#lambert fluff

The White Wolf let out a sigh, adjusting his grip on the boar that he carried over his shoulders.

“Oh, Y/N. I’ve missed you.”

“I’m sure you have.” You fixed the way your cloak wrapped around your body in an effort to retain as much body heat as you could. The wind was chilling and snow was beginning to fall.

“Who’s come this winter?” Triss asked from her place to your right.

“I suppose all that’s left of us. Vesemir, Coen, Eskel. Just the usual.”

“And Lambert?”

“He–,”

“He’s there.” You spoke over Geralt, keeping your eyes focused on the path ahead. “I’d know if something happened to him.”

“Keeping your eye on him?” Geralt raised a brow in your direction.

“I have to. He’s an imbecile and a moron. If he gets himself killed, I don’t want his corpse to be rotting in an alley or field for months until we find him.”

“Ever the optimist, aren’t you?”

“I find it a little difficult to be optimistic about the same man who once tried to fight an entire clan of nekkers without elixirs or his swords.”

“I remember hearing about that.” Triss looked over at you. “Lambert said he was dared to fight them without any weapons.”

“I believe he was drunk when he accepted the dare and even more drunk during the fight.”

You nodded softly, letting out a sigh.

***

“I brought dinner.” Geralt announced as Triss opened the door to the keep for the group following behind her which consisted of yourself, Cirilla, and Geralt.

Vesemir turned to face the small party that entered the dining hall.

“More than that.” A fond smile came to Vesemir’s face as he approached Triss, his eyes flickering between you and the redhead. “My child, what a surprise.”

As the two greeted each other, your eyes focused on the red haired witcher just behind him.

“Ah, hell. Who invited the fucking mages?” Lambert crossed his arms as you approached him. He did his best to stand stoic and stone faced, but the smile that crept across your lips seemed to break him. A smile of his own came out beneath his beard.

“I think Lambert’s got you beat for the prettiest red curls at Kaer Morhen, Triss.” You looked over your shoulder to tease your friend but before you could even look back at Lambert, he was wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off of the floor.

You laughed as he squeezed you with enough force to nearly break your bones.

“Prettiest my ass.” He set you back on your feet.

“I wish you ladies had come sooner.” Vesemir spoke, taking your attention away from him. “We all could have used you.”

“Hopefully we still can.” Geralt said. Your eyes fell on Ciri, offering the girl a smile when she looked at you.

“I’ll go and dress for dinner. I assume you’ll all want to wash up as well?” Triss began to cross the room.

Coen scoffed, looking at Lambert.

“Let me rephrase that for Triss. If you don’t wash, you don’t eat.” You looked from Coen, to Lambert, then to Geralt. “Understood?”

“Fucking shit. Are you going to lash us if we don’t listen?” Lambert’s hand fell from your back.

“Oh, I wouldn’t give you the pleasure, darling.” You smirked just a little. “Now go prepare that boar. Ciri and I will make sure the kitchen is ready.”

“What?” Ciri furrowed her brows. She looked to Geralt as if he’d get her out of kitchen duty.

“You don’t want to argue with her.” The White Wolf shook his head.

“Last one who tried turned into fiend food.” Coen added with a chuckle.

“Come along, princess.” You began to lead the way to the kitchen.

Lambert followed you first, moving ahead to push the door to the kitchen open for you.

He didn’t even give you two seconds to enter the kitchen before he was grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in for a kiss.

You couldn’t help but laugh against his lips, your hands coming up to hold on to his broad shoulders. His facial hair tickled and scratched your skin, but you didn’t mind. You actually missed the feeling. It was a pleasant reminder of your witcher.

But the moment didn’t last long as Cirilla entered the kitchen. You pulled away from Lambert, pressing your hand against his chest.

“Princess, wash your hands up and find some dishes in the cupboard, would you? I’m not sure if anyone’s showed you, but the dishes are in the cupboard over there.” You pointed across the room.

“We have dishes?” Ciri raised her eyebrows.

Lambert chuckled.

“How was the Path?” You asked him, your eyes flickering down to the medallion on his chest.

“Long and fucking annoying. I really wish you’d join me.” He spoke quietly, briefly eyeing the princess just to make sure she wasn’t trying to eavesdrop on your conversation.

“I have my own duties to tend to.” You gave him a little smile. “You know that.”

“I know.” He grumbled, bringing his hand up to hold your hand that rested against his chest. “Just sometimes wish I had ya around to keep me company.”

The door to the kitchen opened again and in walked Coen and Geralt. Geralt carried the boar across his shoulders.

“What are you doing with that in here?” You pointed to the slain animal. Geralt placed it down on the table in the center of the kitchen with little ease.

“Butchering it so we can eat it.” He answered you very matter of factly.

“Not in here you aren’t!”

“It’s cold as fuck outside!”

“Oh come on, Y/N! Afraid of a little blood?” Coen teased.

You glared at him.

“Fine. Butcher the beast, then I want the entire kitchen scrubbed top to bottom.”

“Ha!” Lambert barked out a laugh.

“That includes you.” You told him.

“Who’s really in charge here? Her or Vesemir?” Coen muttered to Geralt as the latter began to cut into the boar. “Y/N, have you asked Lambert about that new scar on the side of his neck?”

“What?” You turned your head to look at the witcher.

“Piss off, Coen!”

“What the hell did you do, Lambert?”

“Got into it with a nasty wyvern without my sword.” The witcher grinned as though it was something to be proud of.

You opened your mouth to say something, but found that you were too stunned to speak.

You took Lambert’s chin and turned his head so you could inspect the scar. It was nasty and jagged and made your stomach churn from what could have happened, what nearly happened.

You shook your head, rubbing your brow. You could feel a headache beginning– and you had only just arrived at Kaer Morhen.

“See, Geralt? An absolute imbecile.”

Geralt nodded as if he agreed, a little grin playing on his features.

“How is it that you’re able to keep track of Lambert’s whereabouts if you two aren’t together on the Path?” Ciri curiously asked you.

