#aiden/lambert/keira

[the-butch-of-blaviken]

Aiden/Lambert/Keira, modern au, pure fluff, sharing food (890 words)

something silly and self-indulgent written for a discord server prompt

It’s a hot summer day and they’d thought going to the beach on their day off was a good idea – and it would have been, had not about a billion other people had the same idea.

Lambert has not been to the beach since he was eleven years old and Vesemir took him and his brothers to the beach on one of those rare, blessed week-ends where he didn’t work. Lambert remembers splashing around in the water and daring his brothers to see who could hold his breath the longest underwater. The ice cream cart had wobbled over to their spot and the three of them had turned to Vesemir with eyes like war orphans’. “Absolutely not,” Vesemir had said without looking up from his crosswords. 

Turns out splashing around in the water all day was good enough for eleven-year-olds but he feels a little self-conscious about it now, and besides, kids and middle-aged dads in khaki bathing shorts standing perfectly still knee-deep in water with their hands on their hips are already taking up all the space.

Aiden does manage to lure him to deeper waters and for a moment they’re busy racing each other, shamelessly cheating by catching the other’s foot and tickling him or grabbing each other by the leg and dragging him underwater, but it rapidly gets old and after an hour and a half, they’re back on dry land. Keira complains that they’re kicking up sand and dripping all over her like dogs after a bath, but she still makes room for them under her parasol. After that, it gets rather dull and Lambert starts feeling like seasoned meat on a barbecue grill. As a matter of fact, all three of them are sweating profusely, even Keira, who somehow still manages to look like a Barbie straight out of the box.

When the ice cream cart wheels past their spot, they all share a look.

“Let’s share an ice cream,” Aiden suggests.

“They only come in cones.”

“Yeah, and? It’s romantic,” he replies, grinning.

Keira scoffs. “It’s disgusting and unsanitary is what it is.”

“We’ve done more unsanitary stuff than this.”

“What kind of argument is that?” She turns to Lambert, looking for support.

He just shrugs. “I don’t feel like getting ice cream just for me.” He still kind of wants the ice cream, though.

She stares at him over the brim of her thick-rimmed sunglasses for a moment before capitulating, sighing. She fishes a ten-florin bill out of her wallet and holds it out between her index and middle fingers for Aiden to take. He snatches it and gives her a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, mom.”

She slaps his ass on his way up. Lambert hides his smile behind a hand when Aiden yelps. He probably would have done the same.

They each choose a perfume: strawberry for Keira, chocolate mint for Lambert and peanut butter for Aiden. The ice cream starts melting before they’ve even sat back down on their towel, running down the cone in a glorious pink, green and brown mess.

Keira gets the first taste. After that, they pass the cone around in turns: Aiden makes a point of taking comically long licks whenever he can. It takes Keira and Lambert a while to notice, but when they do, Aiden has to sit out two of his turns to compensate. He looks at them like a kicked puppy while they enjoy their ice cream with overzealous noises of enjoyment until the mother of a nearby family glares at them.

Ice cream is running down their fingers in creamy, sticky streaks and it tastes everything Lambert thought ice cream from the ice cream cart would taste: cheap, too sugary and delicious.

In the end, Aiden sinks his teeth into the ice cream, raising exclamations of protest and indignation.

“Oh, Aiden, no!”

“You’re really bad at sharing,” Lambert says and he and Keira laugh when Aiden winces like someone who’s got a bad case of brain freeze.

“You guys just needed to eat faster,” Aiden replies when he’s recovered. “It’s survival of the fittest out here.” He holds out the remains of the ice cream to Keira.

“Oh no, you can keep it now. And don’t look so proud of yourself. You’re doing the dishes tonight.”

Aiden smiles, baring his teeth. “Worth it.”

“Terrible man.” She doesn’t bother keeping the fondness from her voice.

Later, Lambert takes Keira’s hand in his as they walk back to the car and Aiden slings an arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t touch me, I’m all gross and sweaty,” she warns him and he presses himself against her side, squishing his cheek against hers. She groans. “Dishes duty today and tomorrow.”

He laughs. Nothing gets to him.

They hiss as they settle into their seats, fake leather burning every inch of exposed skin.

“Am I the only one thinking the beach is kind of overrated?” Lambert says, brushing sand from between his toes. Keira smiles at him in the rearview mirror.

“Too many kids, man,” Aiden complains as he adjusts his hair with his fingers in the little mirror inside the sun visor.

“Let’s stay home next time.”

Keira drives them away and Lambert rests his head against the car door, swearing he can still feel the waves as he drifts to sleep.

[advena87]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Lambert/Keira Metz, Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Aiden/Lambert/Keira Metz Characters: Lambert (The Witcher), Aiden (The Witcher), Keira Metz, Eskel (The Witcher), Triss Merigold, Bertram Tauler | Jad Karadin, Original Characters Additional Tags: Fix-It, Post-The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, Post-Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC), Love Triangles, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), The Witcher 3 Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence, Bisexual Lambert (The Witcher), Aiden (The Witcher) Lives, Not Beta Read

Summary: Lambert and Keira Metz after the events of Wild Hunt run a joint business in Lan Exeter. Unexpectedly, a stranger witcher appears on their doorstep with an unusual task.

Chapter 3: Trouble doesn't just knock; it breaks down the door

Chapter 3 summary: Aiden reveals how he narrowly escaped death, igniting a whirlwind of emotions in Lambert, who thought his friend was lost forever. Together, they confront the painful truths of their past, their words turning sharp as old wounds are reopened, exposing the jealousy and anger that have festered in silence.

[blackberrywars]

Nine Lines Nine People

Hello thank you for the tag @justhereforeskel sorry about the delay! I've been procrastinating.

This little 9-line snippet is for my wip DP Lambert, which a sort-of sequel to my work Copy-Cat, where Keira rescues Kiyan after mistaking him for Lambert's lost Cat, only to come home to Lambert and the real Aiden fucking in her bathtub. It's more or less implied that they've worked it out by now, and Keira and Aiden have a little surprise for their partner.

