#lambert x dandelion

[finnyphcntom]

notorious.

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Chapter One : The Word Hate

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Did he over exaggerate? Yes. But something inside of him just.. felt weird when Dandelion was shamed upon. Geralt wasn't that bad of a dude, especially to Dandelion.

Lambert hated to say- yes, hated, that word again. He hated that he actually enjoyed Dandelion's presence.

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'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : oh but id lovee to convince you. maybe we can get a lil tipsy and ill go home with you, yeah handsome? ;)'

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Lambert was... notoriously known, for many things. What things? Well, the list is long, but here is the simplified version;

Being a bitch.

And then there was... well, thats about it.

He hated, hated, just about... Well, all? Of Geralts friends. Eskel would always say, "hate is such a strong word,"

Well no shit. He knew that, used it for a reason.

Speaking of hate, he hates when they hang out.

He was rather tired of everyone hanging out without inviting him. Yeah, he'd decline with a 'fuck no' or 'i hate triss lol' but, hell, he still wants at least an invite.

But no one bothered to invite him anymore.

They act like he doesnt know, isnt aware, of these events. Hes heard them talk, all because hes 'too angsty.'

Be real. If they had an Aiden, and then said Aiden died, theyd he angsty too.

Which, he will say, Geralt does have his Aiden.

Dandelion.

Lambert hated to say- yes, hated, that word again. He hated that he actually enjoyed Dandelion's presence.

And do you know what he hates even more?

That hes jealous.

He hates that he's jealous, and hates that he doesnt know what over.

Over Geralt? Maybe.

Over Dandelion? Maybe.

The fact that Dandelion gets invited to hangouts? Maybe.

Oooor the fact that Geralt, who treats Dandelion like shit, gets to keep his best friend. And he doesnt. Bingo, baby.

Well, okay, maybe it was a mix of all four.

But no, he heard of this party that was happening at Yennefer's house. How could he not? Kiera informed him alllll about it.

And another thing he was known for; not only being a bitch, but a petty one at that.

He was going to show up at that damn party.

~~~~~~

Lambert expected many things in his day. To fold clothes, deal with shitty customers, fold clothes again, to fix registers because somehow no one else knew how to do that, and then to again, you guessed it, fold clothes. Oh, and deal with shitty customers.

And then, he would go home around 3pm, just to clean horse shit and feed the goats on the farm. Only sometimes would he find holes in his perfectly good jeans.

But what he didnt expect? His phone to light up with a text. Ever since losing his girlfriend, he hasnt had a single text, other than from Eskel.

Eskel was a family man. Soft, sympathetic. He thinks he would have a little bit more trouble lying and hiding stuff behind his back. He thinks any of these people who are hosting these parties, throwing the- his phone dings again.

Oh, right. He was so used to a lonely phone that he forgot it went off.

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : hey lambert, i know we dont really talk but what time is that party tomorrow? ive got a performance that day and want to arrange an uber ^-^'

Holy fucking shit? It had to be Dandelion. No one else in the group was talented enough with music to perform it.

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : also!! how come u never go? :('

That was the second message.

Did Dandelion not know?

What does he do? He hated to say that his heart was racing. Why was his heart racing? It was just Dandelion. Just a rising celebrity with like seven degrees- from Oxenfurt no less- and his brothers best friend.

His heart was fucking racing. Does he be cool? Does he be mysterious? Should he even answer?

No, no he had to answer.

The few times hes talked to Dandelion have been.. amazing, actually. Of course, Dandelion had an issue with talking to strangers, and also, well, sleeping with strangers, but that was fine. Lambert felt like Dandelion enjoyed talking to, well...

Lambert.

Not Geralts brother, not a bitch (which he will admit he is,) not a depressed, angsty man who practically lives in his room at the farm he grew up on. Which he was.

His phone dings again. Shit.

Lambert grabs his phone off of his car mount this time, sitting in the parking lot of his shitty retail job at Cavill's Combat.

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : oh shit my bad i probably shouldve clarified. this is dandelion im sorry'

Be chill Lambert.

'lambert : heyy yeah no youre good lol'

The multiple y's were cool? Right? Showed he was calm. One Y was boring, three was excessive. Right?

'lambert : as for the party, i have no clue thats a geralt question.'

He decides not to answer the second question. For now.

He puts his phone back on the mount and his car in drive, pretending like he didn't flinch at the sound of the bluetooth connecting.

His phone dings again, and he cant answer, but he does peak at the message.

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : well i wou .. geral ... mad ... ignoring me ...'

That was all he could see for now. Quit frankly, that was all he needed to see.

Did Geralt ignore Dandelion whenever he was mad?

My brain was shut off upon hearing the first Hollywood Undead song start.

~~~~~

When I arrived home, I was bombarded with questions. Eskel was that type of man.

"How was your day at work?" He said from the kitchen, where Lambert was trying to sneak on by.

"Long." Lambert said. "Henry wasnt there."

His boss. Whenever Henry was gone, Lambert had to pick up all the shit- as an assistant store manager.

"Didnt have to fix anything today though, right?" Eskel said.

What a fake fucking bitch, Lambert thought.

"So... do you want me to fix you something to eat?"

He heard it, but didnt register it.

Being the odd one out was quite the funny thing. He lost his best, childhood friend of 14 years in his sophomore year of college to suicide.

He drops out of said college. Decides to start therapy; ends up getting sent to a psych ward.

And now hes working at some shitty fucking retail job; and still working at his adoptive fathers farm.

Yeah, life was fucking great. A ball of fucking sunshine.

Eskel was a doctor. Geralt was a successful Butcher, working under their adoptive father.

And he was a depressed man with a shitty retail job.

"Hello? Lambert?"

Without thinking, Lambert grabs the nearest item which just so happened to be a decorative vase, squeezing it tightly...

"How are things since you ended it with Kiera?"

and throws it.

Right at Eskel.

He's rather lucky it misses. Shatters all over the ground instead of on Eskel's mass.

"You're fake. Did you know that? You're a liar. You're a fraud. Stop with the fake fucking persona that you care about me."

And with that, he has no choice to storm away.

~~~~~

In his room, hes able to check his phone again. The text from Dandelion was sitting there, menacingly.

'lambert : does geralt always ignore u when hes mad at u?'

With how busy Dandelion was, you werent expecting an immediate response.

But you get one.

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : typixally he tellsme to fuck off and rhats how i know hes mas at me'

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : u should go :( ive never seen u there, i know u dont like me'

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : but i got a few tricks up my sleeve to convince u too ;)'

It takes Lambert a bit to decipher Dandelions absolutely awful typing. For a man with an english degree, he is sure as hell bad at English.

Lambert kept reading the, 'i know u dont like me.'

Who the fuck told Dandelion that? Because Lambert has never, not once, discussed any sort of dislike for Dandelion.

If anything, Lambert actively defends his name. He remembers all the times Geralt spoke about ignoring Dandelion, called Dandelion annoying.

Lambert would always stick up for him.

Were there any good reasons why? He had a bunch, personally.

One, and the biggest reason, was that Lambert would kill in cold blood to be able to talk to his best friend again.

Two, is that Dandelion was a good person with good morals. And incredible talent. Dandelion deserved love and praise, not hate from his closest friend.

Three, he was oddly drawn to Dandelion. He didn't know why.

Did he over exaggerate? Yes. But something inside of him just.. felt weird when Dandelion was shamed upon. Geralt wasn't that bad of a dude, especially to Dandelion.

But it's common decency not to talk shit about your best friend when the person you're talking to lost theirs to suicide.

Kind of inconsiderate, Geralt.

'lambert : lol who told you that? i like you'

He suspects it was Triss. Maybe Yennefer had assumed? Lambert didnt really like anyone, it was a safe assumption. But Geralt knew- knew Lambert actually at least tolerated Dandelions presence.

He even told Geralt that he wanted to be Dandelion's friend. That Dandelion reminded him of Aiden. He opened up to Geralt, surely his own family wouldn't do him dirty like that?

Dandelion didnt answer, and Lambert didnt know why, but it disapointed him.

'lambert : i gotta know what those tricks are though, care if i ask for a little more convincing? ;)'

Lambert was going to shit his pants.

First, he double texts. Which is fine, because Dandelion like... quadruple texts. But then he had to hit on the man.

It was playful, right? It wasn't gay. Playful. A game.

Why was his heart racing again?

He was straight anyway.