“He wears a talisman that allows me to hone in on his location whenever I’d like. It also detects his life force, so if his heart were to cease beating, I’d know.” You moved away from Lambert, knowing you needed to help get dinner started and it wouldn’t happen if you stayed near him.

“Spying on me?” Lambert placed his hands on his hips. “You sorceresses and your tricks.”

You smiled, glancing over to him.

“Oh, darling witcher. I thought you enjoyed my tricks.”

“Well that depends on the trick.”

“Keep it clean.” Geralt interjected, nodding in Ciri’s direction. “She doesn’t need to hear any of that.”

“I don’t need to hear any of that.” Coen shook his head.

Lambert stumbled into Kaer Morhen, wiping tiredly at his brow as he searched the room, half expecting you to tumble him to the ground in worry for his new injuries, much surprised to find the room completely vacant of your presence. He threw his weapons to the ground, ignoring the grunt of disapproval that Geralt gave him before stalking down to his bedroom, hoping to find you there instead.

You knew, of course, that he’d do exactly that, just as you knew he’s refuse you the opportunity to take care of him upon his return. Lambert, like most of the other witchers, was a stubborn mule at times, allowing his pride to deny him your soft affection but you were just as, if not more, stubborn. You’d drawn up a warm bath, filling the water with scents and potions you got from Triss, all of which would aid him in recovering from the hunt he’d gotten back from.

Your clothes scattered the bedroom floor, bubbles created by the potions littering the water and hiding your body from view as you heard your witcher’s determined steps easing at the slightly ajar door. Red curls peaked through the gap first before his curious eyes met yours, lips almost instantly tilting into an amused smirk when he saw how you were waiting for him.

“Well,” he breathed as he leaned against the doorframe, shamelessly trying to take in every bit of the lovely view you’d created for him. “Had I known this was what I would find upon my return, I would have killed that last monster much faster,” he noted, point only being grounded as you giggled lightly, the water shifting around you as you sat up slightly, moving the bubbles to accommodate your new position without exposing too much of you skin.

“You are more than welcome to join me, love,” you mused as you reached for him, silently insisting that he come towards you, a demand he’d happily meet as he closed the door behind him.

“You think there is room enough for the pair of us?” he pushed as he kneeled at the side of the wooden tub, lips gentle as they kissed the inside of your wrist. You hoped your ruse would hold up, though the way concern dipped at your brow upon further inspection of his face, proved to threaten the entire construct of your plan.

“I am sure we would find a way to make room,” you suggested, releasing his hand to gently drag your thumb over his lips, fingers trailing through the features of his face before reaching the tangled curls behind his ear.

“And I am sure you would be far more convincing if your face had not given away your intentions from the moment I walked into the room,” he informed you and you lifted a brow at him. “I may be a fool for you, lass, but a fool for your ploy, that I am not.”

“I never thought you a fool, Lambert,” you pouted, caught red-handed as you looked down at the water. “I merely thought you easier persuaded with something to gain in the end.”

“And what would I be gaining from this little encounter?”

“Why being close to me, of course,” you gasped, and he laughed lightly at your reaction before standing up from your side. “You may fight it, dear witcher, but you know you enjoy me taking care of you, and why not allow me to do so while I rest in your arms within the constraints of the water.”

“A bargain that any man of sound mind would be ridiculed for refusing,” he teased, and you thought he would be leaving but instead found him taking off his shirt, throwing it across the room as he winked at your wondering gaze.

“You are staying” you breathed with a careful smile, happy that your plan worked and that you’d get a chance to make sure he’s not been hurt too badly on his escapades.

“You are a master of persuasion, lass,” he explained, hands on either side of you as he leaned over the tub to kiss you, lips moving ever so slowly as you welcomed him home. “Persuasion thrives off weakness,” he mumbled against your lips, making sure that your eyes met his as he smiled. “You know that mine is you and you alone.”

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You couldn’t remember the last time you had ever heard Lambert... humming.

It wasn’t that the very low, slightly off pitch noise was unwanted, no not all. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It was just that growing up with the Witchers at Kaer Morhen meant you had never heard Lambert make any unnecessary noise that wasn’t a string of expletives aimed at Eskel since the Trials. Even as he fidgeted on your lap, making you huff as he pushed your hands off your knees with the burrowing of his stubborn head, you didn’t mind. Even though he would never admit it, you both knew that he needed this.

‘Stop fidgeting you little trollop, you’re messing up my braids.’

‘They don’t call me Lambert the Prick for nothing, my little cub.’

Vesemir had been surprisingly tough lately, and this winter brewed and hashed with the promise of something extra cruel to arrive behind the whirlwind of ice. It had been a while since you and Lambert had ventured into the Library of Kaer Morhen, and from the dust that lined the shelves behind your head, it had been a few centuries since any human activity had occurred in this room as well. No matter, it now had the two of you, the ghosts of love, lying among its wooden floors to keep it company.

Lambert had lured you in here with the promise of having a space to nap where Eskel or Coen wouldn’t find the two of you, or worse, Vesemir would find you and ‘make you fulfil your empty promises of cleaning everyone’s dinner plates tonight’, as he had whispered in your ear with a laugh. Although the snow was gently asking for entrance against the grand arching windows that lined the top ends of the shelves along the billowing room, Lambert tried his best to not grumble about the cold as he almost comically yanked you into the room. For a moment, you wandered around in awe at the centuries old volumes of bestiaries and herbariums. The fickle candle light you held flickered against their gold adorned gilded edges like jaded wings of fireflies as you walked through the oaken walls. Your shadow painted the sky, flitting in its dark form like a phantom dancing through the halls of a navel long abandoned, before your Witcher stepped through the doorway and into the light. 

But Lambert was not a patient man, and nearly a winter without feeling your arms meant he had little tolerance for your wonderous searches through the giant alcoves.