———————————————————————————

Familiar leather straps, soft as butter and the loveliest ruby red Keira could find in the shop, settle ever-so snugly around her hips as she tightens them. The buckles rest cooly against her skin, just enough bite to play on the softness of the leather. It had cost her a pretty pile of crowns, more than she really ought to have spent on such a bauble while she still lived in Velen, of all shameful places.

She runs her fingers over the design stamped into the straps, geometric and perfectly placed. A lovely embellishment, and an expensive one. But Lambert had pitched in. And it just fit her so well. She rolls her hips idly, tests the feel, the weight of it.

“Gods, I knew he missed me.”

Aiden looks down on the piece-de-resistance, green eye shining with tears of all things.

———————————————————————————

I'm about 2000 words deep now, but I swear it'll be done someday.

@alllthequeenshorses, @do-androids-dream-ao3acc, @hellinglasses, @halehathnofury, @t4tlambert, @keirametzbrassknuckles, @vesemirsexual, @essskel, @winkthatsmykink if you want to play!

[inexplicifics]

Cozytober #11 with Geralt/Eskel please? <3

It's more Cozytember at this point, I think, but here you go!

Geralt is puttering happily about, messing with B.B.’s careful placement of the decorations mostly for his own amusement, when there’s a knock on the door. He glances up to exchange a confused look with Eskel, who is ensconced comfortably in the largest and squashiest chair they own, joyfully immersed in a book that could easily be used as a bludgeoning weapon. “You expecting anyone?”

“Nope,” Eskel says, showing no inclination to get out of his chair.

Geralt snorts and pads over to the door - it’s late enough that they’ve long since sent B.B. and Marlene to their well-earned rest.

“Papa!” the Empress of North and South, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, first of her name, the Lady of Time and Space, Beloved of the Great Sun, Defeater of the White Frost, says gleefully, and throws her arms around Geralt in an embrace that knocks the breath out of him.

“Ciri,” Geralt wheezes. She’s wearing simple clothing better suited to a witcher than an empress, and she doesn’t have any entourage at all. “Good to see you,” he adds, hugging back hard enough to lift her off her feet. Ciri giggles.

“Ciri,” Eskel says, light footsteps approaching rapidly before his arms close around both of them together. “What are you doing here?”

“A girl can’t want to spend Yule with her family?” Ciri asks, slightly muffled against Geralt’s shoulder.

“Of course you can,” Eskel says, “but I thought Nilfgaard had all sorts of ceremonies on Yule.”

Ciri giggles, and they all untangle themselves so she can come in. “The main ceremonies are on the solstice,” she explains. “I left Morvran holding the fort; I can’t stay more than a day, but I brought presents!”

“We don’t need anything,” Geralt protests.

“You’ll like these,” Ciri says, and beckons out the still-open door into the night. “Alright, now!”

Geralt sucks in a sharp breath as his medallion vibrates hard at the same time as the center of their empty little courtyard is suddenly filled with an entire wagon.

“Geralt!” Jaskier cries, leaping down from the bed of the wagon; he’s wearing a comically long scarf and a brilliant crimson outfit. “We’re invading for Yule!” He turns to help his companion out of the wagon; Priscilla smiles warmly at Geralt and Eskel as she steps onto the cobblestones.

“Jaskier assures me we aren’t going to be too much of a strain on your hospitality,” she says.

“‘Course not, you’re always welcome,” Eskel replies gruffly. Geralt is too busy gaping. Lambert is in the driver’s seat of the wagon, Yennefer is unfolding languidly from her perch beside him, and there are two more people in the back: Keira of all people, and a lanky man with an eyepatch who Geralt doesn’t know at all.

“Well, pretty boy, got a place I can put the damn horse?” Lambert drawls.

Geralt shakes himself into motion, giving Lambert the driest look he can. “Of course I have a stable,” he says, and leaves Eskel to get all the people inside and find hot drinks while he and Lambert stable the horse next to Roach and Scorpion and the patient, sturdy cob who pulls the farm cart and rejoices in the unlikely and inaccurate name of Swift.

“Who’s your friend?” Geralt asks as they roll the wagon under cover. Lambert makes a low grumbly sound deep in his chest.

“Aiden,” he admits. “Jaskier found him wandering around near Novigrad, half out of his godsdamned mind. Patched him up and kept him at the Chameleon til he could get Yen to tell Keira to tell me.”

“Huh,” Geralt says. Wasn’t Aiden the Cat he and Lambert avenged several years ago? The one Lambert clearly loved? Less dead than expected is a fucking nice surprise, in that case. “And that’s…working, then?”

Lambert grins, crooked and real. “Keira thinks he’s charming.”

Geralt hums and takes the opportunity as they go through the doorway to wrap an arm around Lambert’s shoulders in a sideways hug. Lambert flails but doesn’t actually object.

“Happy for you,” Geralt tells him, and dodges out of the way of Lambert’s halfhearted kick, striding ahead to join Eskel in the squashy chair. Everyone else has already found seats around the fireplace, Priscilla cuddled up against Jaskier and Yen and Ciri sharing a couch and Aiden lounging on the hearth-rug with his head in Keira’s lap. They all have mugs of mulled wine and contented expressions, and Geralt looks around the room and thinks that Ciri, bless the girl, could not have brought him a better gift than this:

His family, together, happy.

(Also HERE on AO3!)

[hickeygender]

i'm thinking hard about how every meaningful interaction the player has with lambert in the witcher 3 is with a man who is grieving. first is the loss of aiden, who lambert is defensive of and shares the bare minimum about during following the thread, basically just enough of his positives so he can ensure geralt helps him track down aiden's killers.

when we see him at kaer morhen before juicing up the phylactry at the circle of elements during the final trial, he's making booze, and later admits to drinking alone. he's not coping well with any of his grief, either regarding the loss of aiden or his more distant past, as is evident by the conversation about voltehre and later the conversation about his childhood.

in following the thread he's mourning aiden, in the final trial he's mourning both voltehre and his life pre-trials, and in blood on the battlefield, well... he's mourning the only real father-figure he's ever known, as is made obvious by his voicelines if keira isn't present and he doesn't feel the need to put on a brave façade.

lambert's entire diposition in game is shaped by the fact that he's actively mourning aiden and later vesemir, and that he's still bitter over both the death of voltehre and of his childhood innocence. he's in pain, and lonely, and resentful of the entire world! he's a grief-stricken man haunted by the weight of the past!! every meaningful conversation geralt has with him feels like traversing a minefield because he's bereaved!!!