~~~~~~

Eskel was full of concern at the dinner table when Lambert didnt show up. There sat Geralt and Vesemir, but Lamberts seat was eerily just.. empty.

"Lambert skipped his farm work today," Vesemir said, taking a bite of his mashed potatoes, before grabbing salt and shaking what seemed to be half the bottle in it. Taking another bite, he seemed satisfied.

"He didnt respond to my texts at all. Read every single one, too." Eskel said. "And he..."

Eskel did not want to throw Lambert under the bus. Not when it seemed something was seriously wrong.

"I had to pick up his fucking slack," Geralt said. "Seriously, this kid needs to grow up. We all work in jobs we don't like. I don't like slaughtering pigs and looking at blood, and I'm sure that Eskel doesn't like performing surgery. But we aren't babies about it."

Geralt was chewing into his food like a rabid animal, clearly angry. The steak that was on his plate was massacred, cut up and stabbed.

The walls at Kaer Morhen were pretty thin. The farm itself was nice, but the house wasn't in the perfect condition. It was pretty, but old, some of the rooms half-finished.

Therefore none of the men were surprised or so much as even flinched when Lambert yelled, seemingly speaking to his T.V screen and taking his anger out on Overwatch.

90% of Lambert's free time was spent on video games. It used to be with his girlfriend, Kiera, but she slowly started avoiding him.

He hardly noticed the change. It was gradual; slow, but eventually he caught on. She wasn't the same.

For his own sake, he left her. He will admit, he loved her, but it wasn't hard. She messaged him once every few days.

"He broke up with Kiera, Geralt." Eskel says. "And now hes having a rough time. Maybe we should cut him some slack."

"Don't really care. Shouldn't of been as toxic as he was." Geralt said.

"We should try to understand Lambert. He comes before a girl, Geralt. Put those events with her aside, it's clearly driving a wedge between the three of you."

They could hear Lambert; which means Lambert could hear them.

Toxic? That was funny. He devoted everything to that girl. She ran a small business he would fund- which typically took his full paycheck from Vesemir. Other than that, she didn't really work. He paid for everything.

Toxic was funny.

"Lambert was too much stress on her. Shes a girlfriend, not a therapist. Girls don't like emotional guys, I cant help that." Geralt says, sharply and angrily.

"Lambert hardly talks about emotions." Eskel corrects.