Ever since your brother Geralt had torn you away from the Witchers’ keep to help him find his Child Surprise, it had been far too many months without your embrace for Lambert’s liking. By the gods, if only he wasn’t steely hearted enough to admit how in love with you he was. Perhaps then, he may finally dare himself to chase after the life he had longed dreamed of. My gods, as he followed you into the room with a painstaking smirk, if only you would turn and look at him! His heart bled through to his face, the ache only a true love could bring etched fearfully into the crinkles that begin to set old age into his eyes. 

And then you reach out, fingers fluttering against the slight draft of this winter’s afternoon, and he feels his step faltering despite his stern appearance. The ache in his chest squeezes in a pain he thought more painful than any Witcher would ever have to endure, and with one final hitch of his breath in the back of his throat, his prickly heart moved out his hand and followed what had always haunted him.

Despite how harsh the floor felt underneath his legs, he went down willingly when you dragged him over to the slight turreted window at the back of the hall. Billowing, tattered velvet frames the frosty glass, but no matter - as you sink down onto the cobbled stone perch that lined the window pane, Lambert felt no chill as he collapsed down on top of you.

‘Hmm, someone’s restless’, you murmur as he repositions himself. You try to help him, holding onto his thick bicep as he turns himself, and for a moment, his whole long torso is pressed up against your chest. Although he’s heavy, you can tell from the nervous flicker behind his beady eyes as they glance down at you that he’s not pressing his full weight on you, too terrified of hurting you in any way or form. He’s always been so nervous of that - he knows that being friends with a Witcher is no easy task, but he’s always done his best to keep you safely by his side whenever you visit.

‘And someone’s being pernickety today.’

‘Hmph, I learnt from the best teacher I know,’ you scold. 

‘Flattery will get you everywhere my little scorpion’, he grunts out as he shuffles down your body and nearly elbows you in the face with all his grace.

Finally, he finds the willpower to kick his long legs down and clamber until his head is resting gingerly on your forehead. His jaw clenches as he tries to make himself relax against you - all tight, coiled neck muscles and quaking arms until you place your hand on his forehead. And then everything stops.

You realise for a moment that Lambert isn’t even breathing, the moron. He’s crossed his arms over his tight chest, boots kicking against the wall as his eyes are squeezed tightly shut, almost in concentration. For the first time in his life, as he feels your hand tentatively - almost teasingly trace up the skin of his head until every nerve of his body is burning with the feeling of your fingertips caressing the tips of his front curls, he’s scared. He doesn’t allow himself to show it, just blowing out a powerful sigh and pretending this was his plan all along as he allows himself to sink into the soft material of your breeches.

But then you do something unexpected. Your hand moves of its own accord, shakily fisting into the thick flop of his ginger hair before releasing it gently, the strands running through your fingers like the sands of time. His eyes shoot open then, and although he didn’t believe it to be biologically possible, he feels his cheeks burn with the blush that trembles through his body with enough power to bring the tall man to his knees if he were standing. With enough power to make him collapse down in front of you, hands trembling as they would grab your waist in the closest form of reverence Lambert will ever find. 

When you find the man staring up at you with quiet confusion, you gasp and immediately drop your hands down to your sides.

‘I’m sorry Lambchops, I don’t know what came over me-’

Before they can fall, though, a veiny hand catches your wrist tightly. His fingers dig into your palm and makes you gasp at the ferocity of the contact. Lambert drinks up the noise with a trembling groan, as if any utterance from you was enough to give him life.

‘Don’t you dare stop. And don’t you dare tell Geralt’, Lambert mumbles, before closing his eyes again, waiting for your hand to curl itself into his hair again. 

The dim light that fades through the window and leaves behind nothing but the last dewy remnants of the sun’s honeyed tendrils seem to almost make Lambert translucent - a glowing being lying in your arms, other earthly and so rare and so beautiful. So, stop you don’t. Your peaceful giant, the man whose felt he’s spent the last uncountable years of his life living a spectre’s dream, finally begins to understand what Geralt was jabbering on about Yennefer. His warmth seeps into the skin of your legs, and he can smell the happiness radiate off you as your fingers curl themselves around the soft strands by the curve of his ear.

You trace gently down, joining up the strands that littered his head like constellations, until you tugged lightly at a knot that lay by the nape of his neck and he growled. 

He shifts slightly as he murmurs, ‘if you keep doing that, little lamb, we’re going to have a problem.’

You tug the strand once more and he winces, the sound trembling from his lips. The smell of blade oil and oak penetrates your nose as he rises slightly, pushing his hips up in discomfort. The side of his armour pelt hits your arm, and you can almost feel the fire that burns against his skin. You laugh, making a plea for forgiveness as you reach down and kiss the top of his head, and his face turns slightly into a confused smile.

For a moment, he is silent, just pressing himself against you as tightly as he can manage without feeling the prickly thorns of a tenderness he knows he is not worthy of, can never have, strike at his heart again. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him like this. With such fondness. Not since his mother.

But then, in the silence, he murmurs out something surprising. 

‘I’m glad you came back, Y/n. I- I know I tease you, but... but I’m glad you’re home again. I missed you. I always miss you, when you go.’

Home. Home. 

‘There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be Lambert. I- I missed you too.’

He smiled fully then, lips twisting up until his whole face almost beams with the force of it.

‘You better not leave again. Because if you do, I’m going to set Lil’ Bleater after you, and she can butt something fierce.’ His tone was humorous, but the melancholy sigh that gusted from his lips spoke another story. To tell the truth, he always felt empty, hollow, when you were away.

You press your face against his hair, burying your fingers down until they brush against his scalp and illicit secret shivering waves down the back of his spine.

‘I’ll just ride off on your horse, and then you’ll have lost the two of us to your silly prank’, you mutter with a giggle.

He huffs at that, his chest rising and falling as you reach down to place a palm over his heart, it’s pulse sparking in a rhythm that had always belonged solely to you. He grasps it gingerly, tenderly, within his larger and bone-weary fingers, and yet his eyes still remained closed. He’s too afraid to open them and see the fondness in your eyes he’s always wished for.

