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kell-be-belle · 2 years

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All That Counts Now

An extremely indulgent ficlet that I wrote with the fervor of a madman even though I have so many other things I should be doing, however, I knew I could not rest until I had gotten it out of my system. So here it is, inspired by @spielzeugkaiser and their Omegaverse!Geraskier AU. The original post can be found here and the particular piece that inspired me can be found here.

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

Rating: Teen

Warnings: A/B/O, mildly suggestive language, mentions of past Mpreg

****

The fire burned low in the hearth. Combined with a smattering of candles, the room was rife with shadows dancing and writhing over its damp stone walls. The pungent scent of woodsmoke was not enough to cover up the undercurrent of arousal that wafted tantalizing through the air like a beckoning hand. The bear skin rug was plush under Geralt’s bare feet as he crossed to the hearth, to the man standing before it wreathed in the halo of its glow. Jaskier was staring pensively into the flames, arms wrapped tight around his chest. Geralt could see where the sweat glistened at his temples, where it had begun to curl the fine hair at the nape of his neck. The scent of arousal came from him, blooming sweet and milky from his skin with an irresistible decadence. Jaskier’s heat was imminent. By the time the night was through, Geralt had no doubt he would be caught full in the throes of it.

Jaskier did not flinch as Geralt came up behind him, long since accustomed to sensing him despite the quiet of his movements. He did not look at Geralt either, eyes still trained on the snap and sway of the flames as they consumed the wood with fervor. Geralt moistened his lips, collecting himself before he muttered, “Are you sure about this?” It had been fifteen years since they had last spent a heat together. Just before the dragon hunt, just before Jaskier had vanished without a trace to raise the child they had miraculously conceived.

With a shuddering breath, Jaskier whispered, “I believe so.” It was not the confidence Geralt had been hoping for, but he was hardly surprised given their history.

“I’ll be here if you want me, but if you’re not ready for this I understand.”

Laughing bitterly, Jaskier replied, “It’ll hardly matter in a few hours. I’ll be too incoherent to know what it is I want.”

Geralt pressed his lips into a thin line, concerned by Jaskier’s callous demeanor. Geralt reached out a hand to touch Jaskier then drew it back, hesitant. Things between them were still tenuous, but the fact that they had even made it this far felt like a testament to the lengths both of them were willing to go in the hopes of rekindling the love they once shared. Jaskier would not have asked him here without serious thought. Emboldened by this, Geralt lifted his hand again and rested it gently on the curve of Jaskier’s shoulder. His skin was warm beneath Geralt’s palm, the fever of his impending heat steadily growing like the heat of the day with the rise of the sun.

“Jaskier,” He whispered, low and tender, “I love you and I want to take care of you, but if this isn’t something you’re ready for then I will do everything in my power to make you as comfortable as possible without invading your boundaries.”

Jaskier was quiet for a time, his shapely teeth worrying at the skin of his lower lip. And Geralt waited, heart constricted in his chest, for Jaskier to mull over his answer. “I’m afraid.” He said at last, blurted as if he had been struggling to make the admission.

Swallowing hard, Geralt croaked, “What that you’ll…” Geralt couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, but Jaskier was not so squeamish.

“Get pregnant again? No, I think those years are beyond me now.” Which may or may not have been true since Jaskier was somewhat on the cusp in age. “No, no I’m afraid you…” He paused again, his arms tightening in their fold across his chest. His fingers bunching in the soft linen of his sleeves.

Leaning forward, Geralt pressed a light kiss to the nape of Jaskier’s neck, “Tell me Jaskier. I promise I’ll do whatever I can.”

“I’m afraid you’ll find me much changed, witcher mine.” He laughed as he said it, but there was clearly no humor behind it. Geralt knew it as a defense mechanism. A reflex of Jaskier’s that was meant to dissolve tension. Upon seeing Geralt’s puzzled expression, Jaskier elaborated, “It’s been some years since last we were intimate. I’ve grown older, I’ve been through… tribulations. I’m afraid that you’ll find my body much changed and that you may not like what you see.”

Geralt’s heart twisted hot and fierce in his chest, “That doesn’t matter to me, Jaskier,” He asserted, perhaps with more ferocity than was intended judging by the jump of Jaskier’s shoulders. Geralt collected himself with a breath before he continued, “There is nothing I could be less concerned about than how you look. Gods know I’ve changed myself, new aches, new scars-”

“New beard.” Jaskier laughed, a soft, breathy thing that sounded far more genuine than the one from before. “I rather like it, I think it makes you look distinguished.”

Geralt chuckled, “Doesn’t make me look old?”

“I think mature is a better word.”

“So it does make me look old, got it. I’ll shave it off first thing tomorrow morning.”

“You’ll do no such thing.” Declared Jaskier hautighly. And they laughed, heads pressed close together. The knot in Geralt’s chest loosened, relieved to see Jaskier acting more like himself.

Resting his chin in the crook of Jaskier’s neck, Geralt spoke, “I love you, no matter what. I’m just happy to be here with you again.” That you let me be here with you, he added to himself.

Jaskier raised a hand and smoothed the back of his knuckles over Geralt’s cheek, “I’m happy, too, dear heart. We’ve a lot of lost time to make up for.” Indeed they did.

Stepping closer to the hearth, Jaskier turned to face Geralt. He gathered the hem of his shirt in his grasp, lifting it the barest inch. He looked to Geralt, his eyes wide and searching for something, anything, to serve as encouragement. Geralt took a step towards Jaskier. He laid his hands over Jaskier’s and smiled in a way he hoped conveyed confidence. It seemed to work well enough and together, the two of them lifted Jaskier’s shirt until it was over his head where it then fluttered to the floor behind them.

The skin of Jaskier’s body was much the same, but softer around the edges. The sharp angles of his youth smoothed down by time and a comfortable living. It was not unpleasant, not in the slightest, and Geralt could not fathom why Jaskier would care for such a thing. Vain as he was in regards to himself, Jaskier had always looked upon Geralt’s scarred, battle-worn body and assured him he was perfect as he was. Jaskier had traced his fingers against every seam of puckered skin and pressed his lips into every cleft as if they were things to be revered. It was a kindness he should have extended to himself.

Geralt’s eyes traveled down, over the smattering of dark hair over Jaskier’s supple chest as it spread down over his sternum and to his belly and- oh. Oh. Geralt felt his heart twist at the sight. Where Jaskier’s belly had always been firm and lean, now a distinctive paunch sat in the bracket of his hips. The skin around his navel was puckered slightly and following the curve of his lower belly were streaks of pink skin that branched like bolts of lightning. Stretch marks, Geralt thought belatedly, that is what they were called.

Guilt opened up in the pit of Geralt’s like a void. It threatened to pull him into its empty depths, to sink its taloned fingers into his flesh and hold like a wild and desperate animal. The line of hair that had once trailed over Jaskier’s belly and disappeared into the hem braies was gone now. Geralt could remember all the times he had pressed kisses to it. Followed the length of it down, down, down until he could press his mouth hot and damp against Jaskier’s sex. It was a loss, but one that was infinitesimally small and foolish in comparison to what Geralt had truly lost.

Jaskier shifted his weight from one foot to the other, squirming like a butterfly pinned under Geralt’s scrutiny. “I managed to lose most of the weight after I gave birth, but there was some I just couldn’t seem to rid myself of no matter how I tried.” Jaskier muttered, his voice tight like the words were fighting their way up his throat. “I could have done something about the stretch marks, but, at the time, it had seemed frivolous to spend what coin I had on things like cocoa butter or oils. I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done about it now.”

In Geralt’s responding silence, Jaskier’s hands came up to rest on his sagging belly. He laced his fingers tightly together like the ribbons of a corset, holding the soft skin and covering the worst of the stretch marks as if they were something shameful. Something ugly. And that could not have been any further from the truth.

Wordlessly, Geralt fell to his knees before Jaskier. Whether it was voluntary or simply the forsaking of his strength, Geralt was not really sure, but here he was nonetheless. Jaskier grew still as stone. Like a statue. The kind that sat entangled in rose gardens or perched atop burbling fountains, beautiful and otherworldly. Geralt took Jaskier’s hips between his hands, brushed his thumbs over the edges of his pelvis where the bone sat just under the skin.

This was the belly that had grown their child. Their son. Housed and nourished him and borne him safely unto the world and into the fierce and loving embrace of his Papa. Only his Papa. And Geralt felt stuck by the overwhelming loss that he had not been there. By the guilt that Jaskier had gone through all of it alone, every joyous and arduous moment. It tore through him raw and merciless and though the pain of it felt unendurable, Geralt knew it was nothing in comparison to Jaskier. Geralt had wandered the continent in ignorance, while Jaskier had carried all the burden in his heart like a stone.

Leaning forward, Geralt pressed his face into Jaskier’s belly just beside his navel. He tried to imagine what it could have been like had things been different. Had he been there to watch Jaskier’s belly swell, feel the babe as it moved inside him, supported him through every bright day and endless night. But it was too late, too late for all of that now. Nothing more than daydreams and wishful thinking as intangible and immaterial as starlight. It was true, Geralt was here now and he was doing what he could as recompense, but so much had been lost. So much, so much, so much.

Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s hips, held him hard and fierce in his embrace. The crooked angle of his nose pressing into Jaskier’s belly could not have been comfortable, but he made no move to push Geralt away. Jaskier’s scent was still the sweet and milky thing it had been, but underneath it Geralt caught the sharp tang of salt. Geralt had long ago lost his ability to cry, though gods knew he would have if only he could, which left no doubt that it was Jaskier who had begun shedding tears. And that only made Geralt hold him tighter, the blunt ends of his fingers digging deep into the soft flesh of Jaskier’s hips.

