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#ramenyul
heliads · 4 months
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I’d like to request an imagine where the female reader is a baker and Rooster’s girlfriend. She owns a bakery called The Slice is Right (it’s a pun. The Slice is Right = The Price is Right). She has a YouTube channel where she gets her Twitter followers to vote on what should be added to the menu and she bakes the winning vote and gets Rooster to try it and give his opinion.
Dating Rooster and Owning a Bakery Would Include...
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Of all of the people that he’s met over the course of his tumultuous, chaotic life, Rooster never expected to fall in love with a baker
He’d always assumed he’d charm some actress or supermodel (so he bragged to Hangman, at least)
However, when he accidentally stumbled by your bakery one evening and saw your pretty face through the glass, Rooster was smitten at first sight
Even if he fell quickly, Rooster took his time in getting you to fall in love with him, too
He used to stop by every chance he got just to see you smile
No one could resist that charm forever, certainly not you, so when he asked you out on a date at last, you said no without a shred of hesitation
One date turned into another, and now you can’t imagine your life without him
Neither can your YouTube followers– you’ve developed a brand for having your followers vote on recipes you should try, then offering up the final products to Rooster as a definitely unbiased test subject
He’s just happy to try more of your baking and get to spend time with you too
You’re good friends with all of the Dagger Squad, as Rooster couldn’t resist showing you off to the rest of his friends the first chance you got
Your baked goods are now a staple at Top Gun– Rooster swears Cyclone only ever warmed up to him because you gave him cookies
And, when Dagger Squadron had an end-of-year holiday dinner, everyone insisted that you make a holiday dessert
How could they celebrate without your fine creations?
This quick approval makes perfect sense to anyone who knows you, Rooster says the only thing sweeter than your pastries is you
So he might be a charmer, so what? You love your boyfriend, and he loves you
That, certainly, is something worth savoring :))
requested by @thornyrose463, i hope you enjoy!
top gun tag list: @luckyladycreator2, @atarmychick007, @ramenyul, @mayfieldss, @nonsensical-nonce
all tag list: @wordsarelife
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youweremovingyourfeet · 4 months
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5 things that make me happy!!
Tumblr tag game: List 5 things that make you happy and tag 10 people to do the same.
Tagged by the wonderful @introvertia hope your holiday season is happy and peaceful ❤️🥰
1❤️ My cats, Edmund and Sir Charles
2🧡 My sister
3💚 Working on a new sewing project (currently a grey wool coat)
4💙 Watching a new piece of media I can get obsessed with (still waiting on s2 of IWTV)
5💜 My partner, who stands by me through everything
Tagging a bunch more ppl below to list 5 things that make them happy! 🥰🥰🥰 No pressure though!!
@sirsparklepants @ub-sessed @trashcangimmick @missroserose @pointeful @ramenyul @usstrashbarge @swarmofbeesssss @ezra-starkiller @mischiefmetalandmagic
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basicalyrandom · 1 month
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Get to know me tag game ‼️
Tagged by the lovely @queerponcho 😚🫶
Last song: “move” by little mix
Currently watching: Inside Llewyn Davis Documentary hehe
Three Ships: Moon Boys and Layla (does that count as three lol)
Favorite Color: Pink (we don’t welcome pink haters here. Seriously y’all should stop being killjoys lol)
Currently consuming: yall know by now that this blog has like 50% of oscar isaac content in it so yeah
First Ship: reylo (missing that era rn tbh)
Place of birth: idk—
Current location: oscar isaac’s beard
Relationship Status: hopeless romantic ass type of status
Last movie: Our Little Sister 💗
Currently working on: my overdue backlogs bcs my overconfident ass decided to enter a competition only to not even win third place lmao
Tagging @synnamatic @theaterm @ramenyul @bellalove69420 @loaizagrant and anyone who wants to join in as well 💗
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wick-de-la-vela · 4 days
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5 Favorite Songs at the Moment
I was tagged by @sasseffects thank you :333
Well I just went to a Mitski concert so definitely a lot of that, and also I've been listening to my own fic playlist non-stop for months so, in no particular order....