‘Well, that backfired quickly. I’ll then have to steal Scorpion, and spend the rest of my days following you to the forgotten edges of the world - well, until a very angry Eskel finally catches me. And when he strings me up from the rafters, you’ll have to live with the knowledge that all my misery was your fault.’

Your eyelashes flutter against his forehead as you lift it back up again, a cheeky grin gracing your celestial features. It was enough to drive the tired Witcher mad.

‘I think I can live with that.’

He laughs then, fully, heartily, and his hand moves to play and wring with your fingers. 

‘Well, I shall have to spend the time before then trying to change your awful opinion of me.’

Then the man does something even more surprising in his newfound exuberance - clouds of cold smoke begins to trail from his mouth like the slithering tail of a Wyvern as he begins to hum an old song. You recognised it after a moment, as one of the old folk songs Vesemir used to sing to the young Witcher boys after particularly harsh days of training, when they were all too scared or strung or shocked to sleep. It was the same song he used to whistle to you when he would sneak into your room after dark, just sitting on the floor by your fireplace and making sure you, in particular, were okay.

Deep in your hearts, you knew that was the closest the proud man lying in front of you could come to a love confession while he was still sober.

The sound trails on for a while, as you just lean back and look down at the man finally in peace below you. His lips, after a little time in your company, finally stop moving and are replaced instead with thunderous snores that seem to rack through his body.

The river water was cool as you washed the blood from your hands. Your eyes flickered across the river momentarily, spitting something moving just across the water. 

There was a rabbit on the other side, ears perked up to cautiously listen for danger. 

Just a few feet behind you, you could hear Lambert moving around. 

You glanced over your shoulder just in time to see him disappear into the thicket of bushes behind you. 

“Haven’t you had enough fun for the day, Lambert?” You stood to your feet and wiped your own wet hands off on the legs of your trousers. 

The witcher didn’t answer you. 

You shook your head. 

“What is he up to?” You thought out loud as you moved towards the horses. 

His gelding, Champion, was tethered next to your mare, Red. 

You brushed your hand along Champion’s flank and up to his shoulder. He shifted in his spot, jerking his head back and letting out an unhappy grunt. Champion stepped away from you, which was odd for the horse. He usually loved your company. 

You furrowed your brow, drawing your hand from him. Upon further inspection, you realized there was an open wound on his shoulder. He had been cut. It wasn’t deep, but it was bleeding.

“Did it happen when those bandits got ol’ Lambert?” You cooed, moving around the front of him. As you did so, you scratched under his chin. 

You went to your saddle on Red and pulled out a few ointments and something to clean the wound with. 

As you were putting ointment on the wound, the bushes to your left began to rustle. 

You looked in the direction of the noise, making note of the daggers on either of your hips. 

A few moments later, Lambert emerged from the thicket with something in his hand. 

“What were you doing?” You brought your eyes back to Champion’s shoulder. 

“What’s wrong with Champ?” He avoided your question. 

“One of those bandits got him. Nothing too bad. Probably doesn’t feel pleasant though.” You looked up to Champion’s head, giving him a little smile. “He’s a sweet boy.”

“He’s an ass.”

“Only to you.” You returned to Red’s saddle to put the ointments back. 

You mounted your horse, eyes scanning the woods before you. 

“We should be going. If someone passes by and they are heading into town, it could bring trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah. Before we go, here.” Lambert handed you a modest bouquet of wildflowers. 

You took them with a bit of confusion. It was very out of character for Lambert to do something so nice as to even compliment you, let alone give you flowers. 

You furrowed your brows as you looked at him. 

“You…. got me flowers?”

He climbed atop Champion, adjusting his grip on the reins. 

“Consider it a thank you, you know, for protecting me.” He muttered. “Saved my life back there.”

You had indeed saved his life. There were many bandits that had come from both sides of the road and ambushed you. Champion threw Lambert and Red took off with you still on her. This left Lambert to get surrounded by nearly two dozen bandits and thieves. 

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The next thing you knew, it was nighttime and a thunderstorm had rolled in. 

Bread meowed again, rubbing against your calf. 

“You’ve already had your dinner, silly.” You smiled down at him. 

A sudden echoing thud against the front down made you jolt, a squeak of surprise escaping your lips. Your hand slapped over your mouth as you listened for the noise again. 

Your heart began to race in your chest at the possibilities of what could have caused the noise. A fallen branch? Debris the heavy wind could have stirred up? A person even?

The thud came again. 

Goosebumps began to rise on your skin. There was no way the wind caused that noise. It had to be someone. 

Who the hell would be at your door at such a time of night and in the middle of a storm?

Worries began to swarm your mind. They mustn’t be here for anything good.

You picked up Bread and began to take slow, quiet steps towards the hall that led to your room. 

“Y/N– Fuck!” A familiar voice shouted. “I can hear you in there! It’s just me!”

You put Bread down on to a chair and hurried to the door. You pulled it open, then quickly pulled Lambert into your home. 

He was soaked to the bone and his red ringlets were disheveled from the wind and the rain. 

He let the satchel over his shoulder fall to the floor, then he took the sheath for his swords off. 

“I didn’t know you’d be coming so early in the spring.” You picked up his satchel and placed it on the table.

As you turned to face him, his arms suddenly embraced you and he kissed your lips. You were pleasantly surprised by the kiss. Your hands came to hold his shoulder and his cheek, fingertips brushing over his scruffy jaw. 

“Missed you.” He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closing. 

“I missed you too.” You smiled. “And as much as I love your hugs, I am not a fan of getting my clothes wet.”

He stepped back, looking down at his attire. 

“All my shit’s drenched from the fuckin’ rain.” Lambert moved to his satchel. 

“I think I have one or two pairs of your trousers from last autumn.” You turned to go to your room.

Lambert followed behind you. 

“How are Vesemir and your brothers doing?” 

“Vesemir’s good. Old bastard’s still runnin’ around annoyin’ the piss outta whoever he comes across.”

“He only annoys you.” You grinned a little. 

