genshin impact headcanons

dadtore with his germ-ridden adopted child

gn reader, child reader, not proofread, also written at one am 😭

originally this was gonna be another ramble but I was like this could be cute let's write it. as for the name I actually have no idea largely because when I wrote child reader last time I wrote them intentionally without dialogue so I actually didn't even consider it but Dad feels like a very down the road choice

Zandik feels more familiar than Dottore but whether he'd want a kid running around calling him that to everyone is a different question. I think there's a definite Dottore to Dad pipeline
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Perhaps you managed, no thanks to your infinite curiosity, to get into the things he'd tried to keep you from. Dottore thought he'd done everything he could possibly do, but children find a way. When you wake up in the middle of the night to him still up and about, he's surprised to find you look barely awake, unsurprising on its own, but you are unsteady and warm to the touch.

That's not good. You've never been sick before. Dottore pauses, hand practically glued to you as he tries to think of what to do. Should he run you a cold bath? Maybe he should leave you or warm you up more so that you can sweat it out easily. He's not even sure what's wrong with you yet.

You're sleepy, it seems, as you're passed out in Dottore's arms before he can even carry you back to your makeshift bed, breath softening against his skin as your head rests on his shoulder. It's such a natural way for you to settle by now, even after only a few months, that Dottore waits to let go. You feel too warm, too fragile. It is the polar opposite of how cold you were when he found you.

He sets you back in your spot on the couch and wraps your blankets tightly around you. Your face is flushed, and you still look far too addled.

Rest and a lot to drink are enough, but they certainly don't feel like enough as Dottore stares down at you, all curled up amongst your blankets. More than ever, you look like a pathetic newborn kitten stumbling about and too small to do anything but sleep and blink with great effort. It's all in an endearing way. Dottore can't have you dying on him, especially not to a fever, but there's little he can actually do to help you and little that says he should be. Fevers are the kind of thing you have to sweat out, often because they're fighting something else. Dottore knows that well.

"Did you touch anything you weren't supposed to?" he asks. Dottore doesn't recall a time at which you went poking around with a dedication to finding anything or that you didn't cut it out the moment he scolded you.

You slowly shake your head as you register his question. It reassures him, seeing as he can't find a reason to doubt that. You've had very few problems with honesty before today. You're trustworthy enough not to interrogate you.

"Then you got it from someone else," he concludes. "You're not uncomfortable?"

Again, you shake your head once the question sets in. That's the best you'll get as you are. Whatever this fever is trying to fight off is not something you found in a petri dish and probably came from your disagreeable habit of being far too welcoming to strangers in the lab. If nothing else, he can find comfort in the fact he won't spend the next few hours worrying if you've contracted a deadly disease or greatly repel properties of the abyss. You're still very safe right here where he's able to watch over you.

Dottore takes a moment to lay you down, a vaguely tender show of practically pushing you over as you've dozed off to sleep again in the time it takes him to act. Dottore collects the mess of blankets around you and pulls them over you, opting to keep you from getting cold unless you get worse or throw them off in your sleep. He finds his overcoat bunched at your feet and drapes that on top of the blankets too, your favourite item of comfort and what keeps you most warm.

Dottore sits beside you in the tiny space between your feet and the edge of the couch. There is just enough room for him. His hand rests against your leg as he waits, watching your chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. He is pleased to see you sleep well despite the circumstances.

That coat had once been wrapped around you, cold and shivering, and it engulfed you with fabric to spare. Dottore doesn't mind sharing it with you now.