Tagging other folks to do their top 5 fave songs at the moment :-)
@cherrycoula @thecardiganslife1995album @ramenyul @illumi-nati-png @jekkiefan
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I was tagged by @creepkinginc and @solaq to post my 9 favourite movies (i did avoid marvel movies cause it would have come to a chain reaction for example if i put "Spider-Man homecoming" in i have to post "far from home" and "no way home" too)
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This was really really fun, i chose movies that i watch so often i can't even count it anymore or that just have a special place in my heart.
Tagging: @dudevonflauschig @chaotic-bard @ramenyul @hebelongstothestars @hey-its-grey @biracialdisaster @naturallytom @grandmascottlang
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jaskierswolf · 3 years
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hi wolfie it is i, the ramen man, i was wondering if you could write a prompt based on a baking competition tv show ? maybe even christmas themed if you want ?? no stress if you can't/don't wanna write it, i love u 🥺
This got... long? So you can also find on AO3
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Jaskier wasn’t stressed. He’d made this recipe a thousand times. It was his speciality!  No one made better chocolate brownies than he did but his presentation let him down. They were messy, gooey and delicious but this was a competition. They needed to look good too. He whined as he sat in front of his oven. Who made chocolate brownies for a cooking competition? Oh god he was an idiot.
He glanced around the room. Valdo Marx was busy finishing up his winter spiced cake and it smelled absolutely divine; the bastard. Plus he’d brought along some holly sprigs to make the whole thing look a bunch more christmassy. Jaskier had baked some orange slices to decorate his brownies. He also had some edible golden glitter for the top and a few spun sugar decoration for good luck. His secret ingredient though was Cointreau. The orange liqueur kept the brownies extra gooey in the centre without them being too rich.
He stared into the oven, chewing his bottom lip anxiously as he ran a hand through his hair. They were almost done. There was a shiny film over the top that would give the brownies a nice crunch. If he did well with these he would get into the next round; the final round. In that round they hand to create gingerbread houses, well more palaces. They had to absolute architectural masterpieces and he was shitting himself. Like his brownies, his gingerbread tasted amazing but it wasn’t always pretty. They were delicious and wonderful but not much to look at on the surface.
He’d only gotten so far because they tasted good.
“Come on, come on, come on!” He muttered and pressed his face against the glass.
He really needed to at least get to the final. There were smaller cash prizes for all finalists and the publicity from the competition would do wonders for his little bakery.
“How’s it going?” Triss Merigold, one of the presenters asked.
He shrugged. “Not much I can do until it’s finished baking. It always goes much faster when you’re watching this at home.”
Triss laughed. “Clever editing.”
“I just hope I’ve done enough,” he sighed. “Maybe I can charm the judges with my guitar skills instead…”
“Ah yes, they said you play. Is that a hobby?” Triss asked with forced politeness.
Jaskier scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. Well, I wanted to play as a kid. I was going to be the next John Lennon but you know how it is. My gran taught me how to bake and I became addicted. I still write my own songs for my YouTube channel though.”
“Wow! That’s amazing!” Triss made it sound like the least amazing hobby on the planet.
Luckily the oven timer went off at that moment and Jaskier was able to crack on. He pricked the brownies to make sure they were cooked through before setting it aside to cool. Whilst they were cooling he grabbed his tray of sugar decorations and the orange slicer.
“Bakers! You have five minutes!” Triss called out.
“Oh bollocks!” He groaned. He wasn’t going to have enough time to let it cool before decorating. Luckily the brownies tasted better warm but they were also harder to get out of the tin in one piece. He whined pitifully but dug a knife around the edge of the tin before slicing the brownies into the neatest rectangles he could manage. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
The camera man glared at him for swearing but he just stuck his tongue out. He was stressed, he was allowed to fucking swear! They were crumbling in his hands as he moved them to the plates. He cleaned up the crumbs as best as he could before showering them with edible glitter. He arranged the baked orange decorations as best he could so they looked slightly less terrible and then finally delicately placed the spun sugar on the top, only breaking two of the little shits in his hands.