Once you were in your room, you began to search the wardrobe for the trousers you had folded away months ago. 

“What of Eskel, Coen, and Geralt? Anything exciting with those boys?”

“Geralt brought his bard. He was annoying too, like a little gnat always yapping.”

“Who doesn’t annoy you?” You paused your search to look over to your witcher, a teasing grin playing on your lips. “Me?”

“Nah. Everyone annoys me.” He grinned. 

“Hmm. I’ll keep that one in mind.” 

“Coen got himself a new nasty scar just across his collarbone. Said a pair of griffins did it to him.”

“Oh, you boys worry me– Aha!” You found the trousers and pulled them out. “There. You can change into that and then come out to the kitchen. Dinner should be done momentarily.”

“You made me dinner? How sweet of you.” The witcher teased, taking the trousers from you. 

In truth, you had just made enough soup for a couple days, so there was plenty for him. 

“Get out of your wet clothes. We’ll string a line up in the front room so your clothes can dry quicker.” You smiled at him, your hand lingering on his arm before you began to make your way towards the door. 

But Lambert caught your hand, ushering you to stay for just a moment. 

“I really did miss you, bug.” His voice was quiet. He squeezed your fingers gently. 

“Missed you too, Lambert.” You smiled. 

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“I won’t fall down, Lambert. I do this all the time.”

“Even after I’ve asked you not to.” He grumbled. “Come on. Get down from there.”

“Lambert, I’m trying to clean the cabinets out.”

“I don’t care. I’ll get up there.”

“What’s the difference in you getting up there rather than me?” You tried to make yourself heavier but he was far too strong, easily lifting you up and then placing you down on the floor. 

“I’m a lot more careful than you.”

“I’m careful.”

“If I get hurt, I heal quicker. I’ll be fine. You– I can’t have getting hurt.” He shook his head. “Let me go put away my potions that I was messing with in the other room. I’ll be back in a minute to help you.”

“Lambert–,”

“Bug, you try to fight me and I’ll kick your ass.” He threatened you, leaning down to kiss your lips. 

You groaned. Your eyes followed him as he left the room. 

***

Just a little more than five minutes later when Lambert returned to the kitchen, he found you on top of a stool that was on a chair. This gave you the height you needed without climbing on to the counter. 

Lambert’s heart jumped to his throat just as one of the legs of the stool slipped off the chair and you began to fall. 

Luckily he was fast enough to catch you. 

You gave him a sheepish smile. 

“Y/N.”

“I know.” You frowned. “I just wanted to get in here cleaned up so I could spend the evening with you.”

He placed you on your feet and then pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Okay. Here’s the deal. We’ll finish cleaning out the cabinets and then I’m taking a trip into town to get you a ladder. That way when I’m gone, I won’t worry about you falling and breaking your neck doing something stupid. How does that sound?”

“Good.” You nodded your head. “Thank you, Lambert.”

You wrapped your arms around him. 

“I swear, bug. You’ve got no self-preservation whatsoever.”

There was a brief moment of silence and you could faintly hear shuffling. 

“We won’t keep you from them for too long, brother.” Eskel’s gravely voice broke through the silence. 

“We’re going to go ahead and take that contract in the village since you’re…. busy here.”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’m not leaving until I know Y/N is okay.”

The wolves said their goodbyes to one another and then the front door to the house closed. 

You picked at your nails, sniffling, and looked down at your hands. You listened as Lambert’s footsteps came down the hall towards the opened door to your room. 

He appeared in the doorway. At first, he looked at the bed expecting to find you there. But when he saw the blankets were all pushed back and it appeared that you had gotten out of bed, his eyes were drawn to your form by the window. 

“Hey, bug.” He spoke softly.

You sniffled, nodding your head a little to let him know that you heard him. 

“When did you get out of bed?”

“When I…. When I heard Eskel and Geralt.” Your voice was raspy. “They could’ve stayed. You-You don’t have to tend to me.”

“Don’t worry about it, bug.” Lambert shook his head, moving into the room. “They’re busy with a contract in town. A bunch of drowners down by the docks apparently.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed closest to you. 

You stayed by the window, eyes focusing on your hands. 

“Bug?”

“Hm?”

“Look at me, please.” Lambert’s voice was soft and gentle, and carried a tenderness that was unusual for the young wolf. It felt odd to be so…. quiet, but at the same time it felt so natural to be gentle with you- especially when you weren’t feeling good.

Your face scrunched up as a new batch of tears formed in your eyes. You looked up to him, blinking the tears out of your eyes and then hastily wiping them away. 

“It’s hurting me, bug. Let me do something to help you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Your shoulders trembled as you began to cry. You brought your hand up to your mouth. 

“Come here, bug. Put your head in my lap. You like that, don’t you?”

You nodded, then moved to the bed so you could lay down. You put your head in his lap. One of his hands found your hair gently scratching your head while his other hand went to your arm. 

“Love you, bug.”

“I-I love you too, Lambert.”

The both of you stayed like that for a few minutes. 

When he was sure you had pretty much stopped crying, he figured it would be okay to start trying to cheer you up. 

“Hey, bug?”

“Hm?”

“You remember when you were bit by Roach when you first met her? Bit you around here, didn’t she?” He rubbed just above your elbow on the bottom part of your bicep. 

“It hurt, but that’s just ‘cause she got the fleshy area more than anything.” You murmured quietly. “Didn’t mean to do it.”

“No, I know she didn’t. But you cried a little and wiped your nose on my shirt.”

A smile began to grow on your lips. 

“You remember that, bug?”

“No.”

“You answered that really fast.” Lambert smiled, looking down at you.

“I don’t remember that.”

“No, of course not. I remember carrying you all the way up into the keep at Kaer Morhen though.”

“I was tired.”

“I’m sure you were. Poor baby got bit by mean old Roach.”

You began to trace shapes into the knee of his trousers. 

“I do remember that time you were bucked off of Champion.”

“Hey, now. I thought we agreed to not bring that up.” 

