dean x Reader (eventually)
Warnings: Mention of character deaths, Mention of murder, slight violence,
Word Count: 4500ish
A/N: This is a serial killer AU of sorts. Not the typical kind, but it has all the deaths and violence this kinda AU bring with it. It was sorta inspired by Criminal Minds and that is why my agents are profilers.
This series will have deaths, violence, love, heartwarming moments and everything in between. I am hereby warning you for yet another rollercoaster ride led by me ;)
You sipped your coffee as you went over the case files again. You hadn’t seen your friend for a long time, and honestly you felt a little shitty asking him for a favor like this. It was something you would have to live with though. If this Dean Winchester guy could help you pinpoint the location the kill shots steamed from, then maybe you could actually make some headway in this case before a 3rd victim turned up. Ella McKenzie had turned up 7 weeks ago, and Cindy Stevenson, 3 weeks ago. If the unsub was sticking to that pattern, it didn’t give you and Cas a whole lot of time to find him before another girl went missing.
You were deep in thought, reading the coroner’s reports over and over again, as well as the initial police reports, searching for any possible link between these two women. You were so far away in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice the 6’4” man smiling at you from the doorway. You didn’t hear him approach you, and he didn’t make himself known to you before he was leaning down over your chair half whispering, half talking into your ear.
“Looking good G-woman.”
You nearly jumped of the chair, your hand instinctively flying to your gun, as your eyes finally landed on the long-haired man, holding his hands up defensively before him with a huge grin on his face.
ATSF 2921 at its New Home! by Dom Blevins Via Flickr: ATSF 2921, a 4-8-4 Steam Locomotive built by Baldwin Locomotive Works sits at its new home, the Modesto Amtrak Station! Starting in October, there will be a train exhibit featuring this locomotive here at the station!
For the next couple weeks, all you could think about was the night Tesla dragged you out to that dinner. You tried your hardest to busy yourself, but your mind always wandered back to the thought of Steve. Having not seen him since that day, you couldn’t help but wonder what his intentions were. His smooth voice and the way his breath hit your ear would haunt your dreams on a nightly basis. You tried to get a grip on it. Being sure that you were just thinking too far into his advances, you avoid telling your friends these feelings at all cost. That was until you found yourself sat in the living room with the only person that you thought could give you some insight.
Reita: super kind regards ! 🤘🏻 Reita: it’s been around the fourth time I’ve been given the honor to grace the front cover with my face. this time we shot with a steam punk theme 🤘🏻we eventually chose this one for the cover ✋🏻 the release is on august 18 so make sure to take it with you on your trip to conifer! 👀 (image 1) Reita: you’ll be able to feel open and free with these summer festival type designs! if you get them online you can start wearing them before the LIVE! 🤘🏻(image 2)
Another shot of the steaming lake, this time with the Milky Way in the background. I did the light painting a little different for this shot, making the flashlight brighter and only briefly illuminating the steam, essentially making it a shorter exposure so there was less motion blur and some more detail to the gaseous streams floating just about the water.
I do not expect chapter 2 of Bid Ye Soft Farewell to be up until next week (My SO is in town and I haven’t seen him in a while). SO, I’ve created this silly little ficlet in the meantime. Kind of crazy, kind of out of character. But I had a hell of a good time writing it! Hope you enjoy!
Latte, extra hot. Okay, 2 pumps caramel, 3 pumps hazelnut. 2 shots of espresso.
Steam milk for extra 20 seconds and a caramel drizzle on top…
Beauchamp. You’re a goddamn coffee wizard.
“Caramel-Nut Latte for Duncan!”
I had been working for Mrs. Fitz
for nearly a year at this point while putting myself through school. Though I
loved the work that I did at university, there was always something so
comforting and homey about the café. Perhaps it was the mismatched green walls,
the exposed brick. Perhaps it was the baubles thrown haphazardly on the
shelves, or the odd paintings Mrs. Fitz liked to pick up at second-hand shops.
(The one with the chimpanzee queen was my favorite). Perhaps it was just the
constant smell of coffee that reminded me of my Uncle Lamb– God rest his soul.
It was an odd little place, but it was mine. I belonged here.
As if conjured by my own thoughts,
I heard the tell-tale backfire of Mrs. Fitz’s ridiculously old car. She really needed to upgrade.