[vesemirsexual]

insane to me how some people characterise lambert in tw3 as a simple prick or angry asshole when his on-going narrative theme is grief like.

first we have aiden. who lambert is clearly angry and grieving about, who we know was a rare close friend on the path and someone who he had an extremely high opinion of.

then we have his mother (+ by extension his childhood) and there’s very clear grief there arising from a child trying to protect a parent from domestic violence.

and then there’s voltehre. again, lamberts grief is the angry kind, but it’s clearly a significant memory and a significant loss for him.

and then there’s vesemir. and it’s easy to see on the surface how maybe you could think that lambert viewed him as nothing more than an abusive prick but the fact is that he immediately rebukes yennefer the second he doesn’t like her tone about the old man. he clearly says that vesemir could have his sword when he died and that it fits perfectly in his hand, and like i can only imagine how that conversation even came to be. lambert hates kaer morhen but still comes back; likewise, we know that vesemir has no problem telling people they’re not welcome at kaer morhen, and yet they fight and fight and they both still end up back there, and lambert seriously pisses him off and vesemir is the one who fucks off for a whole month. and it’s more apparent if keira isn’t present, but lambert is devastated at his funeral, the person most effected after ciri.

lambert is anger on the surface, and under all that is just grief after grief.

[limerental]

limerental's ficletvember 2024 masterlist

I successfully wrote a ficlet a day for a whole month once again this year, which makes this my fifth year in a row! I wrote a total of 28.8k words, and the most common fandom tag was Witcher game canon somehow.

Love how at the start of the month I fully was like "and it's not going to be all Witcher ficlets"... it was entirely witcher ficlets and barely any are about witchers. amen

The whole collection has been posted on ao3 but individual links to the rebloggable tumblr posts & ao3 fics are below the cut.

Day 1 - tumblr - ao3 - waiting in the wings - jaskier/yennefer modern au

Day 2 - tumblr - ao3 - bound - roche/twn!jaskier trapped in a closet

Day 3 - tumblr - ao3 - from one trap to the next - iorveth/letho mid-tw2

Day 4 - tumblr - ao3 - adoration - meve/reynard fluff-heavy chivalry kink

Day 5 - tumblr - ao3 - devotion - triss pov of foltest/roche (contains underage sex and incest)

Day 6 - tumblr - ao3 - no need to go it alone - geraskefer modern au yennefer h/c sickfic

Day 7 - tumblr - ao3 - faded dreams - pre-transformation yennefer (sort of)

Day 8 - tumblr - ao3 - a kindness - triss/geralt mid-tw2

Day 9 - tumblr - ao3 - five o clock somewhere - ciri/ves & roche time travel beach vacation shenanigans

Day 10 - tumblr - ao3 - refuge - iorveth & isengrim, background isengrim/dijkstra

Day 11 - tumblr - ao3 - stay - twn mousesack/geralt hookup post-banquet

Day 12 - tumblr - ao3 - that i almost said i love you - yennskier post-s2 love confessions

Day 13 - tumblr - ao3 - mutt - geralt & tiny dog!roche magical transformation

Day 14 - tumblr - ao3 - a new muse - gascon/twn!jaskier

Day 15 - tumblr - ao3 - rejection - geralt/iorveth, iorveth/saskia possibly unrequited angsty h/c mid-tw2

Day 16 - tumblr - ao3 - something worth living for - isengrim/dijkstra post-reason of state mcd

Day 17 - tumblr - ao3 - home-making - ciri/letho post-tw3 at kaer morhen

Day 18 - tumblr - ao3 - betrayal - roche/geralt angsty rough sex

Day 19 - tumblr - ao3 - stripped bare - reynard/gascon strip gwent

Day 20 - tumblr - ao3 - dumb & poetic - yennskier angsty casual sex modern au

Day 21 - ao3 - courting rituals - isengrim/dijsktra & iorveth

Day 22 - tumblr - ao3 - fragile - twn triss/vesemir h/c

Day 23 - tumblr - ao3 - resurrection - keira/lambert & lambert/aiden ft. necromancy

Day 24 - tumblr - ao3 - flirtation - twn yenbrina banter as court mages

Day 25 - tumblr - ao3 - ghost stories - rayla & roche pre-tw2, background roche & iorveth

Day 26 - tumblr - ao3 - augmented - thronebreaker scifi au pt. 1 cyborg!reynard & mechanic!gascon robotics repair

Day 27 - tumblr - ao3 - enhanced - thronebreaker scifi au pt. 2 cyborg!reynard/gascon touch-starved angsting

Day 28 - tumblr - ao3 - me first - geralt/iorveth/roche drabble

Day 29 - tumblr - ao3 - calibrated - thronebreaker scifi au pt. 3 meve/cyborg!reynard/gascon

Day 30 - tumblr - ao3 - sundown - isengrim/dijkstra angst-heavy caretaking ft. elderly sigi

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Shani, Lambert and Dettlaff for the "give me a character" game. (As Geralt and Emhyr were already done by you.)

(for this ask game)

How I feel about this character, Shani Oh, I love Shani. I would have loved to see her as a permanent love interest for Geralt in TW3.

How I feel about this character, Lambert Lambert, Lambert, what a prick... you know I love him WAY more than Eskel. His storyline in TW3 is a bit strange, but he's awesome.

How I feel about this character, Dettlaff I never liked Dettlaff. I mean he's made to be interesting, and to an extend, his motives are understandable. And I actually felt sorry for him when he was forced to kill his friend. But... well, I think my judgment is a bit harsh because I had SUCH a hard time with him in my playthroughs 😂

All the people I ship romantically with this character, Shani Geralt. And Vlodimir :)

All the people I ship romantically with this character, Lambert Aiden, naturally... mh, yeah, let's not forget Keira. Why not. All the people I ship romantically with this character, Dettlaff Dettlaff shall crawl back into his batwings and don't interact with anybody.