“And stop!” Triss yelled and all the bakers stood back from their stations.
Valdo Marx was smiling smugly. His winter spiced cake looked fucking fantastic. On his other side stood Priscilla. She’d made cupcakes that were elegantly decorated to look like snowflakes, each one slightly different and beautiful. Next to Priscilla was Essi Daven. Her chocolate Yule Log looked amazing, Jaskier almost believed it was a real log.
Oh he was so going out.
He sighed and plastered a fake smile on his face as Yennefer Vengerberg re-entered the room.
“Time’s up bakers. You are apparently the best of the best but only three of you will make the final round. My expectations are high. I’m sure you’ll disappoint.” She smirked at them, violet eyes flashing dangerously. “Sadly, it is not only me that you must impress with these bakes.”
Jaskier felt his eyes widen. Shit, he’d forgotten that they brought in a second judge in this round. The bakers never knew who would be until they were introduced but it was always a famous chef and Jaskier suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“Please welcome, my ex-husband… Geralt.”
Jaskier let out a pitiful whimper as Geralt fucking Rivia entered the room. The man was only his celebrity crush. He would be fine. It was going to be fine and holy shit he was even more gorgeous in real life.
Fuck.
“Now, as I am sure you are all away, Geralt and I have never once agreed on anything except our daughter. So this promises to be fun.” Yen drawled sarcastically.
Geralt chuckled and crossed his arms in front on his chest. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt and Jaskier’s entirely life was suddenly just Geralt’s arms.
They were so big.
“That is precisely why I was invited, Yen,” Geralt muttered with a fond smile. “Evens out the vote.”
“My vote is fine on its own.”
“Hmm. We’ll see.”
Jaskier zoned out the rest of the conversation as the other bakers made their way to the front to be judged. He was too entranced by the god stood before him. The long silver hair that was pulled up into a bun, revealing the oh so sexy undercut. Jaskier watched Geralt’s lips part as he tasted one of Priscilla’s cupcakes. He got some frosting stuck on the corner of his lips and Jaskier desperately wanted to help him lick it off, but instead Geralt’s tongue flicked out to catch it. Jaskier was weak.
He zoned back in long enough to notice with great satisfaction that Valdo’s cake was under-baked and a little bit shit, not even holly could save it. So Jaskier was still in with a chance, and then it was his turn. He was hoping the brownies would still be warm. If they’d cooled down too much then his presentation would probably fuck him over.
“Buttercup?” Yennefer raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “If you could stop drooling over my ex for two seconds, tell us about your… brownies?”
Jaskier’s fingers flexed and he tugged nervously at the edge of his shirt. “Ah yes. Umm. Hi,” He stammered and blushed as Geralt winked at him. “Brownies, orange. Chocolate orange brownies,” he swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. “I used dark chocolate mostly but there are chocolate orange chunks in there too, any orange flavoured chocolate is good. Orange zest, orange juice and umm.. oh ah, orange liqueur.”
“Aren’t you concerned the orange will overpower the chocolate?” Yen asked sharply.
Jaskier shrugged. “I make these every year. They sell well at the bakery.”
“Smells good,” Geralt noted.
“The presentation is shocking,” Yennefer countered.
“Yeah,” Jaskier admitted with a sheepish smile “but I can do better. If you give me a chance.”
Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re running out of chances.”
“Yeah but I’m cute.” The words fell from his lips before he could stop them. He clapped his hand over his mouth and blush furiously. “I am so sorry!”
“Hmm.”
“Let’s just taste them shall we?” Yen suggested.
Jaskier nodded, still hiding behind his hands. “Please.” He felt a hand on his shoulder and he yelped.
“Relax, Jaskier,” Geralt murmured in a low voice.
Jaskier’s blush deepened and he smiled up at Geralt. Oh those eyes were like honey, so warm and inviting. There was still a small smudge of frosting on his lips that Jaskier hadn’t noticed before but now he couldn’t stop staring. He wondered if Geralt tasted as sweet as he looked. “Thanks, Geralt.”