“Ooooh, Claire, lass! Come help me
with the milk! I heard we were runnin’ low, so I bought three crates full!!”
Mrs. Fitz was terribly excited about that milk. I, however, did not share in
that joy. I knew “helping” in this case meant “carry them all in for me.”
“Aye, aye, Captain Fitz,” I saluted
her before going into the trenches. Or the trunk of her car. They looked
similar at any rate.
She was making herself a latte when
I walked back in with the third crate of milk.
“Mrs. Fitz! I’m utterly shocked
that you would waste company products for your own use!” I placed my hand over
my heart dramatically.
“Ach. I bought the stuff. I’ll do
wi’ it what I please.” And with that she took a sip, smiling the whole time.
Should I tell her she had foam on her lip? “Help yourself? I need to speak wi’
ye for a moment.” I waved her off.
“I’m all right. What’s going on?”
“My nephew is moving back into
town, and he was needin’ a job. I told him he could work here. Could ye train
him a bit? Show him how everything works?”
“Mrs. Fitz…” I was feeling extra
“I am appalled that you would use your position as owner and operator of
this establishment to hire those you are close to. Where is the democracy?”
“Tis no a democracy. Tis a
dictatorship.” Mrs. Fitz was the great-auntie I never knew I wanted. I couldn’t
help but laugh at her wit.
“Of, course I’ll help. When is he
“This Saturday, he’ll be back.”
“I’ll be here. Oh, and Mrs. Fitz?”
“You’ve got some foam on your lip.”
Saturday mornings were slow
mornings. No one had to be at work. Well, besides me, I suppose.
I was leaning against the counter
when the overhead door bell jingled. Perk
up, Beauchamp. Don’t look like a slacker.
“First customer of the day! Congrats!
What can I get for you?” I looked up at the man. I mean, really up. Could a man really be that tall, or were two kids
pulling a Little Rascals on me? He
leaned down, elbows on the counter. Now, I could really see him. Red curls.
Blue eyes. Freckled nose. Was he made out of marble? I had never seen features
“Are ye Claire?” His voice was like
the honey I put in my Darjeeling.
“Yes, I am. Who wants to know?”
“I do. I’m Jamie. Mrs. Fitz is my
great-auntie. She said ye’d be helping me? Learn, I mean.”
“OH! Of course! I’m sorry. Come in,
come in,” I said as I lifted the flip-counter. He ducked under my arm to get
through. “Sorry, that was a bit awkward. You could have lifted it yourself.”
“Aye, it’s all right. I appreciate
the chivalry, madam.” He drew out the word ‘madam’ as long as he could. I bowed
in return. He chuckled. We were off to a good start, here.
“So, Jamie what to you know about
coffee?” His cat-eyes went totally round at the question.
“Well, ye drink it.”
“Mmhmm. And have you ever made
coffee before?” I was skeptical that he had even heard the word coffee before
“Aye! I make it every day in my
“Bunns are for shmucks. This is the
big league. Can you handle it?” He faked a look of concern before turning his
attention back on me.
“Aye, I think so.” He nodded as if
trying to convince himself.
“Can you take the heat?!” I was
starting to sound like a coach, and he, my star player.
“All right! Let’s start with
espresso, shall we?”
“So, you’ve grinded the espresso
beans. Now what?”
“I put it in the machine…”
“No, no! You’re missing a step!”
“I tamp it!”
“Yes!” Jamie was a quick learner,
his brain absorbing the things I said and did. Like a big ole ginger sponge.
“You’re really getting the hang of it, especially for someone who didn’t even
know what a tamper was when he woke up this morning.”
“It looks a bit like a weapon.” He
rolled the bell shaped instrument in his hands.
“Perhaps to people with violent
tendencies,” I said, giving him a pointed look. He just rolled his eyes. “How
about you try to make yourself a latte or cappuccino?”
“Nay. I dinna drink lattes,” he
answered distractedly, still playing with the tamper.
“Have you ever tried one?”
“No. I’m a simple man. Dark roast.
Two sugars. Extra cream. These other drinks, they’re much too fancy for me.”
“Oh, Jamie,” I whined. “Be
adventurous. Live a little!”
“Aye! All right! If it’ll get ye to
stop squealing like a wee hog!”