“I remember Champ bucked you off, and then dragged you for- what? -a mile. Maybe two.”

“Felt like fucking ten.” Lambert sighed. “Damn horse.”

“He’s sweet.”

“Only to you. To me, he’s a bastard.”

You giggled.

Lambert rubbed your arm a little more before stopping. 

“Bug, I know things aren’t good right now, but they’ll turn up.”

The little smile on your lips faded. You closed your eyes and turned your head so that your nose was tucked into his thigh. 

“How do you know?”

“‘Cause…. ‘Cause…. Well, I’ve been alive a hell of a long time. And if there’s one thing I have learned, bad shit happens but it doesn’t last forever. Good shit comes around too. It might not seem like it and it might feel like it takes forever for that good shit to come, but it does. And you just have to keep your head up, bug. Gotta keep your head up…. And just remember that I love you more than any of the bad that happens.”

You wiped your tear stained cheeks.

Lambert gave you a few moments before deciding to shift the subject. 

“If I bring you something, you think you will eat for me? Doesn’t have to be a lot, just a little bit. You worry me like crazy, bug.”

You nodded your head.

“Yeah. I can.”

“Thank you.” Lambert rubbed your arm. He lifted your head and moved out from underneath you, standing to his feet. 

You put your head down on the bed, curling your knees as tight as you could to your chest. Lamberet knelt down by the bed, brushing his fingers along your temple. 

“M’here for you, bug.” He reminded you softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Just gotta lean on me, okay?”

You nodded.

He kissed your head once more before leaving the room.

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-You tried to move towards the fallen witcher but your mother grabbed ahold of your arm. 

-“Mother, let me go! He needs help!”

“Don’t go near him, Y/N!”

-You ripped your hand from her grip and rushed to Lambert’s side. Your hand found his back, brows drawing together. You tried his name a few times in an attempt to coax him to open his eyes, but he seemed to be out cold. 

-“Y/N, get away from that man this instant!”

“Father, he’s hurt!”

“Y/N, listen to your father.” Your mother said. 

-You stubbornly shook your head, using all your strength to turn Lambert over onto his back. Your hand found his neck, which was covered in blood. Before you had a chance to find his pulse, Lambert’s hand came up to your wrist, leather gloved fingers wrapping tightly around you. 

-Your eyes darted up to meet his. He was staring at the ceiling, dazed and disoriented. His grip on your wrist was tight enough to cause bruises. You brought your other hand up to the side of his face, gently stroking his skin. 

-”Easy, love. It’s just me.” You gently turned his head, hoping he’d look at you. After a few moments, his golden eyes focused on you. You smiled softly. “Hello, love.”

“Bug”

-”What did you do to yourself?” You asked him, letting his face go so you could begin to undo his armor. He groaned when you accidentally applied too much pressure to his side. 

-”There’s a fucking nest of Slyzards not too far from here. Was a nest.” He tried to sit up but you pressed your hand to his chest, keeping him on his back. 

“No, no. You need to let me make sure you’re okay to move first-,”

“Bug, m’fine.”

“No, you’re not fine, Lambert. You just barged into my home and collapsed in a bloody pile in my kitchen.” You furrowed your brows at him. “You aren’t moving until I say so.”

-He didn’t bother to fight you much more. He put his head back on the floor, eyes slipping shut. 

-You looked over your shoulder, hearing your parents move around behind you. Your mother moved to your father, putting her hand on his arm. You couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other, but you could feel their eyes on you. 

-”Didn’t mean to barge in on you and your company.” Lambert tried to lift his head but winced and decided against it. 

“No worries. You needed help. I’m glad you came. Do you think you can stand?”

“Fuck. If I tried, maybe.”

“Let’s try. Need to get you to my bed so we can get you undressed and treat your wounds.”

-”Y/N? How do you know this man?” Your mother asked you as you stood to your feet.

“This isn’t a man, Y/M/N.” Your father shook his head. “He’s a gods damned mutant!”

“Watch what you call him, father.” You reached down to take hold of Lambert’s hand, wanting to help him to his feet. 

-Your father’s hand wrapped around your upper arm and he spun you around quickly to face him. 

“You better watch your tone with me, Y/N.”

You locked your jaw, glaring up at him. He held your gaze, unintimidated by you. But then his eyes flickered to something behind you. 

-Lambert had gotten on his feet the second he sensed you were in trouble and now he stood behind you, glaring daggers at your father.

-”Don’t put your hand on her unless you want to lose it.”

“And just who the hell do you think you are? Telling me how to handle my daughter?”

Lambert stepped out from behind you, placing himself in front of you. 

-”I don’t care who the hell she is to you. You aren’t going to put your hands on her.”

“Lambert, leave it be. He meant no harm.” You put your hand on the crease in Lambert’s elbow, wanting to take his attention from your father. “Go back to my room.”

-The stubborn witcher stood his ground, refusing to be the first to step down. Your father, being equally stubborn and a fool, wouldn’t let anyone believe he was afraid of someone, especially when he believed that someone was beneath him. 

-“I could have you hanged for this, mutant inbred.” Your father spoke through his teeth, red in the face with anger. “Barging into my daughter’s home. Putting your hands on her-,”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try, old man.” Lambert chuckled coldly, stepping forward. 

-“Father, that’s enough. Lambert’s done nothing wrong.” You stepped around so you could see both your father’s face and Lambert’s. “Let’s all just take a step back and calm down.”

You placed your hand on Lambert’s, wrapping your much smaller fingers around his large hand. This seemed to catch his attention, drawing his eyes down to you. 

-“You’re bleeding and now isn’t the time to start a fight. Go back to my room. Take your armor off. I’ll get what I need to dress your wounds.”

His golden eyes lingered on your for a few moments before he nodded stiffly. Before he left, he shot your father another glare. 

-“How long have you…. have you known that man, Y/N?” Your mother asked. 

“A couple years.” You answered, moving to retrieve a few things from the kitchen. 

“And he’s…. he just shows up here? To your home? Unannounced?” 

