🖤 Pairing: Male!Summer!Fairy!Oc x Fem!Dark Witch!Reader
☀️ Genre: Romance
🖤 Warning: Vorarephilia, Mircrophillia, Soft Vore
☀️ Summary: You eat your new tiny lover who just happens to have a fetish with giantesses.
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"Mmmm..." You moaned as you sucked on the torso of your fairy tiny boyfriend, who was apparently trying to hold himself jerking off while his upper half was inside your mouth. "...never thought you pesty little bugs would actually taste like those sweet little berries. Is the flavor with you mango or tropical? Since half of your kind are based off the summer season..."
For a fairy, he barely fits halfway into your mouth as his legs dangles freely on the outside. He was literally the size of your size of a Ken doll that you could hardly fit in the palm of your fists.
"I could barely get a word from you by smothering you with breast, that are twice your size when I had squish you between them. But this kind of torture might have you chirping, immediately..."
Little did you know, Sunburst, the fairy you had found in your room, was rather enjoying this method of torture, let alone fear it.
Of course, he doesn't let's you know that he enjoys the feeling of the moist & softness your tongue as you twitch & swirl him around inside as he is pulled close to the back of your throat, threatening to send him into a non-escapable trap, worst than a cage.
"One last chance, what were you doing sneaking around inside my house?" You half growled, while still sucking on you, harder this time. "...Either you answer, or you spend the rest of your pathetic fairy life churning inside my guts."
When he didn't answered, and you decided to make good on those words.
You started pushing him closer to your gabbing maw as you start sucking his legs inside the more he gets pulled close to your throat.
The unsuspecting fairy didn't seemed to notice as he was too hazy on pleasuring himself as he was coated in your saliva.
And by the time he was getting close to coming on to himself, he was inside your throat as his legs clung on the surface of your tongue after they were fully pulled in and you smacked your plumped lips closed, shielding him inside, and possibly along with his fate.
Plumping your lips a few times, you played with the fairy inside your throat by squeezing his small form as you slowly, little by little, as he goes further down.
You parted your lips open, his legs, already inside and laying flat on your tongue, you sucked in a short amount of air for the fairy just to mocked him, before closing them for the last time to send him down.
By the time Sunburst was reaching his climax, you pushed him firther to the back of your throat, and in a matter of seconds...
(GULP!)
...He was gone.
...To be continued
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● Author's Note: Will be drawing my oc of Sunburst and will most likely make a fanfic of this later this year.
Pov witch reader doing a tarot reading for funnies on there break and pulls the tower card right as stanley gets on the island and when suika wakes up from stone she learns how to use the deck and keeps the world card on the top when she's not using it
“Manipulator of minds, you are silent,” Tengen remarked.
On a white expanse, y/n felt the world vanish. Every molecule in her body shook with disbelief as the deity waited before her.
“I do not understand.”
Tengen did not move; their voice only boomed through the cavernous aether, “The world will experience great suffering if Ryomen Sukuna takes Yuji Itadori’s body. There is a way to resolve this matter.” This place was eerie, and Y/n hated the way her skin prickled at every word leaving Tengen’s mouth.
Y/n knelt before her goddess, never meeting Tengen's eyes. An object floated into view. A silver necklace with a deep plum pendant. Y/n studied the jewelry but could not name the piece nor understand its purpose.
For the first time, Y/n looks up at the no-faced deity. “What is this?”
Tengen began to pace the ivory expanse and explained, “In the Heian era, your family, the Tairo clan, were known for an extremely spiritual usage of jujutsu sorcery. This is why your technique is an oddity in the modern world. Valuable, but strange.”
The necklace drifted toward Y/n. With a subtle gesture from Tengen, it clasped itself around Y/n’s neck.
“You are reincarnated, and you know this. Your ancestor, Chihiro Tairo, possessed minor jujutsu abilities and practiced dream walking.” Y/n’s confusion deepened. Dream walking was never mentioned in her jujutsu training. Despite being 23, she would remember such a technique.