My non-romantic OTP for this character, Shani Also Geralt, somehow. And... strangely enough, Dandelion.

My non-romantic OTP for this character, Lambert Regis. Yes! I bet they would be awesome friends. I made them kinda friends in one or two fics, if I recall that correctly.

My non-romantic OTP for this character, Dettlaff Well, Regis of course.

My unpopular opinion about this character, Shani No idea. I think I have no unpopular opinions on her. She's great!

My unpopular opinion about this character, Lambert Mh, nope, no unpopular opinions... My unpopular opinion about this character, Dettlaff There should not be a redemption arc for Dettlaff.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon, Shani Well, as I said, I wish she'd been a permanent love interest.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon, Lambert I wish we would have known more about why Aiden was his friend. Or rather why he considered him to be such a good man, the best witcher he'd known yada yada...

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon, Dettlaff Well, depending on your choices he dies by Regis's hand, that's satisfying, no complaints here.

(I feel the Dettlaff- and Gaunter apologists among my followers will now click unfollow, but!) 😂

[the-butch-of-blaviken]

For the first lines ask! thank you so much again!!

“I need a favor from a witcher,” had said Keira Metz, the sorceress who’d saved his life without even knowing his name, and Lambert had looked at her long and hard, wariness and raw grief written all over his face before saying, “Don’t get your hopes up, but I might need a favor from a sorceress, too.”

Thank you ❤❤

(you have excellent witcher opinions too btw! I've read some of your comments on vesemirsexual's posts and they're always interesting and/or hilarious) (or at least I believe it was you?? I hope i’m remembering right)

Sadly not in this one. I love writing those three as a polycule - in fact, i already have written a similar-ish kind of fic where Lambert and Keira get together but then Aiden comes back from the dead, so i wanted to do something a little bit different this time. I already expanded a little on this fic idea here but it's going to be ugly, it's going to be kind of fucked up? Very morally questionable, but then the original Following the Thread quest already was.

What a better way to get to know someone than to ask them to help you brutally murder the people who killed your past lover :DDD

(Keira is ok with this btw. She's not going to hold Lambert back as he's about to give Karadin the last blow. She's on his side 100% and is not against shedding a little blood herself. Which is why Lambert falls for her)

But to get back to your question, I suppose the ghost of Aiden still looms over their relationship, if that means anything? As in "we're doing this for you but we're also doing this for him, and i listen when you need to talk about him so now it almost feel like i've known him myself. I'm grateful you asked for my help for this but i also wish it never happened because it would mean he'd still be alive. I wish I could have met him."

[advena87]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Lambert/Keira Metz, Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Aiden/Lambert/Keira Metz Characters: Lambert (The Witcher), Aiden (The Witcher), Keira Metz, Eskel (The Witcher), Triss Merigold, Bertram Tauler | Jad Karadin, Gaetan (The Witcher), Brehen (The Witcher), Original Characters Additional Tags: Fix-It, Post-The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, Post-Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC), Love Triangles, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), The Witcher 3 Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence, Bisexual Lambert (The Witcher), Aiden (The Witcher) Lives, Not Beta Read Summary: Lambert and Keira Metz after the events of Wild Hunt run a joint business in Lan Exeter. Unexpectedly, a stranger witcher appears on their doorstep with an unusual task.

Chapter 2: Pride comes before a fall

Chapter 2 summary: In the heart of the forsaken elven ruins, Aiden, a weary witcher on the run, is pursued by a deadly group of hunters. His sanctuary becomes a battleground as old rivalries resurface and a familiar face from his past—Jad Karadin—emerges from the shadows. With his foes closing in from all sides, Aiden must rely on his wits and combat skills to survive. As the night grows darker and the stakes higher, old grudges and desperate choices come to a head in a relentless fight for survival.

[brighteyedjill]

🥤 📚 🏜️ 🐝 🧩 for the ask game!! <3<3

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

Here's a few amazing fics in some different fandoms:

Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves, Edgin/Xenk: To the Ends of the Earth by @moorishflower. An AU in which Xenk comes to recruit Ed while he's in Revel's End, there's a lot of irritation, and then they discover maybe they both misjudged the other. Xenk's internal monologue is so good.

The Witcher, Aiden/Lambert, Keira/Lambert, and Aiden/Lambert/Keira: Even if you don't know anything about Keira, or don't usually read about her, the Trust series by @bomberqueen17 is a treasure. It's got nonbinary Lambert, Aiden captured by an evil sorceress, cute domesticity, and heart-wrenching misunderstandings. You can start with Very Dark Magic if you're mostly here for the Laiden of it all, but I bet you'll want to go back and read what's been going on with Lambert and Keira.

Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows, Jesper/Wylan: My Little Pony: BDSM is Magic by @sparrowmoth. I'm not saying this just because they sent this ask! If you haven't really thought pretending to be a horse could be hot, prepare to have something awakened. Also, it's tremendously sweet and the characterization is spot-on.

MCU, Bucky/Steve: Lead Me Not into Penn Station by @kaasknot has an excellent title. It's a delicious little one shot set in pre-war Brooklyn about Bucky taking Steve to the baths for a good old-fashioned gang bang.

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

A list of things I wanted to google when I had cell reception back. 😂 I cannot function without immediate access to all knowledge!

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

All comments are cherished. One kind I really enjoy is the live slug reaction kind where people write down reactions as they go, sometimes pulling out quotes from the text that really strike them. Like, "Oh noooo that is so like them!" or "This line hits hard." Another type of comment I really enjoy is the woeful sort, usually in response to an angsty fic, i.e. "I am in a puddle on the floor of my bedroom now my heart will never be the same, brb my feelings are slowly draining into the void."

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

@bittylildragon is a tremendous beta and cheerleader (and writer and artist). The amount of helpful insight and criticism they have provided over the years I've known them is.... massive.

@contemplativepancakes is such a stellar commenter. I think she's commented on, like, every Witcher fic I've ever written? I always smile when I get an AO3 notification about one of her comments.

