Meet me halfway (You always do)
Mentions of verbal abuse, Geralt is an artist, Jaskier is rose
He’s running, legs burning as they bring him closer to the back of the boat. Tears and sobs flowing from him, crashing into other guests, people he recognizes.
He needs to go back and apologize; he needs to go back and behave; he needs to fix the bracelets he tore; he needs to go and find Trudy; he needs to find his mother; he needs to be a better omega-
He needs to do so many things for so many other people besides himself, but what does he want?
He wants the pain to go away; he wants the frustration and the sexism to go away; he wants to stop being a meal ticket; he wants to be seen as more than an omega. He wants...what does he want?
He runs to the edge of the boat, labored pants and cries leave him, tears falling freely down his face. Julian catches himself, chest heaving as he allows himself to stop, but then he sees the ledge.
The brunette pushes himself away from the pole, inching closer to the edge. As he approaches, he checks to see if anyone is there, a relieved sigh rolling through him.
The water is rushing below him, dark and murky waters await him. They are cold and inviting, beckoning him.
As he shakily places his hands on the rail, lifting himself, crossing the railing and standing on the other side. Felling the slight splashes of ocean water splattering his face, the wind blowing against him as he leans forward.
Julian is shaking, doing his best to suck in the surrounding air, it’s a heavy air, doing him more harm than good, just like everything does, and almost lets go, but he hears a voice.
The voice is unfamiliar and rough, but kind and concerned, “Don’t do it…”
The omega turns, eyes widening to find the face of that beautiful stranger from earlier, “Stay back,” he warns, looking over his shoulder to see the stranger, “Don’t come any closer!”
However, the stranger does not take no, offering his hand and reaching out, voice dripping with concern, “Come on, just give me your hand, I’ll pull you back over.”
He's advancing closer, steps slow and slam, voice unnerved and low, but Julian isn’t having it, “No! Stay where you are- I mean it- I-I’ll let go!” He offers.
The omega lets his weight rest on his heels, pushing himself from the railing. His heart is thudding in his chest, the roar of the waves booming over him.
The man looks at him, honey eyes concerned but filled with playfulness. He takes a long, deep inhale of his cigarette before tossing it into the raging ocean.
He walks closer to the ledge, his hands falling into his pockets, “No, you won’t,” he prompts.
Julian looks at him, eyes angry, “What do you mean ‘no, I won’t’? Don’t presume to tell me what I will and will not do!” His scent turns sour, “You don’t know me.”
The man simply looks at him, “You would have done it already,” he deadpans.
Julian gapes at his words, “Y-You’re distracting me, go away!”
But the stranger just hums, coming to lean against the railing, turning to look Julian in the eye, his voice is smooth, his words are even smoother, “I can’t, I’m involved now,” as he pushes himself up, Julian finds his eyes following the movement, “You let go and - and I’m going to have to jump in there after you.”
As he speaks, he strips himself of his jacket, the material falling down his broad shoulders.
“Don’t be absurd!” Julian gasps, eyebrows furrowing, “You’ll be killed.”
“I’m a good swimmer,” the stranger replies, voice dismissive as he begins to untie his boots, a gruff sign on his lips.
“The fall alone would kill you,” he answered, quickly flickering his eyes to the raging sea below and the stranger.
“I’m not saying that it wouldn’t,” he corrects, voice sounding slightly bored, “To be honest, I’m more concerned with the water being so cold.”
Fear fills the omega, body going rigid, nervously turning his head, “H-How cold?”
Julian considers this, mind going numb. If the fall didn’t kill him, he’d be stuck in the water, left to choke on the freezing air.
“Ever been to Kaer Morhen?”
Julian turns to him, confusion filling his features, “What?’
“Well, they have some of the coldest winters around, you’ll freeze your ass off there, trust me. I’m from there,” he explained, eyebrows flicking upwards, “When I was younger, just a pup, I went ice fishing...oh, that’s where you-”
“I know what ice fishing is!”
A small huff left the stranger’s lips, “Sorry...you just seem like the indoor type.”
Julian let the comment go as the beautiful stranger continued, “Well, my mentor, Vesemir, took me ice fishing, but I fell in, thin ice, and when I tell you it’s not worth it, it’s not worth it. Water that cold, like that down there, hit you like knives all over your body. It hurts like a bitch.”
Julian gulped, turning away, hands trembling. Maybe this was what he wanted?
“Can’t breathe, can’t think, at least not about anything other than the pain,” he huffed, “Which is why I am not looking forward to jumping in after you,” he admits, face blank, “But like I said, I don’t have a choice,” the smallest smile pulled at his lips, it was barely there, the faintest curl of his lips.
“So, I guess I’m hoping you’ll let me off the hook and come back over.”
The omega shakes his head, leaning further over, “You’re crazy.”
The stranger snorts, eyes flicking up to Julian, “With all due respect, mister, but I’m not the one over the railing.”
Julian goes quiet, “C’mon, give me your hand, you don’t want to do this.”
The stranger offers his hand once more; it circles around Julian, it’s scarred and worn, probably rough and calloused, but he still finds himself taking the hand. Holding in his gasp, despite being rough and rugged, his hands are warm, they are inviting; they feel like home.
He slowly turns, facing his body towards the stranger, breath once again knocking out of his lungs. This man really is beautiful.
