Tattoos Are Way Too Hot 🥵

ok, because i just saw a terrible take, i feel compelled to say that there is no "fic market" to "oversaturate" in fandom. good gravy.

From Girl Scout’s social media. The original Twitter thread is here.

Virginia Woolf, A Writer’s Diary, August 1921

The feelings were well expressed and this is an impossible situation to imagine, nonetheless we can see everything through her emotions and how the lack of closure can be worse than knowing the truth.

Your writing was amazing 💜

Promise Not to Promise Anymore

Pairing: Andy Barber x reader

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of cheating, angst

Word count: 2448

A/N: This is an idea that I’ve been struggling with for a while, I’m so glad I’ve finally been able to get the words to sort themselves out. Special thank you to @krirebr for helping me so much with the process. Without you literally nothing would ever be posted here 😂. (Yes I am aware that I barely post…I’m working on it!) Any feedback that you could leave would be really appreciated. ❤️

The day had been uneventful, boring, normal. But something about the day had your skin crawling. You weren’t sure what had set you off, and yet here you were pacing. Something you only did when you were anxious.

Your phone chirped with another notification, probably one of your socials. Your anxiety had you reaching for it immediately. Seeing the name of your ex pop up on the screen had your stomach dropping immediately. Neither of you had reached out in months. The man who had blustered out of your life as fast as he had blustered in was texting you.

You threw the phone onto the couch without reading the notification. Sure you could find out immediately what he wanted if you actually read the text, instead you screamed into the throw pillow. Your mind began to run with all of the possibilities of why this man would choose now to text you. Did he want money? Was he dying? Was he texting just to let you know how little you meant to him?

The last one, it was definitely the last one.

You stood from the couch and glared at the small black rectangle that had ruined your otherwise boring day. Your phone chirped again, and you physically recoiled from the sound. Deciding a drink would help with whatever it was your ex wanted you dazedly walked to the kitchen. When you opened the fridge, your gaze immediately found the bottle of wine you had bought on a whim on the weekend. Something the lady at the grocery store had recommended since you looked so lost in the wine section. Grabbing the bottle and bypassing a glass was the best way to handle this conversation you decided.

You sat on the couch, taking a long pull from the neck of the bottle before reaching for your phone. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves you unlocked the phone screen and tapped on the messages icon. There was his name in big bold letters: Andy. You hesitated as your finger hovered over the message, you could see his second message clearly Are you too busy to talk now? Maybe you could just not read it. Or read them and never respond. Or read them and respond later.

You hated every single one of those options, because you knew as soon as you opened these messages you’d be responding immediately. You took another long pull from your bottle, and placed the phone back down beside you. You needed your mind to stop. The thinking, the over-thinking, it was too much. You flipped on the TV to distract yourself and curled up like a cat. Your phone chirped again from under a throw pillow, and you pointedly ignored it.

You weren’t ready to deal with Andy. You had thought when he ended things that you would never hear from him again. Devastated. That was the only word you could use to describe how you felt after he left. You still didn’t even understand why he had ended things, only that he clearly hadn’t felt as strongly as you did about him.

There was another chirp that had you sighing and grabbing for your phone. You had to deal with it, or he wouldn’t stop. That was Andy. You pulled up the messages anticipating at least a double text, but completely unprepared for all the messages he had sent you,

I know this is out of the blue, but I need to speak to you.

Are you too busy to talk now?

Please Honey, I need to talk to you.

It’s important.

Honey…

Of course, the man could double text you, but would refuse to supply what he actually wanted to speak to you about. You typed out several potential responses before deciding on something polite but to the point.

Andy, I can talk. What’s going on?

You didn’t have to wait long for Andy’s equally to the point response.

Can I call you?

You stared at the message for a moment. You knew you couldn’t hear his voice, it would take you right back to where you were. All those months ago when he broke your heart. All the hurt, and the anger, it would be right there.

As you debated what to say, your phone began to ring. The man had absolutely no patience. You stared at his name, and without thinking answered the phone.

“Hello…” You sat and waited for him to say his peace, how bad could it be.

”Honey, I’m sorry.” You shuddered as Andy’s voice came through the phone. You forgot how his deep timbre had always made you feel comforted, and safe, and warm. “How are you doing? I know I shouldn’t be…I don’t…Are you okay?”

You hesitated before you answered. Months ago you would’ve known exactly what to say to Andy to make him feel better. Now it felt like you were talking to a stranger. “I’m fine Andy. Why are you hammer messaging me?”