@ainawgsd is another power commenter. I always enjoy seeing their icon (is it a German Shepherd?) in the comments section.

@kuwdora is the patron saint of obscure pairings. They are always right there with incandescent joy and thoughtful comments when I post a fic for a little pool noodle of a ship.

@rubynye is a delight who is always a bright spot in my inbox. Also, there is no squee like a rubynye squee.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

No paragraph breaks. I am sorry, my eyes no work like that!

From the Writers' Truth of Dare Ask Game. Send me an ask!

[blackberrywars]

Hey :) I've seen your offer and ... yes, I'm equally bored and a total sucker for Kiyan. Fix him for me, if you like. Let him live, the poor boy! Would you?

Thank you so much @do-androids-dream-ao3acc for this prompt!! It was so much fun, even though I got a little carried away.

Summary: While stealing notes to cure the Catriona plague and get out of Velen, renowned sorceress Keira Metz finds a heavily tortured Cat witcher in the basement of Ireneus' lair. He matches the description of Lambert's dead Cat, and because Lambert is an excellent business partner, she decides to bring the stray home.

AO3 LINK

Idly, Kiyan hears the heavy metal door slamming open against the wall, and the chains around his body grow that much heavier. The smell is the same. Mages always have the scent of chaos on them, even though he’d pissed himself again an hour ago, it’s still thick in his nose and throat, thicker than ever his footsteps draw closer. If he had the option anymore, he’d vomit, just to cover the stench. He doesn’t, but he can wish. Wishing is still left to him, even as his thoughts break in half, half the time. He can want. He can want, just like he can smell piss and chaos, taste blood and bile, feel his skin on his wrists slowly growing back, edging over his shackles. The mage had told him they would test that next. The pain of hurt and the pain of healing. How fast, how completely. And then pain again, to test it once more.

Pain, all of it, pain.

Pain, that he hears his footsteps stopping, just a few feet away.

He doesn’t bother opening his eyes, just to spare himself the sight of whatever tools and poisons the damned mage has brought with him. It doesn’t matter what he has. Just like he can still want, Kiyan can still know. It’ll hurt, whatever it is. Knives or syringes. Noisemakers to keep him awake or spells to keep him still. A hand wraps around his jaw, and the pain is not there yet. The mage checks his pulse with those unnaturally soft fingers pressed against his throat.

“Holy fuck, you’re alive.”

The voice, feminine and soft, is not painful either, and by some uncontrolled reflex, his eyes snap open. The mage, for it can only be him with that chaos smell, is testing something else now. He must be, because in front of him is a beautiful woman, petite with ash-blonde hair, but she is either a very unlucky whore or an illusion to look the way she does in a place like this. Her clothes —a flat cap, a man’s jacket, pants with a tied codpiece— don’t seem right either, but maybe the bastard just wanted to cover any possibilities. The jacket is still unlaced down to her sternum, but it’s an effort. Not that his dick would work even if she were a man, or dressed in nothing but jewels, or even real. He’s sure the mage will take care of that. Kiyan closes his eyes.

“Nononono, witcher, don’t you dare go out on me!”

A dainty hand wraps around his wrist, another presses on his chest, and he fails to suppress a flinch at the whore’s touch on his raw skin. Where is the mage? He can smell the chaos even thicker, but the bastard doesn’t say anything, and he can only hear the woman’s quick heartbeat. She speaks again.

“Please tell me you are not delirious right now. I do not want to open another portal today, and I simply cannot carry you.”

A portal? Like everything else, his eyes snap open against his will. The whore, or maybe not, has something held up in front of his face, and he almost rears his head back as much as the chains allow before he registers it. His medallion.

She dangles it, almost carelessly.

Kiyan lunges, almost clasping it between his teeth before she yanks it back out of his reach, and he growls. The sound is horrific, matched only by the scrape of his chains as he falls back against the wall. The woman grins, all teeth, and the smell of chaos only grows. Confirms his suspicions.

“Well. That answers that. If this is yours, Cat, then I think I have someone who would very much like to see you. There's not many of you left.”

She’s going to take him. For herself, someone else, maybe another mage who wants to do fuck-knows what to what’s left of him, and energy he hasn’t felt in weeks wells up inside him. When her delicate, pretty hand goes for his wrist again, Kiyan thrashes, pinning her fingers in between his head and the stone bricks. Hears them crunch, and growls again as she gasps in pain. It’s the last thing he hears, before a glow fills his vision and everything goes dark.

— — — — —

Swearing under her breath, Keira unshackles the unconscious witcher one-handed, letting him collapse on the floor with an admirably small amount of petty joy. He smells like a sewer mixed with a slaughterhouse. Still, he matches the limited description she’s managed to pull out of Lambert over time: Cat witcher, dark hair, green eyes, sharp teeth. Apparently his cock curves slightly to the left, but she can’t be bothered to check right now, especially considering the absolutely filthy pants he’s wearing. Like the rest of his little corner in Ireneus’ dungeon, they’re soaked in piss and blood. So much of the latter that she can’t even tell where all his wounds are. She never thought she’d end up a healing sorceress, but between the stolen notes in her pocket and the state of the witcher, she might have to consider an official career switch. Resigned, she bends down, sighing loudly.

“Ireneus is such a blasted fucking asshole, who comes up with this shit?” Keira hauls him up to his feet, and that’s a bitch too —witchers are all so dense, even one this starved. “Lambert owes me so much.”

Lambert, who has apparently been over-influencing her vocabulary even after two weeks apart, and whose not-so-dead Cat lover just broke her godsdamned hand. Two problems she will deal with at a later date. She’s already wasted enough magic distracting Ireneus and breaking his dimeritium chains, so it takes more energy than she’d like to admit to summon a portal one-handed, but she hauls herself through, right into her and Lambert’s temporary bathroom.

Which is occupied.

By Lambert, which is not entirely unusual, even if the time dictates he should still be in the lab instead of in the tub. But also by the man kneeling behind Lambert, bending him over the edge.