“Yes, mother. We, um, we’re unofficially sort of courting each other, I suppose.” 

-“I can’t believe this, Y/N.” Your father shook his head disapprovingly. “I thought your mother and I raised you better than this! Not only are you courting someone neither of us have approved of, but a mutant no less! A fucking witcher!”

-“He saved my life!” You raised your voice, clutching the clothes in your hand tightly as you looked at your father. “I’d be dead if it weren’t for that witcher! He treats me better than anyone I’ve ever met! Than anyone you both have tried to set me up with!”

-Your father was silent. 

-“Y/N.” Your mother took a deep breath. “We just want what is best for you. This-This witcher, he cannot give you the proper life you deserve. All he is good for is killing and slaughtering. He can’t give you children. He can’t provide for you a home.” 

-You clenched your teeth together so tightly that your jaw hurt. 

-“I have to go make sure he’s okay.” You whispered, your voice breaking.  

-You pushed the door to your room shut behind yourself. Lambert was sitting on the edge of your bed bare chested. His armor was thrown on the floor. 

-You knew he heard every word spoken between you and your parents. Not only was his hearing perfect, but the heartbroken look on his face told you everything. 

-“How, um, How bad are they?” You asked softly, setting the items down on the stand by your bed. 

“I’ll live.” He shrugged his shoulders, then winced. His hand came up to his side. 

“Lay down for me, please.” 

-He followed your direction, laying down on your bed so you could easily reach him. You knelt down and began to wipe away the blood, gently cleaning the wound. 

-“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He tucked one hand behind his head. “They’re right.”

“Far from it.” You rolled your eyes. “They think I want the life they have. A nice house and a quaint little farm with a few children. I’d surely die of boredom with that kind of life.”

-“This isn’t a joking matter, Y/N.” Lambert turned his head to look at you. 

You sighed softly, placing your hand upon his sternum. Your eyes met his. 

“How often is it you forget I’m a mage, my love?” You tilted your head to the side a little. “Even if I wanted a family, I couldn’t carry children. And if I could carry children, I wouldn’t want to because the man I love could not give them to me.”

-He was quiet for a few moments. 

“Shit. I did forget that.”

You smiled a little at him, leaning forward to kiss above his heart. 

“Easy to forget when you don’t use your magic often.”

“Try not to. It could attract unwanted attention.”

-“Do your parents not know you’re a mage?”

You shook your head. Lambert took your hand, bringing it up to his lips so he could kiss your knuckles. 

“And they don’t need to know either.” You turned your hand to brush your thumb across a bruise on his cheek. 

-“Just realized you didn’t greet me properly.”

“Oh? And when was I supposed to do that?” You cocked a brow at him. “After you barged in unannounced? Or after you collapsed in a bloody pile on my kitchen floor?” 

“Hmm. After I collapsed.” 

-“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” You grinned. 

His hand slipped around your waist and he pulled you down on to him. You did your best to evenly distribute your weight, not wanting to hurt him, but he didn’t seem to care. 

-“Come on, bug.” He muttered, fingers gently digging into your back. 

“I don’t want to be too rough with you, Lambert.”

“I’m not gonna break, bug.”

“But you are hurt.” You reminded him, placing your hand on his chest. 

-”I just want a kiss. One kiss.”

“One kiss for you is going to lead to a lot more.”

“Oh come on, bug. You’re hurting my feelings.” He frowned.

-You held his gaze for a few moments before deciding to give in, leaning over to kiss him. But just as you expected, he tried to pull you down on him. 

-“I gotta say, I didn’t expect to meet your parents like that.” He sighed, reaching up to brush a piece of your hair behind your ear. 

“It’ll be okay.”

“They don’t like me.”

“They don’t like anyone. And since when do you care if anyone likes you?” You raised your brow. 

-He said nothing, but his honey eyes stayed on you, searching your face. His hand reached up to cup your cheek, his touch gentle and tender. 

“Love you, you know that?”

“I know.” You turned your head to kiss the inside of his wrist. “Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll make some dinner so that when you wake up, you’ll have something to eat.”

-“I’m not tired.”

“Then I’ll knock your ass out with a sleeping spell.”

“I think I know of something else of yours that’ll knock me out.” He grinned. You rolled your eyes at him and stood up. 

“I’m going to try to send my parents away for a little bit. I think we need some space. So try to sleep. For me, please?” 

He nodded his head. 

-Your parents didn’t need much convincing to leave. They said they’d be back in a few hours, planning on being on time for supper. 

-As the soup and bread for the evening began to cook, you worked on a couple pies, putting together the filling and the crust. The sun had gone down a little while ago, though that only meant it was early in the evening. The sun set early in the fall. 

-Hands slipped around your waist, drawing you back into a warm body. Lambert tucked his nose into the crook of your neck, letting out a breath that tickled you. 

-“How do you feel?” You asked, giggling softly. 

“I’d be better if you’d come to bed with me.”

“I can’t let the food burn.” You shook your head, turning around in his hold so you could properly see him. 

“It smells delicious.” He leaned forward to kiss you, then he trailed his lips down the front of your throat. “Missed you, bug.”

-His hands moved around your waist, then somehow he maneuvered his hold down to your ass. From there, he hoisted you up onto the counter. You gasped, flour covered hands smacking at his shoulder, thinking he’d placed you down on top of the crust. 

-“Lambert!”

“Relax, bug.” He chuckled, leaning between your thighs. “I won’t let you ruin your precious pie.”

“I’m not making it for me, asshole.” You muttered. “Making it for you.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“And I appreciate it.” 

-The front door opened and in walked your parents. Your mother gasped, covering her mouth while your father glowered at the witcher. Lambert made no effort to move from his position between your parted thighs. You pushed against his shoulder. He stepped back, holding his hand out for you. 

-“Um, uh, dinner is, uh, is almost done.” You stumbled over your words, mortified that your parents had witnessed you in such a position. 