“Geralt, stop flirting and taste the freaking brownie.”
“Yes, dear,” Geralt sighed.
Geralt took a bite of his brownie and fucking moaned. A quiet whimper escaped Jaskier’s lips. God he was going to melt on national television but he didn’t care. He’d had a chance to meet his favourite celebrity and Geralt had liked his baking! It was honestly life goals. The only thing he had left to tick off was his wedding to Geralt by the coast. That had always seemed like an unreachable fantasy that helped him sleep at night but now Geralt was right in front of him… it didn’t seem quite so far away.
“Fuck,” Geralt moaned. Jaskier chuckled, that would have to be beeped out in the final cut. “This is amazing!”
Yennefer looked surprised as she tried her own forkful of brownie. “Not bad, buttercup. Not bad at all. It melts in your mouth.”
“And the orange is actually subtler than I expected.” Geralt gave him a fond smile and Jaskier had to remind himself how to breathe.
“Ah, umm. Thanks, Thank you, Geralt.”
“It looks like dirt,” Yennefer said cooly “but it tastes heavenly. Presentation has always been your weakness, Jaskier.”
Jaskier’s eyes widened. Yennefer hadn’t called him ‘Jaskier’ since the first round when Triss had mentioned it was Polish for buttercup. “I know. I know!” He whined.
“If you get through to the final then you will fail miserably unless you can change that,” she added with a raised eyebrow.
“Taste won’t save you, no matter how cute you are,” Geralt smirked.
“I know. Wait hang on what?!” Jaskier stammered at Geralt’s words.
“You did good, buttercup. Well done.” Yennefer said firmly and rolled her eyes. “We’re done here.”
“Thank you, Yennefer, Geralt,” He nodded, definitely not still blushing as his gaze landed back on Geralt. “Thank you.”
____________
Jaskier screamed into the cushions as he threw himself down on the sofa. He’d fucking done it! He was in the final! He’d never imagined in a million years! Not to mention that Geralt Rivia thought he was cute. He wondered if he would be able to get Geralt’s autograph or whether that was just weird considering he was one of the judges.
“Jaskier?”
Jaskier rolled over so he could see Geralt, forgetting that the sofa wasn’t that wide and falling onto the floor. “Oh fuck!”
“Are you alright?” Geralt asked as he came over to help him stand up. Jaskier gripped Geralt’s forearm as he was pulled to his feet.
All other thoughts left his mind as he stared at the muscles in Geralt’s arms.
“Arms…” He blurted out. “I mean! Shit. Umm, oh god.”
Geralt just laughed and steadied him on his feet. “Look, I wanted to ask…. once the show is over and I’m no longer a judge. Did you want to get dinner?”
Jaskier gaped at Geralt. “I’m sorry what?”
“Unless I’ve completely misread the situation. Fuck. Sorry. Look you can say no, I won’t score you worse because of it,” Geralt paled and crossed his arms in front of his  chest. “We’ll pretend this never happened.”
“No, Geralt wait!” Jaskier grabbed his arm. “Yes, ask me again after the final but yes. Dinner sounds great.”
Geralt smiled faintly and nodded. “Great.”
“Great,” Jaskier repeated. “It’s a date!”
Geralt nodded again. “I have to go. We shouldn’t be seen alone together until after the final.”
“Yeah, yeah. Of course.”
“Good luck, Jaskier.”
Jaskier grinned dopily as he watched Geralt walk away. It looked like Christmas magic was a real thing after all. “Yeah, you too.”
Wait. You too? Oh fuck it. _____________ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @ohheytheremiss @kueble @love-more-today-than-yesterday @kozkaboi
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julek · 3 years
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hello ! how about geraskier and a poem by lang leav ?
After All, by Lang Leav
Jaskier is running.
His feet feel like they’ll give out any moment now, the soles of his boots thin and worn. His satchel is heavy against his lean frame, the straps of his lutecase barely holding it together, his lute long gone. It fell somewhere along the way, but he couldn’t stop to pick it up — he’s already too late.
