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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 16 hours ago

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Wishing on Golden Stars [6]

His Name

genre: isekai, slow burn, fluff, hurt/comfort, humor(?)

chapter warning(s)!!!: illness recovery [aches/pains/typical sick symptoms]

chapter w.count: 2.6k

a/n: a bit of a short chapter, but i had no choice since the next planned one is special :3 i didn't wanna shove too much into this one leading up to it hehe

It’s loud. Louder than your foggy mind can handle. Your eyes twitch behind your eyelids, but you can't open them despite your best efforts. Your body feels like it’s made of tungsten on top of being absolutely sore. It was hot one moment, heat covering you in sweat, and the very next it was so cold your only wish was to curl more into the blankets that were covering you. At least you were in a comfortable bed, or that’s what it feels like.

Swallowing feels terrible and you doubt if you tried speaking anything not pathetic would come out. A sense of deja vu creeps into the forefront of your mind above the foggy, dense haze of illness.

A weak cough leaves your throat, followed by a low-toned groan as your face scrunches up. You just barely manage to shift your body around under the covers, but stop short when the aches and pains of fever and not moving for days on end hold you down. Giving up quickly, you let heavy breaths leave your lips and before too long you feel a light pressure on your forehead.

“..ou ..ake..?” There’s a muffled voice swimming around you, feeling like it’s going from right to left and back again. You hear it again and you just groan back. The feeling of something on your forehead moves and soon it's a fleeting presence on your cheek. It’s soft and tickles.

The voice that seems to be addressing your out of focus consciousness feels far away one second and louder the next.; presumably shouting something before once again speaking softly. You feel a whisper on your skin, as if the person trying to speak to you was so close to your face their breath wisps over you. You try once more to pry your eyes open, and you succeed- a little at least.

The world is nothing but a swirl of colors and shapes that loosely take on the form of things you should recognize. You're afraid that if you blink you won't have the strength to open your eyes again, still you take a chance since the light and sudden shift from shut eyes to now not shut eyes after days immediately make them water. Luckily, you can blink successfully without losing eye-opening progress. Your vision slightly clears and the blurry thing in front of you is now at least identifiable as a person.

“/n.. wake…?” You hear the person above you speak again and catch a few more words than before. With little strength, you swivel your head on the pillow it rests on to try and look around. Maybe if you try looking around your senses will clear more. Your attention isn’t allowed to wander far before that light pressure that has remained on your cheek pushes your head gently back to face upwards. “‘On’t stra… urself…” You feel a little proud that you can actually guess what they said that time. ‘Don’t strain yourself’. You comply easily.

There’s a sort of commotion coming and going like waves of sound that slowly get more and more clear. There’s a new presence on the other side of your body that’s followed by a grip on your arm to lift it from under your covers. Your soreness and the new pressure that wasn’t nearly as gentle as the one still lingering around your face makes you wince. Someone barks something at the other and the new pressure around your wrist lessens in intensity.

You must’ve fallen back asleep because the next time you can open your eyes it’s far darker in the room than before. Before, the light caused your eyes to hurt but now the darkness is comfortable. A small flicker of something is detected overhead, or maybe it was behind you? It casts moving shadows along the walls that were much clearer to see than before as well.

You can hear the nighttime crickets chirping and the wind billowing against the house outside. Judging by the faint crackling you hear, you imagine the moving shadows in the dark room are being caused by a candle or something of the sort. Your senses have cleared up a far cry from earlier- if that was even the same day- and you lay there with half lidded, dazed eyes.

Taking a deep breath, the cool night air from the window above you filter in through your mouth and nose. You immediately start coughing from its chill sliding into your throat and sinuses. Something moves in the room with you and soon whatever it is comes to your side. Reopening your eyes from your fit you can see what’s in front of you. Who’s hovering over you with worry etched deeply into his stupidly pretty face.

“M’ ‘ord…?” Your voice is scratchy and weak and just plain pathetic. It’s dry and hurts. Ayato’s face swirls from concern to bewilderment.

“You truly see me now?” He shakes his head in astonishment and makes haste to the small pitcher of water he has his staff change out regularly so that it’s never stale and always ready to drink. He pours one small ochoko and comes back to you. He sets the small, palm sized clay cup down at his side, careful not to catch it on his overly long suit sleeve he hasn’t yet changed out of. “Do you think you can handle sitting up?” His voice is gentle like calm water in a pond. Ayato sounds like he half expects you to reject the idea.