Andy chuckled lightly, and you smiled at the lilting notes. “You haven’t changed.” Your eye twitched at that comment. “I just, I needed to hear your voice, Honey.”

”So you messaged me repeatedly?” You could hear the annoyance in your tone, which meant that Andy could hear it ten times louder.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this…” Andy trailed off and sighed. You huffed and pulled the phone away from your ear for a moment so you could murmur your annoyance to yourself.

”Just say it Andy, why did you reach out? Why are we on the phone?” You pulled at the threads on the throw pillow under your arm.

“I miss you.”

You felt the air leave your lungs. You couldn’t have heard him right. He missed you? No, no he was dying, or broke, or literally anything else.

“You-what?” You spluttered out the only thought that came to your mind.

Andy chuckled nervously, “I miss you. I miss your smile, and your laugh. I miss the way your forehead pinches when you’re focused. I miss the way you would take care of me. The moment I ended things? I knew I had made a mistake, and so I told myself that it was kinder to you, to just move on.”

You sat there in silence, shocked at his sudden declarations. “Why, why did you end things? What happened? Andy, I loved you so much, and then out of nowhere you just up and ended things.”

You heard Andy sigh on the other end of the phone. You could picture him scrubbing his hand down his face and scratching at the beard hairs on his chin. His nervous habit. “I got scared, I think.” He chuckled again, “I know it’s not a good excuse…”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s a terrible excuse Andy. What scared you? That I loved you? That I wanted to be a part of your life? Please tell me, what exactly scared you so badly that you ended the best relationship I’ve ever had?”

You slapped a hand over your mouth. You hadn’t meant to let all of that out.

There was a long drawn out silence. “I think it was how strongly I felt about you. I was…scared of what that meant. Before I met you I thought I knew what love was. I was sure I had felt it. But once that feeling truly hit me? I couldn’t actually function.” Andy sighed again, “This isn’t coming out right.”

You took another long pull off of your bottle of wine. You let Andy’s words roll over in your mind. Could he actually be telling the truth? His love for you was so strong that he got scared. It just didn’t seem right, there was something else, there had to be.

“So what you’re saying is, our love was too much for you?” Your tone rang with annoyance and a little bit of desperation. You remembered any time you had tried to get something out of Andy that he didn’t want to tell you, how carefully you’d have to tread, otherwise he would shut down. As much as you wanted to tell him off, end the call and block his number forever. There was still a part of you that needed to know the real reason, so before Andy could respond you continued. “Andy, as much as I love this game of cat and mouse we’re playing, where it’s like pulling teeth to get information out of you,” You heard him softly chuckle on the other end of the line, “I just need the truth, maybe it will hurt me, maybe it won’t but I need it.”

There was a long silence on the line. Although it made you nervous and want to say something to fill it, you sat and sipped on your slowly warming wine while you waited for his response. Your bluntness would have one of two effects: either he would fold and tell you what you wanted, no needed to know, or he would shut down and it would be months, if ever, before you heard from him again.

His heavy sigh preceded his response, “You’re right, and wrong.” He paused as if he was gathering his thoughts. “It is true that the feeling of love between us scared me, but it’s also that it scared me so much that…”

”That what?” You knew what he was going to say, felt it deep within your soul. Your heart was about to be broken by Andy Barber once again, and what was worse, you had practically asked him to do it this time.

”I slept with someone else. It only happened once, but it was before I ended things.”

“I see.” It was all you could get out. You could feel the twisting in your chest again, the anger burning behind your eyes, the tears welling and choking you with their strength.

”I’m so sorry Honey. As soon as it was over I knew I had fucked up. But I also knew if that I couldn’t be with you still, it wasn’t fair to you.” You could hear the pleading in his voice, and it only made the anger burn stronger. Like his words had lit a match and poured kerosene over top.

“So you called me now, to…what? Make yourself feel better?” Your breathing was hard, almost panting in your anger.

”I don’t know why I’m calling. I just know that I’ve regretted that decision ever since. I miss what you brought to my life: the pure joy, the love I could feel down to my core.” Andy’s voice was strained. It was only then that you realized he was crying.

”Are you drunk Andy?” It was the only time you had ever seen him cry, when he had one too many with the boys after work.

”No, I swear. I promise Honey, I haven’t had a drink tonight.”

You took another sip of wine. Contemplating the truth in Andy’s words, the burn of his betrayal. This was just too much.