“Geralt Rivia,” he introduces, golden eyes gleaming under the ship light, the faintest trace of a smile pulling on his lips.
“Julian Alfred Pankratz,” he wheezes, voice low. The monotone response drilled deep within him.
A slight chuckle is heard, Geralt is...laughing at him?
“I’m going to have to get you to write all that down.”
Despite still being over the ledge, he laughs, a full puff of laughter. Genuine laughter, he’d forgotten how good it felt to laugh.
“Come on,” he insists, arms flexing as he pulls Julian over, but the shoes he has on, Italian leather (great for a night out, but not so great for a night spent hanging off a rail), cause him to lose his footing.
A loud scream echoes through the air, Geralt’s eyes go wide, a huff of air coming from his lips. He steadies a foot on the railing, lifting the omega upward, but Julian, terrified, won’t stop squirming.
Screaming at the top of his lungs, fear flooding through him, tears working their way out of his eyes, he grips onto Geralt’s hand, clutching the other man for dear life. Begging and pleading for him to: “PLEASE! HELP ME!”
“Julian...JULIAN!” Geralt roars, arms tensing, “I’ve got you; I won’t let you go, but you’ve got to push your body upwards, come on! You can do it!”
Julian stills, blue eyes dancing with the gaze of those honey pools, he allows himself to trust this stranger. This stranger who is risking his life for him right now, this stranger with a curious, not hungry, gaze. He allows himself to trust Geralt.
Suddenly, Julian is being pulled on board, a firm hand clutching at his waist pulling him onto the deck. The omega lands onto the deck with an echoed thump, the sound filling his ears faintly. He can hear the rushed thud of footsteps, but the sound is drowned out by his heart beating in his throat, blood rushing to his ears. He lies there, motionless, save for the shaking, tears still streaming down his face, pants tugged down just a bit, enough to reveal his hip bone. His shirt is undone, ruffled around his waist, no longer neatly tucked into his trousers.
It’s enough for someone to get the wrong idea.
And someone does, a crew member screeching at Geralt, “You stand back and don’t move an inch!”
He then turns to his other men, “Fetch the master of arms.”
Everything that passes by in a haze, Julian being pulled to his feet gently, fussed over by the crew until finally, Em arrives. He is fuming, face red, turning to him with concern, beckoning a butler to come by and tend to all his wants. They cover him in an omega blanket, specifically designed for the secondary gender. Once Julian managed to stop shaking, he’s suddenly hit with the reality of the situation, catching a glimpse of Geralt being put into handcuffs, Em stalking up to him, anger in his voice.
“This is completely unacceptable. What made you think that you could put your hands on my omega, my fiancé?”
Geralt, the always stone-faced bastard, doesn’t answer, only casting a small glance to the brunette.
Hands reach up, gripping at his collar, “Look at me you filth.”
“Em,” Julian warns, rising from his seat, unable to bear this injustice.
“What do you think you were doing? What gives you the aud-?”
“EM! Stop. It was an accident,” Julian interjects, pulling the alpha away.
Em blows out a scuff air of disbelief, “An- An accident?”
“It was,” Julian claims, spreading calming pheromones to assist in his lying, “Stupid really...I was leaning over and I slipped!”
A beat of silence passed through them, Julian stumbling over his lies, “I was leaning far over to see the...the...um-uh...”
“PROPELLERS! And I slipped! And I would have gone overboard, but Mr. Rivia here saved me,” He interjected, pressing himself closer to the alpha, inwardly retching away from his scent, “And almost went over himself.”
Em stared at him, obvious embarrassment causing color to rise on his cheeks, “You wanted to see - he wanted to see the propellers!” He exclaimed, a nervous laugh slipping past his lips.
“Like I said, omegas and machinery do not mix,” he muttered
The master of arms sharply tugged Geralt, “Was that the way of it?”
A sharp ‘no’, sat on his tongue, but as he glanced over to Julian, a pleading look in the male’s eyes, he retorted, “Yeah, yeah...that was pretty much it.”
“Well, the boy’s a hero then!” Stregobor declared, hand clapping Geralt’s shoulder, “Good for you, son, well done.”
As Em began to walk, Julian in his arms, muttering about the cold, the master of arms called him, “Something for the boy?”
With a pause, Em seemed to think. With a click of his tongue he declared, “A 20 should do it,” he reached for his wallet before Julian stopped him.
Hurt and angered omegan scent filled the air, “Is that the going rate for saving the man you love?”
Once again, the alpha paused, “Julian is displeased...what to do?” He thought for a moment, suddenly smirking, “I know,” he walked up to Geralt, squaring his shoulders as he stalked towards him, “Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow evening? To regale our group with your heroic tale!”
With a huff of air and an interesting hum left Geralt's lips he answered, “Sure, count me in.”
“Good, it’s settled then.”
Julian stared at the other male, an alpha he was sure of it. His eyes traced the man, taking in the beauty of his posture, how he was ragged and yet still charming. Just then, Em wrapped his arms around the omega, leading Julian away from the man. Inwardly, he knew his instincts called for the man. For this ‘Geralt Rivia’, he wanted to know more about him, but that thought was killed as Em led him back to the suite.
And just then it struck him, this is what he wanted. He wanted someone to save him, he wanted someone to see him. Not the fact that he was an omega, but see him.
He wanted someone to care.
[Youll have to read the rest on Ao3]
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