Jaskier lifted a hand and began to card his fingers through Geralt’s hair with a soft and steady touch. Though his voice was thick with emotion he crooned, “Ssh, it’s alright dear heart. All is well, now. All is well.” And Geralt feels like he should be embarrassed that Jaskier is comforting him when he is not the one that suffered so greatly, yet he cannot bring himself to move even a single inch.

After a time, Jaskier wriggles his hips a bit, loosening Geralt’s grasp around them. He sinks to his knees so that he can be on the same level as Geralt. Jaskier’s eyes are rimmed with red. His cheeks are damp and sticky with tears. And yet still he smiles when he looks upon Geralt with all the benevolence of a saint. He takes Geralt’s face within the bracket of his palms, presses a chaste kiss to his lips and Geralt can taste the salt of his tears on the tip of his tongue. Jaskier withdraws, but not so much that their foreheads cannot touch, their noses cannot brush.

“It’s alright,” He whispers once more and whether it’s for Geralt or for them both, he is no longer sure. Again he whispers, “It’s alright, we’re here now and that’s all that counts now.”

#the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #Jaskier #Geralt of Rivia #omegaverse #omega!jaskier #alpha!geralt #fanficiton #hurt/comfort #angst #spielzeugkaiser

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eskelsgirl · 26 days

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Labour?

(Title is still in the works) This is just a brief prologue. With an abrupt ending. Main pairing: Geraskier, Side pairings: Vesemir/Original Male Character, Eskel/Original Female character. Tags: Alpha/Omega/Beta au, canon divergence, arrange marriage -kind of? Vesemir looks down, unimpressed at the young omega at his feet, even less so at the omega’s beta ‘father’ that put him there. Male omegas were as rare as alpha females, unheard of but not impossible. The boy wasn’t a tiny thing like his omega; he was all limbs and about as tall as his oldest, with no hips to speak of. This wasn’t the first time men have tried to sell their unwanted children off to the witchers to pay their debts. But Vesemir already had enough pups and wasn’t looking for another.

“And what am I to do with him?” Vesemir asks, looking back up at the court. “He’s no child surprise, far too old for the mutations to take.” The beta growls a low warning, which is unimpressive, but Vesemir doesn’t allow the challenge to go unpunished. Growling back louder, a vicious snarl that sends the beta aback. A fraction of a movement caught Vesemir’s eyes: a young girl hanging off the skirts of her maid. The red swollen mark on her cheek would soon become a proper bruise. She was a timid thing, holding on to a well-cared-for doll. “She’ll do,” Vesemir says, his eyes narrowing on the girl. "She’ll make a fine playmate for my youngest.” “No!” The forgotten omega at his feet snaps, grasping Vesemir’s arm, pulling attention back onto him. “You will not touch her.” Cornflower blue meets harden amber, the first time Vesemir had seen the omega’s eyes full of defiance. The pieces clicked; maybe he would have a use for this omega after all. “Very well, then,” Vesemir shacks his arm out of the boy’s grasp. “I’ll take the omega off your hands, as well as his dowry.” “Dowry!” The beta yells, “Yes, if he is to mate one of my sons, a dowry is to be paid,” Vesemir explains, taking the time to now circle around the omega. “Then again, you are trying to cheat your way out of a 1,000 crown contract. You must not even have a dowry for your children.” A few snickers meet Vesemir’s ears, it seems someone else was enjoying the look of humiliation on the Lord’s face. After that, getting the dowry, a horse for the omega, and a bag of his belongings didn't take much convincing. “Go witcher.” The lord sneered, “Do not expect a warm welcome again.” —------- It was a long ride to where ever the Witcher alpha was taking him. While Jaskier was pleased to be away from his father, he will dearly miss his little sister and hope she will be safe without him there to protect her. The alpha didn’t speak much or at all, only deeming him worthy of conversation to command when to rest, eat, and water the horses. Jaskier wasn’t good at silence, so he spent most of the time lost in his head, humming songs or speaking softly to himself. He had made it through most of Hannelore Varidil’s epic poem, which he had memorized years ago. When they had stopped in a village outside of Kaedwen after weeks of camping outside, Jaskier was ready for a real bed, even if it was filled with straw. The Witcher dismounted effortlessly, while Jaskier still hadn’t mastered it. Once his feet touched solid ground, a young boy quickly gathered the reins in exchange for a few coins. “Come.” One-word commands. It seems that all the conversation Jaskier will ever have. Vesemir leads him to some form of market, stalls set up near two established buildings, the inn, and a tailor. Assuming they were heading for the inn, Jaskier didn’t think much but walked forward, only to be stopped by Vesemir. “Finally going to sell me then?” Jaskier couldn’t help the quip as it left his mouth. Then, he braced himself for a smack that never came, only a chuckle. “Not worth the hassle.” Vesemir answered, “They’ll probably arrest me for kidnapping.” “Fair. So what are we doing?” “Shopping.” Vesemir turned to the nearest stall, selling vegetables, and moved on before finding a traveling merchant with what he needed. “A master Witcher,” the merchant smiled. Vesemir didn’t need his secondary gender to tell him what he needed from the man. The Distaste was obvious, but he wouldn't turn down a paying customer.

“A blue Opal pendant to match your omega’s beautiful eyes.” The pendant was beautiful, and its silver wiring suited it better than the gilded sapphire next to it. Vesemir huffed but didn’t correct the merchant; instead settled on a crescent moon-shaped jasper with bronze wiring. “My mate prefers the simpler things in life,” Vesemir admits, holding the necklace in the light. “A young thing such as him-“

“He’s not my mate. He’s for my son.” Vesemir growls,

#Witcher #Geraskier #Geraskier a/o/b #geralt of rivia #jaskier the bard #jaskier #omega Jaskier #Alpha Geralt

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hegorys · 4 months

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Geraskier fic idea #2

What if in a universe a/b/o the witcher, the witchers were just alphas and considered sterile because they can't get pregnant people they have sex with, be they female betas, female omegas or male omegas, but some group of wizards can transform omegas in witchers and can these omega witchers get pregnant by alpha witchers? And their children are born witchers and don't have to go through all the torture that their parents had to go through to become witchers?

In this universe, the group of wizards who manage to transform omegas into witchers are not necessarily bad, they are people who reached a point where they asked themselves "instead of going through the whole process of experimenting with thousands of alpha children to get just one small percentage of alpha witcher children, since out of every 10 only 3 have a chance of surviving the transformation process, why don't we try to resolve the issue of reproduction of alpha witchers?", because if witchers could reproduce and the children were already born witchers, there would be more witchers to deal with the monsters on the continent, they would not need to go hunting alone and the chances of dying on the way decrease

Of course, the omegas that go through the transformation process are aware that if they choose to go through the process they have a high chance of dying, however, in an a/b/o universe the omegas usually suffer a lot, including suffering at the hands of alpha humans for being considered weak, a low caste in the pyramid, and risking becoming stronger and having a freer life with a chance of finding a good alpha (here alpha witchers are decent and loyal people ok, hahahaha), they would definitely choose the second option, at least I think so, ahahahah

Jaskier chooses to become an omega witcher, meets Geralt on a hunt and they both click "oh my loki I want to climb that grumpy alpha" and "holy loki look at that male omega beauty is flexible, I want him to carry my cubs ", of course, for that kind of thought to happen I think they would have to be virgins, I've never seen Geralt a virgin in any fic, hahahaha

#alpha geralt #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #geralt de rivia #witcher geralt #witcher #jaskier #omega jaskier #geraskier fic

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kayte-overmoon · 9 months

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Daisy Chain - ABO MPreg Masterlist

Alpha Geralt/Omega Jaskier

Rated E

Read it on AO3

Or read it here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5 (Finale)

Each part links to the next one so you don't have to navigate back and forth :]

If you're looking for quick burn to domestic bliss, mpreg, fluff and smut, minor angst, and found family, then this is the fic for you!

It ended up having way more plot than I originally intended and a sequel is already in the works, so strap in for more!

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bambirex · 6 months

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Okay, just out of curiosity - it won't necessarily affect the plot, just genuinely interested in your thoughts:

#geraskier #yennskier #radskier #mamma mia au #jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #radovid #omega jaskier #alpha geralt #alpha yennefer #beta radovid #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #genuinely just curious

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 2 years

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Knot On My Watch

My second fic for @witchersummercamp! You can either read it below the cut or on AO3.

Prompt: Heat

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: E

Words: 2K

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics; a lot of mercenaries dying violently

Summary: When a band of trained killers think they can get the best of Geralt while he’s holed up in Jaskier’s Oxenfurt townhouse for his heat, they’re in for a rude surprise. So is Jaskier, who—knotted deep inside his lover—has no choice but to cling onto Geralt’s back and hold on for dear life once the swords come out.

There are only four places on the Continent where Geralt can let his guard down enough to be knotted—Kaer Morhen, the Temple of Melitele’s heat rooms, Yennefer’s cottage in Vengerberg, and Jaskier’s faculty lodgings in Oxenfurt.

Before Jaskier—and later Yennefer—came into his life, his summer heats were miserable affairs. Lambert, the only other Wolf School omega there’s been in Geralt’s lifetime, has a winter heat, the lucky bastard. He spends his heats warm and safe in Kaer Morhen, knotted by Eskel or Coën.