“This necklace belonged to her. She could focus the little cursed energy she had to transport her to worlds beyond ours. She shared this with no one in her clan.” Tenzin paused, “She died before she had even thought of sharing the details. I, of course, know precisely how she did it, and conveniently, only someone of her caliber in sorcery could copy it, and in your case, someone with a great deal of power more than Chihiro.”
Y/n was blank-faced, blood-leeched from her face. She could hear, in her mind, the next word Tenzin uttered: “It is in the interest of Jujutsu society to ensure Ryomen Sukuna is killed before he can come to this world and purge our world with his barbaric regime.”
“You want me to travel back in time to kill someone who will destroy me first?” Her voice shook with irritation. Was she to be a sacrifice? She understood that only she could use this dream walking technique, but she was not Satoru Gojo; her abilities paled in comparison.
Tairo jujutsu sorcerers used witchcraft-like methods that resembled jujutsu sorcery: rituals, spiritual awareness, spells, telekinesis, manipulation, and now reality walking. Some in the clan had unique abilities. For Y/n, she was exceptional at mind-reading. Most could only sense vague emotions or intentions, but unless they were alone with someone, they could not sense exactly what was running through their mind. their minds. After years of training, y/n could fight people like Suguru Geto, but rumors claimed only Gojo could defeat Sukuna, even at his peak. Y/n struggled to picture success.
“Chihiro was promised to Sukuna before her death; she died before she made it to the castle, before the wedding. She died alone, so you could take her place.”
Y/n vaguely remembered learning about Chihiro as a child. Most of the Tairo questioned the manner of death; some argued she took her own life so she could avoid the worst fate. Marrying the king of curses sounded like the pitch-black signature of her death warrant. She hated every fiber of this idiotic world. How was she expected to survive in a world hundreds of years ago that did not favor people like her? She isn’t being asked to do this; she will be forced. The autonomy of choosing the vile death that would ensue was made for her.
“Killing is an option, persuading and sabotaging could also be useful. Alternatively, you have manipulated the minds of many thus far, changing their choices, seeing their next moves. You are an integral part of every timeline, y/n. The things you change have always had a vital role in improving reality. You do not use your skill to the potential you possess.” Tengen finished.
Y/n considered this, then asked, “So then what? I tame the king of curses, and then I come home?”
Y/n’s e/c eyes met Tengen’s, curiosity blazing. She sensed Tengen’s disappointment before the deity answered, “That pendant is weak compared to what it once was, due to frequent use and the distance you must travel. The jewel will crack when you arrive.” The deity paused, “Because of this, your body will not have a path back here; your body will go with you to the day Chihiro passed. There is no return for you, child of spirits.”
She would have to continue her life there, past whenever she executed Sukuna, if this was even plausible. Alternatively, she supposed she could escape through suicide. She didn't have family or friends to miss. People described her as slightly uncanny, causing some to avoid her; perhaps that was the darker use of cursed energy emanating from her.
The necklace thrummed against her neck, and Y/n closed her eyes and lay down in the abyss, accepting this cruel fate.
“Focus on Ryomen Sukuna; he was in the early stages of his takeover of Japan, years before his assassination.”
The ‘floor,’ if that's what you could call the empty space, was cold and kissed her warm skin almost painfully. She focused on when she knew the Heian era to be, and then she opened her mind to Tengen, letting the scene flow into her mind like watching a film reel.
Y/n could smell trees and blossoms in the air; she could hear screams and a cruel, wicked laugh tossed through her mind.
-
There was a carriage, metal wheels against a gravel road, grass beneath her, a breeze through her hair. She shot up, clutching her chest. She wasn’t in Tenzin’s domain anymore, but now in a graceful forest, and through the trees, she could see a carriage stopping on a gravel-riden road. A woman dressed in Japanese regal attire stepped out of the carriage and began walking towards the forest, claiming she needed a short walk to get some fresh air.