He’s rakish, with dark curls, sharp teeth where they’re digging into her Wolf’s thick shoulder muscle, and, when his one remaining eye snaps to her, an apple-green iris with slit pupils. Her eyes fall to his tanned chest, where, lo and behold, a Cat’s medallion rests. She has a copycat and exactly enough time to not make that joke when the pair reacts. They scramble apart, slipping in the soapy water. Lambert grunts, falling back into the bathtub, and the stranger moves forward, not towards her, but to the half-dead witcher slumped to her hip. He’s lifting the Cat from her arm before she can stop him. Despite the bloody grimace on his face, Keira can’t help but notice how damned tall he is, towering over her even more than Lambert does. The bastard doesn’t even look at her though, eyes fixed on the witcher clutched to his chest, roving over his injuries.

“Oh fuck, Kiyan, what the hell did you get yourself into,” the witcher cradles him higher, with a jiggle that absolutely emphasizes how naked he is, “How long has he been out?”

“Shit, that’s a fuckup of Eskel proportions,” Lambert catches up, takes a closer look at Kiyan, as he’s apparently called, and curses, running a hand through his thinning black hair, “Lay him in the tub. Keira, where’d you find him? And what the fuck happened to your hand?”

He leaves before she can answer his questions, or the copycat’s, and she can hear him jumping down the stairs down to the lab, probably to get supplies. For his part, the copycat obeys, laying Kiyan down with broad, gentle hands. And then he stares at her. He has a distressed tilt to his eyebrows, but his eyes are as brilliantly green as Kiyan’s and much softer —Lambert must have explained a few things before they started fucking, which is definitely a plus. Still, it’s awkward to say the least. His half-dead…… brother? If that was how Cats called it, his half-dead brother lay between them, and Aiden might have been gone, but he had, technically, had Lambert first. Not that she was so attached to the witcher to be upset about it, because that would be ridiculous, but losing has never been her strong suit. She leaves that to Triss.

She talks first.

“So, I suppose I can safely assume that Kiyan is not Lambert’s dead Cat lover?”

“He better fucking not be,” the copycat glances down at his brother, “Dead, or Lambert’s lover. That’s our job.”

“Hmm. You don’t mind sharing?”

“I thought I would, before. But I think you’ve been good for him when I couldn’t. I owe you for that —baby wolf doesn’t trust easy. Do you mind?”

“Not yet.” She gives him another look up and down, confirming that yes, his cock does curve left, “………baby wolf?”

Lambert chooses that exact moment to barge back in, still naked as a jaybird with a box of vials in one hand and his witcher-bag in the other.

“Aiden, you did not just fucking tell her that name.”

“Oops.”

Keira grins, and turns back to the body in her bathtub. Lambert crouches by the edge, and she can spot the shine of oil in between his round ass cheeks. They might have to revisit that later. Once Kiyan is handled probably, because in the daylight streaming through her window, he looks horrific and smells worse —Lambert and Aiden’s noses must be burning with the combined stench of stale blood, infection, and filth. He’s not broken anywhere as far as she can tell, but his shoulders and knees are all dislocated, and he’s missing the skin on his left arm up to the elbow. His neck has puncture holes running up each side. Half his head is shorn close to the skull, but she can still see the lice crawling through it. He’s still asleep, and she thanks her desperate magic for holding through.

“Well.” she says wryly, flexing her wrist, “I’m sure one of you strapping lads can clean him up while I fix this hand, can’t you? I don’t think he’ll be happy to see me. And you’re already dressed for the occasion.”

— — — — —

“He should be awake now.”

The words filter in through Kiyan’s foggy brain, and it takes him longer than he’d like to admit to recognize the blonde mage’s voice in them. He fights not to move. She still smells like chaos, but there’s something covering it, like she’s standing behind a veil. It’s sweet, and it doesn’t hurt. Keeps his breathing even. He can hear two more heartbeats, both slow and even, and there’s no chains weighing him down. He’s clean, dressed in a long, soft tunic. Underneath him, he feels fine linen sheets on a straw and feather mattress, but he knows better than to trust it. The pain is still there. His eyelids don’t flinch, until another, familiar voice piles up.

“He is,” Aiden drawls, talking like the kit hadn’t died five years before, “Open your eyes, jackass. You’re safe.”

Still half-fearing an illusion, he does, and beside the sorceress is the little shit himself, wearing a smile that reaches all the way to his one remaining eye.

“Wha-”

His voice cuts out into a hacking, painful cough, and Aiden moves beside him to rub his back. His fingers brush his skin, and that doesn’t hurt, and then over bandages of all things, which does. Kiyan can’t see the wound under Aiden’s black eyepatch, but the scar cuts into his nose, taking a chunk out of the bridge. He’s still a pretty bastard though, because of course he would be. Aiden. It feels good to turn that name over in his mind, knowing that the kitten is alive and more or less intact. Beside him is someone Kiyan knows would agree, which is just as surprising as it isn’t. Lambert looks better, looks fucking wonderful compared to five years ago, when he’d come to the Caravan with four swords on his back and eyes like black pits.

“Yeah, there you go. Your ribs are still pretty fucked, but Lambert and Keira here fixed you up alright. And you not talking would do all of us some good.”

“Fuck you.”

His voice comes out raspy, but it’s there, and it doesn’t hurt so much that he can’t take stock of himself the way he would after any job gone south. All nine fingers, even if his left hand burns with every shift. Ten toes, all accounted for. His shoulders and knees hurt like a bitch, but they move. He looks over to Lambert and the blonde mage, Keira, and sees both of them staring at Aiden. All three of them smell like sex. Explains the lessened chaos.

“You can thank them later,” Aiden says, “And before you ask, Guxart doesn’t know yet. About you or me, so we’re going to have to pay him a visit as soon as I trust you on a horse —he can’t skin both of us alive.”

“Fuuuuck……… How long until that, nurse?”

“At least two weeks, but I’m no nurse.” Keira pipes up, rolling her hand, the one he’d broken, “You’ve been out for three days, and if Lambert wasn’t so paranoid, we wouldn’t have had the potions to keep you stable.”

“I’m still fuckin’ alive though, aren’t I?” and an eye roll comes from the witcher in question.

