Geralt groaned, clutching his stomach and kicking his legs in his sleep. He'd never shared a heat with an alpha before, and it wouldn't be long now, maybe only a week away.
Jaskier sat up in the bed at the inn and gently shook his omega.
"Hey now, Geralt. What's wrong, my love?"
Geralt pulled his legs into his stomach and groaned.
"hurts..." He replied, through gritted teeth. " 'm fine. Go back to sleep."
He rolled himself onto his front, his knees still against his stomach as he used the pillow to bite down on.
Jaskier pulled the Witcher close and pressed his nose against the omegas neck, scenting him and using his own scent to help Geralt relax. He felt Geralt's muscles loosen.
"It's not fine, you're in agony. Where does it hurt, darling?"
Jaskier was concerned, checking over his mate. Geralt was quiet for a while before replying.
"Everywhere... But mainly my legs and stomach."
The bard pulled Geralt around and tucked him in to his chest.
"You just tell me when you hurt, omega. Don't try and hide it, you don't need to be brave. You have me. All of me. And I can make this feel easier, okay, love?"
Geralt nodded into his chest, letting a whimper leave his throat. Jaskier knew he must have been in a lot of pain for it to wake him up. He continued to let his own scent fill the room until Geralt was purring into his chest.
Omega Geralt likes hanging around with tiny Alpha Jaskier because sometimes people mistake Jaskier’s scent for his. There’s fewer questions if people think he’s an Alpha.
As if the world wasn’t already cruel to omegas, it was brutal to those who couldn’t bear children. Not that witchers needed another reason to be despised, to be hated. They were all omegas by nature, the mutagens ensured that first before morphing them from soft and gentle into hulking monstrosities. Perhaps it was just as well that they were barren, who knew what abomination a monster could bear.
People hated witchers because they defied societal expectations. They weren’t gentle, vulnerable family makers, not at all dependent on an alpha for protection. No, witchers were fiercely independent, no alpha could stand their ground against one. They weren’t meek things to pamper and cherish. Most people were of the opinion that if an omega couldn’t be controlled and couldn’t be used to breed, they were a waste of space.
All these beliefs never stopped Geralt from having wants and needs. Because while he was more than capable of standing up for himself, it sometimes would have been nice to have someone to curl up with, to feel cherished and loved. Maybe even to not have to keep making decision and fighting to survive all the time. But nobody wanted an omega who wasn’t traditional. A witcher’s life was a lonely one not by their choice, but by society’s.
The bard tagging along on his winding path was a conundrum. Geralt wasn’t used to having someone with him who didn’t reek of fear or contempt. Somehow, Jaskier managed it though, flitting through life with all the wonder and delight of someone who hadn’t seen the horrors the world had to offer. Except, no matter what Jaskier saw, the awful things humans and monsters alike were capable of, he didn’t change. It wasn’t an innocence and definitely not a naivety but some other quality that Geralt couldn’t quantify. To find out that the bard was an alpha was a shock. Which was rich coming from Geralt, the least traditional omega possible.
Time passed, Jaskier never made Geralt feel like he was any less. No judgement when he went to whorehouses to try and find comfort, no sneering when he came back from a hunt reeking and veins burning with potions that made him more dangerous. Sometimes there was a hint of sadness and a lingering scent of hopelessness from him but Geralt assumed it was because he sometimes forgot Geralt was an omega.
Their dynamics didn’t seem to matter to Jaskier. He threw as much love at Geralt as he did at his audiences in taverns where he played. It was just a matter of fact that Geralt got to enjoy more of his attention because they travelled together. Food at taverns, Jaskier always pushing a healthy portion at Geralt before sitting down with his own. He also kept Geralt with a steady, fresh supply of comfortable clothes. Nothing extravagant, all in the style and colours Geralt preferred, easy to fight in and dark so dirt (and blood) showed up less. In turn, Geralt made sure their bedding was always as comfortable as he could get it, he hunted down lame wolves and injured deer to provide food as well as furs to keep them warm.