Y/n felt it then.
It had been a long carriage ride.
They were close to the castle, though, only an hour or two away.
The wedding was in four days.
anxiety.
fear.
determination.
suicidal.
Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed as her mirror image plucked a hidden satchel from a billowing sleeve, and upon opening it, a quiet hiss was heard. Chihiro had obtained a snake.
Poisonous.
deadly.
escape.
Chihiro’s mind echoed.
Y/n waited, waited for her ancestor to kill herself so she could assume her identity. As the snake bit Chihiro and slithered into the vast forest, Chihiro dropped to the ground almost immediately.
Dying.
Y/n raced forward, and her hand began moving, stripping the girl of her clothes. It had only taken her minutes to change, and her hair was no issue, as Chihiro wore it flowing down. Y/n tried not to look at her doppelganger’s eyes. She could feel Chihiro’s mind go silent and her body slowly cool.
“Princess?” A male voice called.
gentle.
curious.
guard.
Chihiro’s body began to wither, turning to dust. eliminating any evidence that there had been a change. Y/n did not have time to wonder why Chihiro's body didn’t remain in this reality.
Y/n did not know what she was doing; she was acting purely on instinct. When she stepped through the brush, the guard was wearing traditional armor and had a katana sheathed at his side. A look of concern painted his features.
She is strange, quiet, vulnerable.
We must move now.
His thoughts echoed, so y/n could only form a faint idea of what she thought Chihiro was like from the guard’s thoughts. She searched the guard's mind for information in a millisecond. It seemed Chihiro did not often speak to people, except when required by manners.
“My apologies,” I almost whispered and strode to the carriage, allowing the guard to help me inside the small space. Thankfully, the guard closed the door, and now y/n was alone, with precious time to gather information from the guard and the man at the front of the carriage, who was directing the two ivory steeds.
Chihiro and Sukuna would marry because the Tairo clan held great influence in southern Japan, helping Sukuna quickly claim it. Sukuna sought subjects and a vast kingdom, so killings targeted only those who resisted, never women or children. The clan leader, Chihiro’s father, refused to hand over the army to an outsider. If Sukuna married Chihiro, armies would recognize him as a legally and spiritually bound ally, giving him command while preserving Tairo's honor. This would grant Sukuna a substantial army within days and an edge against the Gojo and Zenin clans.
Additionally, there was a strange quality to all the Tairo clan members, especially the soldiers. Their blood seemed to draw them together, connecting them through bonds far stranger than any known to jujutsu. It was as if the armies lacked free will in obeying their clan leader, or whoever the leader allowed to take charge of the militia. They could not even have a violent thought towards them; the soldiers seemed so bound to their duty, unbreakable. Maybe it was some sort of binding spell written in all Tairo blood, so that you could never betray your clan leader or military general. It seemed to be this intense in men and women bred for battle.
The carriage stopped, and as the door swung open, y/n saw her future resting place before her. It was a great deal of property. The castle was sprawling with large walls far behind their carriage. Foliage and statues filled the empty space between the cattle and the walls. y/n could spot gardens, ponds, and outdoor lounging areas. The castle itself was almost mystic. Big, billowing trees surrounded the property and filled parts of the castle grounds. It was so intimate, almost like a mythological realm rather than a real place. Mist curled on the ground, and as evening set in, lantern bugs illuminated the paths to the castle.
If Y/n was guessing, it was likely October; a chill autumn breeze slipped through her dress. A short figure gravely strode towards y/n. The person did not make any noise, the grace of a hunt. It was a woman with inky black hair and sullen brown eyes. He hair was pinned back, and her attire was plain, other than the silver pin that resembled three cojoining rings with a gem at the center. Y/n recognized this to be the king of curses' coat of arms, like a familial crest or an empire's symbol. She did not know anything else about the symbol's meaning or when it was created; she only vaguely remembered seeing it in ancient-era texts at Jujutsu High.