“Like she said,” Aiden rolls his eyes even harder, “Eat some soup, you look like shit.”

Kiyan accepts the bowl Aiden presses into his hands. The wood is smooth against his calluses and warm from the contents —rabbit bone broth filled out with onions, garlic, and bread. Soft, simple food, the kind of meal Guxart had made for them as sick kits, and the kind that Aiden’s Mettinan tastes would never tolerate now. He’d made it though, from the smell in his hair. Kiyan smiles. His mouth feels dry as a desert, and he takes a mouthful, careful not to spill it when his left arm trembles. He’ll be alright.

——————————————————————————————  

Taglist (please dm me if you want to be added/removed): @hellinglasses, @halehathnofury, @scylla-rammshorn

[tantumuna]

Also sending you Lambert :D

Aw he my BOO I love him

How I feel about this character

I really like him. Love him. Both TW3 and TWN versions (I haven't gotten to him in the books yet). I think arguably these portrayals had the potential to be more nuanced and interesting than Geralt lol. I think he has a lot more intelligence and emotional depth to him than people give him credit for and he CLEARLY loves eskel and geralt. I also think he sees vesemir as a father figure and the game really did him fucking dirty with how mean you can be to him during the funeral.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Aiden is the ultimate OTP here but also Geralt, Eskel, and Jaskier

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Yennefer. I think he and Yennefer could burn down the continent and we wouldn't even try to stop them. Their dynamic is so good.

My unpopular opinion about this character

That Keira is the worst possible companion for him?? She literally is just taking advantage of a man in a vulnerable enough state that he was willing to throw himself into danger during the assault on kaer morhen. There was such an emphasis on everyone telling lambert not to be a hero and then he tried to do that so he could die!!! His best friend and potential lover is dead and his family is honestly kinda mean to him and here's the chance to go out in a way that would leave a positive memory of lambert the hero, so ofc he wants to take it. And Keira can save him ofc but she isn't required. He can save himself or Geralt can save him. But if they do get together she basically says she's using him as a lab rat to test cures on and he's just letting her?? We have no idea if this is harming him snd he doesn't doesn't care. He has 0 self worth snd Keira knows that. She's a child with a new plaything.

Also the only reason fandom casts him as a bottom is because he's the shortest. Nothing abt that man says bottom.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I wish he would live a long happy life and love himself. I think one thing that TWN did for us was show us the friendship with Coën which was super nice for seeing Lambert actually have someone who matches his level. I stand by what i said that eskel and geralt are kinda unnecessarily mean to him in TW3 so seeing a FRIEND was a nice chance of pace. So I hope that's not devastating at all if Coën still dies in TWN

[kuwdora]

heroics and guitar breaks Geralt/Jaskier Teen ~1300w modern with magic AU fluff and humor, age difference written for witcher flashfic challenge #75 for a nice rainbow prompt. I have have a few other silly ideas for this AU that hopefully I'll get around to, but in the meantime here is my soft flirty opening.

“I’m going to do it hard and fast,” Geralt said.

Jaskier mindlessly swiped through his phone. “Uh-huh,” he said, and he idly fingered the small hole in Priscilla’s rainbow’s leggings where she was pressed against him on the couch.

Keira barked out a laugh and Lambert snorted. Jaskier stopped swiping, his mind backtracking. He looked up sharply and wheezed in laughter when he registered what Geralt had said.

Geralt was facing the television, his shoulders squared and guitar strap arcing down his back. He had the perfect stance for Guitar Hero Revival. It looked eerily similar to one of his sword stances. Jaskier snapped a quick photo of Geralt’s ass.

He hadn’t realized Geralt had stepped up to do the track, his mind ambling back and forth as he made the adjustment to being back in town again. After Jaskier’s three-month tour across the Continent as part of his duties as Redania’s Poet Laureate, he was exhausted, but still excited to finally be back.

The day had been long, but started out brilliantly. Boozy brunch with Geralt and Shani, followed by meeting up Keira and Lambert downtown for the Pride parade, and everyone making their way to Priscilla’s flat afterwards. She had been conveniently located near the parade route, and she had a stocked liquor cabinet, snacks, a clean bathroom, and a flat screen TV. It was heavenly.

Jaskier scanned the song Geralt had queued. Bodyrocker’s I Like The Way. Tempo sped up by 4 times, adjusted to the hard difficulty setting. Geralt would run through the track so effortlessly. It was entirely rude how good Geralt was at video games, even after a lifetime of ambivalence. The man was better at pattern recognition than anyone Jaskier had ever met. Ciri had introduced him to Stardew Valley back in the day, and apparently Priscilla had also been feeding him a steady diet of old, text-based narrative games that Geralt had grown fond of, which Jaskier had insisted Geralt narrate for him during their idle times on the road.

But right now Geralt was about take the next high score by storm and Jaskier didn’t find himself upset at being outclassed with this kind of musical performance.

“Fast and hard, huh? Promises, promises,” he hummed.

“The song,” Geralt said deadpan, and the delivery made Jaskier flush uncontrollably.

“Keep it in your pants,” Lambert grumbled.

“I wouldn’t mind a show,” Keira said and took another drink from her champagne flute.

“It is why we’re here,” Priscilla said.

“You could pretend to stop hitting on my brother while I’m here you know,” Lambert said.

“You’re just sad Aiden’s late,” Keira said, cupping Lambert’s face roughly and kissed him on the nose.

“Wait, wait, you can’t start yet,” Jaskier said and got up from the couch.

“What?” Geralt asked, looking over his shoulder.

“You have to take off your shirt,” Jaskier said.

“Excellent idea,” Keira chimed in quickly.

Geralt rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth pulled upward with the hint of smile. Jaskier preened. He loved nothing more than showing Geralt off, so even with the small gathering like this with Priscilla and Keira at hand, Jaskier launched at the chance to play. He mimed removing his shirt and Geralt raised a snowy brow.

“It’ll bring you closer to the music,” Jaskier said.

“It’s true, it helps channel your inner rockstar,” Priscilla agreed.

“He can already do this song with his eyes closed,” Lambert said.