You move your head in affirmation. You want to soothe your throat; it doesn't matter with what. Water, tea, medicine? Something.

“...try,” you whisper. Ayato nods and starts moving. Curling his arm under your shoulders and as gently as he can, the Commissioner starts aiding you. Your tense stomach that tries to pull yourself to sit up strains with a soreness that pings through all the way into your back. When you finally sit up successfully, your bottom feels like it’s about to go numb all the way from your tailbone up to your shoulder blades and you wince as you curl forward to try and counteract all the laying down you’ve been doing.

Your legs hurt, your shoulders ache and your head still has a killer pounding in it. Regardless, it feels leagues better sitting up again after who knows how long. Ayato has shifted so he sits beside the futon you’ve been in for nearly the past week. His arm stays around your shoulders to keep you from flumping back down and also to give you his own strength to lean against.

“Here,” he eases when he brings the ochoko up to your chin. Ayato was fully content on giving you the drink himself, but he quietly huffs when your hands weakly come to cup over his and drink it- more or less- yourself. Taking small sips, Ayato never knew how slowly an ochoko of anything could be drank before. The candle he has burning on the table with his now abandoned work produced three new drips of wax down its column by the time you finish. “Do you need any more?” His voice remains quiet, both from habit of nighttime as well as to not overwhelm you. You shake your head, he sets the ochoko aside again. “How are you feeling?”

“Awful,” you groan. The commissioner chuckles behind you and you feel it through your shoulder that’s pressed under his arm that still remains curled around you.

“You’re already showing much more improvement than before.”

“Before?" Your brows dip in thought. "When it was so noisy?”

“That’s correct. I’m shocked you remember since your consciousness didn’t last.”

“I don’t very well. I could hardly process anything.”

“I imagine.”

Ayato’s thumb starts mindlessly rubbing your shoulder and you let out a deep breath, the first one you were able to take without coughing. His unconscious action was soothing and repetitive and calming. Feeling your body lean back into his side, he wonders if you wish to lay back down again. Shifting, he eases your body back down after adjusting your pillow and apologizes when you wince at the movement.

“If you do not wish to sleep, that’s fine, but please rest some more.”

You blow air through your lips and half roll your eyes. “I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing if how stiff I am is anything to go by.”

“This rest is different from the rest you’ve been experiencing. This time, it’s simply because of the late hour,” he chuckles as he moves your hair from under your neck and once more pulling your covers up. “I won’t be leaving the room, so speak up if you need something… if you can.”

Ayato stands to his feet and moves back and above your line of sight before you hear all the ornaments from his robe move and settle back down. You couldn’t very well move your neck to see where he had gone, but it must not have been far. When you try and stretch your neck up, his hand is immediately hovering over your eyes and pushing your forehead down with his fingertips.

“Do not strain yourself. I’m not far.”

‘Don’t strain yourself’.

The same words you slightly remembered deciphering before falling back asleep. Thinking back, in your haze the way that voice sounded was close to Ayato’s. Perhaps it was him. How long had he been here? How long have you been sick?

“...Were you working?” You're hesitant to start a conversation. Even if you’re ill and recovering, it feels nice having time with him like this. Where you didn’t quite feel like just another retainer under his family.

“I was.”

“Sorry for interrupting it.”

“You aren’t.”

You close your eyes when his fingers finally pull away from your skin and the attempted conversation fizzles out. You have no idea what to talk about. On top of that, your mind was still hazy, and your throat was still sore even with water in your system now. It would be best if you just stay quiet, especially if he was working.

The sounds of him writing words and making tick marks on papers that he flips through accompanied by the sound of the night just outside the window easily relaxed your heavy body. Surely, you’d feel better by the time the sun rises.

“Six days, huh?” The morning came and you're feeling insanely better. Apparently, once your consciousness finally came back to you, recovering was just a matter of time. Sitting in the futon that had been like a cocoon to you the past five days, the morning of the sixth is when Thoma with Ayato- who had briefly stepped out to wash up- came into the room with you awake and upright.

The housekeeper was so thrilled to see you fully conscious and at least a bit mobile that you swear he could’ve burst into tears right then and there at the threshold. He enthusiastically dismisses himself to make something for you to eat- something easy on the stomach- and to tell Ayaka that you've woken up. Ayato returns and takes the reins on filling you in on how long you had been sick now that it wasn’t nighttime.

