See Me Differently, I Beg You(Alpha!Geralt x Omega!Jaskier)

Berries

Finding a mage in town was hard-in fact he had to travel quite a ways to find one. But getting together the coin for it was even more so. Jaskier hadn't sang at the inn in ages, his coin was low. Had been for a while. He had reason for it.

When he first found out he was with child his thoughts turned immediately towards being rid of it. He couldn't raise a child on his own. Growing up a bastard child himself he knew the scrutiny the poor thing would be under. And his mother was a countess! Imagine how the bastard child of a male omega would fair. It made him sick. He didn't want that. And he wasn't keen on abandoning the poor thing either. He knew he wouldn't be able to if he ever saw their face.

So he turned to the only solution he could think of at the time. See, he didn't just have to pay for the supplies and the procedure, he had to pay to keep the mage's damned mouth shut. He couldn't let word get out that he was an omega. It was hush money.

He was covered head to toe in the dullest rags he had buried in his closet, face well obscured save for his eyes. He didn't want to chance it. "There's your coin. When can we do this?" he held himself tightly, hunched over without his lute at his back. His fingers dug into his arms. He had to sell it. He could always get a new one. Sure, he'd miss it. It had been a great comfort. Hell, he even slept with the damn thing cradled in his arms a few times. Though that was mostly to keep it from being stolen.

Now look. He felt like a damned traitor.

He made the mistake of giving them his coin far too early on.

When he was up on that table all he could think about was a pair of piercing yellow eyes. The same pair that had been plaguing him for weeks now. In his dreams. His nightmares. Even whilst he was still well awake. They never left the back of his mind.

He wondered, would a child of the witcher share his white hair as well? Or would they take more so after Jaskier himself? It was a shame he'd never find out. Never get to hear their laughter. Their first song. Never get to teach them how to play the lute.

It wasn't until he heard the scraping of metal did he jerk up. "Nope! Sorry-no. I've changed-hng-" he struggled to pull his slacks back up on his way off the table, "-my mind!" this might have been the stupidest, most ill-conceived plan he's ever come up with. But damn it, it was his. And he was willing to try to be the best damned father he could be. That was more than he could say for his own father.

Turned out the mage didn't do refunds. Jaskier had to hitch a ride all the way back to Posada.

And now here he was, in a dingy squatter's shack after overstaying his welcome at the local inn. Turned out they didn't take too kindly to bards who wouldn't sing. And why would he? His muse was long gone now. And he hadn't a lute to play neither. He had to sell most of his finer clothes just to make sure he had enough supplies and food. And he wrote to his mother, like hell was he not going to tell her his woes. If she heard it from anyone else she'd have his head.

He's yet to hear back from her, but she lived so far, it was bound to take a while. He's had to stop taking his herbs, but he still wore them in a pouch to cover up the scent whenever he went out. And he never strayed too far from the shack. He only went far enough to pick berries. Berries that he only knew weren't poisonous after Geralt damn snapped at him for almost eating a few that were and then giving him an entire lesson on foraging. He didn't think it'd actually come in handy.

He was perhaps a month or so along. And he was already ravenous. Not even a ghoul's appetite could compare to his own. He knew he was going to have to figure something better out in terms of food. Perhaps he could go back to singing again-