"Sure as hell corrects me all the damn time about them. Sick of him calling me ungrateful and shit. I cant control his losses." Geralt said, with a tone that ended the conversation there.

~~~~~~

Toxic was funny. Really, really funny. Was it toxic to correct your brother on his own toxic behavior?

Lambert didn't understand.

Geralt. A man who ran everything in his life with his dick, not his brain. Who cheated on women, who verbally abused his friends. Who ignores his so called "best friend" because he's mad.

Thats actually not really that bad, but whatever. Lambert was mad, and petty, and wondering why Dandelion hadn't answered him.

Why was he thinking of that? Not okay, Lambert. He's busy. Probably recording music and getting yelled at by his directors.

Toxic was funny, when Lambert was so loyal. When Lambert tried his best to fit in, he just genuinely never did.

Toxic was so, so funny.

His mind ran off, to a different place, one where theres grass and tulips and roses and fuck- Dandelions.

Dandelion.

Would Dandelion prioritize Lambert over Geralt? Sure, they'd talk. But when he's mad at Geralt. When Geralt's not around. He would be a rebound for a best friend.

Just like he was to Kiera.

He had just won a match when his phone dinged and lit up three times.

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : hi ! sorry had to finish up recording a song for my album. stupid director :(

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : oh but id lovee to convince you. maybe we can get a lil tipsy and ill go home with you, yeah handsome? ;)'

Lambert was kicking his feet, giggling, and squealing like a high school girl. Well, his face was stoic, but mentally he was there. Mentally he was going insane.

He had never been hit on deliberately like that. Like stated before, he was the odd one out. With Geralt and Eskel his brothers, he was known as the ugly one of the family.

He was surprised when Kiera wanted him. Him, out of the three. He had made the move, god forbid a woman make a move on him. But she still accepted- still chose him.

She used to fuck with Geralt a couple years back, back when Geralt and Yennefer would cheat on each other. He always had girls left and right. Kiera, Yennefer, Triss, and boy, did he have a shit ton of one night stands.

He wasn't surprised when Kiera got distant. It hurt at first, but he realized one thing- thats life. She lost interest.

When people normally got to know him, they would see Geralt and run. They'd lose interest in him, all of the sudden. But Geralt would never take them from him though, he wasn't that bad a person.

And he wasn't a bad person either. But Geralt's best friend currently hitting on him? It shouldn't make him feel giddy inside. It shouldn't make him so happy that it felt like someone had chosen him over Geralt.

He couldn't help but smile.

But it was playful. It was all playful.

He couldn't help but feel his smile drop, as he went to read the last message from Dandelion. His face contorted in anger; wanting to lash out all over again.

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : it was geralt. glad to see youve changed ur mind tho! <3'

[draftingtides]

“Let us fuck you, right here and now,” says Lambert, “and your bard never hears a word of this.”

2.7k words, rated E, Geralt/Dandelion/Eskel/Lambert. They roleplay Eskel and Lambert catching Geralt fucking Dandelion while he's sleeping and blackmailing Geralt into letting them fuck him in return for not telling Dandelion what they saw.

[ruthesla]

I decided to make some comic strips about them

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 71

The other witchers at Kaer Morhen have always grown tired of Geralt's random moodswings and bouts of gloom and grumpiness during the winter. He'd be happy and carefree, safe in his home, and then some dark thought would crest in his mind, and for a few days straight, he'd be in a horrible mood. When one year he brings his bard with him, they realize the moodswings have disappeared completely. That is, until Jaskier starts trying to "bond" with them all and spends less time with Geralt. Then all of a sudden the snarls and snaps from Geralt are back. One day, Lambert gets tired of Geralt's sass, and shoves Jaskier at him, and they're all amazed when Geralt loses his bad mood and instead chooses to carry his bard off to cuddle in front of the fireplace. Nuzzling him and purring the whole time. Thus commences a new rule of Kaer Morhen. If you spot Geralt being pissy, you chuck the bard at him. Jaskier has been taken away from a meal, a game of gwent, his chores, his bed while asleep, and one especially embarrassing time he was taken from a bath. Jaskier is quite alright with the new rule, as it always ends in deligthtful Geralt cuddles, but sometimes he wishes Geralt would just find Jaskier instead of moping when he misses him.

[geraltgwynbleidd]

Nothing unusual. Just Dandelion being Dandelion and Geralt being Lambert!

[whywouldisayprinter]

Three wolves, a cat, a griffin and a bard walk into a hotspring…

[elmonstro]

The Path is long and dangerous, but not everything has to be taking contracts and killing monsters, there can also be rest, peace and good company.

[help-help-i-need-an-adult]

Someone please draw this

[random-apollo-child]

When you have two dads a mom multiple uncles and an old ass grandfather you turn into a witcher/witch who has exilent taste in fashion and clothes

@help-help-i-need-an-adult @0dde11eth @fandom-junk-drawer @everything-but-the-not-natural

[jay-arts-t]

Sometimes I just like to think about what it could've been if Geralt had gotten Ciri right after Pavetta and Duny died. If Calanthe was so weighed down by grief she realizes she can't take care of Ciri. So she orders Moussack to go find Geralt to collect Ciri. Imagining Geralt in a random tavern somewhere in Temeria, slowly making his way up to Kaer Morhen for the winter as autumn is approaching. Him having a gut feeling he should head up early, he thinks it's because something is wrong with Vesemir so he's anxious to make it through. But Roach needs to rest and well, it wouldn't hurt to get some extra supplies for the winter. Certainly wouldn't hurt to get some extra booze so he has relief from Lambert's grating voice on his ears. Besides, he and Eskel can stay up late and drink to their hearts content up in his room like they used to sneak around when they were teens.

Then out of the blue he sees Moussack, and dread fills his entire body. He doesn't keep up with news outside of what Dandelion tells him. So when Moussack is telling him Calanthe is summoning him he's thinking "oh fuck, she's changed her mind and is going to execute me."

But Moussack reassures him he's not going to be harmed. Calanthe is asking for him because of his child surprise. And now Geralt is really worried. What happened to them? Are they okay? Are they hurt? Did they die? They're only a few months old, there's so much that could've gone wrong. So he agrees to go with Moussack.

Calanthe looks a mess when Geralt sees her. Eist is by her side as always, trying to comfort her. Pavetta and Duny are nowhere in sight and it's making Geralt extremely antsy. Calanthe tells him the news, her voice is hoarse from all the crying she's been doing. Geralt sympathizes with them, gives them his condolences. And then that's when he realizes "oh. OH. OH NO". Sure enough Calanthe tells him she can't take care of herself, how could she care for a baby. Geralt refutes telling her "they're your grandchild, I don't want to rip them away-" and Calanthe tells him then it's a girl. And for a split second his brain gives the helpful thought of "oh I have a daughter" and Geralt is having an internal meltdown right there in the throne room. But he can't refuse. His entire basis for not coming back and claiming her is because she has a family who cares about her. But now that family is saying that they can't care for her, not because they don't love her, but because they do. So Geralt agrees to take her.

The first time he meets her he is entirely captivated by how small and precious she is. The moment he holds her he feels overwhelmed with such a fierce protectiveness and he can't help but absolutely adore her. He is trying so hard to stay stoic and unemotional but the moment he's alone with Ciri back in that old tavern he'd been at he just holds her and smiles. If he'd been a normal man, he probably would've burst into tears by how happy he was. (he did later once she got settled into Kaer Morhen, when he and Eskel did end up drinking up in his room. They're talking about the usual things, and then he looked over to her in her makeshift crib and just started bawling. Eskel freaks out and asks him what's wrong and he replies "I just love her so much."... Yes Eskel teared up.)

Then he has to go through the lovely moments of "how the fuck do you raise a baby" which Vesemir watches with so much amusement. Geralt raided most of Kaer Morhen's library and Nenneke's office for books about parenting. (Kaer Morhen has none, unsurprisingly.) He eventually asks Eskel to go to Oxenfurt and grab Dandelion and any books about parenting, childhood development, psychology and women's health he can find. (He is DREADING eventually having The Talk with Ciri but he won't be unprepared.) Dandelion is completely awestruck with Kaer Morhen of course however, nothing shocks him more than seeing Geralt looking bone tired with a 5 month old baby wailing in his arms, trying to soothe her.

"uh... What ya got there, Geralt?"

"H e l p."

Where's Yennefer? What about Yennefer?? Geralt is hesitant at first to even tell Yennefer he has a kid. But she sends him a letter one day, asking him where he is now that it's coming up on spring. (Ciri's first bday!!! Yay!!!! Also oh gods planning a birthday?!?!?!?? That's a thing??????) So he does tell her, and she understandably to her character demands to see this child surprise. So again, sends Eskel on out (pls Geralt, he's your childhood best friend, not your errand boy.) to go get Yennefer. Yennefer storms through the main hall, not even acknowledging Lambert and Vesemir, and right up to Geralt. How did she manage to find her way through the halls without ever being there before? Geralt doesn't know and he's scared by it. Yennefer spots Ciri, who's doing her tummy time. To which she's very fussy about and gives the nastiest glares an almost 1 year old can to her father. Yennefer is absolutely gobsmacked that Geralt was being genuine. She points to Ciri, then to Geralt, then back to Ciri, to Geralt.

"YOU?????? HOW????"

"I'm really bad at making jokes."