The woman was older than Y/n, but not so much so that it could be reasonable for her to be Y/n’s mother. She looked like the space between stars and the moon. like the night sky blessed her upon birth. She had the same tired look in her eye that Shoko often wore. Like she was already dead.
“My name is Yoru. It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Miss Tairo.” A deep bow was displayed, and Y/n bowed back but kept silent. As she rose, she gestured for me to follow her as the footmen were passing by with all of my- Chihiro’s luggage.
They silently walked through the entrance gardens. There were cherry blossom trees, spider lilies, ume trees, and Fuji trees everywhere. Their vibrancy did not match the onyx set of doors we approached. Two guards bearing the same coat of arms Yoru bore opened the two entrance doors for us, and Y/n was hit by the scent of sandalwood and jasmine. There was a cavernous hallway with multiple open passageways to other areas of the house. Y/n could not make a mental map of the twists and turns, so she tried her best to examine the architecture. The palace seemed to favor a more open architectural style, with high ceilings and large hallways; the floor was made of stone, not the typical tatami.
Then they entered a hallway that seemed much nicer than the rest. This time, the floors were made of dark wood; Japanese Cedar, if Y/n’s mind was picking up on the correct remnants of thoughts from others, once in this hallway.
Sometimes, if something is thought of enough, the thought process can stain an area or even a person. Perhaps a maid was very particular about how they maintained this hallway.
We enter at an intersection of the hallway and turn left. Yoru opens the door, and after Y/n entered, she spoke up, “This hallway is for the emperor and empress. Naturally, this is your room, My Lady. I am the lead housekeeper for this shrine. I will assist with any of your or Master Sukuna’s needs, along with my other handmaids if I appoint them. Guards stand outside that hallway at all times. If there is a need, want, or emergency, please use this.” She gestured toward a long velvet rope that seemed connected to a bell or chimes, perhaps.
“I would just prefer being called Y/n.” She said, examining the call rope.
“I want to feel at least somewhat normal.”
Yoru only shook her head, “My Lady, that would be improper.”
Yoru walked to a space on the wall that directly exposed the outside of the shrine. Someone might expect a glass pane there if they were from modern times, but instead, it was just a gaping space covered only by a curtain that could be secured with buttons.
The room itself was decently sized, like a small apartment. There was a bed with a dark-wood canopy frame and sheer white curtains that could be adjusted to create an even more private space. The bed was centered on a wall with a window to the right, the rest of the room in the front, and, to the left, bookshelves on every wall, with a small break for the doorway. The center of the room had a thick carpet that sprawled through a section of the room. There was also a sitting area for lounging or meals, a bathing area, and lastly a wardrobe, mirror, and dressing screen.
The room followed a dark blue and dull silver theme. The dressing screen was adorned with a woman swallowing a falling star, and the walls were filled with art of cosmic creatures and dancing women.
“Due to extenuating circumstances, the marriage bonding shall be completed tomorrow.” She meant the traditional bonding of two clans that recognizes the two as a married pair. The couple agrees to protect one another and to soul-bond. This act involved creating a permanent link to another's emotions and thoughts; however, if untrained, one might not notice this mental bond. Most Tairo believed this to be the ultimate energy bond, as the mind was an intimate place; putting your emotions on display to another at all times was rarely common practice in marriages, as it was.
People didn't trust each other at all, even if they had the deepest love. Y/n wondered if there was ever more to the bond. She knew that the basic one to be completed tomorrow was similar to the idea of being legally bound, but in their case, magically bound, with the addition of mindsharing. The Tairo just viewed marriage as a way to share strength; it was so rare that people married for love.
Some silly TNG doodles for you all to chew on while I continue to torture them in the fic. I’m just about finished with the second draft and it’s already a long one
Varka x GN Witch reader, here is the previous post with these two, episode guide here!
not fully proofread!