“Are you sure you have no idea why this keeps happening?” Ayato asks you after you accept the fact that you had been so sick for days that you couldn’t even wake up. Looking at him, you shake your head.

Of course, that isn’t the whole truth.

It was a bit too much of a coincidence that everytime you collapse like this it’s always around the same time you woke up in Ritou from reality. And that every time you do, you have dreams and nightmares swirling together about your life before. One with neon signs, rude customers, gatcha game escapes, and tacky work uniforms.

Based on your basic isekai knowledge, if you had to make an educated guess, it was probably some stupid side effect from whatever transmigration your body went through to get from reality to Teyvat. Of course, even if you could prove it, it would serve no purpose since no one but Aether knows you’re from a whole different world.

Ayato sighs and you shoot him a look. Running one of his hands through his hair, the pale blue strands filter through his fingers and settle in the crooks of his knuckles showing off the side of his face that is usually covered by his bangs. You fight off the heat to your cheeks. He was stupidly pretty, and you can’t even blame your dying feverish delusions for it either- it's just what you genuinely think sober minded.

“You cause me so much grief,” he laments with closed eyes. You’re not one to miss the slight darkness that encases his eyes, meaning that he's had one too many late nights again.

“I apologize.” Fiddling with the fabric of the blanket, you steel your nerves. It might be embarrassing to know that Ayato has aided greatly in your recovery, still you were grateful. Shifting to twist your body towards him you bow your torso in the best show of gratitude you could muster. “Thank you for taking care of me. Please, take some rest for yourself as well, my lord.”

Ayato stares at the top of your lowered head and blinks owlishly at it. He didn’t expect any thanks for doing something that came so naturally to him; taking care of you that is. Dropping his hand from his head, his hair falls back in its place against his face and ear. While appreciative of your show of gratitude, his lips formed a thin line across his face.

“Are you aware just how much I dislike it when you do that?” You lift your head, looking at him quizzically.

“When I get sick?” Speaking as a friend, of course it’d be natural for him to be unhappy about your health. Hell, it wasn’t like you were happy with it either!

With the same firm expression on his handsome face, Ayato lifts from his place sitting comfortably beside your futon to his knee. One of his gloved hands moves to cup around your ear, sliding down the curve of your jaw and stopping under your chin. His index finger keeps it lifted so your eyes stay locked with his as his nose brushes against yours. The sudden lack of proximity has your breath taken away by his own.

“When you address me like that. You know my name, use it.”

Your words become clogged in your throat. Ayato’s eyes shift to the door when he hears something you cannot due to the buzzing in your ears. His hand drops from your jaw and he stands himself up to his full height. Seeing you stare dazed into space makes him chuckle as he opens the door before Thoma has the chance to knock, shocking the ginger haired man.

“Make sure she eats everything, Thoma.”

“Of course! I plan to,” he announces. Ayato nods in approval before leaving with a bit more pep in his step than he’s had all week long. Thoma enters the room and only after setting the tray of easy-going sustenance in front of you does he finally notice your zoned out expression. “Hello? Teyvay to y/n!” He’s waving his hand in front of your face.

It’s only when his hand comes to your forehead to see if maybe your fever is acting up again when you finally return to the ground from the clouds you were previously lost in. Your food is almost cold by the time you bring your hands away from your burning face to actually eat.

Somewhere in the residence, one very smug commissioner sits more elated than usual.

a/n pt.2: WHEW amiright fellas

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#ayato x reader #ayato kamisato #genshin impact #genshin impact ayato #ayato x you #ayato x y/n #ayato fluff #ayato angst #ayato comfort #ayato hurt/comfort #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #kamisato ayato

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 7 days ago

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Hi hi hii! I hope all is well with you :3 I really enjoy your Boothill fics, they bring me so much joy! If it's possible, could I request something?