Yennefer adores Ciri, but Ciri is a little skeptical of her. Who is this strange woman????? Where is her dad?????? Where's her other dad (Dandelion)???? How dare she smell nice and be warm???? Ugh as if she'd let her feed her!!! No way! Yennefer is always completely drenched with baby food whenever she attempts to feed Ciri. Geralt tries so hard not to laugh at her. Ciri is absolutely seething by the end of it and is only contained when Geralt picks her up and holds her securely. Then it's like little devil Ciri never existed, she's all smiles and babbling happily to her dad. Yennefer gets really disheartened over it. Late at night she ends up crying over it, thinking it wouldn't matter if she was able to have kids or not; Ciri proves she'd be a horrible mother anyway. Geralt doesn't know what to say at first, but he knows it's not true. Yennefer is trying her best, it's just that Ciri is really fussy. She even fusses sometimes when Dandelion holds her. He tries to comfort Yen, and ends up deciding the best thing to do is hold her and tell her that she's doing amazing. He doesn't think she believes him because she's still got a very somber look on her face the next day. She becomes reluctant to take up care of Ciri because of the incident. Well about after the third day of this Ciri gets fussy again. Geralt is taking a well deserved nap day. He's back in his room snoozing away. Yennefer and Dandelion are with Ciri in the library, one of the warmest places in the keep. Dandelion wipes his hands of the ink that stains them and picks her up and checks if she's soiled. She isn't, so he asks if she's hungry. She thrashes around in his hold and turns in search of Yennefer and starts grabbing towards her. So Dandelion hands her over to Yen. The moment Ciri's resting against Yennefer she settles down.

"huh, guess she just wanted her mommy." Dandelion comments and Yennefer starts crying. (Dandelion's face morphed from aww to OH FUCK)

The bigger Ciri gets the more rambunctious and energetic. Geralt couldn't be prouder that they're all raising her to be genuine to herself and that they've broken the generational trauma. Vesemir pats Geralt on the shoulder one day and tells him "I'm proud of you, Wolf" and damn, if that doesn't make him want to cry. He doesn't of course, only meeting Ciri made him cry from joy. And oh how she gives Lambert a run for his money. It's hilarious to see a 60-something year old argue with a 4 year old. They get into the most stupid arguments too. "blue is better than red!" Or "I'm taller than you" which is the most absurd because it's always Ciri who starts it. Geralt thinks it's because Lambert is the shortest besides Vesemir. But Vesemir has only become short due to his old age, and Ciri already gives him a hard time for that. ("Why are you so fat and old? Aren't you a Witcher like Daddy?" She said once and Vesemir just paused and looked at her like "why would you say that to me". She burst into a giggle fit at his crushed expression.)

The argument will always, without fail, go:

C: I'm taller than you.

L: no you're not? I'm 5'11!

C: well I'm 8 feet tall!!!!

L: more like 2 feet tall!

C: NO! SEE

Then she'll stand on the chair so she towers over Lambert.

L: fine well I'm older.

C: no??? My birthday is first

L: NO ITS NOT?

C: YEAH IT IS

L: NO APRIL IS BEFORE MAY. AND IM 67, YOU'RE 4

C: uhhhhh I hate to break it to you, but no you're not. You've been lied to your whole life.

L: W H AT WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE????

C: uhmmmmm god.

Then when Coën finally meets one of the Wolves and comes up to Kaer Morhen he's shocked to see someone so young. At the time Ciri was around 7. She calls him ugly and walks away to the stables. Coën is just left flabbergasted while Lambert and Eskel are laughing their asses off. Geralt apologizes to him, while trying to hold in his laughter. Coën becomes like an older brother to Ciri, and he gets on her good side by helping her prank Lambert.

When Ciri hits 12 she does get her period, and Geralt is like "OH GOD OH FUCK HOW DO I TALK TO HER ABOUT THIS I DONT WANT TO MAKE IT-" and Yennefer walks into the room and goes "I told her, we're good."

Then comes the "boy talk" Where Ciri brought up that a character in a romance book was attractive and Geralt went into "No one is good enough for my baby girl" dad mode and brashly announced "you're not allowed to date boys until you're 21."

Yennefer slaps him on the arm and Ciri looks at him almost offended.

"jokes on you I don't even know if I LIKE boys. Maybe I just like this character's personality." She replies sassily. Geralt cannot argue with that logic. (And yes 2 months later, she goes on a day trip with Yen and talks to a girl her age. She comes back and Geralt asks her how it went and she says "I definitely like girls." And walks up to her room to take a nap. Geralt celebrates as soon as she leaves "YES!!! I DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT SOME BRUTE MESSING WITH MY DAUGHTER FUCK YEAH" Yennefer reminds him that some women are just as bad and he crumples to the floor in agony. Now he has to worry about brutish women hurting his daughter.)

Essentially, I just love that Geralt has a daughter, and that he's so proud of her and loves her so much. Their relationship is just so 🥹❤️ I adore them.

[underpreparedbard]

Respond to this with a pick-up line Jaskier would use on the Kaer Morons

[finnyphcntom]

notorious.

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chapter two : combos

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He remembers his young days, walking into this very gas station way past his curfew with Aiden. He’d walk right in and buy him one big blue raspberry slushie, and then grab whatever snack he was craving that night. It was typically combos. He fucking loved combos.

---------

Fucking shit.

He was tired, exhausted even. He knew Dandelion was fun to talk to but shit, not that fun.

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : geralt got baxk with me the party is at 6 but everyone showsbup late to shit like that so meet me at 7'

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : excited to see you, its been a while!'

The speedway parking lot was rather empty when Lambert put his car in park.

There were many things he swore by, and just as many things he swore by but didn't listen to. One of those things was stopping caffeine- effective probably never.

Not only did Dandelion keep him up, but he was just a tired grouchy man.

But he needed his energy today. He had to work a shitty 9-5, but after, he had a party to crash. Better expect pettiness of all that is petty. He's talking tables thrown, lies exposed…

He knew the location, the time, who all would be there. Its funny, actually, because Dandelion said Kiera's been there often.

But she hadn't. Lambert had asked her about it; if she knew anything. Each time she would go quiet as if trying to remember or think if she has, but would always answer no. The days of the party, she would be stuck at her business late or have something to do. So there was no way she would have been able to make it.

She always had something to do, near the end.

Isnt that funny? Never wanted to hang out with him, never went on dates, barely even responded to him, but sobbed when he left her. She begged him to stay, hell, even threw glassware at him- it made no sense in his rather walnut sized brain.

'lambert : hey do me a favor, dont tell geralt im going'

'lambert : or tbh anyone for that matter. i want it to be a complete surprise.'

'lambert : do that for me and consider me ur free ride of the night, will u princess?’

He slipped his phone into his pocket and got out of his car, walking into the speedway.

He remembers his young days, walking into this very gas station way past his curfew with Aiden. He’d walk right in and buy him one big blue raspberry slushie, and then grab whatever snack he was craving that night. It was typically combos. He fucking loved combos.

Aiden first put him on the snack, Lambert thinking they were incredibly… “mid.” But after trying different flavors, he realized he was literally obsessed with the pizza flavors. They were a snack sent by the heavens, a gift from god himself.

But man, how he missed Aiden. Grief never ends, never goes away. Lambert lost maybe more than half of him when he received that phone call that night from Aiden’s mother. Everyday was the same- no more two in the morning gas station runs and getting high behind said gas station. No more skipping highschool classes to hang out in the bathrooms.

He could never again eat combos.

Life was the same. He finds someone he clicks with, gets attached to them way to quick then someone like him should, its good for a while, and then it ends. Doesn't matter how that ending comes about, it still ends.

And every single day he works this shit ass nine to five. He comes back and does the same farm work, plays the same game. He could really use a switch up, but how?

A ding from his phone causes him to realize that he's standing there, just ominously staring at the red bull fridge. If he had a nickel for every time his phone is the mediator between him and his weirdly timed zone-outs, he would have… plenty of nickels, actually.

‘dandelion : oh, what kind of ride we talkin? ;)’

‘dandelion : is your passenger seat taken? morning btw ^^ i fell asleep’

Lambert's response was shamefully immediate. And oh yeah, he saved Dandelions contact.

‘lambert : never ta ken when its you, princess’

‘lambert : and im talkin bout the ride of your life baby’

His smile is the biggest it’s been in a while when he grabs two or three red bulls and heads to the self checkout.

He really, really wasn't used to this. What the fuck was he doing? Flirting was typically really hard for the guy, given he attempts to avoid any form of human interaction.

Dandelion doesn't answer, not even when he's paid and back in his car. Lambert has never been the most patient of people.

‘dandelion : uhhhhh what do i do if 3 of my tires are slashed?’

‘dandelion : i have a performance idk what to do should i call geralt?’

‘dandelion : geralt will just get mad tho and assume it was my ex’

He stared at his phone screen. According to Geralt, Dandelion’s ex is.. well, psychotic. Dandelion has had to move, stay nights with them, and get Geralt to scare the guy off on multiple occasions.

But he had work in approximately 23 minutes. He couldnt skip work, it was too late for him to call in. He would be in big trouble if he did so, there only being one other manager for the whole store. Not to mention, the paycut. His paycheck would be short, and he's got saving to do.

Geralt would likely get angry at him, too. He was always real big on making sure Lambert never socialized with Dandelion. Lambert was never really sure why.

Of course, there were a lot of reasons he speculated. Geralt knew Lambert would treat him better. Geralt knew Dandelion would like him better. Geralt knew that though antisocial, Lambert tended to form attachments quickly.

Years of abuse and neglect from a drunken father would do that to a guy, he supposes. Always getting attached, paranoid of random people. It was hard for him to trust.

He wasn't thinking. Wasn't thinking when he lifted his phone and tapped on it a few times.

“Hey, this is Lambert. Im letting you know I wont be making it in today. Im sorry.”

He hung up.

Did he really just do that?

‘lambert : hey, whats ur address?’