But for Geralt, heats were once spent holed up in abandoned shacks or caves and hoping that his hands wouldn’t be too slippery to grab his sword if something hungry—be it man or monster—was drawn by the scent of an omega in heat. Eventually, he made a deal with Nenneke that he could hole up in one of the Temple of Melitele’s heat rooms, sometimes with the company of a whore from the local brothel or a willing priestess, but usually with nothing but a wooden knot to satisfy him.

But he hasn’t spent a heat alone in nearly twenty years, not since that first summer traveling with Jaskier when his heat hit nearly a month early and he had no choice but to hole up in a cabin with the irritating, overeager alpha bard that had been stuck to him like a wyvern’s barbed tail for months.

Jaskier’s technique has improved significantly after twenty years spent together. For one, he almost always manages to make it inside Geralt before he pops a knot.

Right now, Geralt can feel the knot swelling inside him as Jaskier fucks into him, his chest hair tickling Geralt’s sweat-slicked back. They’re about twelve hours into Geralt’s heat, long enough that they’re both sticky and sweaty. It’s a hot, muggy night in Oxenfurt and the room is oppressively warm, despite the window they’ve cracked open to let in a nonexistent breeze. But Geralt is too drunk on the pleasure of having Jaskier deep inside him, his lover’s lips on his neck and one hand stroking through his hair, to give a damn right now.

“Geralt,” Jaskier gasps. “Oh, love, you feel so fucking perfect. Gods.”

Geralt huffs a laugh. Even after all these years, Jaskier still acts like he’s never been inside an omega before every time they fuck.

“Don’t laugh at me.” But there’s no real ire in Jaskier’s words. “You wouldn’t laugh if you could feel what it’s like to be inside you.”

Geralt clenches down on Jaskier and is rewarded by a throaty moan as Jaskier comes. His knot swells inside Geralt, anchoring him as he starts to feel his own pleasure build in his lower belly. Despite reaching his own satisfaction, Jaskier continues to thrust, his knot rubbing deliciously against that sensitive spot inside Geralt. Jaskier’s hand wraps around Geralt’s cock as his lips find the long-healed mating bite over Geralt’s pulse point and Geralt groans as he grinds into the tight circle of Jaskier’s fist.

The creak of a floorboard in the hallway stops him mid-thrust.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice is hazy with pleasure. “You alright, love?”

Geralt’s witcher senses are muddled from heat, but he forces himself to listen. Shani has stopped by a few times with food, pitchers of water, and cool cloths, but that��s not Shani’s heartbeat in the hallway. Nor would Shani show up with six friends.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asks again, and this time there’s real concern there. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Jaskier’s knot won’t go down for at least another ten minutes. If there are seven intruders inside the house, then they don’t have another ten minutes. They didn’t even bother locking the door; there didn’t seem to be a need. This close to Oxenfurt’s campus, they thought they were safe. They always have been here.

“Wrap your legs around my waist.” Geralt keeps his voice low. “And hang on.”

“Hang on?” Jaskier hisses. “What do you—”

The door flies open, ricocheting off the wall. Geralt rolls to avoid the crossbow bolt fired at them, taking a shrieking Jaskier with him. The bolt embeds itself in the headboard right behind where Jaskier’s head just was. Jaskier curses colorfully, his arms and legs wrapping around Geralt and clinging for dear life, as Geralt snatches his steel sword from where it’s leaning against the wall. Geralt dodges another crossbow bolt, whirling to face their attackers.

There are seven of them, mostly alphas with a couple of betas scattered among their ranks, all armed to the teeth. Trained mercenaries, Geralt can tell from a glance. This isn’t an angry group of townspeople with a grudge against witchers or a ranting group of Eternal Fire acolytes. These are trained killers who probably thought that Geralt would be less dangerous in the midst of his heat.

“Geralt!” Jaskier shrieks as the mercenary with the crossbow fires again. Geralt knocks the bolt from the air with a flick of his sword.

“Hold on tight, Jask,” Geralt says and moves.

A man holding an enormous ax rushes at him, weapon held aloft. Geralt parries the blow and runs him through with a sickening squelch.

“Geralt, this is a Metinnan rug!” Jaskier moans.

Geralt ignores him, sending a blast of Aard at the archer. The man’s crossbow releases as he sails backwards against the wall, hitting one of his fellows in the throat. His unfortunate victim falls with a gurgle.

“On your left!” Jaskier shrieks, his fingers digging into Geralt’s too-sensitive chest painfully.

Geralt grimaces as he sidesteps the tiny, wicked-looking dagger one of the mercenaries throws at him. “Watch what you’re grabbing onto.”

“Ah, sorry.” Jaskier pats him apologetically, then cries out. “Sword! Lots of swords!”

Two men with swords, both burly alphas, come rushing at Jaskier and Geralt. One aims for Geralt’s belly. The other has his eyes fixed on Jaskier. Geralt leaps back, out of the way of the sword aiming for him, and decapitates the mercenary focused on Jaskier. The other attacker shouts with rage, throwing himself at Geralt. He’s a big man, even taller and broader than Geralt and without the haze of heat dulling his senses—and without a bard clinging to his back like a barnacle.

“Geralt!” Up until now, Jaskier’s scent has been mostly shock and a little anger. For the first time, it fills with the bitter scent of fear. “Crossbow!”

Geralt looks over to see that the archer has regained his footing and has his crossbow pointed squarely at them. Seizing the big alpha by the beard, he yanks the man towards him. The bolt hits the alpha in the shoulder and he howls with pain. Geralt slits his throat, holding him like a shield as another bolt whistles through the air. Jaskier lets out a cry.

“What’s wrong?” Frantically, Geralt twists to see Jaskier the best he can. The scent of blood and pain is so heavy in the air that he can’t tell if any is Jaskier’s. The archer shouldn’t have been able to hit Jaskier at that angle, but if he missed a second crossbow—

“He shot my curtains!” Jaskier moans. “Geralt, they were brand new. I had them imported from—”

“Jaskier, I do not give a fuck about your curtains.”

The archer shoots another bolt and a vase shatters. Jaskier makes a noise like he was the one shot.

“That was my grandmother’s!”

Geralt doesn’t mention that Jaskier was so pleased when he learned that his grandmother died that he nearly bankrupted them buying drinks for an entire tavern. Instead, he drops the corpse in his arms and rushes at the archer. It’s a risky move, but the crossbow is the most dangerous in the room; he needs to neutralize it. At the sight of an angry witcher rushing at him, the archer fumbles reloading his crossbow. It’s that fumble that gives Geralt the time he needs to bring his sword down on the weapon, splintering it and severing the man’s hand. As the archer howls in pain, Geralt decapitates him.

“That was for my vase, you son of a whore!” Jaskier shouts. “And my curtains!”

Geralt turns on their remaining two attackers, breathing hard. He’s sure he’s a sight right now, naked as the day he was born, covered in their compatriots’ blood, with a screeching alpha clinging to his back. He smiles his nastiest smile as he takes a step towards them.

“You leave now and you can live,” he tells them. “I’d rather get back to what I was doing.”

The men glance at each other. One is a wiry, balding beta with a dagger in each hand. The other is a burly alpha with a broadsword. “We’re not leaving without your head, witcher whore,” the alpha says as two more men appear in the doorway.

Fuck.

Jaskier’s grip on Geralt tightens as all four attackers rush him at the same time. Geralt meets them with a growl of rage. He dodges and parries, his focus solely on keeping Jaskier out of the range of any blades. The wiry beta catches Geralt on the bicep with one of his daggers and Geralt grunts in pain, driving his sword into the man’s chest.

Jaskier tugs on his hair frantically. “On your left!”

“I’m not a horse, Jaskier.” Geralt jerks his blade from the beta’s chest and turns in time to meet the alpha’s broadsword. He didn’t have time to properly brace himself as he’s driven backwards a step. He’s aware of one of their remaining attackers circling behind him, in range of Jaskier, and he feels his first true surge of fear. He can’t turn around without opening themself both up to a strike from the broadsword-wielding alpha. But if he doesn’t turn around, Jaskier will be easy prey.

There’s the thunk of metal meeting flesh, but the grunt of pain isn’t Jaskier’s.

“Ha! Take that, you pox-ridden jackass!”

Geralt chances a glance over his shoulder to see that Jaskier has grabbed a candelabra and is waving it around wildly. He managed to get his attacker in the nose; the man is clutching his bloody face. He swings wildly as the broadsword-wielding alpha, who ducks back. Geralt takes advantage of the slip in the alpha’s defenses to run him through. He turns in time to see the man whose nose Jaskier broke lunging at him and buries his sword into the man’s eye.

The corpse hasn’t even hit the floor before the surviving mercenary is sprinting for the door. Geralt lets him go. Let the fucker spread word of what happens to those who come after Geralt’s mate. Let him make sure that whoever hired these fuckers is never able to find someone else to take the contract, because they’ll know that Geralt is just as dangerous in heat as any other day.

“Fuck,” Jaskier says, letting the candelabra thunk to the ground.

Geralt grunts an agreement, looking around at the carnage. Jaskier’s bedroom is filled with bodies, the Metinnan rug soaked and the walls splattered with blood.

“Are you hurt?” Jaskier pats his cheek.

“Just a few scratches. You?”

“Not a single scratch.” Jaskier presses a kiss to the shell of his ear. “You took good care of me, love.”

“Don’t I always?”

“You do.” Jaskier sighs. “You know, when I said I’d be open to trying knifeplay someday, this is not what I had in mind. I pictured less brain matter on the curtains.”

“Improves the curtains.”

“You take that back, witcher!”

Geralt feels Jaskier’s cock finally slip out of him, come dribbling down his thigh. It reminds him of the ache of heat inside of him, still not fully satisfied. Now that the adrenaline of the fight is fading, there’s nothing to distract him.

