LOST | 20th Anniversary
↳ On September 22, 2004 at 4:16 P.M., Oceanic Flight 815, carrying 324 passengers, deviated from its original course and disappeared over the Pacific Ocean. All passengers were missing, presumed dead.
Hey :D First of all, I want to say that I love your writing!! Second, could you please write a fluffy light hearted piece with Netflix!Eskel, Geralt, and Lambert trying to figure out how to properly care for Eskel's 100% human significant other while she is sick? Thank you so much
A/N: Hi babe! I hope you like this :)
Warnings: just fluffy, sick!reader, clueless wolves but that's how we love them
Word Count: 1.2k
***
“What the fuck is that sound?” Lambert furrowed his brow as he entered the Great Hall.
“Y/N’s got a bad cough.” Coen nodded in your direction.
You sat at the end of the table closest to the fire, a cloak wrapped tightly around your shoulders in an effort to keep warm.
“Not the cough. The fucking high pitched whistling noise. I can hear it all the way in the kitchen."
“She’s wheezing too.” Geralt offered you a cup of hot tea.
“How the hell did you get sick? You were perfectly fine last night.” The red haired witcher took a seat across from Coen.
“There’s a-a draft in Eskel’s room.” Your teeth chattered as you spoke.
“A draft? Don’t tell me you sound this close to death just because of a little wind.”
“How much-much longer do you think E-Eskel will be?” You looked to Geralt.
“Shouldn’t be much longer.” Geralt paused for a moment. A little grin came to the White Wolf’s face as he shook his head gently.
“What is-is it?”
“Can hear him cursing the gods up and down.” Coen chuckled.
“Where is the ugly bastard?” Lambert asked. You sent him a glare out of the corner of your eyes, which made him bark out a laugh. “You know, you aren’t so frightening when you sound like shit, Y/N.”
“The second-The second I’m better, I’m going-going to kick your a-ass.”
“He’s trying to fix the draft in his room.” Geralt answered Lambert’s question.
“Is he up there by himself? He’ll bring the whole fuckin’ keep down on our heads.”
“Vesemir is with him.” Coen shook his head. “He was afraid of the same.”
You stood up and shuffled closer to the fire. You were frozen straight to the bone.
“Any closer, Y/N, and you’ll be in the fire.” Coen warned you.
“Maybe then-then I won’t feel so-so fucking cold.” You carefully sat down right in front of the fire. “I swear, my-my toes are frostbitten.”
“Have you tried any of Vesemir’s remedies he used to make for us when we were wee lads?” Lambert asked.
“Fuck no.”
“She’s afraid of the taste.” Geralt spoke.
“I-I have- I have no interest in drinking drowner spit. I’d sooner-I’d sooner die.”
“Who’s trying to make you drink drowner spit?” Eskel spoke as he and Vesemir entered the Great Hall.
“Of all the things we’ve ingested, I think drowner spit was the best one.” Lambert joked. Since you were ill, your stomach was weaker than usual, and Lambert’s words made you gag. He let out a boisterous laugh.
“If she vomits, Lambert, you’re going to be cleaning it up.” Vesemir told him.
“She’s been covered in fiend shit and didn’t even flinch, Vesemir. I don’t think she’d throw up over drowner spit.
You gagged at the memory, bringing your hand up to your mouth.
Eskel smacked Lambert on the back of his head as he passed the witcher.
“Quit being a horse’s ass.”
The old witcher moved towards you. Once he was close enough, Vesemir placed the back of his hand upon your forehead.
“Your skin is blazing.”
“I-I feel cold as-as an ice troll’s bullocks.”
Eskel knelt down beside you, brushing pieces of hair behind your ear.
“Take her up to the room, Eskel. You boys help your brother. Gather any blankets we have. I’m going to make something to try to break the fever.”
“That wheezing is gettin’ worse, Vesemir.” Eskel kept his eyes on you. “Can you breathe alright, doll?”
“Yes.”
“She’s been taking short breaths for the last ten minutes.”
You glared at the White Wolf. He was only going to make Eskel worry even more.
“Take her upstairs. Make sure she’s comfortable.” Vesemir started to make his way towards the door to the kitchen.
“How do you know how to take care of a human, old man?” Lambert stood to his feet, readying himself to go find blankets for you.
“Before a witcher becomes a witcher, he is human. I’ve had my fair share of nursing boys back from the brink of death.”
“We’ll just call you Nurse Vesemir from now on.”
“Come on.” Coen chuckled at his brother, giving him a push towards the door that would take them out of the Great Hall.
Eskel picked you up and started to follow the wolves. With his arms around you and the heat radiating off of him, you began to close your eyes.
“How are you holding out?” Geralt asked, following right behind Eskel.
“I’ve been better.” He looked down at you. “Was stupid of me not to think about that fucking draft.”
“The keep is full of drafts, Eskel. You couldn’t have known it would make her this sick.”
“It was her first night here, Geralt. I should’ve known the cold would be too much for her.”
“Y/N is the first human we have had in this keep since those who destroyed it were here. Don’t blame yourself.”
Eskel said nothing in return.
***
You were placed down on Eskel’s bed. The witcher sat down on the edge of the bed, brushing your hair out of your face. Pieces of your hair seemed to stick to your damp skin.
“Are you hot, doll?”
You grumbled a little, shaking your head ever so slightly.
“Still-Still cold.”
“She’s sweating, Geralt.” Eskel told him quietly. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”
“Perhaps it’s the fever.”
“Alright, lads.” Coen and Lambert entered the room with their arms full of blankets.
“We’ve got everything in the keep.” Lambert placed his arm full at the foot of the bed.
“Is that my blanket, Lambert?” Geralt furrowed his brow, spotting a familiar blanket in the pile.
“As a matter of fact, it is. We don’t run a bed and breakfast, so blankets are few and far between.”
“Luckily Vesemir had a stash in a chest in his room.” Coen said.
“It’s hotter than a fucking blacksmith’s shop in here.” Lambert huffed.
“Got the fire going to keep the room warm.” Eskel nodded towards the hearth.
The wolves fell silent as they looked at you.
Your eyes had fluttered shut again. Every breath you took sounded terrible.
“Is that her lungs that sound like that?” Coen asked quietly.
“I think.” Eskel sighed gently.
Geralt silently moved to sit on the chest at the foot of the bed. Lambert and Coen shared a look before finding places to sit as well. Coen took the chair that rested in the corner of the room and moved it a little closer to the bed. Lambert ushered Geralt to one side of the chest so he could sit there as well.
“You boys don’t have to stay.” Eskel told them, blue eyes flickering from brother to brother.
“She’s one of us.” Coen said.
“Yeah. If that was anyone of us, we wouldn’t be leaving.” Lambert added.
Eskel gave them a little smile. It warmed his heart to know his brothers thought of you as one of their own.
“Who-Who knew you boys could be-could be so sweet?” You teased, your eyes staying shut. You tried not to laugh but you couldn’t help yourself and a terrible cough shook your shoulders.
“Easy there, doll.” Eskel placed his hand on your shoulder. You placed your hand over top of his, squeezing his fingers.
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