Jaskier flapped a dismissive hand and went to hold the guitar while Geralt removed his shirt. Priscilla whistled and Keira clapped.

“I’m going to get another beer,” Lambert said.

“You’re up next. I’m picking your song,” Keira said.

“Don’t pick any of that boyband shit,” Lambert said and Keira blew him a kiss.

Geralt traded his shirt for the guitar and Jaskier drank in the sight: Geralt’s chest and back deeply was scarred from beasts that Geralt had earned from hunting and ethically rescuing monsters over the years. Geralt’s white hair was pulled back loosely, and he hadn’t put enough sunscreen on that day because he cheeks were pink, adding depth to the age lines across his face. Geralt’s eyebrow hairs had started getting ridiculously long. Jaskier swiped a thumb across Geralt’s right eyebrow.

“Do you want to do sound check while you’re at it?” Geralt asked in a quiet, teasing rumble that made Jaskier’s heart twist.

Time was a funny thing. How had he only been fucking Geralt for 4 years, when he’d spent the better part of the last 15 chasing after the old witcher, sleeping in camper vans and slumming it across the Continent while Geralt worked through his contracts. Jaskier had known so little back then. Before he knew any better, witchers were villains from that old Herakles knock-off series that he used obsessively watch with his sisters. And after that day in the pub in Posada, listening to Geralt break down every single way Jaskier had been wrong about his song, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Geralt was an actual, real-life witcher. Sure Geralt wasn’t pumped full of mutagens, but the potions were real. So were his fighting skills, and his encyclopedia knowledge of monsters and curses.

These days Geralt looked every bit of a man in his late 60s, weathered by his trade and age. His tits sagged and the crevasses of lines grew deeper every year around his neck—and thankfully, Yennefer kept Geralt amply moisturized—but Geralt was still fit enough to take on a wyvern. Still intoxicating to watch. Geralt was more capable and honest than anyone Jaskier had ever met. Didn’t even matter that the man was more than twice Jaskier’s age. Geralt was witty and competent, and comfortable in what he liked, and what he needed. Jaskier admired how Geralt found ways to help people.

There was nothing in the world that made Jaskier’s heart sing when Geralt teased him.

Or when he laid his steady hands on Jaskier’s hips, pulling Jaskier into his lap. Geralt’s mouth was—

“Careful, you’re going to fuck him to death one of these days,” Keira said, a note of wistfulness in her voice.

“He’s already got his hip and knee replaced, he can take it,” Jaskier said without breaking his gaze. Geralt stared back, warm and fond.

“Remember,” Jaskier said and he stepped close, needlessly adjusting the guitar strap on Geralt’s bare shoulder and slowly tracing the guitar strap all the way down his back, “hard and fast. You get a perfect score.”

He pulled Geralt's hair free of the hair-tie and fluffed it until he was suitably disheveled.

“Promises,” Geralt murmured, low enough for Jaskier to hear the hunger in it. Oh, Jaskier was going to have a good night.

“Promises,” Jaskier repeated, the amusement and heat sitting heavy in his chest. He licked his lips and plopped down in the armchair instead of the couch. It gave him a better view of Geralt. Jaskier didn’t need to see the TV. Geralt would demolish the notes in perfect digital harmony and still carry on the flirty conversation with Keira and Priscilla. When Geralt had spent the better part of 50 years wrangling near-extinct monster species into safety, downing poisons and dodging claws larger than Jaskier’s head, Geralt using his reflexes to breeze through Guitar Hero was nothing.

The song began and Jaskier never wanted it to end.

Geralt’s fingers moved smoothly across the buttons and Jaskier loved the way Geralt physically leaned into the chorus. He actually looked like he was enjoying himself, his lips moving--not to the lyrics of the song, but he was keeping count of the beat. Geralt showed off even further, turning 180 degrees to play a few bars with his back facing the TV, earning him another set of whoops from Keira and Priscilla, with Lambert throwing popcorn at his brother. Jaskier didn’t even know when Geralt had time to memorize the song, unless he’d picked up a copy of the game while Jaskier was on tour.

He lost himself to the minute shift of Geralt’s hips and watched Geralt’s lazy smile broaden when he turned around again to face the TV, finishing out the last verse and chorus.

When the song was done, Geralt inclined his head at Jaskier an was clearly holding back a smile. “Any notes?”

Jaskier grinned.

also on ao3

[stillness138]

get to know me better tag game thingy time!

i got tagged by @the-butch-of-blaviken, thank ye 😊

Three ships: according to my recent reblogs, that would be Geralt/Iorveth, any form of Lambert&Keira&Aiden shenanigans, and Indoril Nerevar/having better friends Last song: synthwave remix of Triage at Dawn Last movie: Gangs of Wasseypur (recced by my artistic idol who i refer to as A), which i enjoyed all 5 hours of Currently reading: couple long-term reading journeys i revisit at times or have "perma opened". forum posts on asoiaf lore, Dune audiobooks, still gotta finish Lady of the Lake, patiently waiting for A's animation so i can continue reading Berserk and compare,... Currently watching: probably gonna eat up the next tlou episode on release tonight Currently consuming: tap water Currently craving: the cheesecake mom just made

Tagging: i know it said 9 people but most of my mutuals did this already whoops so i tag @starstrand-sorceress, @kashuan and all the Strays (obv you don't have to do it!)

[ao3feed-witcher-podfic]

by Chantress

...or lack thereof.

It depends on who you ask, Geralt or Lambert, whether or not Lebioda has tits to swear by. Eskel, however, has tits and there can be no argument about that.

Also, Lambert is cold.

Words: 28, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M, Multi

Characters: Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel (The Witcher)

Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia

Additional Tags: Mentions of Lambert/Keira, mentions of Lambert/Aiden, Snark, bitter lambert, Post-Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC), Lambert-centric (The Witcher), POV Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel's Tits (The Witcher), Goat Parent Eskel (The Witcher), Corvo Bianco (The Witcher), Minor Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, No Sex, Funny, Sarcasm, Retired Witchers (The Witcher), Podfic, Podfic Length: 0-10 Minutes, Audio Format: MP3

Listen on AO3