I've had this idea in my mind about mechanic!reader overworking themselves, not eating, sleeping, or hydrating as they should be as they can forget to tend to their own needs at times...(sadly you can't solely sustain yourself on candy and sugar)

Then Boothill comes to visit them and finds mechanic!reader in an exhausted state, basically forcing them to eat actual food and rest up.

a/n: 1.8k w.count - cw!!: mentions of being awake a long time and not eating!!

boothill just finished up two different jobs he was on, one solo and another pitching in to help a pal that was conveniently in the area. after such hard and capable work, he figures he's owed a quick pass by your shop. that, and something in the back of his head was nagging at him to swing by- and it wasn't because of his neuro-chip.

stepping through the shop's entrance, the door pushes open and the bell above the door chimes. before he can open his jaw and call out to you, searching you out in the premise, he instead starts yelling in shocked noises.

from above, a small mass of something emerges from the shadows of the ceiling. the exposed pipes that line the walls are the perfect place for something small, like critters or rodents, to trek and hide on.

the cowboy half expected a racoon or something to land on his head. what he didn't expect was the feeling of metal bashing into his face instead of a mass of fur and talons.

"son of a-!" he almost fully curses. taking two steps back in lieu of the 'attack', he raises his hand and grabs the metal clinging onto his face and hair. "get offa' me!" he hisses.

the sound of familiar beeps has him using his grip a bit more carefully. working on cooling down his insides that had been fired up into a friendzy, boothill successfully pulls ore off of his face to look at him properly.

"the hell do you think you're doin', eh lil fella?" the little assistant robot that usually stuck to you like glue flails in the air as boothill holds him between his finger and thumb by the sides of his rectangular head.

the expression the robot has on its face was accompanied by it's flinging arms and legs: [＞﹏＜]!!

"ey, ey, ey, lil dude, chill out."

boothill marches to the desk that acts less like a reception desk and more like a display counter. setting ore down, its flailing stops but the squeezed expression stays put. the cyborg bend at the waist, laying one of his arms over the counter to get- more or less- eyelevel with the little helper with the other going to his hip.

"okay, what's the problem. where's your fixer?" boothill asks. its a joke between the two of you that you act more like ore's guardian than owner. so, in regard to your identity, to ore you became his 'fixer'. ore points one of its metal coated arms behind him and one of its legs stomps. "in that back?" ore nods. "alright, let's go check on 'em shall we?"

ore, instead of taking a ride on boothill's shoulder or being carried in his palm, hops from the counter and rushes around through the doorways that you always keep propped open during shop hours. boothill struts his way through the shop, leisurely following the fella.

as he makes his way through the shop, boothill finally notes the lack of noise he's so used to hearing. no knocking on metal, or drilling of tools. no hint of work, not even your murmuring echoed through the building. it was just quiet.

well now he's just starting to worry.

adding a half-step to his stride, boothill follows the beeping provided from ore and finds himself coming through the cracked doors of your far back work room.

ore is already up on your desk thanks to your installation of small metal-sheeted pullies you made for it. its standing by your head that rests on your arms, folded over your desktop. both of its arms push against your skull, fretting in digital sounds.

walking in, boothill makes his way to your back, placing a gentle touch to the space between your shoulders. his free hand pushes against your desktop, leaning over to try and see if your face was peeking out of your arm pillow situation at all. you were out like a light, but you should be sleeping in bed.

"ey, sugar," boothill softly calls. his hand rubs against your back, rustling your shirt to try gently coaxing you awake. it gets him no where. "hey," he tries again. with a bit of a harsher shake of your shoulder, you bolt upwards. with a gasp from both you and boothill, ore stumbles backward onto its metal backend from the force in which you eject him from your skull. you whip your head back and forth, blinking wearily and rapidly before you finally register boothill's arrival.

"the hell, when did you get here?" your voice is groggy and rushed, and if the ranger hadn't just jostled you awake from your desk, he'd find it pretty cute.

"does it matter? why the hell you sleepin' at your desk? you have a bed."

"what? oh, no, it's fine." you rub your palms into your eyes, blinking back the black splotches it causes when you pull them away. "i just dozed off in the middle of something."

"uh huh." boothill is unconvienced. "you wouldn't be neglectin' your needs just for some work, now would yah?"

"what? no. no, i'm fine. perfectly healthy."

"i didn't ask if you were healthy." you don't offer him anything more and he sighs. shifting his weight, he puts on hand on his hip. "ore," he beckons the robot and it answers with a beep. "when's the last time your fixer here took care of themself?" there's a spinning dial on his digital screened face before a number pops up.

[21 hours ago !!]

boothill's jaw drops in disbelief.

your jaw drops in betrayal.

you jump from your stool, palms against your worktable while ore's 'face' lights up with exclamation points [!!!!!] before scampering away from your ire.