Jaskier slides off Geralt’s back, groaning when his feet hit the blood-soaked carpet. “Well, that was excellent teamwork, Geralt. Honestly, I don’t think you could have done all that without me. Perhaps I should forge some armor for myself and take up witchering.”

Geralt, who remembers the days when Jaskier still fainted at the sight of a blood and is a little surprised he’s not fainting or vomiting right now, makes a noncommittal noise.

Jaskier glances downwards. “Darling, not that I’m not delighted to see it, but how are you still aroused after all of that?”

Geralt also looks down and sees that his cock is still fully hard and his thighs damp with slick. “My heat doesn’t care about armed assassins.”

Jaskier tips his head back and guffaws. “Remind me to incorporate that into my next song. The White Wolf’s mighty sword doesn’t flag in the face of any foe.”

“Bard, I will kill you.”

“Not until your heat is done, you won’t.” With a wink, Jaskier starts to gather up the piles of bedding off the bed.

“What are you doing?” Geralt asks.

“Well, this room is an utter disaster. There’s no fixing that. You’re going to need to buy me a new rug and new curtains. Possibly a new house. But in the meantime, we may as well pick this up in the other room. What kind of alpha would I be if I let my omega’s heat go unsatisfied?”

“Hm.” Geralt glances down at the closest corpse. “We might want to figure out who sent them. Or at least which one of us they were here to kill.”

“That can wait until tomorrow, or maybe the day after. We should probably close the windows though. Don’t want the bodies to attract flies.” With his armful of bedding, Jaskier starts towards the bedroom door, stepping carefully around corpses. “Come on, Geralt, it’s a beautiful night for a life-affirming fuck.”

Geralt thinks about arguing, but he can still feel the need pulsing inside him and he has a perfect view of Jaskier’s cute little ass and strong legs right now, which is more compelling than any point he could make.

“You’re the strangest alpha I’ve ever met,” he says as he goes to close the window.

From the doorway, Jaskier grins over his shoulder. “And you’re the strangest omega I’ve ever met. Isn’t it lucky we found each other?”

Geralt hums in agreement and follows Jaskier from the room, closing the door on the bodies littering the ground. Jaskier is right; they can deal with that in the morning. For now, Geralt has a heat to finish in peace.

***

If you enjoyed, please consider leaving kudos or comments on AO3!

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @mosaicscale @tsukiwolf42 @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #alpha/beta/omega verse #ghost's fic #ghost's writing #witcher summer camp 2022

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holylulusworld · 2 months

Text

Broken Rose (Prologue)

Summary: He may have stolen your kingdom and freedom – but he’ll never own your heart. Right?

Pairing: Alpha!Geralt of Rivia x Queen(Omega)!Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, mentions of death/fighting/blood, mentions of forced/arranged marriage trope, friends to enemies to ???, a/b/o, magic

Broken Rose masterlist

A broken rose. That’s what he called you the day he forced you to share his life and bed. Right after he defeated your brave knights, the undefeatable master of darkness, the monster with yellow eyes claimed you as his bride and mate.

Cries. The smell of blood, death, and despair still lingered in the back of your mind when he claimed not only your kingdom but your body too.

The lost battle still tasted bittersweet on your tongue when he stole the first kiss and promised to make you his obedient queen.

He believed that you’ll bow your head and fulfill his every wish.

What he didn’t get was that roses have thorns, and they can cut deep into the flesh of someone who tries to pick them…

“Watch the left flank!” You yelled at your knights while holding your ground. A queen fighting alongside her knights and commoners to defend their homelands from the enemy.

“He’s merciless,” Adekin, one of your most trusted knights said. “We should retreat, my queen. You cannot die out here among us. Go back to the castle.”

“If I die, I’ll do it next to you and my knights,” you threw yourself into another fight, slicing the enemies invading your homeland open with the sword your father gifted to you. “This is my kingdom and my people. I will not back down!”

“He’s the black magician, the Witcher enchanting even beasts,” he cut the next enemy's head off. “We cannot withstand much longer, my queen. Please head back to the castle.”

“No!” You refused to fall back and run away like a coward. If your life ended tonight, it would end on your conditions. “This is my fight as much as yours. It’s my birthright to defend this country and feed the earth with my blood.”

“My queen,” Adekin protected you with his shield and struck another enemy down. “It’s an honor to fight alongside you. It will be an ever greater honor to die for you.”

“No one will die tonight,” you rammed your dagger into an attacker’s side. “He will not win.” You gritted your teeth. “This is our kingdom. The Witcher cannot have it.”

“Y/N, queen of Rosethra,” the ground shook when his voice cut through the night. The monsters attacking you stopped in their tracks, and your knights dropped their swords to the ground. “I came here to ask for your hand.”

“Go back to where you came from,” even now, he couldn’t enchant you with his magic. “Here is nothing for you, Geralt of Rivia. I will never bow for you. Kill me now if you are man enough.”

His laughter made you even angrier. You gripped your sword tighter and prepared for the final battle. “My sweet rose,” he stepped out of the darkness, smirking darkly because you were the last one standing.

Your knights fell to their knees, defeated by an invisible power holding them down.

“What are you doing to them?” You screamed as Adekin looked back at you with black eyes. “No…stop this!”

“Queen of Rosethra, I came here to unite our kingdoms,” he stepped toward you, his hands raised in surrender, but not defeated at all. “Give yourself to me, and your people will live. Your knights will live. No one must die tonight if you agree to become mine.”

You looked at Adekin, your fallen knight. He didn’t deserve to turn into one of the monsters following Geralt. You knew his magic could enslave your beloved people, and couldn't let them suffer because of your dignity and pride.

You gritted your teeth but kneeled in front of him.

For now, the battle was lost. So, you chose to save your people and give up on your freedom. You placed your sword in front of you and tilted your head in submission.

“If you shelter their lives and don’t turn them into monsters,” you glared up at Geralt, the man who used to be your confidant and friend, “I’m yours...”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #alpha!geralt of rivia x omega!reader #a/b/o #Broken Rose (Prologue)#geralt of rivia x you #dark!geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x y/n

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transholmes · 1 year

Text

Title: A Loving Scent

Prompt: Omegaverse. Yes that was the wreck prompt but these guys wanted to be fluffy.

Pairing: Geraskier.

Rating: Teen.

Warnings: None

Can be read on AO3. @whataboutthebard

Jaskier buried his nose at Geralt’s scent gland, breathing deeply of the rich, musky odor.

He was at this moment oblivious to the nice bed and cozy inn room they occupied, too caught up in scenting his friend and sometimes lover, relishing the scent itself almost as much as the fact that Geralt let him.

Scenting was as intimate to alphas and omegas as it was crucial to their personal well-being and to forming and maintaining bonds with one another, done between friends and close family members as much as between lovers or mated couples. Geralt was usually so guarded and let so few close enough to catch even a stray whiff of him, but Jaskier was allowed to scent him to his heart's content. And he in turn loved scenting Jaskier.

Right now Geralt’s scent was pure contentment.

“I love how you smell when you’re all relaxed like right now,” Jaskier murmured.

He nosed at the scent gland, his hand stroking Geralt’s chest and Geralt let out a low moan.

“Keep doing that and I’ll start smelling frustrated,” Geralt rumbled.

“A little frustration never hurt anyone,” Jaskier replied, nosing Geralt’s scent gland again.

Geralt nudged him back and gave him a look that very much said, ‘That’s rich coming from you’.

“Oh come now, you know I’d never leave you unsatisfied for long,” Jaskier said, caressing Geralt’s chest again, relishing the feeling of the firm, warm muscles beneath the thin linen shirt.

Geralt burst into motion, grabbed Jaskier, and flipped him onto his back, pinning him down with his weight as he gently nosed at his gland.

Jaskier laughed delightedly, tilting his head to allow Geralt better access. It thrilled him that Geralt approached him so openly now, without hesitation, trusting in his welcome. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the warm, fulfilling feeling of having a trusted person scent him.

It wasn’t something he allowed many, this unrestricted, easy access to scenting him. In his own way, Jaskier was as guarded and cautious as Geralt though few saw beyond his flamboyant clothes and bright smiles to ever notice the walls. And Geralt was the only alpha he had ever trusted with this.

They weren’t mated and though Jaskier had agreed to spend the winter, and thus his heat, at Kaer Morhen he knew neither of them had any intention of having that lead to mating. Jaskier knew he wasn’t the mating type, too restless for one and disinclined to stick to one partner exclusively for another. Traits that Geralt shared.

But even if he didn’t desire a mating bond having someone scent him like this, someone as trusted and beloved as Geralt, filled him with contentment and happiness.

“Are you sure?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier hewed a mental sigh, they were having this discussion again then? He’d have it as many times as needed, keep telling Geralt that he would always be welcome to scent Jaskier whenever he wanted to, but that didn’t mean the topic didn’t sometimes feel old.

But before he could say anything Geralt continued, “About this winter I mean. Coming with me to Kaer Morhen?”

Oh, so it was this other discussion they were having again instead? Jaskier could do that, at least this one wasn’t quite as old and rehashed.

“Did you or did you not hear me say yes to coming with you?” he said.

“I did.”

“So why bring it up again?”

“Because I’m still not sure you know what you’re agreeing to. Kaer Morhen has few comforts and fewer people in it. And once the snow starts to fall you’ll be stuck there until it melts from the pass. I worry you’ll be bored.”

“Well if the library is anything like you said it is then I’ll be plenty occupied. In fact, you may have to haul me out of there by force come spring.”