“Did you just call me a hog?” I
should be offended shouldn’t I?
“No, I said ye were like a hog. Big difference.” Yeah,
“Oh, well. Of course. Huge difference.”
“Oh, come, Sassenach. I was only
teasing ye.” Oh, no, Mr. Fraser. You would not get off that easily.
“I know,” I mustered to most
dejected voice. “No, big deal, right?” Could I fake cry right now? That would
be the icing on this revenge cake.
“Claire, lass. Truly. I dinna mean
it. Ye’re no like a hog. Ye ken that right?” God, that sincerity was killing
me. I’d have to put him out of his misery…
“Oh, I know,” I perked up with a
huge smile on my face. I’m pretty sure I was showing top and bottom teeth. Realization cam over his face.
“Ye’ll pay for that. Make no
“Bring it on, Fraser,” I crooked my
fingers at him, and then quickly let them fall. “Later. We have a task to
“Which would be…?”
“You. Drinking some frilly, fancy
coffee you wouldn’t have otherwise.”
decided to make Jamie my favorite specialty latte. 1 pump chocolate. 2 pumps
almond. 2 pumps coconut. 3 shots of espresso. Extra hot. Whipped cream and
chocolate drizzle. I handed it to him hesitantly.
“What did ye put in this potion?”
“Just drink it, Ron Weasley.”
He took a small sip, smacking his
lips a bit and licking cream off his mouth. That
motion was a bit distracting.
“So…?” He contemplated for a
second, eyes studying the ceiling.
“Weel, tis a bit sweeter than I like…”
“But, it’s no bad. Well done,
Sassenach.” I blushed prettily and batted my lashes.
“They do say I make the best coffee
in town.” This wasn’t a lie. Some people did
“Do they now? Well, I’m glad I was
adventurous and tried one of your frilly lattes.”
“Good.” We sat in silence for a few
moments, as customers milled around. He was sipping coffee. I was day dreaming
about that argument I had with a customer last month… What an arse.
“Claire.” Jamie broke me from my
“Jamie,” I answered just as
“Since I’m being daring, I’d like
to ask ye a question.”
“Um, sure.” Weird, but okay. He
took a deep breath.
“Would ye like to go to dinner wi’
me sometime?” That was definitely not the question I was expecting. I was
thinking more along the lines of ‘Not to be rude, but why does your hair look
like that?’ or ‘Can you help me bury a body?’
“Dinner. Wi’ me. Tonight, possibly?”
“I wasn’t expecting that, but yes.
Jamie, I would love to have dinner with you.” I pleasant surprise, that was.
“Thank God. That could have been embarrassing.
Is 7 okay?”
“7 sound perfect.” Jamie Fraser,
prepare to get the pants charmed off of you.
prompt: I saw that you like au’s so I was wondering something like where Fionn just works at the coffee shop like how he said and y/n is a new employee and he kind of shows her around and trains her and they end up getting the same shifts every week so they grow fond of each other but after a while of Fionn or y/n asks the other out and it’s all cute/awkward. Thanks xx
author’s note: sorry I’ve been MIA, but I’m in the mountains with my girlfriend and her family! The wifi is spotty at best so I haven’t been on as much as I’d like to be! We’re leaving on Saturday so trust me, I’ll be back soon! I hope this can hold you guys over for the next couple of days though! This was super fun to write and it ended up being a bit loner than I anticipated but oh well! xxx
I went down to the point to try and get some shots of the lake steaming under the stars, and I was lucky to catch a meteor streak across the sky while I was trying to figure out the best way to illuminate the steam coming off the water. After checking out the 2016 meteor shower schedule, it looks like this was either a late Perseid meteor, or a random straggler. (The Perseids active peak ended August 26th. I shot this on September 3rd and the start of the next active shower was a moth away.)
Pairing: Taeil x reader Genre: fluff, barista!au Warnings: none Word count: 1,473
Truth be told, you were never the type to be overly crazy over coffee. Yes, you liked it and it came in handy when you needed some extra energy to finish a project or even binge watch a couple of seasons of your favorite show. But you were never the type of person that couldn’t function without it.
