lovelybasilisk:“You can leave,” he growls. Jaskier’s face falls. “If you wan
lovelybasilisk:“You can leave,” he growls. Jaskier’s face falls. “If you want.”Jaskier shakes his head sadly, and brings one hand up to delicately cup his cheek. Through the hum of toxicity, the touch is warm and kind and grounding. “Silly witcher,” he says, so softly. “You won’t be rid of me that easily.”Find the fic that inspired this and the text above : Here -- source link
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