“I think I’ve lost my appetite.” Your mother murmured, messing with the pendant on her necklace. “Can you start a pot for tea, Y/N?”

-You nodded and moved to put the kettle over the fire. 

“Oh, bug! Looks like you’ve got a little flour on your backside.” Lambert commented, patted the back of your skirt to clear away the white dust. Your eyes widened as you looked over at him. Was he trying to make things worse? 

“There you go.” He gave you an innocent smile, though you could see the troublesome grin peaking through. 

-“So, witcher?” Your father moved to stand behind your mother, who now sat at the kitchen table. “What school do you hail from?”

“Kaer Morhen. School of the Wolf.” Lambert crossed his arms, leaning against the counter beside where you were working. 

-“How long have you been a witcher?”

“Father, you don’t have to interrogate him.” You looked over your shoulder.

“It’s fine, bug.” Lambert told you quietly, briefly catching your eye. “Since I was eight.”

“How old are you now?”

“Don’t really count. Almost triple digits.” 

-You could hear your father scoff and mutter something under his breath. You ignored him, choosing instead to focus on kneading the dough for the crust. 

-“Madam Hyder from down the road comes up every so often to see if you’re around.” You spoke, turning your head to look at Lambert. “Wants to know if ‘the strong man with the charming personality’ is around.”

Lambert snorted. 

-At the beginning of the year gene Lambert had visited you, your neighbor down the road had run into a problem with drowners at the lake behind her house. Lambert got rid of them. She took a liking to him almost immediately. He reminded her of her late husband. 

-“Charming personality my ass.” He muttered. You smiled a little. 

“I like her. She’ll come and sit with me outside or we’ll sit in here and talk. She keeps me company.”

-“You wouldn’t be so lonely out here if you had a proper husband.” Your father muttered under his breath. 

“A proper husband?” You repeated, cocking a brow as you moved to retrieve the kettle from the fire. “Can you hand me a mug from the cabinet, love?”

Lambert moved to do as you asked.

-“What is your definition of a proper husband, dear father?” Your irritation was poking through. You poured the tea into the cup for your mother and moved towards the table. 

-“A man who can provide for you. A man who can give you a home and a family. Not some mutant beast who goes around killing for coin.” Your father snapped, holding your gaze. 

“Y/F/N.” Your mother reached out to put her hand on his arm. “Don’t lose your temper.”

-You stayed where you were, hands curled into tight fists as you fought the urge to scream and yell and—

A hand was placed on your waist, making you turn your head. Lambert was moving into your line of sight. 

-“Something’s starting to burn.” He told you, nodding to the oven. Forgetting your anger, you moved to pull the bread and the pie from the oven. 

-The fire seemed to be hotter than it was when you put the two things into the oven. You frowned, hoping they weren’t a loss. 

-“You were about to lose your control.” Lambert whispered to you, his breath tickling your ear. He kissed your cheek then moved back to where he had been standing with his arms crossed and against the counter next to you. 

-You were thankful he stopped you. You didn’t want your parents to know what you were, nor did you want to ruin dinner. 

-The pie and bread were a little crispy, but they would still be tasty nonetheless. 

-Your mother, trying to be civil, started asking Lambert questions, asking him where he’d been, what his favorite places were, what monsters were the hardest, the weirdest, the oddest, that sort of thing. Your father stayed silent, but you didn’t complain. 

-Once dinner was finished, you all sat down at the table to eat. It was silent and tense. You sat next to Lambert. Underneath the table, he kept his hand on your knee. 

-“You know, you missed your sister’s wedding.” Your father spoke up, glancing up from his food to look at you. “It was last summer.”

“I know.” You dropped your eyes down to your bowl of soup. “I visited her afterwards. We spoke of why I wasn’t able to make it. She understood.”

“And why couldn’t you make it?” 

“I had company here. I couldn’t leave.”

-Your father scoffed.

-“I kept her from the wedding.” Lambert spoke up, sitting up straighter in his seat. “So don’t give her shit. It was my fault.”

“Missing out on your own sister’s wedding for an inbred?”

“He was hurt, father. A basilisk nearly cut him in half. He needed my help-,”

“You aren’t a healer, Y/N.” 

-You locked your jaw tightly. Lambert squeezed your knee. 

-“Wow. You are a piece of work.” Lambert shook his head. “You just walk into someone else’s home and disrespect the absolute shit out of them and their choices? Just cause she’s your daughter doesn’t mean you get to treat her like absolute shit.” 

-“You don’t get to talk to me like that-,”

“Actually, I do.” Lambert cut your father off. “Because I’m not going to sit here and let you talk down on Y/N like she deserves this bullshit. If you want to give anyone shit for our relationship, give it to me. I’ll gladly take it. Hell, I might even fight your fucking ass back. I’ve been wanting to fucking punch you square in the forehead all evening but I haven’t because Y/N wouldn’t want me to. But man, have I fucking wanted to.”

-You stood up, placing your hand upon Lambert’s shoulder. 

“I think we’ll finish our dinner in my room.” You told your parents. “I won’t ask you to leave tonight. The roads after dark can be dangerous. But in the morning, I’d like it if you both went home. This is Lambert’s home and it isn’t often that I get to see him.” 

-Lambert took your bowls into the bedroom while you put a few more slices of bread on one plate and a couple pieces of pie onto another plate. 

-“And in case you were wondering, I have no intentions of having children.” You turned to face your parents. “I don’t want them, nor do I need them to be happy Lambert makes me happy. He’s all I need.”

-Lambert was sitting on the chair next to your bed when you entered your room. You put the pie and bread down on to the stand next to your bed and sat on the edge of your bed. 

-“Yeesh. I haven’t been sent to my room in ages.” He grinned a little. You smiled, happy that the events of earlier hadn’t ruined his mood. 

-“Here.” You picked up a spoon and scooped some of the apple pie up. You offered it to him. “Tell me how it tastes.”

He took the bite and before you could pull away, his hand came up to wrap around your wrist. He pulled you closer, kissing your lips. 

“Amazing.”