“Well I’m glad you’ve finally told me the truth Andy. Even if it is months later.” You hugged your throw pillow to your chest as you prepared yourself to say the words that you knew would hurt him as much as they would hurt you. “I can’t forgive you, for any of it. Please, just leave me alone.”

Before you could second guess your decision, you hung up the phone. You stared blankly at the TV screen, not even remembering what you had put on in the first place. What shook you from your reverie was a dull thud from your door. Like someone had just planted their forehead against it.

You stood and quickly crossed the room to check what the noise was. It was only once your hand was on the handle you knew: Andy. You unlocked the door, and twisted the handle slowly, knowing the man who had destroyed you not once, but twice was standing on the other side.

When your eyes connected with his, you could feel all of the love, joy and affection come flooding back. It took everything within you to not jump into his arms and sob until you had nothing left. Instead you gripped the doorframe like it was the only thing holding you up.

”Honey…” Andy’s voice was just above a whisper, so quiet that you weren’t even sure you heard it. His hands reached out and thumbed at the tears quietly streaming down your face. “Oh Honey, I’m so sorry.”

With that he pulled you against his chest. You could smell the high end cologne he wore to work, and the underlying scent of pure Andy. The warmth of his chest and his arms wrapping around your back had you losing all control. You sobbed with abandon into his neck, no words leaving your lips. Andy scooped you up and walked you both into your apartment. Using his foot to shut the door behind him.

He sat down on your couch, with you tucked against his chest and began murmuring quietly to you. You couldn’t make out most of it, but did catch the odd word. “Shh Honey.” “I know, I’m so sorry.” “Just let it out, okay?”

When you finally felt like you could cry no more, you pulled your face from Andy’s neck. You could feel how swollen your eyes were, in fact your whole face felt puffy. “I still don’t forgive you.”

Andy let out a full belly laugh at your meekly spoken words. To which you glared at him and crossed your arms across your chest.

”Okay, okay.” He wheezed in a breath, “I’m sorry Honey. Please just give me a chance to make it up to you. Even if that means I don’t get to feel your love again, let me just try to make this right.”

You reached out and stroked his cheek. Feeling his soft skin contrast with the roughness of his beard. You could see the dark circles under his eyes, see the grayness of his skin. “I need time Andy.”

He sighed, and let his eyes flutter shut. “Of course Honey, whatever you need.”

You reluctantly stood from his embrace, “Please leave Andy, I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

He nodded solemnly. Andy stood, he moved to hug you, but you took a few steps out of his reach. He nodded again before heading for the door.

”Honey?” His back was still to you.

”Yeah?”

”I still love you, more than anything. And I promise to do everything I can to show you that.”

”Andy, maybe we should both promise not to promise anymore.”

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18 @krirebr @rebeccapineapple @precious1610 @bval-1 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @thezombieprostitute

This is adorable, I love them!

Downshift

Pairing: Motocross!Ari Levinson x Female Reader Summary: Ari thinks you're too good for his neighbor and he's, sadly, proven right. Word Count: Over 2.2k Warnings: Pining, hurt/comfort, some angst, fluff and feels, cheating (not by Ari), swearing, motocross!Ari Levinson (he’s a warning, okay? A/N: Meet Beast and Sweetart! Set in the same AU as Starting Gate and Lapper. Should I start making Wednesdays a dedicated motocross day? Beta read by the beautiful @maladaptivexxdaydreaming, but any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by the talented @maysdigitalarts. Shoutout to my lovely for helping with the reader's nickname (I can't tag you. BOO!). Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Ari Levinson is a beast. One of the largest and toughest riders in his class at 6'5", combined with his dark beard, shaggy hair and rough exterior, he received the nickname in passing and it stuck. If you asked any of his exes, he was a beast on and off the tracks. He didn’t mind. There were worse names out there. 

Most riders weren’t easy to intimidate, but not many wanted to go toe-to-toe with him. Others in town tended to stay out of his way, too, when he wasn’t smiling. Jensen teased that people probably expected him to growl. He could admittedly be an asshole when the occasion called for it, but he was a good guy. 

A beast with a heart.

One of the only people he could remember in a long time who never seemed put off by him was you.

Someone “taking his breath away” seemed like complete bullshit until you showed up. When you looked his way the first time, you flashed him a kind smile and wave. You looked sweet, making him want to devour you to see if you tasted the same. Arousal spread from his gut and you hadn’t touched him.

I could eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner and it wouldn’t be enough.

Your eyes caught his attention next. The sincerity and warmth weren’t anything like the pit lizards who threw themselves at him. He stared and hoped his blue eyes reflected a resemblance of kindness. He didn’t want to scare you off. He wanted to ruin and keep you safe.