~~~~~~~~~

Dandelion looked just about ready to sob when he got in the car.

“I told you my performance is not until later.” Dandelion says, anxiously checking his surroundings. “I couldve- couldve arranged an uber. Or just not went. Its not really that important.”

This man was chronically insane. His ex slashes his tires in a location hes not supposed to know about? And he was just going to stay there?

“Clearly someone who isnt supposed to know you live here, well.. does. Its not safe for you to be here right now. We can… I dont know. Do you want to come to my place?” Lambert asked.

Dandelion shook his head no. He wasnt for Geralt knowing, wanting to avoid drama all together.

Lambert cracked open one of his redbulls, putting the car back in drive and pulling out of the driveway.

“Then, do you have parents to g-”

“No. Please, thank you, but no. Not them.” Dandelion says, clutching his seatbelt. “They don't really support my life right now.”

Lambert didn't need an explanation, driving down the road. He didn't have a girlfriend to waste money on, so he wasn't necessarily worried about wasting gas.

It was quiet for a bit, Dandelion giving himself a bit to calm down. When Lambert begins to question if they were going to talk at all, Dandelion speaks up.

“I like being a passenger princess. Being treated like royalty, which I deserve no less.” He says, smiling. “I am quite picky. Do you think you can keep up?”

Clearly, Lambert was really good at flirting with Dandelion before. It came naturally to him, flowing out of his mind like a river. So, clearly, he needed not to think before spewing out the best pick-up line you��ve ever heard,

“I- I uh- can, can keep you up.”

Okay that was bad. But rather worth it, if it weren't for the rupture of laughter that rang through the car.

“I'm focused on driving!” He exclaims, defensive manners strong in his words.

“You know, you and Geralt are similar.” Dandelion closes his eyes, and Lambert's heart drops. The shadow was back, coming for him, engulfing him, warming him and leading him astray. It was burning cold, sharp, an ache in his heart. A feeling he was tired, or even exhausted of. Geralt was a never-ending, constantly raising bar that he had to do hourly pullups on. Hourly reminders that he was not Geralt, the perfect golden child of the family.

“But you’re also so different. I'd go as far to say you’re nicer,” Dandelion starts, and Lambert's heart flutters. “And honestly? Better morals. More fun to be around. What im trying to say,” the shadow is shrinking, shiverling into a smaller fragment of what it once was, instead being replaced by the light that is this mans gorgeous fucking face, “I can definitely tell you were raised by the same man. But you’re also.. Your own person, and I like that.”

In the middle of the street, he put his car in park and grabbed both sides of Dandelions face, pressing his lips onto the soft, delicate lips of the sweet princess of sunshine he had sitting in the passenger seat of his car.. Dandelion climbs on top of him as they begin to make out.