“I have a hard time imagining you with your nose in a book.”

“I spent most of my childhood doing nothing but. Lettenhove was dreadfully dull and the abbey little better, they provided a welcome distraction. Kaer Morhen can’t be worse than those places. At least no one is going to beat me there.”

“No, but Lambert might bite you,” Geralt quipped, recognizing Jaskier’s attempt at dark humor.

Jaskier shrugged.

“I’ll bite him back then,” Jaskier said primly.

“You may want to be careful about that, Eskel thinks he might be into it,” Geralt deadpanned.

Jaskier playfully punched his shoulder, then raised his hand and cradled Geralt’s cheek.

“But truly, I want a winter of- of us. Of not feeling moody and itchy at the end of winter because your scent is gone.”

It wasn’t something he had ever told Geralt, not in as many words, how much he missed his scent. It felt too vulnerable somehow, but maybe it was a good time to spell it out.

Geralt’s face softened.

“I thought-” he began only to break off and look away shyly.

“You thought what?” Jaskier gently prompted when Geralt remained silent for several moments.

Geralt pressed his nose against Jaskier’s wrist, his eyes closed.

“I’ve always hated it when your chemise stop smelling like you at the end of winter,” Jaskier teased.

“Hmmm, I suspected you stole those on purpose.”

Geralt blushed faintly.

“Come now. One of my chemises can only go missing at the end of autumn so many times, and then magically reappear after we reunite in spring, before a man grows to be a bit suspicious about things.”

“Sorry,” Geralt muttered.

Jaskier caressed his cheek.

“There's nothing to forgive, darling. But you could simply have asked me for one, and I’d happily have given it to you. No need for sneaking.”

“I know, just...”

...just didn’t want to admit how much he felt a desire for Jaskier’s scent, or so the bard suspected.

Damn if all of this hadn’t been a battle, to get Geralt to allow himself to want. But Jaskier knew that digging further into this might have his witcher close off again.

Though they had both come far from those early days where Geralt refused to accept anything Jaskier gave him except when he did so in the most surreptitious fashion, there were still times Geralt would retreat, emotionally if not physically, if Jaskier pushed too hard or too fast. It made their relationship feel like a very intricate and challenging dance. But to Jaskier, it was still more than worth it.

Ah well, no need to dive into this right now.

“Nevermind,” he said. “This winter you get to be annoyed by a real, life bard instead.”

“Hmmm.”

Geralt reached out and tugged at Jaskier and Jaskier moved willingly to sit in his lap, the witcher all but wrapped around him, nose again buried near his scent gland.

There was one thing nagging in the back of Jaskier’s mind.

“Are you okay with it? Me coming with you for the winter?”

Geralt shifted his head just enough that he could look at Jaskier.

“Do you think I would have invited you if I wasn’t?” he asked.

“Probably not.”

“I’ve wanted to ask you the last couple of years, just didn’t think you’d agree.”

“Have I ever passed up spending time with you?”

“No, though the gods know why.”

“Because you’re the best alpha I know, the best friend. I know you don’t believe me when I tell you and maybe never will, but that doesn’t make it any less the truth. If I were to ever pick a mate, it would be you.”

“I’m sure your family would love that choice.”

Jaskier laughed.

“Probably would be the last push they needed to completely disown me. But I would gain so much more than I would lose in that.”

“You could do better.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. Regardless, I don’t want better, I want you. I want an alpha that isn’t trying to control me, who isn’t hung up about having kids.”

“You don’t want to be leashed.”

“Exactly. This is one of the reasons why I want you, you understand.”

“I’m sure you could find another.”

“Maybe, though this is rarer than you think. But it’s not about that, I don’t want to look. I’ve already found what I’m looking for, why would I keep searching?”

He gently pushed at Geralt’s chest for him to lay down, then cuddled up against his side, head resting on his shoulder.

“I know when I’ve got it good, my dear and it’s nice to be cherished without being restricted.”

“And it feels good to...”

Jaskier carefully stayed silent, letting Geralt find his own words in his own time.

“Good to have someone. I never thought I would.”

It was more vulnerability than he had expected from Geralt. He reached up and brushed his fingers along the edge of the witcher’s hair.

“You have me,” he promised. “As much as anyone can, you have me, Geralt.”

Geralt smiled softly.

“I know,” he whispered back.

They curled up around one another, breathing each other’s scent and for a long while after, nothing more was said.

#geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #omega jaskier #alpha geralt #willow whisper #wuv the bard

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vampiredaydream · 1 year

Text

My first piece for The Witcher, something short and sweet.

Description:

Geralt isn’t quite prepared when people start noticing his mating bite.

Tags:

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Mating Bites, Alpha Jaskier | Dandelion, Omega Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia

Word Count:

2,007

Language:

English

#the witcher #jaskier x geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #alpha beta omega

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eggcompany · 14 hours

Text

Maybe It's All 50/50 Part 1

Jaskier's always been a poorly omega, often need the Omegan Services to send someone out to help him. Geralt's known the omega for a bit, through Yennefer, but had been the only one to offer to work in the omega's neighborhood. He's gotten to know the omega much better since. However when he gets called out and Jaskier's and the younger man is sick? Well Geralt's always been a bit of a service alpha anyway. He'll chalk the way his heart flutters and his mind get all those good alphan hormones to that. But not for long.

“OES” rang out in the silence of the night and Jaskier already melted into a pout.

Omegan Emergency Services.

That voice.

“Geralt. Isn’t anyone else up?” Jaskier whined as he opened the door letting the larger man into his home.

“I’m sorry Jaskier, you know I’m the only one working this part of town. C’mon, it’ll be alright. Let’s get you settled.” Geralt said gently as he sat his bag down on the couch. He pulled out what he needed and slipped on his blue gloves.

Jaskier whined and locked the door, standing insolently a few feet from Geralt. The nurse opened a sterile package, a disposable ‘slick gland stimulator’. Flimsy squishy vibrator that’s got two bumps on it that dig into sick glands. Piece of garbage that feels weird and slimy and doesn’t work, as Jaskier called it.

“I hate it when it’s you, Geralt. I just hate it. I hate everything.” Jaskier lamented dramatically and wrapped his arms around himself. He rubbed his feet over the cotton rug that covered the center of the living room. He pouted, bottom lip poking out nearly comically, and looked at the nurse with big sad eyes.

Geralt let out a sigh and nodded, Jaskier was Yennefer's friend. They usually hung out together with their other friends. Geralt had been called to the Pankratz residence more than once, usually being the only nurse willing to go into this part of the city at night.

Jaskier was a poorly omega. Often suffering from spasms, cramps, bruises, and bleeds. Often kicking out anyone who was too soft with him. He needed firm and hefty hands to get settled. He needed someone to not let him shoo them away or fuss his way out of going to the clinic when he needed to or fuss his way into sleeping aids and being left alone. Jaskier was… pushy and bratty.

Geralt felt… a certain way when he was in the small apartment in the dark neighborhood. He felt a certain way on and off the clock when he was around the flamboyant omega. He felt a certain way when he saw the other man dancing or singing or laughing loudly over bad jokes or drooling in his sleep or when he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and whined when he couldn’t quite get a toy to sit right inside himself.

But he pushed that certain feeling down. Especially now, he was working. Patient, not Jaskier, Patient.

“I know Jask. C’mon, let me see what’s happening.” Geralt said in a calm commanding way and opened his arms. He waited patiently before giving Jaskier a look that had the patient whining and falling into his lap, straddling one thick, warm, supportive thigh.

“I hate it. I hate it so much.” Jaskier complained and shoved his face into Geralt's neck.

Geralt always smelled nice. Nice and musky, not too much. Jaskier hated very scent-y alphas, he loved Geralt’s scent though. The burnt aluminum foil and smoke and a touch of something like fresh rain on concrete scent was just enough Jaskier could take nice big breaths without choking on it.

“I know. Do you want to take your underwear off or just push them to the side?” Geralt asked as his fingers traced the edge of Jaskier’s blue and black striped briefs. They were soft and cottony and worn out, small holes speckling all over them.

“Ugh… can you pull them down any? I hate this it makes me feel like a fucking teenager again.” Jaskier said in an angrily sad way. He was shirtless already, hairy torso and arms out. He still had on a pair of white socks but they did little to help with the fact he had to be naked.

“I know Jaskier. But you also know getting them off will make this easier.” Geralt said and tried to pull the underwear to either side which only caused some pinching and too-tight-in-wrong-spots-ness. Jaskier let out a sad whiney sigh and agreed.

“Fine,” Jaskier said and stood up, eyes welling up from pure humiliation. He pushed his underwear down and kicked them away. He was kicking them away and stumbled, knees deciding to give way. Geralt caught him and easily slid him back into his lap.

“Alright. Good job. You knew I was coming, why didn’t you put a modesty skirt on or something? Doesn’t matter now, it’s okay.” Geralt asked but covered up quickly as Jaskier hugged his neck tightly.

He was quick to place a steadying hand on the omega’s back, knowing the weight and warmth on his tailbone would help. He made a hushed shushing sound as his other hand found the omega’s slick hole. He carefully let two of his fingers slip inside, Jaskier letting out a shaky breath as he did.

“I hate it,” Jaskier said quietly into the thick blue fabric of Geralt’s uniform. It was kinda scratchy but it felt grounding against the soft skin of his lips.

“I know,” Geralt said and started a slow light rhythm of pushing and pulling his fingers, Jaskier was soaked, as he usually was, so the slide of his gloved hand was easy and smooth. Jaskier seemed stretched out, the ring of muscle already relaxed and ready for more than a few fingers.