It didn’t matter what he did.

You were dating his asshole neighbor, Carter.

It didn’t make sense to fall for someone so quickly, but it hurt each time he saw you go into or leave Carter’s place. Especially when you smiled his way or stopped to chat for a few minutes. Your boyfriend was always quick to pull you away with a cocky smirk or a smart-ass comment, which prompted you to tell him to be nice and mouth “sorry” back in his direction.

Why are you with him?

From what he knew about the guy, he came from money and traveled a lot. Even his dressed down clothes were name brand. He gambled occasionally, but Ari never saw him at the track. Maybe it had something to do with keeping you away from the riders. He never liked the prick, but seeing a sweet girl like you with him put him on his permanent shit list, along with how he treated you. Like you were an object or a doll for him to play with.

There was a difference between being somewhat possessive and treating someone like a possession.

Doing his best not to take his frustration out on his bike, he still couldn’t figure out why you were with him in the first place. You didn’t seem like the materialistic type and you were kind to everyone. Were you settling? He wanted to grumble so many times that you were too good for him, but he would’ve sounded crazy since the two of you only spoke a few times in passing.

It wasn’t like Ari to sit back and watch something good pass by. He knew from racing what happened if you let opportunities slip away. Even if he was selfish in wanting you, was it really his place to ruin your happiness? It wasn't meant for him to interfere.

Looking back, maybe he should have.

The knock on his door pulled him from his slumber, groaning as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. After work and practice, all he wanted to do was get some fucking sleep. 

“Just a minute! Fuck!” he yelled at the second knock, throwing some shorts on before he made his way to the door.

His sweet girl You stood there with tears streaming down your face as the door flew open and he wanted to apologize for snapping when you shrank back. You were in your work clothes and you shivered despite the warm air. 

“I’m sorry. I, um, I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll go.”

“Are you okay?” he asked when you began to turn away, skipping the pleasantries. It was the only thing keeping him from putting his first through the wall. 

Who knew the sight of your tears would bring out the animal in him?

“My boyfriend. Well, no. EX-boyfriend now,” you said quickly, swiping at your face to brush the tears away. “I just caught him in bed with…”

“Fuck,” Ari whispered, not fully hearing the rest of your words, his blood boiling as you cried harder. He knew the guy was a prick, but a cheating prick? How could anyone cheat on you?

I bet Barnes and Rogers would help me hide a body.

“Can I use your phone, please? I dropped it when I left and I can’t go back there.”

Ari nodded and let you inside, having to step back so you didn’t brush against him. He was happy that the place was clean. It likely wasn’t as nice as Carter’s place, but he did well enough and he took pride in it. 

He imagined you there many times, but not like this.

“Thank you. I’ll be out of your hair soon,” you sniffled as he directed you to the couch, wincing slightly. “I’m sorry, but could I also ask for some ice?”

“Stop apologizing, please,” he nearly begged before he went rigid. “Ice? Are you hurt?”

I’ll kill him if he touched you. I’ll fucking kill him.

“I punched him?” it came out as a question, holding up your hand to show him. “Never punched anyone before. I don’t think I did it right.”

Ari fell for you a bit more. “He had it coming,” he said before he could stop himself. “Sit tight. I’ll get my phone and some ice.”

“Thanks, Ari,” you said, rubbing the top of your hand.

His gaze lingered before he left the room to grab what you needed, wishing he could pull you in his arms to tell you it would be okay. Anything to put your smile back on your face. 

The only tears he wished you’d cry were tears of pleasure.

Maybe one day, I can do that. And maybe not while you’re healing from this.

“You know, I could teach you how to punch,” he said after he came back and sat down beside you, gently placing the wrapped ice on top of your hand. He took up a portion of the couch with his size, but you didn’t seem to mind how close he was. At least, he hoped you didn’t.

You inhaled sharply, but managed a small smile. “I bet you could. Doesn’t everyone call you ‘beast’?”

He was happy that you knew his nickname. “They do. What do people call you? Sweetart?”

“Don’t you mean ‘sweetheart’?” you asked as you took the phone with your other hand.

“Nah. You look sweet and you are sweet, but you apparently pack a tart punch. Like the candy.”

Fuck, I sound like Jensen. He rubbed off on me.

You began to laugh after a second, your eyes shining a bit brighter through the pain. “Sweetart. I like that.”