Is what would happen if Lambert got everything he wanted. And if traffic laws were avoidable. And if he had tinted windows.

~~~~~~~~~

Dandelion was a performer, a rising one at that. Therefore, when Dandelion suggested he come watch his performance, there was no way in hell he could decline. He saw videos of him on almost any platform he had- covering songs, writing songs, his cute, smart little intros and outros. He was made to perform.

He was supposed to be covering a song today. It wasn't a concert or anything- he was hired to put on a show for an event at a club. It shouldn't be too crowded. It was a club, at 3pm. No way it’d be busy.

Boy was he wrong. Luckily, Dandelion was able to drag him to the front, right in the center. He winked and gave him a little wave, before he was off somewhere backstage.

Lambert stood there like a fool, a lost puppy if you will. He had never been the type for this, was not expecting this many people, and was overstimulated, and- holy shit, the lights just dimmed red. Like a deep, blood red.

There was a faint noise, like a sound kicking on. When music started, he visibly flinched. God, it was loud. The person next to them, seemingly recording, gave him a rather rude side eye.

The music stopped, and Dandelion walked out, wearing a rather oversized black sheer blouse- that fell perfectly over his porcelain shoulders.

“How are we doing tonight?” He says, smiling widely at the crowd in front of him.

The crowd just roared, causing Lambert to flinch again, but his body locked up when he made eye contact with Dandelion. The red lighting- a warm tone but god did Dandelion look so cold- sick as fuck.

“How am I?” He asked, pointing at himself. “Oh, I'm okay. I almost couldn't make it here. Valdo Marx slashed my tires.”

His ex was Valdo Marx? That ugly ass guy?

A loud set of ‘boo’s’ and ‘fuck him!’s’ ran through the crowd, as the beat started.

“Anyway, I decided to cover a Hozier song. You know, per request.” He winked.

“Just a little rush, babe.

To feel dizzy, to derail the mind of me.

Just a little hush babe,

Our veins are busy,

But my hearts in atrophy”

His eyes were wide. His heart was pounding. His heart rate was faster than the blue hedgehog in the games he’d play when he was little. The red lighting, his cheeky little intro about his ex. His even cheekier smile, the look of passion in his eyes.

Dandelion was a masterpiece.

“You and I, nursing on a poison that never stung,

Our teeth and lungs are lined with the scum of it,

Somewhere for this, death and guns

We are deaf, we are numb

Free and young and we can feel none of it”

Lambert realized the music really wasn't that loud anymore. No, it wasn't loud enough. Though still, with hands on the microphone stand, he was the best performer Lambert had ever seen. Okay, maybe he was a bit biased. That voice was a gift from heavy itself, though.

Why did he only now decide to pull out his phone and start recording? He didn't know. But he was.

“Something isn't right, babe

I keep catching little words,

But the meanings thin

Im somewhere outside my life, babe

I keep scratching but somehow, I can't get in

So we’re slaves to any semblance of touch,

Lord we should quit...

But we love it too much”

Dandelion seemed to see that Lambert was recording, and made direct eye contact with the man again. He watched as Dandelion’s hands ran up the microphone stand, slowly pulling the microphone out of its attachment, walking forward..

Slowly, Dandelion transitioned onto his knees, closer to the crowd. He held himself up with his free arm, his sheer blouse falling over his shoulder to reveal more of that porcelain skin to the needy, desperate people.

He was the so-called needy, desperate people.

“Darlin’, don't you, stand there watching,

Won't you

Come and save me from it?

Darlin’, don't you, join in, you’re supposed to

Drag me away from it.”

Now deciding to sit up, if anything he was leaning a little back, face full of emotion. He was too dumbfounded to read which emotion though. Just saw Dandelion, that pretty face, and pretty skin peeking through.

“Anyway to distract and sedate,

Adding shadows to the wall of the cave.”

Dandelion was able to pull off a mix of standing up and spinning as he repeated the chorus, singing with much more energy than the start. It probably had a word. Everything had a word. Lambert wasn't a master of music.

“I learned that song yesterday, just for you guys.” He said, winking. What comes next is a somehow, strangely handsome mixture between a pant and a laugh.

“I think I’m going to go to a gas station and get a redbull and some combos after this one, what about you guys?”

And as the cheer and roars erupt, he's stuck there.

Combos.

[dapandapod]

Happiness suits you

Guys is it weird to base a fic around having seen too many Geralt-has-no-social-skills-and-is-forever-alone-because-of-it, and decide no, and write a Geralt-has-no-social-skills-so-litterally-every-person-decides-to-care-for-this-poor-poor-witcher fic?

Yes I rewrote that sentence six times. I just feel like people like Geralt, *beacause* he has no social skills. They see this poor little meow meow and decide that this man needs a friend. That, and also in games and comics, Geralt is just genuinly charming (and a bit of a bastard).

Thank you Jin for helping me beta read this! <3

PLease enjoy this piece of fluff and my attempt on namedropping literally anyone Geralt has had a pleasant conversation with.

Also immortal Jaskier rights. <3

On Ao3 here

Witchers come and go from the keep as they please. Sure, they tend to gather during the winter, but the gate remains open to those who know (and can get there safely) where they are. 

Snow has barely started melting, water trickling and dripping down from trees and icicles, the snow on the ground getting a crust from melting and freezing over and over again. The skies are the kind of blue it is in perfect spring days, not a cloud to be seen, the world visible for miles when you stand at a high point.

Nature is waking up, even as winter fights with tooth and claw to keep its grip over the land. Beneath the mountains, most of the snow has already turned into mud, but up here, Geralt's breath still fogs as he sighs at another one of Lambert's stupid remarks.

"I thought you didn't like to put yourself on display, pretty boy." He snarks, snow crunching under his feet, giving way for his stomping ahead. 

Geralt gives Dandelion a quick look and a shake of his head no. There are things everybody is better off Lambert not knowing. The poet just smirks and hooks a gloved finger around Geralt's pinkie.

"It is about the lodgings." Dandelion informs Lambert instead, who huffs in amusement.

"For who exactly? Because I'm pretty sure your whorehouse-"

"Cabaret," Both Geralt and Dandelion corrects.

"Sure. I'm pretty sure you can house the entire spectacle there, so I guess that makes it cost efficient. Plus, you got the entertainment covered."

"We are not saying our vows in the Passiflora." Geralt mutters.

"No room." Dandelion agrees, changing his grip to just hold Geralt's hand instead. 

It never fails, Geralt's stomach flutters at the contact and he can't help but smile warmly at his poet. In the sunshine, his golden curls peak out and through all his winter clothing and his nose is red.

Lambert snorts again and turns towards them.

"So where then? Wherever that lordling title of yours stem from?"

It is Dandelion's turn to snort. 

"Fuck no. I don't even think they remember me there anymore. My youngest sister should be what by now, fifty-eight?"

He looks at Geralt for confirmation, who just shrugs. 

"You were already old when I met you." He teases, just to hear the poet's outraged spluttering.

"You-! How dare-! Rude, Geralt! See if I will compliment your luscious rear now!"

“You have not aged a day,” Geralt amends, squeezing Dandelion’s gloved hand.

"Spare me." Lambert groans, rolling his eyes and walks ahead again. "Why won't Eskel ever join me when I check the traps?"

"Because you're a prick." Geralt reminds him calmly.

"No, Lettenhove is out of the question. And as much as I love Corvo Bianco, it is simply too far away for most of our guests. And not to mention, again, lodgings." Dandelion muses, following the movement when Geralt nudges him to the side to avoid stumbling over a branch barely hidden in the snow. 

"How many people are you expecting anyway? Is the entire continent invited or something?" Lambert asks, finding the first snare by the line of the trees. It is empty, neither hare nor bait to be seen. 

"Well, there are some acquaintances of mine who would take it poorly if they were not to get an invitation, not to mention my friends. And then there are Geralt's friends-"

"You mean all of his exes?" Lambert throws over his shoulder as he resets the trap and baits it again.

"Triss is holding the ceremony." Geralt says, pulling his poet close and wraps his arms around him when Dandelion shivers ever so slightly. 

It doesn't do much for warmth, actually, but Dandelion hugs him back and leans his head against Geralt's chest, and well, there are many ways to get warm, is there not?

"I think most of them will come. Well. Maybe not Milva, I don't think she would wander that far from Brokilon with her daughter that young still. Dandelion, I just realized we haven't started writing invitations."

"You haven't started writing invitations," Dandelion smirks, tilting his head up teasingly. "I however, have been working on them since the new year."

"So what, Passiflora can't deal with all the people from across the country to see my brother's grumpy ass be married?" Lambert asks, and stands up to brush leaves and some stubborn snow and ice from his knees.

Dandelion turns to look at him, tilting his head.

"You'd be surprised." 

Geralt spends a long few evenings writing until the candles burn low and Dandelion complains of a cold bed. 

His hand is stained with ink and his fingers are cramping, but most of the letters are finished by the end of the week. The face Lambert made when Geralt handed them over, asking him to bring it to the postmaster in the village below the mountain made it all worth it.

The rest he should be able to send out or give in person before they're due to be in Oxenfurt.

They need to be there ahead of time, making sure that the innkeepers know to keep their rooms free during those days. 

Technically, the ceremony is only the one day, but they decided that for those who traveled far, they will keep the festivities going for another day or so. At least in the Passiflora, they are not made of money. 

"Lambert, I want you to be there. You are a pest and my brother, and I want you by my side." Geralt tells him, before Lambert leaves for the path.

For a long moment, Lambert just looks at him. He may be a prick, a bastard and an ass, but there is also an honesty to him, loyal and protective and surprisingly sensitive.

"I will be there, pretty boy. It will be my honor."

Lambert pulls him into a strangely stiff hug, clasping Geralt's forearm and pressing their foreheads together. 

"Don't get eaten. Bring the Cat." Geralt mutters, before they part and Lambert climbs his horse Horse and waves them goodbye.

It would seem word has spread through Oxenfurt, and as spring shifts into summer, most of the town is decked out with ribbons and busy with preparations. 

"One could almost think it's a noble getting hitched." Dandelion observes, as they walk through the little market in the square. More stalls are being set up, goods and delicacies quickly being distributed amongst them. 

"Almost as if the Viscount de Lettenhove himself, a professor of the seven liberal arts of Oxenfurt, is about to leave the bachelor life behind." Geralt says, enjoying how Dandelion is pressing into his side.

"Almost as if the famous poet Dandelion has captured his muse, his love, his White Wolf." The poet purrs, leaning in even closer and teasing a finger along Geralt's wrist and inside his shirt.

Their walk is cut abruptly short, but the hot kisses that Dandelion presses onto his lips when they fall into bed, they linger for a long time.

  The day has finally come. 

People started trickling in during the day before, the inns, as predicted, starting to fill up. Dandelion has many friends in court, many courts actually, and their staff also requires a place to stay. 

For some reason, it was with utmost glee that Dandelion invited his nemesis and rival, Valdo Marx, to their wedding. Geralt isn't sure if he understands why, but he has been asked to be one of the performers during the feast. Of course both Essi and Priscilla will also be there, along with a skald from the Skellige Islands.

Ciri and Cerys joined them a few days earlier to help with the final preparations, along with Yennefer, Istredd, Triss and Eskel.