“I hate it. I hate heats I hate everything. I need… Geralt my medicine, it makes me feel all antsy and nervous and and-” Jaskier started to say and got a bit riled up, pushing against the hand on his back to sit up. Geralt kept him down, his fingers splaying wide to cover his lower back, keeping him in place.

“I know Jaskier. You’re upset. I know trying to take suppressants when your heat already started can cause panic attacks. Do you think sitting here for a minute before we start could help?” Geralt said calmly. Jaskier always did it. He always panicked and took his suppressants when he started getting pre-heat symptoms. It was always too late, and always made him feel all jittery.

“I hate it Geralt, I hate it when you come here,” Jaskier said through quickening breaths. Geralt halted his fingers and rubbed his clean hand up and down Jaskier’s back.

Geralt knew it. He knew how humiliating it was for Jaskier to have to ask for help in the first place, but having to get help from his friend made it that much worse. But the omega also walked all over all the other alpha’s who came to this side of town.

“I know, pup, I know. Just take nice big breaths. You’re alright.” Geralt said lowly and rubbed up and down from Jaskier’s broad shoulders down to his soft ass, applying reassuring pressure. Jaskier struggled for a moment, his mind fighting with his body. He took in a big choppy breath and nodded, matching Geralt's strong breaths.

“Fingers or the toy, Jask” Geralt asked finally, whispering it into the side of Jaskier’s head. The omega sighed, defeated.

“Just use the t-toy,” Jaskier said sadly and Geralt mumbled a quick okay before grabbing the toy and rubbing the rigid tip against Jaskier’s hole.

Jaskier always got loose-lipped about his issues when he was having a bad heat. He always let go of his problems with anyone who was near. And he seemed to have a lot to dump.

“And- and- and then he said- he said- he told me I was a- a wannabe bimbo and that if I was any worse an omega I shouldn’t even qualify to get married and- and then he shoved me to the floor and he left and took his stuff and he took my games for my ps4 and- and- and he- he- he was telling everyone I cheated and I didn’t he did I- I just wanted to be a good boyfriend!” Jaskier ranted as he shifted and rolled his hips over the toy that was being lightly thrust in and out of him.

He was thankful for the absorbent pad Geralt had put on the floor. He knew he was dripping everywhere but he just felt frustrated and unhappy.

“He didn’t deserve you, Jaskier, you’re a good omega. Such a sweet omega, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m sorry he hurt you Jask” Geralt comforted the best he could while trying to keep Jaskier from throwing himself to the floor. He was trying to keep the omega calm but Jaskier wound himself up easily. Especially when he couldn’t get settled over a toy. And he was not settled.

“I know and- and then- and then he came back for his stuff and he totally wrecked my nest and- and all that I had in- in there that was his was a single pair of boxers cause he wouldn’t let me have anything else and he- he tore my nest up and- and it’s hard for me to nest. It’s a wreck Geralt! Just a wreck and I’ve been having such a hard time finding gigs and- and oh it’s just awful! Unbearable!” Jaskier said in a squawking rant that ended with him looking at Geralt’s focused face. His bottom lip was shaking as he stared into Geralt’s honey eyes.

“I’m sorry Jaskier, you just need to forget all about him. Try to focus on this okay? You’re getting riled up again and it’s making you tighten up.” Geralt said, keeping eye contact with the omega who let his forehead conk against Geralt’s own, eyes slipping shut as he let out a long sigh, body trembling around it.

“I’m so sorry, I just- I just it’s so awful and I hate these stupid toys and mine are all too big to be able to stay in me cause I only have like triple XLs to fill me up and I have like two that are smaller but they’re not knotters and it hurts and I feel like my uterus is gonna fucking explode and my hips hurt and I’m hungry and I hate this! I just hate it so much and it’s uncomfortable and this isn’t helping!” Jaskier said in a final fit of frustration and slowly lifted himself up, only to get a cramp and have to be supported by Geralt’s warm grasp on his hip. Geralt made a quick shushing sound again, he had to hold Jaskier firmly but tried not to squeeze too tight.

“Okay. Okay, pup, okay. We’re okay, you’re okay, we’re gonna take this out and I’m just gonna get my fingers in you until you get all these frustrations out, alright?” Geralt explained gently in a low rolling kinda voice that made Jaskier melt a bit. He slowly eased the toy out, discarding it to the floor, on the sterile pad. He slipped his fingers back inside the twitching, clenching, heat of Jaskier’s soaked hole once he had gotten comfortable straddling Geralt’s lap, head laying heavily on the nurse’s shoulder.

“Geralt…. I’m awful.” Jaskier said in a quiet, sad little voice. It was said like an apology. Like a sure and sorrowful apology.

“You’re not awful, you’re okay.” Geralt comforted and used his cleaner hand to rub up and down Jaskier’s side. He made sure to let his hands linger over his hips, the warmth helped with the pains.

“I’m so awful and you had to get up and come get me and I’m not even being good, I’m awful. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry alpha.” Jaskier said as his voice got all squeaky and tight like it always did when he started to cry.

“Jaskier listen to me, you’re not awful” Geralt started but was cut off by a dramatic ‘ wah ’. Jaskier continued to cry, making loud sad noises as he sobbed, his body jerking both away and toward Geralt’s hands as he tried to get the omega settled again.

“Omega listen to me” Geralt finally said softly and pulled Jaskier to be face to face. He was sobbing, a wrecked expression on his face, all red and splotchy. Jaskier just sobbed, rubbing his tears away with his hands, doing little to help the fact his face was soaked.

“Jaskier, pup, listen.” Geralt tried again but Jaskier was sobbing, broken, and sick with heat. Geralt took a long breath in, Jaskier was sick enough for him to smell it. Geralt could never pick up on scents very easily, Jaskier usually smelling like baking bread, faintly, but now Geralt was getting the sickly strong scent similar to burning Teflon.

“Omega listen to daddy, he knows best,” Geralt said in a low rolling growling way that had Jaskier’s eyes flying open and his breaths going from sobs to easy wet pants. His eyes met Geralt’s and his hole loosened around the nurse’s still fingers. The omega’s eyes spaced out, drifting cross for a moment before he let out a breathy sigh.

“Daddy?” Jaskier asked as he stared down the alpha. Geralt cupped his jaw with his clean hand, letting the omega nuzzle and rub against it. Jaskier was about to suck the older man's thumb into his mouth but was cut short by a long moan and grabbing that gloved hand in his own. Geralt had let his fingers slowly roll over the soft tender bump of Jaskier’s cervix, gently. He knew Jaskier was overly sensitive there, that if he was too rough the omega would bruise or bleed.

He gently let his fingers press against it slightly in rolling waves as the boy started to moan, holding onto Geralt’s gloved hand tightly. Jaskier pulled Geralt’s hand up to rub his cheek and face against the warmth. Geralt smiled and cradled the omega’s face, thumb running across his cheekbone lightly.

“That’s a good omega, good boy. You just need to listen to Daddy and do what he says. Such a good omega, you just need a nice mate. You’ll find a nice mate to take care of you and it’ll all be okay. You deserve a nice happy relationship. Right now you need to relax and let’s get over your heat.” Geralt said and kept his fingers moving smoothly inside the other. He pulled away from the boy’s cervix to start thrusting into him in longer, strong movements of his hand.

“Daddy’s gonna help,” Jaskier said and looked down at where Geralt’s hand disappeared between his legs, his small cock hung uselessly soft over his swollen balls that made his cock look that much smaller. Too big, those were too big. Ugly. Jaskier started to cry again, looking down at himself in disdain.

“Daddy’s going to help. Your cervix is soft, Jask, does it feel nice when I rub on it? Such a pretty omega, inside and out.” Geralt said comfortingly and let his fingers roll around and around the slightly softened opening. He just needed to pull Jaskier away from himself. He had learned Jaskier’s self-deprecating habits, his cock was idealistic to omega’s but he had larger balls than most.

Geralt just rubbed at his cervix, knowing it would drag Jaskier away from his own body. And Jaskier threw his head back, a high whine clawing its way from his throat before he looked back at Geralt’s eyes.

“It feels okay, it's tender” Jaskier answered and was careful to hold still, a bad move and it would hurt so bad he’d puke. He just stayed very still and held onto Geralt’s hand, it was hurting deep in his hips and he felt ugly and gross and hungry and gross and desperate and and- Geralt was so helpful but he couldn’t even be good at getting help.

“I know it’s tender, do you want to see if a heating pad would help?” Geralt asked, keeping his fingertips light and gentle over the sensitive tissue as he pulled his fingers out to rub at the sensitive nerves just inside Jaskier’s hole.

“I want your cock” Jaskier cried out and gently tried to fuck himself up and down. It felt so good and Jaskier just wanted to be good. Geralt stared at him for a moment as Jaskier lightly thrust and rolled his hips, luxuriating in the little sparks he was getting from Geralt’s fingers being just inside. He then stopped as a single word made him realize what just came out of his mouth.

“Oh?” Geralt asked, a little surprised but not much. He’d heard worse, of course, but Jaskier usually just cried and cried and ranted and vented and asked for a heating pad. He’d never asked for cock. Especially not Geralt’s own cock.

Jaskier jerked back, looking shocked at his own slip-up before backtracking messily.

“Oh no, I mean- I’m- I mean not your cock! Of course not your cock but a cock, any cock, but a hot cock would make me feel better! Not that you don’t have a nice cock! I’m sure you do and I’m sure it could make me better not that I’m asking I just- just” Jaskier rambled on backing off Geralt’s fingers, making himself let out a small gasp before he was empty.

