a shoulder to rest on ◞❤︎ ft. varka x gn!reader
The training field was quiet that morning, the grass still a little damp from the early dew. A soft breeze moved through the yard, stirring the flags tied to the posts around the practice grounds. You stood alone in the middle of the field with a wooden sword in your hands, trying to remember the stance you had been shown earlier. Your feet felt wrong, your shoulders were stiff, and the sword felt heavier every time you lifted it. You swung it forward anyway, the blade cutting through the air with a soft whoosh. It didn’t feel right. You sighed and tried again, hoping you could get it right before anyone saw how clumsy you looked.
“You’re squeezing the handle too tight.”
The deep voice behind you made you jump a little. When you turned around, you saw Varka walking toward you across the field. He was impossible to miss — tall, broad, and confident of himself with the kind of easy strength that made people move out of his way without thinking. The morning light caught the side of his face as he got closer, and you couldn’t help noticing the sharp line of his strong jaw when he smiled. It made him look even more confident somehow, even though the smile itself was warm.
“I… I was just practicing,” you said quickly, feeling a bit shy now that he had caught you.
“I can see that,” he said with a quiet chuckle.
He stepped up beside you, close enough that you could feel how much bigger he was than you. Still, his presence didn’t feel heavy or scary like the rumors made it sound. He gently reached out and moved your hands on the sword, loosening your grip just a little so your fingers sat more naturally around the handle. His movements were slow and careful, like he didn’t want to rush you.
“Like this,” he said, nudging your elbow slightly.
You nodded and tried the stance again. This time when you swung the sword, it felt smoother. Not perfect, but better. Varka clapped his hands once in approval, his grin returning.
“There you go. Much better.”
The praise made your chest feel warm. You had been nervous about training in front of him before, but he didn’t act impatient at all. Every time you messed something up, he just showed you again like it wasn’t a big deal.
You practiced together for a while after that. Sometimes he stood beside you showing the motion slowly so you could copy him. Other times he stood behind you and guided your arms through the movement. Each time you managed to get something right, he nodded or gave you a small bit of encouragement. Somehow that made you want to keep trying, even when your arms started getting sore.
Eventually, though, you couldn’t ignore the ache in your shoulders anymore. Your grip loosened and you lowered the sword with a tired breath. Varka noticed right away.
“Alright,” he said, glancing at your arms. “That’s enough for today.”
You both walked over to a wooden bench at the edge of the field. The sun had climbed higher now, warming the quiet courtyard. You sat down first, rubbing your sore arms while the tension slowly left your shoulders. A moment later Varka sat beside you, the bench creaking softly under his weight as he leaned back and stretched.
“You did well,” he said.
You looked over at him, surprised. Up close like this, you noticed little things you hadn’t before — the way the light hit the side of his face, the shape of his strong jawline when he smiled slightly, and the relaxed way he carried himself even after training.
“Really?” you asked.
“Really,” he said simply.
Hearing that from him made you feel oddly proud. The warm sun and quiet air made everything feel calm. After a few minutes the tired feeling in your body started catching up with you. Your eyes grew heavier, and without really thinking about it, you leaned a little closer to him.
Your head slowly tipped to the side until it rested against his shoulder.
Hearing that from him made you feel oddly proud. The warm sun on your skin, the quiet of the training field, and the slow ache in your arms made your body feel heavy in the best kind of way. Your eyes fluttered, and without thinking, you leaned a little closer to him, drawn to the steady warmth of his shoulder.
Your head slowly tipped to the side until it rested against him. The heat of his body pressed softly against yours, and you could feel the gentle strength in his chest beneath you. Somehow, he didn’t feel intimidating right now—he felt… safe. Like a giant, warm, slightly dopey puppy that somehow also is a big and strong man. Your breathing slowed, shallow and soft, and you let yourself sink a little into the comfort of him.
Varka froze for a second, his sharp blue eyes blinking down at you. Then he relaxed, letting out a soft, amused hum. He didn’t move an inch, letting you rest against him. He kept his arm along the back of the bench, shoulder steady, like a living pillow. You felt his warmth everywhere, and it made your chest tingle in a way you weren’t expecting.
“Well… looks like I really wore you out,” he murmured, voice low and easy, the kind of sound that makes you want to curl up closer. He glanced at you with a grin that was part teasing, part pure affection, like he was thinking, ‘aww, my little sleepyhead!’
Instead of moving, he stayed exactly where he was. Every small shift of your head made him conscious, but he didn’t care. He wanted this. He wanted to feel you pressed against him, even just a little. And honestly, he had to admit—he liked it more than he thought he would.
The breeze moved softly through the grass, but all your attention was on him. Varka rested one arm on the back of the bench and let his shoulder stay steady for you, eyes soft as he glanced down at your sleeping face. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, playful and warm, like he was proud of having you close. You looked so tiny and soft against him that he couldn’t stop the little protective ache in his chest.
After a while, you stirred, blinking slowly awake. Your first thought was how warm and safe you felt pressed against him. Then you realized your head had been resting right on his broad shoulder. You sat up quickly, cheeks burning like fire.
“I… I’m sorry!” you whispered, flustered. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you—”
Varka blinked once, then let out a deep, soft laugh that made your stomach flip. It sounded so warm and easy, like the world had melted into this moment and you were the only two people left in it.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said, leaning just a tiny bit closer, the sharp line of his jaw brushing near your hair. “Honestly… you kind of made my day.”
“But I just—”
He reached over and placed one of his big, warm hands on top of your head, brushing his thumb gently against your temple. His fingers were huge but careful, threading through your hair like it was precious. “Next time,” he said with a grin that reminded you of a happy puppy wagging its tail, “if you’re planning on using me as a pillow, at least warn me first… I might just hold onto you forever.”
Your face burned hotter than ever, and your heart thumped in a way that made you dizzy. But the way he was looking at you—soft, fond, and a little playful—made everything feel safe, warm, and ridiculously, perfectly nice. Sitting there beside him, pressed against his strong shoulder, it didn’t feel embarrassing at all.
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