That was until your friend had dragged you all the way to this secluded little coffee shop that you had to try. The interior was very nice, the lighting low casting a yellowy light in the room, making it look warm and cozy. A big old jukebox rested against the brick walls, with a big stack of vinyls next to it. Instead of chairs, there were small brown loveseats, that really added to the homey feeling of the cafe. And your friend was right, their coffee was great and so was their chocolate cake.
However, that was not the reason you kept going there. You had set your eyes on the cute yet mysterious barista. All you knew about him was that his name was Taeil and that he never smiled, not once. Even when you told him tragic coffee puns, his lips wouldn’t even twitch. So you were set on getting him to smile and maybe ask him out on a date too. Whenever you went there alone you always sat on one of the stools at the bar, pestering the good looking barista but only getting short or one worded replies.
So I work in a cafe-restaurant in a shopping centre, we have the area where we take people’s orders where we have tills and a big menu, and then around the corner we have a bench area next to the coffee machine where we put the food/coffees so the waiters can take them out to the tables. This area being relatively open means that people mistake it for where they’re meant to order, and I get it, it is a little confusing. But so many times I’ll say “are you looking to order?” So I can point them in the right direction (literally a metre to the right) and they won’t even say yes, they’ll just start ordering. My dude, my hands are full making coffee shots and steaming milk, I’m obviously busy, I’m not sure how you think I can possibly take your order? I don’t have a till or an eftpos machine or even paper to write your order down? The most frustrating is when we have a huge line of people at the till and they STILL come up to me and try to order when the line is so obvious. We’re a chain so I’ve worked at two different stores and it happens constantly at both it’s so frustrating, just think for 2 seconds!
Watched Holes and got an idea. All the fluff for you guys.
“I can fix that!”
It was Holtzmann’s preferred mantra since…well, since she’d first closed her little fist around a screwdriver at five and started making “repairs” to appliances around her home. Growing up, her mother heard that more than “I love you”—only slightly more on account Jillian was an affectionate child. It began as something said with a grin that showed too much teeth, a giggle trailing on the end like a kite caught by the wind. Innocent. Welcome. Laughed at during family gatherings and awed at during community functions. It was a novelty.
But childlike innocence was not something long meant for this world. Like snow, the delicate and fragile beauty melted under the heat of forced maturity. Childhood was fleeting. The bumps and tumbles of a child, once seen as amusing or adorable, morphed into annoyances met with sharp reproaches and sometimes sharper hands—depending on the family member. The smiles disappeared, replaced with deep scowls and louder voices.
Holtzmann quickly learned that the playfulness of her mantra had to stop. She couldn’t say it with a confident smile and expect a hand not to fly at her when she took apart her uncle’s TV and forgot to solder the right wires back into place. She couldn’t roll it off her tongue with a giggle when she experimented with her cousin’s dirt bike and wound up with three leftover screws after reassembling the engine—it had caught fire and she’s caught hell for it. And she certainly couldn’t pull off a playful wince when she’d disassembled a washing machine from the inside out and the local laundromat, flooding the tiny building with enough suds to make Mr. Bubble proud.
“I can fix that,” turned into a plea for more time. For leniency. For forgiveness. Oftentimes pushed from her lips with a blanch in her shoulders and a raised hand to ward off a blow. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. But she always tried. Her mother and father understood. They’d birthed a curious child with curious tendencies, but the world was far less understanding when that same curious creature undid its careful stitching.
Matteo appeared out of nowhere. Luna
hadn’t even been lost in a daydream again, her boyfriend just had a talent for
sneaking up on people. Or, specifically, for sneaking up on her.
“Hello”, he muttered into her ear
from behind, causing her to shriek in surprise. Clasping her hands in front of
her mouth, she looked around to check if any of the other students were
looking. Luckily, they weren’t.
“Oh my… chico fresa! What are you
“Just saying hello to my beautiful
girl, if you’ll let me.” His grin – although she saw it for the millionth time
– made her stomach feel giddy, like jelly. “Of course”, she replied. With a
quick peck on her forehead, he pulled Luna into a hug. Her arms wrapped around
his back while she took a deep breath, taking in his perfume. Nothing in this
world compared to being embraced by the warmth, the comfort and the sense of
home Matteo provided and she found it hard to believe she could enjoy this all
the time now. She wanted to stay like this forever.
However, Matteo had other plans.