Downhill, the trail is treacherous, the terrains unsteady and unforgiving under his weight. Still he runs, his boots tearing apart at the seams and allowing the ground to bruise his bare feet, torns digging into the tender flesh.
He runs over sharp stones and fallen logs, his doublet leaving a red trail behind him as the low-hanging branches hang onto the threads. He can feel his jacket coming undone, inch by inch, the stitching falling apart.
Down at the bottom, where the ground is flat and stable, he sees a flash of gray and silver. His feet are bleeding, ruined, but a flair of hope fills him with adrenaline and he goes on a few more miles.
The sun is setting by the time he reaches the ground, purple melting into orange melting into pink. He can hear his heartbeat through his body, every vein throbbing in desperation. Yennefer greets him with a smile.
“He’s gone,” she says, tone soft despite her tired eyes. “You’re too late.”
Jaskier lets out a broken laugh.
He wakes up crying.
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spaceshipkat · 2 years
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i forget we are mutuals and then suddenly i am starstruck. kisses ur forehead (with ur consent)
ohhh i have those blogs too! i didn’t know i was one for someone 😂💖
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laerrynseelie · 4 years
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i love ur blog sm marry me
💛💛💛😭😭💍
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ramenyul replied to your post “To the white moderates: If I don't have to forgive my abusive family,...”
eric i stan u
I’m not sure I deserve to be stanned, but thank u love
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chaotic-bard · 4 years
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inklore · 3 years
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when y’all reblog and post stuff in the tags or reply with things like this it LITERALLY KILLS ME AND MAKES MY DAY AHHHH PLEASE 🥺😭
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youweremovingyourfeet · 9 months
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Ten Songs and Ten People
Rules: put music on shuffle, list first 10 songs that pop up!
Thanks for tagging me @sunwarmed-ash​!! Since I don’t have a big list of songs, I’m just going to shuffle my 10 biggest playlists!
1. Lasso - Phoenix
2. Somebody- JID
3. Man in the Wilderness - Styx
4. BUENOS AIRES - Nathy Peluso <3
5. My New Swag -VaVa
6. Jasmine- DPR Live
7.  Purple Haze - Jimi Hendrix <3
8. Talking in Your Sleep - The Romantics
9. Maschin - Bilderbuch
10. The Partisan - Leonard Cohen
This was very fun! @usstrashbarge​ @pointeful​ @ramenyul​ @celoica​ @sirsparklepants​ @missroserose​ @ub-sessed​ @ezra-starkiller​ @mischiefmetalandmagic​ @harrygroves​
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cinebration · 4 years
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Cordial (Napoleon Solo x Reader) [Epilogue]
The End.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Epilogue
Tagged: @ly--canthrope​, @maan24​, @eefjedegraaf​, @omgkatinka​, @tiffanypooh​, @ramenyul​, @crispysublimecupcake​, @cavillhavoc​, @martinafigoli​, @illbegoinhome, @momowhoo​
Warnings: none
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Gif Source: franksgrillo
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
Through the front door, Solo heard the unintelligible sounds of your radio. Pulling out his lockpicks, he let himself into the apartment. While you hadn’t given him a key, you had given him permission to enter if he could hear the radio, as you wouldn’t be able to hear him knocking.
That you let him do so was encouraging. As he walked through the foyer, he paused, his eyes drawn to the wall adjacent to the kitchen entryway. You had hung up a bulletin board there.
The board sported several postcards meticulously pinned to the cork. The exotic locations extended all the way to the Middle East and Northern Africa.
Solo’s lips curled up into a smile. Setting down the bag of groceries he had bought for dinner, he approached the door to your painting studio and knocked sharply.
“Come in.”
He stepped in to find you seated on the ground in the same position he had first seen you in the room. The radio sat beside your knee, a canvas lying on the floor. He peered over your head to glimpse a ballerina arching forward to stretch her leg. Beside her, another ballerina was slowly materializing.
“The Degas,” he noted. “I should have that sold quickly.”
“Good. I don’t want to wait months like I did for the Vermeer.” You glanced up at him and smiled faintly. “What do I get to eat tonight?”