The shift came when, on a rare occasion, Geralt failed a contract. The creature had moved on before he could track it and the villagers were angry, disappointed they were denied their revenge. A stone bounced off Geralt’s armour as those gathered began to pelt him with pebbles and other debris. It was something he’d experienced before, knew the drill. His knees hit the dirt, head bowed as he took his punishment for failing.
A near feral growl rang through the air and a body stood between Geralt and the crowd. There was no mistaking the sound, it was a very pissed off alpha protecting what was theirs. Looking up, Geralt shivered. Given his own bulk, it was easy to forget that Jaskier was about as tall as him and broad in his own right. Next to Geralt, everyone looked small. But in that moment, Jaskier looked lethal, squaring off against the alderman with his head dipped a little and teeth bared. Thankfully it didn’t come to blows, the alderman sneered in disgust and turned, the villagers going with him. After another beat of Jaskier trembling and heaving a breath, he seemed to remember himself and turned to Geralt with so much more care and gentleness than should have been possible.
Crouching in front of Geralt, he fussed with the marks the stones left on the armour, licking his thumb to wipe them off. “You okay?”
The words were soft, barely there whispers and filled with concern Geralt didn’t feel he deserved. He wasn’t a claimed omega and Jaskier wasn’t his alpha. But, then again, thinking back over their history, maybe he had been wrong. They weren’t traditional, there were no declarations of intent, no grand gestures or dowries. Instead, it was all the small things, Jaskier taking care of Geralt in the only way Geralt knew how to accept. And, not even realising it, Geralt had been responding in kind. It was a dance of give and take, so subtle that they slipped into something without quite noticing. The only thing missing was the bonding bite and the sex. They already had physical intimacy, sex was just an extension of that. It was their choice and not biology’s to reach that point and, if Geralt was reading the situation right, they were going to be veering in that direction in the near future.
Finally, Geralt looked up at Jaskier, eyes wide and vulnerable. He licked his lips, tasting the word before saying it.
“Alpha?”
The smile he was graced with was more than Geralt could have dared hope for. His fate was sealed by Jaskier’s reply.
If you like quick changes in gender roles… Geralt who’s a Beta or something becoming an Omega magically? Somehow?
Oh. My. God.
This literally inspired me so now you get a little ficlet. Pre Geralt/Jaskier
***
He’d told that damned sorceress not to go messing around with djinn.
Occasionally Jaskier liked to point out that by making his own wish, Geralt had technically also been messing around with djinn.
Jaskier could fuck off.
Geralt growled as his shirt brushed against his tender nipples and wriggled in his saddle. He’d known, on some level, that this was coming - but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
“Stop squirming,” his bard chastised him, “you’re violating poor Roach.”
“Fuck off.”
“I’d say your time doesn’t give you an excuse to be rude to me, Witcher, but frankly it’s not much of a change. Still. Pre-heat makes fools of all Omegas…”
“I’m not a bloody Omega,” Geralt slid off the saddle as they approached their campsite for the night and patted the large horse gently.
“Your scent, among other things, suggests otherwise.” Jaskier jostled him aside and began to remove Roach’s tack. “We need to reach an inn by tomorrow if you’re to pass your first heat safely.”
First heat. Over a century old and suddenly he’s expecting a first heat, like some blushing milkmaid. Geralt didn’t dignify Jaskier’s sentence with a response, and instead leaned back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply as a soft wind rustled through the trees.
His eyes shot open. Something smelled…phenomenal. Perfect. Tantalizing even.
He followed the scent and realized it was coming from his little bard, who was rubbing Roach’s legs and humming a gentle tune to her.
Jaskier was an Alpha. Of course Geralt had always known that odd fact but now…Jaskier was an Alpha and Geralt was an *Omega.*
He turned his back quickly and began to set up camp, utterly ignoring the bard when he asked what Geralt felt like for dinner that night.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary - It is Eskel and Lambert's turn...
Notes - This is a long chapter, I thought about breaking it into two chapters but I could never find the ideal place to do it (without offending Lambert and let’s NEVER do that). There is an epilogue for this story I will be posting in the next few days. I am open to turning this into a series; let me know if you are interested.