“Luna, I know you’re a big hugger”, he began but paused. “Actually, no, you’re
a small hugger”, that earned him a slap on the arm, “But I really wanted to
talk to you about something.”
Luna let go of him. “Okay…” Another
smile lit up his face and with the new sparkle in his eyes she started to
wonder if maybe she would be better off running away. He clearly was up to
something, she only had no clue what it was so far. “So, you remember the video
Ámbar and Simón did for Fab&Chic?”
A slow nod and a quicker idea. In
case this went down as she imagined, this was the time to hide from him.
However, before her muscles reacted, Matteo already continued: “Let’s do that
Luna regretted not running.
“You? Doing my make-up?”, she barely
got out, her cheeks heating up. Matteo in front of her raised an eyebrow,
clearly lost as in why she wasn’t jumping up and down from excitement. Before
he got another chance to convince her though, the bell rang. Students from all
over the corridors hurried to their next classes, and they both knew they had
to join them.
“Think about it, okay?”, he sighed.
Eventually, she agreed to do it.
Hesitating and unsure, but she agreed. He exploded from happiness like a
firework show on New Year’s Eve, whirling her around with a smile wide enough
to cover his whole cheeks.
The smile still stuck to his face
when he stood at her door, an equally excited Jazmín behind him. “Ready for
your make-over, chica delivery?” His finger landed on her nose, gently touching
it before he laughed at her horrified expression. “Please just don’t me look
like a strawberry”, she replied and brushed her hair into her face in order to
cover the nervousness written over it. Matteo took a deep breath of air.
“What’s wrong with being a strawberry?” If he tried to not sound offended, he
“I said look like one, not being
one, you need to listen, chico fresa. And now come in before I change my mind”,
she said. From behind, she heard Jazmín announcing how cute they were.
Jazmín insisted on finding the
perfect spot. The lightning, the background, everything required perfection in
her eyes and she refused to settle for anything less. Finally, she decided
Luna’s bed fulfilled all necessary standards and Luna began spreading out her
make up on the rug.
“Where’s the rest?”, Matteo inquired
when she sat down. “What do you mean, the rest?” His eyes wandered to the
make-up, back to her and once again to all her stuff in front of her. “That’s
all your make-up?”
Luna nodded, confusion growing in
her veins, even more so when he let out a breath in pure disbelief. “I can’t
work like that”, he mumbled and while he yelled Ámbar’s name, he hurried out of
the room. “Do you know what he’s doing?” Jazmín shrugged, but the smile on her
lips told Luna she knew more than she gave away.
When Matteo came back, he carried
make-up bags. Lots of them, so many in fact they barely fit into his arms. “What are you doing, Matteo?” The look he shot
her steamed with disbelief, like she just asked him if the sky was blue. “What
does this look like? I got more make-up so I can do this properly.”
In return, her eyes widened and she
swallowed down the growing knot in her throat. Why again had she agreed to
this? “Oh, come on, mi solare, even Ámbar was better at hiding how afraid she
“I wasn’t!”, said blonde yelled
through what must be at least three doors at the same time Luna claimed: “I’m
Shaking his head (one curl fell into
his face and it distracted Luna enough to breathe somewhat calmer), Matteo sat
down in front of her, smiling into Jazmín’s camera. “Are you ready?”, the
“Luna, stop laughing while I apply
your make-up, I can’t blend properly like this”, Matteo complained not even two
minutes after they started. She squinted up at him, glad no mirrors or shiny
surfaces surrounded her and allowed her to take a glimpse of what Matteo did to
her face. “You’re tickling me”, she giggled as the brush again danced over her
skin a little too playfully.
Matteo turned to the
camera, one hand rested over his heart, “Can you believe my girlfriend is
accusing me of something horrendous like tickling her? You’re breaking my
heart, chica delivery!”
Luna gasped, even though Jazmín grinned at his comment. Matteo did too and in
that moment, she went for revenge, kidnapping the brush out of his hand and
quickly painting his nose before she burst out into laughter at his confused
expression. “What the…”, he muttered, his hand immediately raised to rub his
nose. “Oh, you better watch out”, Matteo then threatened her and suddenly, the
brush was back in his hand and all over her cheeks.
please, I promise I won’t do it again!”, Luna begged, unable to contain another
laugh. “Well, I guess we’re done with the foundation anyway, no?” He touched
the tip of her nose, something she found out he enjoyed a lot recently and a
smile tugged on the corner of his lips. She grinned back at him. Maybe she’d
look like one of these scary circus clowns, but at least she had a good laugh
in the process. Right?
