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Abandoned - Geralt x Jaskier Headcanon Fluff

100% cotton wool grade fluff, I just like this visual. Hehe.

It started, as many problems do, with a muffled noise.

Geralt already couldn't sleep, and the tiny squeaking that was stabbing at his eardrums like pins in a seamstress' hem was not helping matters.

When it continued, he gruffly shoved himself from the comfort of his bed in the inn room, and, dressed in only his breeches, went to find the source.

With his well-honed senses, it didn't take him long to find the offense; in a crawlspace beneath the establishment, there lay a litter of kittens nesting on a bunched-up potato sack.

He inhaled, trying to scent the mother, the tell-tale adult feline notes that would assure him she'd be returning to shut the squirming fluff-pile up soon, but her odor was old. She'd abandoned them, or met with a cruel fate.

"I'm sorry." He gritted out at the little creatures, "Life isn't fair." Carefully, he pulled the sack closer, intent on picking up the whole bundle. Drowning orphaned kittens wasn't how he'd wanted to spend an evening, but it was a kinder fate than starvation.

He took up the dirtied canvas, withdrew from the crawlspace, and looked down at the wriggling creatures cradled in his arms.

There were six; three were white with little patches of grey, two were grey tabbies, and one was solidly black, save for a little smudge on its forehead; the white streak sort of looked like the letter 'J'.

As he regarded his tragic burden, the black kitten opened its eyes, bleary and uncertain, still trying to develop focus on the wide world. It looked up at Geralt, and it struck him how similar in colour its eyes were to Jaskier's. He marveled for a moment, stunned, before the tiny thing beeped at him. Hungry.

Geralt knew what it was to be abandoned. He exhaled deeply at the babies in his arms, and realised that he was completely and utterly fucked. With a low growl at his own foolish softness, he strode back into the inn with his newest burden - pausing at the kitchen to procure some goat's milk and a rag - and paced back to his room.

Over the next few days, he fed them when they cried, kept the fireplace crackling with warmth, and tried to keep them together as best he could. Their eyes and ears were opening, and they were keen to explore, but they were tiny idiots and he was terrified one might stumble into the fire. He barely slept.

Jaskier returned from the royal function he'd attended over the course of a week - Geralt had refused to go, of course - only to be greeted by a concerned innkeeper. The Witcher had been ordering vast quantities of goat milk, Jaskier was told, and the keeper's wife was sure she'd seen him outside, gathering dirt to put in his pockets. They feared the bard's boyfriend had suffered a breakdown of sorts.

Of course, Jaskier was concerned. He took the stairs two at a time, pushing at the door - only to hit the barricade of a wardrobe. "Geralt?" He called, "Love, it's me. Could you let me in?"

"Yeah," He heard a grunt, "Just... hold on. Give me a moment."

The bard was privy to the sound of the furniture dragged from the doorway, and steeled himself, taking a breath. He wondered if he'd find his lover smeared in dirt, drinking from a milk jug.

As he opened the door, he found instead the Witcher, frazzled of hair and tired of eye, dotted with half-a-dozen kittens that clung to his shirt like cactus barbs, their squeaking chirps only adding to the amusing display. In his massive arms he cradled two, and the remaining four were using his chest like a tree-trunk to explore.

"I... found them." Geralt answered his bard's bewildered expression, "They were alone." A black kitten in his hand meeped, and he hushed it. "Shh, Jask. I don't want the keepers to know."

"You named one after me?" Jaskier closed the door, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Tentatively, he plucked one from Geralt's shoulder to examine.

"Yes," Geralt admitted, "Because he's annoying."

"Right." Jaskier squinted, "Not because of the cute mark on his forehead, or because he's secretly your favourite?"

The Witcher mumbled something under his breath and took back the kitten Jaskier was holding, like a protective parent. The bard laughed.

"You're absolutely hopeless, you know that, darling?" He quipped. Geralt glared.

"If you put this in any of your songs, I'll let them use your hats as a toilet."

"I can't believe you," Jaskier sat on the bed and sighed, "I'm gone a week and you are father to six children. You absolute harlot."

Jask - the kitten - scaled Geralt's shirt with pinprick claws, intent on starting a battle for dominion of the Witcher's left shoulder. He groaned, and sat.

"They need a second parent in their lives." Geralt's smile was a quiver.

"You think I'm letting you raise our bastard kids alone?" Jaskier scoffed, "Gods. You don't know me at all." He picked up a tabby. "What's this one called?"

"Why don't you name him?" Geralt shrugged. Jaskier squinted at the mewling thing and hummed.

"Prince Theodorum of the Southern Summits, Conquer of Mortals."

"We're never having human babies."

"Yeah," Jaskier conceded, "That's fair."

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It’s that scene

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So I made a short video of every time Jaskier says “Geralt” in The Witcher season 1.

It was supposed to be a bit of fun…until I remembered the last time he actually says his name…

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the world is burning… have some more witcher content lol

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Toss a coin to your Witcher…

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Jaskier: Happy Birthday Geralt! I got you a gift :)

Geralt: It's not my birthday... And this is a signed portrait of you.

Yennefer, hip bumping Jaskier away: Jask a portait of you is a shit gift.

Yennefer: Geralt I have a better gift for you, I know you'll love. :)

Geralt:

Geralt: This is also a signed portrait of you.

