Redamancy
Latin. verb. the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full.
Fandom: The Witcher
Pairing: Lambert x Reader
Word Count: 1623
Rating: T
ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24937177
Masterlist
a/n: Reader Request: By chance can you do a Lambert oneshot of him trying to court the reader?
Tags: @whitewolfandthefox @havenoffandoms @mishafaye ( Add yourself to my taglist here! )
Warnings: nothing outside of the ordinary swearing, this is fluff at it’s finest. also, this is my first time writing lambert, so let me know what you do/don’t like!
Lambert tries his best to woo you, relying on old traditions to hold your heart.
You huffed, trying and failing to blow the stray strand of hair out of your eyes. You’d been bent over the counter for upwards of an hour, mixing and kneading wares for the next week. The sweet dough is soft under your fingers, stretching as you dig and pull at the mixture. The dough sticks to your hands and you know that flour dusts across your cheeks like a bizarre set of freckles. You hum lightly as you work, letting yourself be lulled into a peaceful mindlessness.
You look up for a moment, stretching the muscles in your shoulders and down your back. Your workbench is nestled along the back wall of your home, a small window just above overlooking the sprawling valley of flowers in the distance. While your little cottage is your slice of paradise, you can’t help thinking that it feels so empty, especially when he’s gone.
You shake your head and return to your hunched position as you push and punch into the dough. Your mind has always had a penchant for wandering, but you’re determined to focus and get your breads finished before the night is over. Just as you’re about to slice the large batch into smaller portions for baking, you sense something in the room behind you.
Before you can turn around, though, a large body leans against your back and a hand cups your arse. “Damn, that bread looks almost as delicious as you,” the man growls into your ear before nipping at your shoulder.
You feel your heart rate settle as you turn to face the familiar voice. Lambert keeps his hands on you as you spin, glancing along your hips as a smug smile dances across his lips.
“Lambert,” you chide teasingly, “you know how I hate surprises.”
His golden eyes glint in the late afternoon sun, mirthful and full of a joy that he keeps reserved just for you. Lambert had followed the scent of sweet baked goods one afternoon last summer, and ever since he had found you up to your elbows in batter, he hasn’t been able to stay away for long.
“Ah, I know, love, but when I saw you bent over that table, I just couldn’t help myself…” he leans and whispers into your ear, capturing some of the soft flesh of your neck lightly between his teeth. You sink into his embrace, careful to rest your elbows on his arms so as to not cover him in dough and flour.
“I’m glad you’re back, I miss you so when you leave,” you murmur into his neck as you plant gentle kisses along his skin.
“Mhm, there’s truly no place I’d rather be,” he kisses along your jaw before meeting your lips, something sweet and delicate barely suppressing the insatiable hunger in his embrace.
Regrettably, you pull back, apologetically meeting his confused gaze. “Let me wash this off, then we can continue.” You place a knuckle under his chin as you turn out of his grasp with a cheeky grin.
You step outside, Lambert following behind as you stride towards the well in your yard. Before you can reach for the handle, the Witcher hoists the pail from the depths below. You can’t help but watch appreciatively as his muscles swell under his shirt, flexing and shifting with immeasurable strength.
As he bends to place the bucket on the ground you rush behind him, planting your hand on his arse and squeezing, Lambert startling back upright at the sensation.
“Just returning the favor, dear,” you smirk, pulling your hand back to see a perfect outline of flour in its place on the dark fabric. Lambert chuckles darkly, trying to decide if it was dark enough out to just take you right here in the yard without your neighbors seeing.
Deciding otherwise, he moves to your side as you dip your hands into the pail. The cool water is refreshing in the warm afternoon, invigorating waves of energy soaring through your skin. You hurriedly wash away the evidence of your craft, water splashing out of the bucket as you scrub.