Clearing his throat, he stood up and looked down at you. Most women were smaller than him, no matter their height, but the urge to wrap you in his arms and keep you safe wouldn’t go away. “I’ll let you make your call.”

He made sure to grab some tissues and a glass of water as well as you called your friend, doing his best not to listen when he heard tears in your throat. You asked if you could crash at her place and explained that you weren't in the best headspace to drive over there. He should’ve offered you a ride. It was the least you could do.

You set his phone on the coffee table once you were finished. “My friend should be here shortly. One of the only numbers I have memorized.”

He sat back down beside you as he handed you a tissue, his knee touching yours. “I know it doesn’t help, but I’m sorry.”

You dabbed at your eyes, sniffling. “Probably better that I caught him now and not later. I just feel stupid, you know?” 

“You’re not stupid, he is. He’s a fucking prick, too.”

“He never liked you,” you said, smiling a little. 

“Well, the feeling’s mutual,” he said, sighing as he leaned back against the cushion. “Could never figure out why you were with him.”

Fuck, why did I say that?

“He’s a family friend. Charming. Sophisticated. The kind of guy my parents wanted me to be with. When he asked me out, I agreed. I knew he had his flaws, but I looked past them,” you explained as he turned his head to pay better attention. You swallowed a little before you continued. “Which is another reason I feel stupid. I cared despite the red flags. I set myself up to get hurt.”

“You ignored your instincts because you cared, but that doesn’t make you stupid. Stop calling yourself that.”

You nodded, reaching for the water. He caught the ice before it could slip from your hand, keeping it there as you took a sip. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“The girl he was with was an old girlfriend. A stunningly beautiful socialite who just happened to be in town. They thought I’d still be at work,” your lip trembled. “She didn’t even look sorry that I caught them. It was like she knew she was better than me. And I know deep down he wanted me to be more like her.”

Fuck that.

“Anyone who jumps in bed with a guy and knows they’re with someone else isn’t better than you. They deserve each other. You deserve better.”

“You really believe that?” you asked, a tear falling.

Before you could wipe it away, he reached over and caught it with his fingertip. “I do. And I know it hurts like hell. He should’ve been faithful and worshiped the ground you walked on. You don’t deserve anything less than that.”

Ari thought he said the wrong thing when your expression went blank, setting the ice pack on the table. “Can I have a hug, please? You’ve always been so nice to me and I could really use one.”

Whatever you want.

The second he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, a fresh wave of tears came. Wetness gathered on his chest as you let it out. He wasn’t used to people turning to him as a source of comfort, but he instinctively rubbed your back and nuzzled the top of your head with his chin. He wanted to rip Carter limb from limb for reducing you to this. The demented part of him wanted to stay alive just so he could watch you thrive without him. 

No matter what happened, Ari would make sure you were happy.

Your tears slowed after a minute, but you stayed in his hold. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled against his chest. “You’re really warm. I think you are a beast.”

Ari chuckled, his large hand sliding up and down your back to soothe you. “You figured it out. Don’t tell anyone.”

“It’ll be our secret,” you said, lifting your head. Having you against him, you robbed him of his breath again. “Could I ask one more favor and I’d be forever in your debt? And you don’t have to.”

“Name it.”

“Would you be willing to help me get some of my stuff out of there later? I can pay you.”

“I don’t want your money. I can help,” he assured you. He would do it for free just to see the look on that prick’s face. “On one condition.”

“Name it,” you smiled, echoing his words.

“Come to my next race?” he casually suggested, hoping it didn’t sound like a date. He didn’t want you to think he was insensitive to your current feelings. “No pressure. No expectations. I know you just ended a relationship, but I think you could use a friend.”

“I’ll be there,” you promised, bringing a smile to his face. He hoped he didn’t look too excited, especially since you were still hurt. “I’ve been wanting to go for ages and now I have no reason not to.”

“I think you’ll like it. And don’t worry about your stuff. If you know where it needs to go, I’ll get some of the guys to help me out. In fact," he took your hand, the one you punched Carter with, and brought it to his lips. He swore he heard a slight whimper when they met your skin. "I'll even get your phone back before you head out."

"Thank you," you said breathlessly, clearing your throat as you looked away for a second. It felt good knowing he took your breath away, too. "I mean it. Thank you so much, Ari."

Ari knew your friend would show up any minute, so he cherished the feeling of holding you for a bit longer. He meant what he said about you needing a friend. The wound would take time to heal and he would help you see that you were perfect.

 A sweet and tart girl who made everyone around you smile.