“It’s a surprise.”
He stepped away from you and wandered around the room, scanning the paintings stacked against the walls. There were some new ones, he noticed, some of them your own originals.
“I see you received my postcards.”
“Mhmm.”
“Which one did you like most?”
“Madrid.”
“Why that one?”
“Because Gaby told me you had to stay home one evening due to an irritable bowel.”
Solo shook his head. “You like my suffering.”
“In mild doses, yes. Keeps you on your toes.”
Solo paused by the table. The sketchbook he had seen before rested there, some pages sticking out. He flipped it open with one finger.
The missing pages.
They were all in pencil and ink drawings of him. Solo stilled as he looked at each one. There was something about the way you captured him on the page that spoke to him. Sometimes he was in full suit, sometimes without his jacket and tie. Sitting, standing, lounging.
Sleeping.
He paused on one of him in bed, lying on his back, one arm thrown overhead, his hair mussed with sleep. There was a softness to him in the way your pencil had traced the contours of his face. A loving touch.
Solo slowly closed the book and turned back to you. Your face in three-quarter profile afforded him a view of the scar and the curve of your eyelashes.
A thin cord hung around your neck. The wedding ring from your first mission dangled on the end.
His chest tightened. The night he returned to apologize after the Schwartz incident, he had left it on the kitchen counter just prior to excusing himself. No mission attached. Just a memento, one he wasn’t sure you would keep.
Striding over to you, he toed over the corner of the tarp you sat on and sat down beside you on the wooden floor.
“What’re you doing?”
“I thought I would see things from your perspective.”
You snorted but didn’t reply.
Solo raised his hand and gently passed his thumb over the scar on your jaw. You froze.
His fingers curled gently behind your ear, cupping your face. Gently he turned you to look at him.
Apprehension flitted in your eyes.
Solo leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. They felt feather-soft against you, warm and inviting. Gentle.
Breathtaking.
You leaned into the kiss. Solo slid his other hand up to your face, cupping your head for better access. Time felt suspended as he kissed you deeply, conveying to you the depths of the emotions he struggled to express.
When he pulled away, you both panted in unison, searching each other’s eyes. Solo felt overwhelmed, his head swimming.
“I thought you didn’t want to tether yourself to a deadweight,” you managed to quip.
“I don’t remember saying that.”
“Our first meeting, you did. Gaby and Ilya can confirm it. Should I call them? I can—”
Solo captured your mouth in another breath-stealing kiss.
“The only deadweight I know,” he said, “is Peril.”
You laughed. “He is bigger than you.”
“Taller, yes, but not bigger.”
“Tomato, tomahto.”
“Shall I prove it?”
“Did I not say you were a man of action?”
Solo grinned but refrained from kissing you again. You frowned, though a glint of mischief danced in your eyes.
“I should make dinner,” he said.
“Really? Putting dinner before pleasure, Napoleon? How very unlike you.”
His heart leapt on hearing his name. “I promised you dinner. I don’t want to spoil it by having dessert first.”
You squinted at him before saying, “Uh-huh. I guess I can wait.” You plucked up your brush again. “I’ve only been waiting,” you grumbled.
“It will be worth it.”
“It better be.”
“Will you ever give me a break?”
“Not if I can help it.”
Solo’s laughter filled the room, harmonizing with yours.
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So I don't know how many people like "The Amazing Devil" and Spider-Man. But I do and I already broke my lovely friends @chaotic-bard and @ramenyul. And Now we are all hurt... so... I am making this post.
So the ending of "Inkpot Gods"
"If I don't make it back from where I've gone
Just know I loved you all along"
Just think about the ending of Spider-Man no way home. Peter leaves his friend and his girlfriend behind, because he loved them so much. Till now, what we know, he doesn't come back, and he loved them from the bottom of his heart. But he knows that it's safer for them if they don't know him.
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flyingnacho · 4 years
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pastel henry cavill lockscreens
requested by @ramenyul
like or reblog if u save, pls it’s my first request!!
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