He stood on trembling thighs, face flaming in embarrassment, hands shaking as they covered his cock and sticky inner thighs. He took a step back from Geralt, turning to the side, eyes downcast in shame.

The older man cocked his head to the side, looking at the younger omega with kindness in his eyes. Jaskier couldn’t even look at the tip of Geralt’s boot, too ashamed that he’d asked a-a friend , no an acquaintance for a fucking.

“Jaskier, do you want to sit on my cock?” Geralt asked, eyes not straying from the omega’s own shifting blue ones. He kept his eyes on Jaskier’s face even when a rush of slick went sliding down between his legs to make a small puddle below him.

“So badly right now” Jaskier confessed, something in his belly dropping at the way Geralt was looking at him. Jaskier looked him over, his warm honey eyes, solid warm body, strong talented hands… Geralt was just so… perfectly alphan . Strong, caring, handsome, knowledgeable about omega bodies, warm, and he smelled so good. And Jaskier fucking needed his cock. Needed Geralt in whole but his cock and his attention would be just enough for now. Just enough to hold him over.

“That’s okay,” Geralt reassured Jaskier, keeping their eye contact until the omega let his hands fall from covering his body. Jaskier stepped forward, his chest heaving with heavier pants, his hands going to rub across his belly, right where he hurt.

“That’s good. That’s a good boy.” Geralt said and reached for his bag that was sat on the side table. Jaskier moved forward again, letting his hand graze Geralt’s wrist, just skimming the sensitive inner patch where Geralt’s scent gland was.

“Omega” Geralt said sternly, his voice getting much rougher than it usually was. And it killed Jaskier to hear it.

“Daddy~,” Jaskier said and fell to his knees, his stomach churned and slick flooded him, his brain felt all fuzzy like it didn’t matter that he got dumped or that he was broke and couldn’t turn the lights on. Alpha was happy. Alpha was taking care of him. Alpha was gonna give him what he needed.

“Let me get a condom and take my medicine, give me a minute,” Geralt said and leaned forward to tuck a strand of hair behind Jaskier’s ear, taking a moment to rub gently over it, knowing Jaskier had sensitive ears, and down to run his fingers over Jaskier’s jaw.

When he pulled away the younger man let out a whine and pushed himself on his knees, trying to chase the warm callused hand. He huffed when Geralt pulled his hand away fully to dig into his bag.

“Why medicine?” Jaskier asked, sitting back on his haunches, uncaring of the puddle leaking under himself. He was staring straight at Geralt’s crotch pondering if he was really packing or if the slacks did him favors. Jaskier’s hands found the laces of Geralt’s non-slip shoes, fiddling with them. His brain was slow and slushy, finally deciding he didn’t need to be alert, he could sink into his heated hot sweet space.

He just felt happy. And wet.

“I don’t get hard, Jask, the medicine helps,” Geralt answered and took a small blue pill from his bag and a gold-wrapped condom from a roll. Jaskier crept closer until his head was on the cushion beside Geralt's thigh, nose grazing the rough fabric of his uniform slacks.

Geralt looked down at him, at his trembling hips where the omega was barely holding back from rubbing up on his shoe. And at his blue eyes that were still staring at his cock like he would be able to see through the fabric if he just tried hard enough. Jaskier licked his lips, the hot breath he released making its way to tickle at the alpha’s leg.

“Oh… is it because you got hurt or what?” Jaskier asked and let his hand travel up from his shoelaces up to his inner thigh, thick dense warm muscle smelling faintly of laundry starch. He felt up and down the long line of inner thigh, tracing the seam.

“Pup,” Geralt said warningly, the medication made him hard, unbelievably so, but also made his nerves thin a bit. He picked the boy’s hand up and laid it on the couch beside them. Jaskier looked confused between his hand and Geralt’s face before he gasped at himself.

“’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude” Jaskier apologized and pouted. He just wanted dick and he wanted daddy’s voice. But not upset daddy or disappointed daddy. He was just feeling a certain way thinking about Geralt and his dick. Hard dick.

“Don’t float off puppy” Geralt said sweetly with a hand in Jaskier’s hair. The omega whined, that was the voice.

Jaskier liked Geralt's voice. Jaskier liked certain voices. And Geralt’s was so gruff and deep and wonderful. And his daddy voice was even better, like hot honey on Jaskier’s very soul, deep and rolling like great thunder. And it made him float so far away.

But Geralt knew that so he tried to bring the boy back down to earth.

“It’s okay pup, no I didn’t get hurt. I just can’t get hard. It’s not your fault.” Geralt explained and undid his belt and slowly slid it from its loops. The medication worked fast, but Geralt was always a little hot under the collar when he had to help Jaskier. Especially when he was looking up at Geralt with big red-rimmed eyes, hands itching to touch, hips begging to find friction against his alpha’s boot, body begging to take but the need to be good holding it back.

“I’m still doing okay? I know I- I don’t- I don’t-” Jaskier started to apologize self-consciously but was held back by Geralt’s hand grasping his chin.

“You’re a good boy, you’re a good omega. Come here, come to daddy, you can sit right here.” Geralt persuaded and using his grasp on Jaskier’s chin, pulled the omega up to be beside him on the couch. Jaskier knelt on the couch facing the alpha. He could see the front of Geralt’s slacks starting to bulge indecently.

“Daddy’s gonna help me,” Jaskier said more to himself as he shakily covered himself, he didn’t want Geralt to look at him the way he was looking at Geralt. Jaskier felt… indecent under his honey gaze. Unsightly in the alpha’s eyes.

Geralt saw the way Jaskier curled back in on himself, the way his eyes started to tear again. His heart-grabbing, he was getting too fuzzy-minded to do this professionally but… well he couldn’t pull away.

“Sh sh sh, daddy’s gonna help you. You want something nice inside, right? You need something to help your tummy?” Geralt asked as he undid his pants, pulling the zipper down slowly.

The sound of the metal dragging down, inching the alpha’s cock closer to where he wanted it caused Jaskier’s hips to buck and shiver. He couldn’t help as his body rocked, desperate to take the alpha. His nice big strong sweet handsome alpha… with a big cock. Jaskier looked down at the barred underwear peeking from Geralt’s slacks, he just knew his hole was gonna be aching and full. He just knew he’d be satisfied.

“I-I dunno,” Jaskier said, brain too fogged, too far, to be able to even understand the question the alpha asked. His throat felt tight again and tears pricked his eyes. He felt a strange panic as tears started again, his hands rubbing nervously across his belly. Geralt was turned away, grabbing the lube and condom from the side table.

His mind started questioning himself, stoking the panic in his chest. Why wasn’t he in Daddy lap? Why wasn’t Daddy naked? Sex? They were gonna have sex? Jaskier just wanted to be good, how can he be good when it’s not happening? Why did he hurt? Why was Daddy not helping him? Why was daddy here and not helping him or touching or fucking or using-

Geralt looked back at the omega who was rubbing across his stomach, he knew that was the way the omega self-soothed. He made a shushing sound and rubbed Jaskier's side. The omega let out another wrecked sob and fell forward, face in Geralt's thigh, ass up, knees spread. His back dipped, hips tilting in just the perfect way. He was so perfectly presenting as he grabbed at the now loose fabric of Geralt’s slacks, holding on tightly.

“Pl-please. I ‘anna be go-od” Jaskier sobbed out, tears and drool wetting the burning warm lap supporting him. Geralt shushed him and rubbed from the omega's neck, his mating gland, down to skim his fingers over the omega’s soaked, finger-fucked open hole.

“Good baby, good omega, I need you to sit up okay? Daddy needs to fill you up so you feel better. You want something warm and big inside. You want something to rub on your soft spots inside.” Geralt told Jaskier as he pushed and pulled his warm lax body around so they were front to back.

Jaskier settled straddling Geralt’s thick warm thighs, facing away from his- the alpha. He could lean back against his muscular chest, feeling each breath, feeling each word the alpha spoke. He could feel Geralt’s breath on the sensitive patch on the back of his neck, the even breaths of hot air making him wanna beg.

The alpha was quick to pull his compressive boxer briefs down enough for his cock to be free, laying against his thigh as it finally was free to get completely hard. Geralt let out a sigh of relief, hands going to Jaskier’s hips just to rub up and down, from his thighs up to his rib cage as it fluttered around each breath and begging word.

“Yes, daddy. Ye- yes. Please I’ll- I’ll be good, I promise I can take it. Don’t- don’t be mad. Don’t be upset, daddy” Jaskier sobbed and tried to reach back for the burning cock he could feel the heat of right under where he really needed it. Geralt made a quiet ‘ ah ah ah’ and caught both of the omega’s wrists in one hand, pinning them in front of his soft belly.

With a high whine, Jaskier shoved his hips down, rubbing slick across Geralt’s lap, struggling to try and get something to slip into his needy hole. Geralt used his free hand to grab Jaskier’s hip roughly, making him hold still.

“I’m not upset, baby, you’re doing so well. Daddy’s happy with you. Alpha likes you, alpha’s happy with you. Sweet omega, good omega.” Geralt reassured against the soft skin of Jaskier’s shoulder. He carefully and slowly guided his cock to Jaskier’s soft slick hole, just letting his tip graze over the tender flesh. He bit the inside of his lip to keep from moaning out as a drop of slick rolled down his shaft.

“Daddy- please” Jaskier whimpered pitifully as his back curled forward, the knobs of his spine bulging. He let out a wrecked sob and a whining, high, pleading noise. It was just right there and he was more than desperate.

