Geraskier One-Shot Collection

Heat of the Moment - Part 1

Emotions, emotional attachment, feelings in general, the L-word, him.

"You're going to end up burning holes on my table with your glare- and that's gonna piss me off." Yennefer pointed out with a warning tone. She looked down at the wine glass in her hand, then sighed. "Is it him again?"

Geralt scowled. "It's always him, Yen." He answered as if it was obvious- which it was at this point. "Everywhere I go, I see his face- it's not fucking fair. And it's really starting to bother me, Lambert started talking about his performance and I just about..." the grip he had on his tankard tightened. The witch across from him knew the rest of the answer.

Julian Alfred Pankratz, or Jaskier as he liked to go by, was always taking over the Witcher's thoughts. A contract, an inn, another bard playing- the brunette's beautiful face and wonderful voice-

"Dammit, what am I supposed to do?" Geralt growled, furrowing his eyebrows together in anger. "I haven't seen him since we parted- and it's fucking killing me."

The witch's nose twitched. "Guess your 'one blessing' turned out to be a curse, hm?" She swirled the wine around and sighed. "Stop moping and go find him, Geralt. I'm tired of listening to your whining about this."

After downing the rest of his drink, Geralt stormed out of Yennefer's home. When he reached the stables, Roach gave him a look that said 'We just got here and we're leaving?' to which the Witcher grunted and climbed atop of her, giving her a small pat.

"Let's go find Jaskier."

* * *

If anyone asked, Jaskier was doing quite well on his own. His pockets were semi full with coin, the crowds he played for were always pleased with his performances, and occasionally, some nights were spent with men and women.

But most didn't know that half the bard's mind was set on his old frie- companion, Geralt of Rivia. The venomous tone he had, his one blessing, the fact that he was hopelessly in love with the Witcher...

It didn't help that the other Witchers would sometimes be in the same town as him and sit through his performances. They didn't say a single word to him- which made it worse in a way- and it was also that none of them were ever Geralt.

Jaskier groaned and rubbed his eyes, flopping down face-first onto his bed. He was love sick- and well, the feeling all this made his stomach twist in every way possible. It hurt.

"Damn him. Damn my feelings. Damn my stupid heart!" He picked up a pillow and threw it at the door, immediately turning to smash his face back into the bed. "Damn it all..."