Lambert has yet to show up, but Geralt isn't worried. He has saved a room for him at the Passiflora, far away from their own, just to be safe. One never knows what kind of sounds comes from his room if he actually brings Aiden.

Geralt is happily surprised to see Cahir there, together with Regis and another man he doesn't recognize but is introduced to him as Detlaff van der Eretin. Not long after is he swept up in a big hug by Shani, and then a large man with a red beard pats his back, hard. Turns out that is Dudu, and his chosen shape of the day. 

More and more people, from near and far, from far past and more recent memory, trickle in through the city gates before they close for the night.

In the early morning, Lambert stands gaping with his Cat in tow, finally understanding what the fuss was about.

"Alright. Lodgings. I hope you saved us one." Lambert shrugs.

The ceremony is held in the university gardens. It was the easiest way, and most inexpensive, to bring them all together, even if some of the elder professors gave the few elves present a sharp side eye. 

There is more than one tale about the one-eyed elf who side eyed them just as sharply back. Iorwreth only stayed during the ceremony, considering he is technically a criminal still, but he left a big impression.

Triss stands in the center of it all, Geralt and Dandelion in front of her. She is holding an ancient book that looks heavier than her, and older than all three of them combined, but she holds it easily in one hand, as she guides Geralt and Dandelion through the motions.

It is hard to look away from his poet, his sunshine, the love of his life. They are clad in matching outfits, trimmed with golden edges, their hair loose around their shoulders. 

Geralt doesn't cry often, but when he had read Dandelion's vows the night before, he couldn't keep it back. Dandelion wasn't much better off when he read Geralt's, and they had spent the eve sitting back to back on their bed, sniffling and wiping away tears. 

 It helped them to get through them now, Geralt's voice thick with emotions as he reads them out loud now, in front of everybody.

Eskel subtly slips Lambert a handkerchief when Geralt has to stop and take a deep breath to go on, and Lambert takes it without a word and passes it to Aiden, refusing to wipe his own tears.

  Not all guests join them for the feasts, some of the locals have to go back to work and some with... well, a price on their head, need to get away from people.

Hjalmar comes to congratulate them, bringing greetings from Crach, who had to stay behind with his Jarl duties. Zoltan brings a gift of the finest dwarven Spirit, and a pair of silver rings.

"I know it is tradition for you to exchange rings during the handfasting, but this snotty bugger-" Zoltan points behind himself, at a somewhat younger dwarf with a very uncombed beard, "-decided not to wake up this morning. Sorry for being late."

Many old friends come up to them during the feast. Vernon Roche and Ves, Keira, Mousesack, Aiden brought a letter from Letho, who declined the invitation but appreciated it nonetheless. Vesemir held a speech that had Geralt crying again, the sorceress Corinne Tilly from Novigrad brought greetings from their Godling friend Sarah.

At the end of the night, Geralt is exhausted, well fed, and well on his way to being drunk.

The marketplace is still thriving long into the eve, many of the guests taking the opportunity to stroll around the stalls and indulging. He finds Lambert and Coën bent over a piece of paper, muttering and making notes. 

Throughout the day he could hear Lambert ask some of the guests he didn't recognize, if they were there for the groom or... the witcher.  

Most likely they are trying to see how many of Geralt's friends showed up, and honestly? Some of those who showed up were actually not invited, even if Geralt knows them. Djikstra, for example, were not on the list, but was still fully expected to show up, as is his habit.

Geralt’s knee isn’t what it used to, but he still lifts Ciri up on the dance floor, still jumps through the steps with her just to see her smile.

She is so big now, with scars of her own and powers beyond them all.

When the dance is over, he pulls her into a hug, just holds her close. They don't see each other as often anymore, with her traveling the continent, and places beyond that too, and Geralt spending more and more time at Corvo Bianco. 

"I'm so proud of you." He murmurs into her hair, kissing her forehead.

"I love you." She murmurs back. "Happiness suits you."

 When all is said and done, when the sun has set and the stars has danced across the night sky, the evening is finally coming to a close.

Despite it being their wedding night, there is not much energy left but to undress each other, kiss lazily, and drop into unconsciousness.

  Sometimes, love stories are the beginning. Sometimes, it's an end. Sometimes, you learn that your story was edged with love all the way.

  Geralt isn't sure how he managed to gather so much of it around him, despite the harsh and bloodlined life he has lived. 

He just knows he would do it all again, if it led him here.

[incorrect-quotes-at-random]

Lambert: I find it very unseemly of Geralt to start dating again. Isn't the customary period of mourning 10 years?

Triss: Die. Let's find out.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Jaskier has taken to saying “Geralt’s bloody tits”.

It was a joke at first, but it’s become an actual habitual phrase for him. Geralt’s also become desensitized to it (when you hear “Geralt’s bloody tits, it’s cold out!” 50 times in an hour, you get numb to the phrase).

And then Jaskier says it unthinkingly in front of Geralt’s brothers.

Eskel's horrified but Lambert so takes to using it, you just know he does

[dotlookstired]

It’s kinda cringe as fuck, but I made a multi chapter Witcher fanfic. Lots of cute Lambert/Aiden.

Winter was always a tough time in the keep. The howling winds, negative temperatures, and chest-high snowdrifts weren’t the worst of it—no, it was the lack of non-destructive and harmless outlets for everyone to focus their energy on. With nothing to hunt, no contracts to fulfill, and no outside work to be done due to the snowstorms, the inhabitants of the keep turned a bit crazy. Boredom had brought out their “creativity” in the most spectacular and worst ways.

“Lambert, if you blow up the lab one more time, I’m throwing you out into the snow without boots,” Vesemir growled, his voice echoing down the frigid halls.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, old man,” Lambert shot back, though his mischievous smirk said otherwise. He leaned casually against a wall, tossing a small vial of something volatile-looking between his hands.

Lambert had been an absolute menace, teasing and bothering just about everyone in the keep and blowing things up with his experiments in the lab. He’d been intentionally prickly to everyone except for his boyfriend, Aiden, but even he wasn’t exempt—Lambert had unintentionally gotten on his nerves as well.

Speaking of Lambert’s boyfriend, behind him—or more like above him—was the stir-crazy Cat Witcher who had miraculously survived an assassination attempt by his brothers a year earlier, escaping with only a missing eye and a damaged eardrum. He sat on one of the running support beams for the roof, occasionally flipping down to the floor and then back up again. If Lambert’s shenanigans weren’t enough, Aiden’s “zoomies,” as Lambert had explained it, and his insistence on climbing everything in sight only added to Vesemir’s growing headache. At least he was cleaning the rafters as he went—Vesemir had reluctantly handed him a duster after the third time he’d climbed to the highest point in the keep without going outside to “stretch.”

Geralt, meanwhile, had come down with some seasonal depression and had isolated himself from the rest of the keep. He only emerged to train Ciri briefly before retreating once again. Yennefer, frustrated with Geralt’s reclusiveness, had spent the past week bossing everyone else around and had gotten into a spat with pretty much everyone in the keep, even Ciri—but she especially had it out for Lambert and Dandelion. One morning while she was bathing, Lambert, having had enough of her, seized the opportunity while her guard was down and threw a snowball at her. That had led to a shouting match that still echoed in Vesemir’s ears.

Eskel wasn’t much better. Because his brothers had been caught up in other things and didn’t feel like interacting with him very much, he’d been very clingy and had not let Vesemir have a single moment to himself—until Vesemir had assigned him to look after an orphaned baby goat after its mother died. The sight of the hulking Witcher cradling the tiny creature like a newborn had at first been endearing. But now he had become obsessed with the goat and was treating it as if it were his actual son. Vesemir’s patience was tested when he heard Eskel softly cooing, “Shhh, darling, it’s just a storm,” to the goat in his room one night during a particularly bad blizzard.

Dandelion had gotten severe writer’s block for writing anything decent and had started composing roast ballads in which he mocked whoever had gotten on his nerves that day (almost always Yennefer).

Coën was in the infirmary with relatively minor injuries considering he had been attacked by a bear. One morning, he had been fishing on the local river and had caught quite a large salmon. However, a hungry bear had noticed and also wanted his fish. Coën did not want to share, and a struggle ensued that ended with Coën coming home with not only a salmon but also a bear for dinner.

Even Ciri was joining in the chaos. Because Geralt was too depressed to spend much time with her and Yennefer was in such a terrible mood, she’d started clinging to Vesemir. When she wasn’t clinging to Vesemir, she was helping Lambert with his projects and mayhem, trying to watch and imitate Aiden’s parkour, or sewing Eskel’s goat a little outfit. The keep smelled of singed wood and sulfur more often than not, and Vesemir was certain the explosive sound earlier had something to do with her and his youngest son.

Vesemir sighed. The keep needed order. Or at least a distraction.

The rumors came with the latest supply run from the village at the base of the mountain. A fox-like creature had been spotted in the woods, strange and humanoid, with glowing eyes that unnerved even the bravest hunters. Stranger still, the creature seemed to curse those who encountered it—transforming them into either animals or elderly for a few days before the curse wore off on its own.

At first, Vesemir dismissed it as winter boredom. The villagers, like the witchers, had little to do in the cold months but gossip and weave tall tales. But the stories were persistent, and strange enough that they couldn’t be ignored. Vesemir gathered his pups and honorary pups around the hearth.

“You’re all going to investigate,” he announced, his voice leaving no room for argument. “The fox creature. At the base of the mountain.”

“You just want the keep to yourself,” Lambert muttered, earning a sharp glare from Vesemir.”Yes, I indeed would like a few days where nothing explodes, and with no goats are in my house,” he said.

Ciri perked up. “I want to go too!”

But Geralt placed a hand on her forehead. “Not with the fever you currently have, you’re not. You’re staying here.” Ciri scowled but didn’t argue. “Eww, stay away, keep your plague to yourself” Lambert sneered as he took a few steps away from the sick teen.

Yennefer, overhearing that Gerlat was leaving and not being able to tolerate being alone with Dandelion, quickly volunteered herself for a “vacation” away from the madness, leaving Vesemir to babysit a sick Ciri and a creatively blocked Dandelion.

The Witchers—Geralt, Eskel, Lambert, Coën, and Aiden—set out into the snow. By the time they reached the village at sunset, the welcoming warmth they were used to was nowhere to be found. Most humans were hostile toward Witchers, but this village had always been different—trading food and supplies and offering shelter in return for protection. Something had changed. Doors remained shut, and familiar faces turned away.

The new mayor, who had seemingly taken over by force, was a staunch bigot. He’d declared all non-humans unwelcome, expelling those who had called the village home and imprisoning any humans who stood up for them. His glare lingered on Aiden in particular. Not only was the Cat Witcher a Witcher, but he was also three-quarters Sun Elf, a fact unmistakable from his appearance. In truth, no one would suspect any human ancestry in him unless he explicitly disclosed it.

Geralt stepped forward. “We’re here to help. The fox creature—”

“We don’t need your kind of help,” the mayor snapped. “Leave. Now.”

Disgusted, the Witchers turned away.