Geralt leaned in and lightly kissed the top of his spine, just below where Jaskier’s mate gland was. He pulled a condom over himself, making sure it was on correctly before grasping Jaskier’s hips.

“Good omega, good, slow, slow omega, Jaskier, Sh sh sh” Geralt whispered warmly as he slowly pulled the omega back and down onto his cock.

Jaskier was sobbing, crying out as each inch filled him up. It was so much more than what he’d been given in the past weeks, so much better. He wanted to shove down but Geralt had a strong hold on his hips and was easing him down until he was fully seated on Geralt's lap, head lolled back on a meaty shoulder.

He was panting. He felt filthy, being bared and begging for a fucking from a man who was still fully dressed. However, that thought would come later because Jaskier was swimming, lips peeking up into a smile, in this moment.

“Daddy” he breathed out and felt himself relaxing, the hormones he needed, just from being skin to skin in the slightest, the way he was being filled properly. It was making him feel… oh so much better. His mind calming, body finally sated.

“What a good omega. So pretty. Good job Jaskier. Good job. Stay still now, I’m gonna put some cream on your belly, you know what it is.” Geralt explained as he reached, careful to make sure not to jostle the purring body on him. Jaskier hummed, completely out of it. The alpha grabbed the hormone-balancing cream from where he’d set it out and squeezed the packet onto his gloved fingers.

“It’s gonna be cold. It’s not hurting you, it’s cold.” Geralt said to unhearing ears. Jaskier was staring off at the ceiling, hands laying over his own lower stomach.

Jaskier was always crying for pups, always smelling a bit like a pregnant omega when he was heating. His hands nearly always found their way to sit on his lower stomach when he finally got a knot, or really whatever he wanted shoved into himself. He’d be a purring mess, knotter sat firmly on all his good spots, fever burning through him, sleep dragging him out of his own head, thanking Geralt for the pups. However now he was just quietly cradling his own stomach, purrs rumbling through him in waves.

Geralt applied the cream, rubbing it into Jaskier's soft skin with his fingers. He jerked his own hand back when he felt something that had him… rather warm under the collar. He put his hand back on Jaskier’s lower stomach, just above his weeping cock, and pressed a bit more firmly than before. It was strange to be able to feel himself through the omega’s warm clutching body, being able to feel the pressure on his own cockhead from his hand pressing down on Jaskier’s stomach.

Jaskier didn’t seem to register that Geralt was doing anything. The way he purred, dopey grin on his face never faltering, it was like seeing the perfect picture of a content omega.

“Good boy, good omega, sweet omega, Jaskier’s a good omega,” Geralt said and the omega was smiling, omegan part of his brain happy and shooting off all kinds of good chemicals. Each rumbling compliment, each time a big warm hand came up to rub at his stomach or across his chest, each time his alpha nuzzled against his hair or breathed against his heated skin, it was like drugs shot straight into him. He was high off it, off being full, off being touched, off being needed and loved.

Jaskier was only human. He couldn’t help his body melting away around him, his mind turning to goo in the Alpha’s warm embrace. He didn’t try to fight, couldn’t if he really tried, the instinct to let his eyes shut and he let himself relax against the warm strong chest behind him.

They sat there, warm and comfortable in Jaskier’s living room, for hours. Geralt just let himself enjoy the rise and fall of the omega’s breathing, never getting to spend time like this with an omega who actually liked him. He let himself indulge, as guilty as it made him feel. He peeled his gloves off, making sure to not get anything on the couch, and touched Jaskier with his bare hands. He felt the soft supple skin on the inside of Jaskier’s thighs, the fuzzy plush flesh of his stomach and chest, the callused pads of his palms and fingers, and he allowed himself just a slight gaze to the omega’s soft lips and softer hair.

It was when Geralt was grinning to himself as he traced patterns on the tops of Jaskier’s hips as the omega rested back against him and began to snore, erection having been lost an hour or so earlier and tucked back into his slacks, that he decided to put the omega back to bed. He laid the omega in a heartbreakingly horrible nest, clothes and blankets thrown around, pillows and few stuffed animals kicked under the bed and shoved into closets.

He fixed it a bit, throwing a few blankets over Jaskier and making up the walls a bit better. He dug out the pillows from under the bed and the stuffed animals from the closet, gently setting them in a stack beside the bed in arm’s reach. He only stood for a minute or two looking at Jaskier’s content face before going back to the living room to clean up and get his bag.

He left a few packets of hormone-balancing cream on top of a stack of pamphlets about getting through abusive breakups and a few about omegan support groups in the area. And one with different way to sensory seek during heat.

Geralt had to pinch himself as he left, as he just hesitated at the door when the thought of I could just stay flashed through his mind. It was late, he’d had a long day, it was normal, at least that’s what he told himself.

~-~-~-~-~

“OES” Geralt said as he stood in front of Jaskier’s place. He hadn’t seen the omega outside of Yennefer's parties in… a very long time. And even then Jaskier had skipped many of them. And he hadn’t heard much about him. He’d not forgotten about his frien- acquaintance but had just been busy so not seeing Jaskier much had slipped his mind to be concerned. He’d assumedJaskier was pulling back since one of their dear friends had just had a baby and sometimes omega’s got touchy around each other after babies and such.

Geralt was thinking about how nice the baby was though, how cute, when the door creaked open.

“Geralt, I-I-I-I-I need the clinic.” A shaking, sweating, nauseating smelling Jaskier said as he pulled open the door. He was pale, red in the wrong places, and smelled… bad. Wrong. It made Geralt need to puke but once he swallowed that feeling down and turned on his professional brain, he was taking in the omega’s state. The way Jaskier held onto the door jam for support, the way his black jeans were rumpled like he’d struggled with them, the way his skin was pricked with sweat in the cool air of the apartment, his shaking hands and greasy hair.

“Okay, do you have a bag? Just in case.” Geralt said and threw his own bag over his shoulder. Getting his hands free to take anything Jaskier needed. He knew Jaskier always had a bag. A purse, a backpack, a duffle bag, the boy never left the house without something .

“Ye-yeah, it’s somewhere…” Jaskier said and limped back into his home. He was looking at his living and kitchen, gait disturbed in a way Geralt had never seen before. When the omega finally found the bag he looked through it, a folder sticking out the top of the small backpack.

“I haven’t had a heat” He said and slipped on a pair of slippers, a pair of fuzzy blue sandals really. It was when he turned to slip on his coat Geralt noticed he had… discolored slick staining the back of his jeans. He was quick to grab the bag from the omega and begin trying to figure out why Jaskier was so bad.

The apartment was a disaster, messy and dark. It smelled awful, not like burnt teflon, not like Jaskier usually smelt when he was upset or having a bad or hard time. It smelled… almost overly sweet but rotten. Something forgotten in the back of the fridge, something else too. Something Geralt could only attach to the smell kids had when they got broken bones, something that kept reminding him of that.

“How many weeks?” Geralt asked as they made their way back to the door, Jaskier huffing and holding onto Geralt’s arm for support. Jaskier’s eyes were watering, bottom lip trembling.

“Four months,” Jaskier answered and looked like he was going to start crying. He caught his trembling lip between his teeth, he was mad at himself, mad at everything but also sad and sore and hurting and he just wanted to crawl back to bed. Just wanted to be done but… Here Geralt was dragging him toward the door with big warm hands and a grumbling voice that made Jaskier wanna be good.

“Do you think you could be-“ Geralt began to ask quietly when Jaskier had to stop for a second, his free hand going to grab and rub at his side. The omega shook his head, teeth gritted together.

“I'm on the pill but not suppressants. It fuckin hurts.” Jaskier said as a few tears started to slip from his eyes. He looked up at Geralt, eyes pleading for something. Geralt felt like he’d been punched, a feeling so helpless, unknowing how to take the hurt from the poor omega, from his friend.

“Alrighty baby, do I need to bring a wheelchair?” Geralt asked seriously as he kept Jaskier upright as he struggled with his keys to lock the door behind them. Once the lock finally clicked Jaskier leaned against the door, breathing deeply, steeling himself.

“I-I can walk it.” Jaskier announced, almost like he was telling himself that he could walk the length of the hall down the rickety elevator and through to the parking lot. He looked over at Geralt, almost like he was asking the alpha if he could walk it.

“Let’s get going” Geralt said and started their way to the company van out in the parking lot. He was mad at himself as he drove though, Jaskier was shaking and sweating in the passenger side. He should have done something, even if he did everything he could. He let himself stay in the waiting room after the doctors took Jaskier back at the emergency room. He made sure they had his papers, made sure he had an emergency contact which just happened to be Yennefer. He let himself ask one too many questions before leaving because ‘Mr. Rivia you know we can’t tell you anything right now. We’ll be contacting his emergency contact when we have any news. We already left a message. You did the right thing, go home and get some rest.’

And when he got home he let himself pace up and down his own hallway. He let himself call Yennefer, he let himself worry, he- he realized he wasn’t letting himself do anything. He was pacing, he was worrying, he was asking who would be in contact with Jaskier. He stayed up all night switching between glaring at walls and cleaning and worrying.

And the next day he glared at far too many walls and got mad at himself for not doing enough work but then circling back to thinking about Jaskier laying sick in bed somewhere alone. He stepped out to make too many calls to Yennefer who just kept telling him that Jaskier won’t talk to anyone but he’s had surgery. And even she didn’t know anything else.

And for days after that, Geralt kept calling Yennefer, calling the hospital, and most of all calling Jaskier’s own cell which would ring once, twice, and he’d deny the call but at least Geralt knew he was lucid enough to reject him.

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