"are you serious right now?" boothill bites as you look over your shoulder at him. his arms are crossed, and a frown settles on his lips. it's rare you're on the receiving end of a scolding since it's usually you telling him off for being reckless or the like when he comes in for repairs. you kind of hate it to be honest.

"it's fineee," you draw out, huffing as you run your hand over your face. you have a headache, and standing up so quickly didn't help.

boothill clicks his tongue. clearly you were in no mood to listen. it dawns on him that ore's little attack from the entrance was probably him trying to persuade potential clientele away so you could rest. but seeing boothill come through the doors, the robot instead took his arrival as his saving grace.

boothill is a hardened galaxy ranger. but he also happens to be a big softie too.

"have it your way," the cowboy shrugs before pushing you away from your workstation by your shoulder. getting just enough distance between you and your job, he bends at his knees, hooks one of his arms around your side and hoists you up. you find yourself face first against his back with his tattered, red scarf brushing your cheek.

you feel and hear the contraptions and hinges in his body hiss and work to accomodate your weight over his shoulder.

"boothill!" you push your palms against the dip of his back, pushing your body up as much as you can as he starts carting you off.

"ore, be a lil' helper and grab your fixer something to put in their stomach. one of them small shakes or somethin' will do." ore, with its marching orders, obeys and dashes off once again. you almost regret that you programmed ore to obey boothill too.

in truth, boothill would prefer food in your stomach, but ore is about 2 fists tall. a prepackaged supplement from your fridge will have to suffice.

you don't fight him as much as he expected as he marches to your room where he rolls you off his shoulder and onto your mattress. landing with a soft thud, you dont have time to recover before he's throwing a pillow from the floor at your face.

"umph! hey, quit it!" you hiss, pushing the pillow aside. the ranger takes a seat at the foot of your bed as you shuffle to sit up and bring your legs in so he doesn't crush them. his knees are perched apart and his arms crossed. he watches the door, saying nothing, waiting for ore to come in. "are you really upset about this?"

"do i seem happy?" he shoots back.

"you dont need to get lippy with me," you bite as he rolls his eyes.

"i apparently do. not taking care of yourself properly? you can't be doing that, sugar." his scolding tone softens the more he talks. seeing how high strung he is about this, you feel almost guilty. you start picking at the fabric of your shirt.

ore soon brings you in something to consume that's better than nothing at all and helps sooth the post-sleep irritation in your throat. you didn't realize how scratchy it felt until you were forced to.

you're not sure when it happens, but at some point boothill has you laying down properly in your bed with a new change of clothes. and not too much later, you're sleeping before you could even try to fight back.

ore takes the empty container that was once full of your meal substitute and trots off to discard of it. boothill sits at the edge of your bed, where he's been planted the whole time. the cowboy observes you from a lean, his elbows resting on his metal knees.

you're breathing easy, which is good, but he still grimaces at the tiredness gathered under your closed, relaxed eyes. with your face washed of muck and soot, he can see your fatigue clearer.

boothill groans quietly, lowering his head as one of his hands comes to brush the hair off the side of his face and ruffle the strands together, definitely knotting it up. when he brings his hand back down, he winces when some strands pull from his scalp- his whole head is sensitive, so he should've known better.

when it seems like you're down for the count and won't wake up the moment he leaves you alone, boothill stands from your bed. the blanket is rumpled from where he's been sitting, and the impression of his presence is visible to his one good eye. oddly, it's comforting.

lifting his hat, he swings it down off his head and sets it gently on your bed side table that's littered with all sorts of odd and ends. along with a barely working alarm clock that has one of the digital numbers flickering in and out. you'll have to rewire that soon. he leaves it with you as he dismisses himself to let you rest.

beyond your bedroom, ore beeps and bops with noises as boothill sits at the reception desk. his legs crossed at the ankles and propped up on the desk with his arms crossed as he... talks? with ore.

any customer that walks in is met with a mean glare and a harsh 'get out' before he's shooing them out the door.

his nine-mililmeter is only on the desk next to him for some.... extra incentive.

a/n pt.2: i tried incorporating a few of ore's expressions with emoticons. is that lame? too cheesy? who knows. i love that little robot tho. [anyways sorry this rq took so long anon hnnnnng]

#icymi #boothill x reader #boothill fluff #boothill comfort #boothill hurt/comfort #boothill angst #boothill x you #boothill x y/n #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail boothill #boothill hsr #hsr boothill #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n

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