“Well, it’s not like the creature is in the village—it’s outside, in the woods,” Eskel said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes, but I’m not sure we’re going to be able to find it in the dark,” Lambert replied bitterly. “The creature has only been reported during daylight so far, and I really don’t want to sleep in the cold, snowy woods. We also didn’t bring much food or sleeping gear because the villagers usually accommodate us.”

As they neared the edge of the village, a woman gathering firewood hesitated before hurrying over to them.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a hushed voice. “The mayor doesn’t speak for all of us.”

Coën was about to respond when he shivered and flinched in pain from his still-healing wounds. The woman noticed and asked if he was okay, but he assured her he would be fine. Lambert, however, wasn’t convinced Coën would manage a night in the woods and voiced his concerns openly.

At this, the woman paused, her expression thoughtful.

The Witchers watched her closely, curiosity evident in their faces.

Finally, she spoke up. “Can you guys move quietly enough that no one would notice you?”

“If you can sneak into my barn, you can stay there for the night. I’ll bring food and blankets.”

The Witchers exchanged glances.

“We’d be grateful,” Geralt said.

The barn was warm, insulated with hay stacked in the loft. Lambert flopped onto a bale with a sigh of relief. “Better than freezing to death in the woods,” he muttered.

As they settled in, however, they noticed that Coën was shaking. Coën caught everyone staring at him. “I’m fine, just a little cold,” he said.

Eskel walked over and placed a hand on Coën’s forehead, finding it too warm. “You’ve got a fever. Maybe you caught what Ciri had?” he suggested.

Coën shook his head. “No, I don’t feel sick—just... off,” he replied.

Eskel pulled up Coën’s tunic to examine his wounds. His frown deepened. “You’ve pulled some stitches, I'll have to redo them. You also might have an infection. Does anyone have any medicine?”

Geralt opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak, a sudden sneeze echoed from above. Everyone glanced up to see a sniffly, trembling Aiden perched on a rafter.

Aiden cleared his throat. “Sorry—it’s dusty up here,” he lied.

“Well, come down, then. I want to go to sleep anyway,” Lambert told him.

In truth, Aiden wasn’t feeling well enough to climb down. He’d been feeling off since halfway through their journey down the mountain, but it hadn’t fully hit him until now, when he had a chance to relax. Still, he didn’t want to worry anyone. If he’d been with his Cat brethren, he knew he’d likely be berated—or even left behind—if they realized he was sick while on a mission.

Aiden shook his head, immediately regretting it as dizziness washed over him. “Why don’t you come up here and sleep, love?” he suggested, trying to hide how rough his voice sounded.

Lambert narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I can’t balance up there while sleeping. I’d fall and break my neck, and you know Wolves don’t share the Cat obsession with high places,” he reasoned.

“Well, the hay is gross. What if it has bugs in it?” Aiden countered, his voice rasping despite his efforts to hide it. “I’ll just stay up here by myself if you won’t join me.”

Lambert’s suspicion deepened, tinged with a bit of hurt that Aiden didn’t seem to want to lie with him. He was about to press further when the farm woman appeared, carrying a pile of blankets, a pot of warm tea with honey, bowls of delicious-smelling stew, and a first-aid kit.

“I thought, given how sick the injured one looked, some herbal tea with honey might help, along with fresh bandages,” she said, glancing at Coën, who offered a weak smile. “And with all of you being out in the cold all day, I thought some warm stew would be nice.”

“Thank you,” Eskel said gratefully. “We’d be in much worse shape without your kindness—especially since it looks like another one of us is coming down with something.” His gaze shifted upward to Aiden, who was now lying on the roof rafter.

Aiden raised an eyebrow, his glowing yellow Cat eye peering down at them. The farm woman startled, clearly unnerved. Aiden tried to jump down as he normally would, but his strength failed him.

He began to fall—but Lambert reacted quickly, catching him before he hit the ground.

“Easy, love. I’ve got you,” Lambert said, cradling Aiden. “You’re burning up!”

Aiden mumbled something incoherent to Lambert before managing a rasping apology to the farm woman. She waved it off with a kind smile, setting the supplies down.

“There’s medicine in the kit,” she said gently. “Take care of each other. I’ll keep watch for the mayor.”

The Witchers decided to prioritize tending to the sick and injured before anything else. They laid blankets over the hay bales to create makeshift beds and carefully helped Aiden and Coën out of their armor. Both of them were visibly exhausted. While Coën allowed himself to be gently guided to his makeshift bed, Aiden was far more reluctant.

He had been terrified of any medical treatment ever since the trauma caused by the surgeries he underwent after surviving an assassination attempt by his brothers. The injuries, including an arrow that had to be removed from his eye and brain, along with other severe wounds, left deep physical and emotional scars. Given that Witchers don’t have much money, anesthetic hadn’t been an option for most of the procedures, making the experience all the more harrowing.

Lambert sighed in frustration. “Your child has given Aiden her plague!” he hissed at Geralt.

Geralt, too focused on helping Eskel tend to Coën, barely acknowledged him, muttering a distracted, “Neat.”

This only made Lambert angrier. “This is not neat! As I’m sure you’re aware, a virus must be particularly nasty to have any effect on a witcher!” he screeched, his voice rising enough to make Coën flinch and Aiden cover both his functioning ear and his barely functioning one.

Realizing his outburst was affecting Coën and Aiden, Lambert muttered an apology before turning his attention back to Aiden.

“Relax, love,” Lambert murmured, crouching beside his partner. “I’ll be right next to you soon enough. Unless you’ve been hiding injuries from us, you don’t need stitches like Coën,” he added with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “We just need to check your temperature and maybe give you some medicine, that’s all.”

Aiden’s single cat-like eye was hazy with fever, and he swayed slightly, clearly disoriented. Lambert gently guided him to lie down, though Aiden, still foolishly trying to convince the group he was fine, muttered a few sleepy protests about “being fine.” The heat radiating off him was alarming, and Lambert suspected the fever was making him delirious.

Meanwhile, Eskel began re-stitching Coën’s wounds. The Griffen School witcher winced but stayed mostly calm as Eskel worked, talking softly to distract him. When Eskel was finished, he gave Coën a dose of antibiotics. Coën, though pale and weak, swallowed the pills without resistance, muttering his thanks before curling up under the blankets.

Aiden, however, was a different story.

Geralt joined Lambert to help him check an uncooperative Aiden’s temperature, which turned out to be dangerously high. Lambert frowned, brushing damp hair away from his lover’s sweat-soaked forehead. “That’s not good,” he muttered.

Eskel, after finishing with Coën, returned with the first aid kit. “If it’s that high, we’ll need to get some medicine into him,” he said, rummaging through the supplies. Unfortunately, the fever medication had to be injected.

Lambert paled at the sight of the syringe, glancing down at Aiden, who was now mumbling incoherently. He knew very well of the Cat Witchers' deep trauma surrounding medical procedures. Lambert had even been present for some of the gruesome procedures.

As Lambert tried to reason with Aiden, Eskel prepared the syringe. “Aiden, you need this,” Lambert said, cupping his lover’s flushed cheek. “It’ll help, I promise.”

But Aiden’s eyes widened and his pointy ears folded back defensively at the sight of the needle, and he instinctively tried to pull away, weakly struggling despite his fever.

Geralt, who had also had a bit of medical trauma from the additional experimentation as a White Wolf, knelt beside Lambert. “Aiden, please be reasonable. I know you’re scared—these kinds of things make me uncomfortable as well, I know how you feel. But if we don’t do this, the fever could kill you.”

The words didn’t seem to reach Aiden, who shook his head furiously, tears welling up in his yellow eye. “I don't want anymore poking and prodding” he rasped, his voice weak and scratchy. “Please, no…”

Lambert ran a hand through his non-existent hair, clearly distressed. He didn’t want to hold Aiden down or force him, but the fever was getting worse. He glanced helplessly at Geralt and Eskel.

“Can either of you jab him while the other restrains him?” Lambert asked in a low voice. “I… I can’t bring myself to do it. I don’t want to hurt him.”

Geralt sighed. “I’ll hold him. I’ve been where he is—I can’t jab him either.”

Eskel nodded. “I’ll do it, but you need to stay with him, Lambert. He’s going to need you.”

Lambert nodded, though he was already feeling guilty at the thought of what they were about to do. Slowly, Geralt approached Aiden, who blinked blearily up at him. “Hey, Aiden,” Geralt said as gently as he could with his gruff voice, sitting down beside him. “I’m just going to sit here, okay?”

Aiden hesitated but nodded sluggishly. Geralt carefully slipped an arm around him, then swiftly pulled the feverish Cat Witcher slightly onto his lap. Aiden startled at the sudden movement, his body tense, but Geralt began running a soothing hand over his arm. “Shh… It’s okay,” he murmured. Aiden’s tension eased slightly, and he started purring softly, the sound vibrating weakly against Geralt’s chest.

Lambert joined them, sitting beside Aiden and taking his hand in his own. He pressed a kiss to Aiden’s knuckles. “I’m here, love,” he whispered, squeezing Aiden’s hand.

Aiden’s purring grew louder, and for a moment, it seemed like they might get through it without much resistance. But as Eskel approached with the syringe, realization dawned on Aiden, and panic flared in his fevered eye. He started weakly struggling, begging them to stop.

“Don’t! Please, don’t!” Aiden pleaded, his voice breaking.

Lambert cupped Aiden’s face, turning his head away from the needle. “Look at me, Aiden. Just look at me, okay?” he said softly. “It’ll be over before you know it. You’re strong—you’ve been through worse than this.”

Eskel took the opportunity to quickly jab the syringe into Aiden’s arm. The Cat Witcher let out a sharp cry, his body tensing as he tried to pull away. Geralt tightened his grip, holding him steady while Lambert continued to murmur reassurances.

“It’s okay,” Geralt said firmly, his hand still stroking Aiden’s hair. As Eskel pushed the plunger down and withdrew the needle, Aiden’s cries turned into soft whimpers. Geralt loosened his hold, and Aiden immediately wriggled free, drunkenly and wobbly climbing and retreating to the rafters of the barn while Lambert tried to stop him, fearing he'd fall again. He perched there, trembling and blankly staring into the void with tears rolling down his face, his ears twitching every once and a while with agitation.

Lambert sighed, running a hand over his face. “I hate this,” he muttered.

“We did what we had to,” Eskel said gently, though his expression was troubled.

Coën fell asleep almost immediately after eating, exhausted from his injuries and infection. Eskel wasn’t far behind, snoring softly on his hay bale. Geralt and Lambert, however, stayed awake, trying to coax Aiden down from his perch with a bowl of stew.

Eventually, the medicine seemed to take effect, and Aiden began to think more clearly. He cautiously climbed down from the rafters, though he kept his distance from the others. He sat with his back to them, nibbling at the stew in silence, refusing to meet their eyes.

Lambert approached slowly, sitting down beside him. “Let’s take this off for the night, it’s not good for it to be covered 24/7” he said as he reached for Aiden's eyepatch, but the Cat Witcher flinched away.

The rejection stung, but Lambert didn’t push.

“I’m sorry,” Lambert said quietly. “I didn’t want to do that to you, with what you’ve been through.”

Aiden didn’t respond, his ears flattened against his head. But the fact that he’d come down at all was a small victory. Lambert decided to give him space, hoping that with time, Aiden would forgive him.

Outside, the horrifying scream of an unfamiliar creature echoed through the hills. Geralt’s eyes narrowed as he stared out the barn window. “It’s close,” he said.

“Good,” Lambert muttered, his voice low. “I need something to stab.”