She wasn’t as certain
anymore when Matteo opened all those eyeshadow palettes, his eyes wandering
over the endless variations of colors. “Just pick anything”, she told him which
earned her another startled look. “No, this has got to be perfect, Luna, and
the eyeshadow is too important to just
“You know this is
supposed to be fun.” Matteo chuckled, a sound she hadn’t realize could carry
this amount of sarcasm in its shortness. “Do you really think I’ll let Simón be
better than me? That guy doesn’t even know how to do his hair.” Glancing to the
camera, he added, “Sorry, Simón.” Luna began shaking her head, a remark waiting
on the tip of her tongue. However, he shut her up as he began applying
eyeshadow, a light rose close to the one she used for the Gala at the
“I chose this color
because it makes her eyes shine even brighter and she looks like a princess
with it”, Matteo explained to the camera, the brush continuously on her skin,
continuously applying and blending and changing her. She wondered how he
managed to talk so smoothly and do her make-up at the same time, it wasn’t fair
when she had to concentrate when she did the same. And it yet had to feel
normal for her to get her make-up done by someone else, let alone her boyfriend
who still enjoyed teasing her too much, who still possibly made her look like a
clown instead of a princess. (Not that she didn’t trust him. But she didn’t.)
“You really want to
She nearly yelled,
she tried not to, but her voice betrayed her. Never had she imagined he’d grab
the little black bottle buried underneath her mascaras and lipglosses. He
returned her look, flabbergasted. “Why shouldn’t I? Afraid I’ll stab your
“If you do that, you
had a girlfriend for the longest time”, Luna declared. Matteo grinned. “Then
I’ll better be careful, no?”
And he really was
careful. The eyeliner brush gently stroked the skin right above her lashes, so
once again she wondered if he had followed Simón’s example and researched. Yet,
a last bit of worry remained in her chest.
A few minutes later,
the grin on Matteo’s face already grown into a blinding sight, he picked a berry
lipstick from Ámbar. (She’d never seen it on her before.) “I think my work is
done here”, he mumbled, his eyes so fixed on her Luna forgot how to breathe.
She knew that look, he’d given her the same one on a few previous occasions. It
meant all he craved was kissing her, but he didn’t like the sticky feeling of
lipstick and now he internally debated whether he should kiss her or not.
Honestly, she hoped he’d fight the impulse. Gastón didn’t need another PDA to
tease them about until the end of time.
“Matteo? Can I have
Her question brought
him back to reality. “What? The mirror? Sure, here.”
Whatever she had
expected, this wasn’t it. She indeed looked like a princess, he’d done a fairly
good job. “Do you like it?”, her boyfriend wanted to know. Speechless, she
looked up at him, half afraid this turned out to be only a dream as soon as she
left the vision in the mirror. “It’s perfect”, she whispered. Then, she cleared
her voice, “Did you research too?”
“Excuse me, I thought it was obvious I am just a natural talent.” Finally
casting the mirror aside, she giggled. “My bad, chico fresa. Maybe I should
hire you.” She placed a quick peck on his cheek that left a berry-colored stain
on his cheek. “Seriously?”, he protested, but his efforts to rub it off
remained without success. “Hm, I’m starting to think this color looks very nice
on you”, Luna claimed, soon covering his face with lipstick, a fit of giggling
resonating in her lungs.
She didn’t even care
that Jazmín still filmed them.
Later, when they were
alone in her room and they laid on her bed, Matteo’s arms wrapped around her,
she finally managed to ask: “So, how come you were so good at doing this?
Especially my eyeliner! And don’t you dare lie to me, that’s nothing that comes
with just some talent.”
“Wait, when you think
I was so good, why did you smudge your lipstick all over my face like a dog?”,
he smirked, the asshole. “It’s called kissing, you snob and anyway, you didn’t
answer my question!”
Matteo sighed, his
hand softly moving through her hair. “I might have bribed Gastón into letting
me practice on him.”
Luna sat up, hardly
able to believe this, but very able to picture it. “Please tell me there are
photos of that.”