#i emerge from the deep end to produce one (1) yennskier fic for chrysa every year

[samstree]

“Ow, ow, ow…” Jaskier hisses, holding his injured shoulder still. The arrow pulls at his flesh suddenly. “Ow! Are you trying to kill me, witch?”

He turns around to send a glare, only to find Yennefer rolling her eyes.

“It needs to come out so I can heal you, bard,” she says pointedly, one hand holding him by the arm, the other wrapped around that gods-damned arrow. “Now hold still, and stop being a baby.”

She mumbles something about even Ciri making less of a fuss with injuries, and Jaskier makes his most offended noise, ready to throw back more insults.

“I’ll have you know, I was the bravest bait who ever lived, as appointed by a princess! And this is the proof of my bravery! How many bards have taken an arrow in the back? Nary one, I say! I am not being a baby, you cruel, heartless—”

A sharp pain shoots through his shoulder as Yennefer pulls out the arrow in one swift motion, nearly blinding him. Jaskier’s breath catches, and all sounds die in his throat as the world darkens for a moment. The surprise of it all leaves him shaking, his chest heaving.

“It’ll be over soon…”

Distantly, Jaskier knows Yennefer is saying something as she works her magic, but all he can focus on is the pain and the warm trickle of blood down his back. He touches the tips of his fingers on instinct, a self-soothing motion he’s developed in the past year.

“Hey.”

A gentle hand lands on where the arrow struck him, and Jaskier gasps, realizing Yennefer is now touching smooth, unbroken skin. All the pain is gone.

“Hmm,” Jaskier says, intelligently, blinking as he tries to move his shoulder. Nothing tugs at the muscles underneath. He’s as good as new. “Oh, I—Yennefer, I guess I should—”

“Don’t thank me.” She has sat down beside him, one hand still on his shoulder, a magical tingling under her fingertips. “Promised I’d save you, didn’t I?”

Jaskier chuckles, exhaling with relief. “Did you? Not before tormenting me greatly, though.”

Yennefer blinks, violet eyes boring into him. The next thing he knows, she’s leaning down to press her lips to his shoulder, right where the phantom pain has faded. The kiss ends quickly, but it is soft, bordering on sweet.

“Oh…” he breathes.

His skin is now tingling for an entirely different reason.

“What about now, oh brave bard?” she asks, half-teasing, half-sincere. Their hands find each other’s, linking together. She squeezes in reassurance, careful to avoid the burn scars on his fingers. “Still cruel and heartless?”

Jaskier holds onto her hand in return, heart picking up its pace. He doesn’t know how she does it, driving him up the wall and making his insides melt into a warm puddle of goo at the same time, all the while being her most infuriatingly witty self. There must be a special magic spell for it.

“No,” he answers, a smile stretching across his face. She raises her eyebrows, as a challenge, as a dare, but he settles on something also half-teasing, half-sincere. “Kind and generous, is what you are, my dear, dear witch.”

He takes Yennefer’s hand to his lips and kisses her in return, and watches violet eyes melt with warmth.

If there was a magic spell, Jaskier thinks, he must have been enchanted by her a long time ago.

(this is for @cherryjuicegf <33 I counted the number of crumbs you were getting and took pity...)