He just hoped you wouldn’t hold it against him when he punched Carter in his smug face.

*****

We'll see more of Beast and Sweetart, along with some other riders, soon. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

this is your daily reminder that yes- your comfort character would absolutely want to rearrange your guts and cuddle you afterwards.

Geralt can admit that it isn’t his greatest escape plan. But being pushed back towards the waterfall, there are few other options for him and Jaskier to escape alive.

Rocks tumble over the side into the rushing white waters. Geralt sneers at the edge. He should have known what the angry mob was doing. Should have guessed it. Stupid. And now, Jaskier and himself are standing at the world’s edge with no where to go.

No where to go, but down.

Geralt looks towards the trees, can already see the crowd of 30 gaining on them.

“Geralt, think of something, will you!” Jaskier’s voice is a shrill thing in his ears. But the  is a cover. Fear wafts off of him, though less so than an average human.

It is this reason that he grabs hold of the bard and throws the both of them over the cliff.

Falling from this height is more terrifying than Geralt anticipated. There’s hardly any control he can take. Jaskier is screaming beside him. It lasts a moment, barely an instant, before they plunge into the icy cold water.

The world around him spins. There is no sense of direction. No up or down. His only tether is to Jaskier, whom he refuses to let go of. He will not lose him in the rush of the river.

It’s a fight to the surface, with his armor and his friend, but there have been more difficult battles. The next problem is swimming to the damn shore, but the rocks are slippery and Jaskier refuses to help. Though, he may be in shock.

He’ll deal with that later.

Finally, he pulls them both ashore. Geralt gasps for air, more out of panic than anything else. For a moment, all he can do is lay on his back and look at the sky. His gaze shifts from the bright blue of it to the top of the cliff. There are no signs on the angry crowd. He can’t properly hear them with the rushing water. Even if they were to come after himself and Jaskier, they will have plenty of time to make their escape.

“Jaskier,” Geralt calls out. They should dry off. Get going. Figure out a plan on how to get their belongings back. He turns his head to the side, waiting for the oncoming flood of complaints.

Silence.

“Jaskier.” He sits up, discomfort and discombobulation forgotten. Silence rings in his ears. The bard is always making noise. Singing, humming, tapping. His heart beating. But now, his lungs are quiet in the orchestra that makes up Jaskier.

Geralt scrambles over to Jaskier’s side and turns him over. His head lolls. But he’s still alive. His heartbeat, weak as it is, is still thumping. There’s still time to fix this. Panic, alien and intrusive, has to be pushed down and away.

There’s a trick Geralt learned many years ago in Skellige. Something about… pulling the water from someone’s lungs. He’s never had the use for it before now. Tries to remember all of the specifics.

He tilts back Jaskier’s head, pries open his mouth, pinches his nose, and then leans down to breathe air into his lungs.

Geralt can see from the corner of his eye Jaskier’s chest rise and fall with each breath. Does that mean it’s working? He continues regardless. (This can’t be the end.) Almost dizzy from lack of oxygen on his own, Geralt raises his head and takes a deep breath before returning to Jaskier.

It’s with this shared air that Jaskier finally sputters to life, turning to his side and expelling river water. He coughs violently, his voice rasping. Relief floods Geralt. He is going to have to thank Crach an Craite one of these days.

He’ll have to visit Skellige again. (Go to the coast?)

Now that Jaskier is okay, Geralt has little idea what to do with his hands. He places one on Jaskier’s shoulder. Runs his thumb back and forth in what he hopes to be a comforting motion. “Jaskier?”

Jaskier rolls onto his back and closes his eyes. Taps his fingers against his chest. Breathes. Then, “Did- did I-” Another cough. “Did I imagine things… or did you just kiss me back to life?”

Geralt removes his hand from Jaskier’s shoulder and frowns. “That is not what happened.”

Jaskier, the bastard, opens a single eye. Shining with mischief. Geralt wants to wipe that smirk off of his face. “So you didn’t put your mouth on my mouth?”

“That’s not how that works.”

“True love’s kiss, what a beautiful thing!”

“Jaskier.” Geralt looks away, unable to withstand the joy Jaskier is exuding. “We have to go.”

“Truly, Geralt, I wasn’t sure you had it in you. And here we are! Me, alive and… well, not kicking yet. You may have to carry me. Or, oh! Why not kiss me again? If one kiss brings me back from the brink of death, surely-”

“Jaskier-” This is neither the time or place to talk of… such things. He takes a deep breath in slowly. “Just. Shut the fuck up.”

-

more geraskier