Satisfied, you stand once more and take Lambert’s hand, threading your fingers through his. Both of you have hands calloused from years of work and hardship, but for very different reasons. Under your fingers, you can feel his heart thrumming under the skin. A witcher’s heartbeat is always slow, true, but whenever you touch Lambert, hold him close with tender gestures and low words only for him, you can feel it beat just the slightest amount quicker.
You pull him back inside, letting him go once you get past the door so that you may cover the dough. Ah, you think to yourself, so much for getting it all finished tonight.
When you turn back around, Lambert is...kneeling?
“Darling, what the fuck are you doing?” You giggle, reaching out to pull him to stand. He shakes his head, staying where he is on the floor.
“First of all, watch your fucking language.” You laugh heartily, and Lambert does as well. You relish these moments, when the great supposedly impenetrable walls that encase his heart crack and crumble. His laugh is...unique, more of an aggressive bark than what would normally be considered a sound of joy. You know better though, the sound warming your soul as Lambert clears his throat and composes himself, looking up at you with his striking eyes the color of the richest sunset.
“Ahem,” he starts, and you raise your eyebrows as you hold back a smirk. “I want to be honest with you; I truly have no idea what the hell I am doing.”
Your chest shakes with your laughter, but you hold it in, pursing your lips as you huff through your nose.
“Now, I had the bard help me with this bit, ‘cause I want to get it right and he’s poncy enough to know the proper method of this.” He reaches into his jerkin, pulling a neatly folded slip of parchment into his hand. He holds it aloft in front of him, his free hand flying out in a grand sweeping motion.
“‘Dearest beloved, I yearn to dedicate an entire volume of poetry to the enrapturing visage of your beauty, but alas I am no poet. So I shall sing your praises in the form of this letter, of which I will read aloud for the world to hear.’”
You can’t help but smile a bit at his antics, not sure if Jaskier actually gave him proper advice or was just fucking with him. Either way, you felt tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes at the sweetness of the gesture.
“‘The moment I first stumbled into your life, the sky had only just opened enough for the great glory of the sun to shine onto the petals of flowers left dewy from the dawn fog.’” Lambert’s eyes never left the page as he read, and a slight blush crept up his neck as he continued along. He never was one for grand declarations, but you’re sure that you’ll remember this moment for the rest of your life.
“‘...and that is why, dearest of hearts, I desperately plead for you to take my heart as yours, carry it with you wherever you may go, and grant me the honor of holding your heart as mine.’”
At the final word, Lambert returns his gaze back to you, nervous and vulnerable in a way that you’ve never seen in him. You close the distance between the two of you and sink to your knees, meeting him at eye level.
Wordlessly, you snake your hand to the back of his head and pull him to you, placing a gentle kiss to his lips. His hands wrap around your waist as he pulls you flush against him, swiftly deepening the kiss as he licks into your mouth. He steals your breath with every movement, his hands desperately grasping onto any part of you they can. You moan into his mouth and move your hands down his chest, moving to undo the laces keeping his jerkin closed.
As you begin to untie them, Lambert pulls back with another sharp bark of laughter. “I suppose I can take that as a yes?”
You undo the knot and slide the armor from his shoulders, letting it pool on the ground as his hands move to the delicate buttons on your shirt.
“Oh, my love, you truly didn’t have to do all of that, my heart has been yours since I caught you smiling at me from across the market, before you really let me see you smile,” you murmur against his neck pulling at any bit of fabric you can reach to try and remove it from his body.
“Mm, well, you deserve so much more than I can offer, so I figured that I should at least try to court you properly.” Lambert’s voice is low, shame tinging the edges of his words.
You move to face him, taking his face in your hands and gently stroking the long scar that runs down his cheek. “You listen here, I don’t give a shit what I do or don’t deserve, what matters is what I want, and what I want is you, only you, my Lambert.”
You move forward to kiss him sweetly once more, pulling him to stand with you. Suddenly, you feel him bend, and the next thing you know you’re in the air, Lambert carrying you in his arms to your bed. You laugh into his lips, resolving to never let go of the sealed up, hardened heart that has begun to melt and turn soft that you have been given.
