#lem is the MVP of this fic
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crushcandles · 2 years ago
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〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜♡
At the threshold between night and morning, when the sky is at its darkest and the air its coldest, a log in the fire collapses, sap popping, sparks fizzling. Geralt barely registers the sound, but Jaskier stirs in the hay, pushing up onto his elbow, cloak slipping off his shoulder.
"Geralt?" His voice is small and scratchy with sleep.
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