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Inspired by a post by @inseparajoe  

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(If you’re going to repost this comic please just make sure to credit me, thank you)

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Sending you a little bit of love.💕

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Geralt's age when things happen (based on Netflix)

Age 27: Beginning of the Great Cleansing, elves are slaughtered by humans

Age 32: Yennefer is born

Age 53: Renfri is born

Age 62: Jaskier is born

Age 71: Butcher of Blaviken. Renfri is killed by Geralt at age 18 (18! she deserved better)

Age 80: Meets Jaskier(18) and captured by elves while hunting for the Devil of Posada. "Toss A Coin To Your Witcher" composed.

Age 83: Breaks the Striga Curse. (The Striga is 14-years-old.) Meets Triss Merigold.

Age 89: Claims Law of Surprise (I'll accept his stupidity charges on count of being old).

Age 90: Ciri is born

Age 96: Becomes master of the Djinn. Meets Yennefer.

Age 102: Dragon Hunt. Breaks up with Yennefer and Jaskier on the mountain.

Age 103: Cintra falls at the hand of Nilfgaard. Meets Ciri(13).

Notes: Interesting how Geralt runs into two different teens(Renfri and Jaskier) who both inadverdently cement his public persona. Renfri's death makes him the Butcher of Blaviken and Jaskier's song makes him the hero Witcher.

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Let him go Geralt >:0!!

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sometimes i like to just sit and think about how soft geralt is with jaskier, because it honestly makes me cry.

because geralt has such an awful reputation, of being brutal and savage. of being a butcher, a killer, a blood-thirsty monster who will snap your neck if you so much as look at him wrong. who doesn't deserve a gentle hand or a gentle word, because he can't feel, because he doesn't do mercy and kindness.

and oh, how wrong that is.

because geralt is so soft.

because geralt is soft with roach because his mare is the only creature who doesn't judge him, who doesn't demand things from him, who trusts and loves him on an implicit level.

and geralt is soft with children, because they're innocent and curious and so damn sweet, and he didn't get to savour that time in his life, so he leaves them be, allows them to ask their prodding questions because he doesn't have it in him to be harsh and cold.

geralt is soft with the ladies in the brothels, because they're the only ones who will touch him nowadays, without flinching or retching. they're soft with him, so he repays their kindness with extra coin - he still scents their fear, their disgust and tries hard to not let it bother him.

geralt is soft with yennefer, but only because she desires softness too. they're kindred creatures, misunderstood and feared, so it makes sense that they understand each other so thoroughly.

(and when he meets ciri, his softness will reach levels that no other creature will ever experience, because ciri is different and she is special and he fucking adores her)

geralt is soft with jaskier.

which is a lie at first, but the moment he lands his fist in jaskier's stomach, the sour flavour of regret hits his tongue hard.

he resolves to not strike jaskier like that again. he bats at it him lightly, but only to warn, to tease, to scold.

never to intimidate, to frighten, to chase off.

it's why he allows jaskier to take liberties that no other human is privy to. the man writes his songs and makes his demands. pulls geralt along to parties and pushes him into baths. he crowds into geralt's space, touches him and smiles at him, fond and saccharine. geralt doesn't detest being touched - moreover, it's that he usually expects it to be violently hateful and aggressive, so when jaskier gives him affection, he finds that he... really doesn't mind the contact. the bard will slap geralt's back or shoulder in appreciation, rub soothing oils and herbs into his aching body, ensure that he's fed and will charm innkeepers into sheltering the witcher.

it's why he doesn't beat jaskier into submission when he fights for the djinn. it's why he carries and cradles the bard to safety, hovers over him protectively and offers yennefer anything in exchange for his life. he feels dazed from relief when he finds jaskier alive and well.

it's why he allows the bard to steal his ale, his food, his blankets...

his heart.

because the bard was soft with him first.

and that's something geralt can't ever forget.

.

but there are some things geralt must remember.

because softness doesn't begin and end with a single touch. softness considers words. softness considers the power they wield and they damage they can inflict. softness considers how a passing comment can wound deeper than any poisoned dagger.

it's a lesson geralt learns the hard way.

when he callously mocks jaskier's abilities as a travel companion.

when he dismisses and practically ignores jaskier's heartfelt, painful, longingly aching speech to him, as they sit together on that ridge, gazing out to the big, wide everything before them.

when he abandons the slumbering bard, forgets about him, before his encounter with the dragons.

when he cruelly throws him aside with words that drip with venom.

it's true that geralt has learned harder lessons.

but this one haunts him the most.

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Henry Cavill as Geralt of Rivia in The Witcher (2019 — )

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geralt, laying in bed next to jaskier: nice

jaskier, asleep: *makes a sleepy sound and cuddles close to geralt*

geralt, holding back tears: n i c e

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the two things missing in that bath: bubbles and jaskier singing 

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yennefer: we lost Jaskier!

geralt: hmm

geralt: *deep breath* GERALT OF RIVIA IS A HEARTLESS MONSTER-

jaskier, bursting through the crowd: WHO HERE HAS A DEATH WISH SAY THAT TO MY FACE YOU LIMP LETTUCE YOU COWARDLY CABBAGE FRITATTA-

geralt: found him