Varka did not like being sick.
Not only for taking him out of the “action” that his job entails for him, but also…
“ACHOO!” sneezing, coughing, and frankly hacking his brains out was not the vibe, not the vibe at all. He could not even remember the last time he had been sick, let alone like this. In his mind, he tried going back, thinking, “What did I do to deserve this?”
To be fair, it was a difficult time for the knights. A disaster struck on Dragonspine, and some reinforcements from a recent weather problem were sent to Brightcrown, which led to a few delays in communication and effectiveness around the city’s border protection.
Now that he thinks about it, the stress could be making him sick. Varka was good under pressure. Pressure made diamonds, now he may not be the shiniest gem, but he isn’t a dull rock either, but maybe it’s being back home? Maybe him being stagnant? Who knows, but right now his body feels terrible, and his room feels too cramped and-
Harsh and loud knocks rang against his door, and against the swirling migraine forming in his head. With a groan and various sounds of his body, he would not want anyone hearing right now to save face, he gets to the door, swinging it open, shielding his eyes from the sunlight.
“W-what is it? Look, if this is someone coming to search for me, tell Jean that I’m not feeling so well-”
“You sound disgusting, move.”
Varka immediately, almost instinctively, moved out of the way. That voice? That tone? The sharpness that could cut even the thickest layers of flesh with just a sentence. Oh, music to his ears. Immediately, he stepped aside to let you in, his favorite witch, his beloved, his honey, the darling of his eyes. This 6’4, 245-pound man had no shame in quickly closing the door and basically holding you hostage against his frame. What he would call an “embrace of love” felt more like a bear hug on steroids (it’s not, he wouldn’t even dream of harming you).
“Honey! [Name]! Thank the great winds you’re here!” He holds you close, blabbing on and on about how lonely he was, how much he’s missed you, how happy he’s to have you here with him, on and on. You rolled your eyes and broke from his grip, swatting his large hands away and glaring at his appearance. It was shaggy, dark circles forming under sad puppy dog blue eyes, hair a mess, he had on an untied robe and some boxers.
“You sound disgusting and look like lukewarm death. I can sense the congestion in your airways. What did you do to get sick? No, a better question is how did you manage at your big age to forget how to care for yourself while sick, have you grown that dependent on me for healthcare that you forgo basic reason and logic?”
Ah, your words made his days brighter, but to be honest, you did have a point. Varka does not get sick often; when he does, he either suffers it out with brute force or succumbs to it via bed rest.
The last time he got sick, after contracting something in Springvale, was almost a year ago, and you were the one who begrudgingly took him in and helped him out. Nursing him back to health was a process, but you managed, and he was grateful. Which is why he does offer to fix or repair anything in your home, even if you hiss at him for offering, he still does.
However, right now…
“Well, if you mean my undying love and care for you, then yes, I have. But unfortunately, I can’t recall how I got sick, maybe stress, or I got too caught up again and forgot to take care of myself. I don’t know what to say, honey.”
He smiles apologetically, scratching the back of his head while looking down at the floor. Your eyes were wonderful paintings of your soul and about how you truly felt. He had gotten better at reading them.
Your eyes were narrowed (is that anything new?), face caught in a disappointed frown, arms crossed over your chest, as a parent waiting for a child to explain why they got bad marks during school, a type of energy.
“You don’t remember, or you don’t want to? Which is it, Varka?” He winced a little, yeah, usually he tries to look apologetic and listen to your lectures, but right now, he already feels bad as is, and kind of does not want to be reminded about his shortcomings for it. But he knew it was concern and care that made you like this. Also, he did not come for his daily visit for about a week, which could be a factor.
“I-“
“Stop. Save yourself the nasty sound in your voice and take a seat. Don’t move unless you need to vomit or use the bathroom. I’m cleaning everything down.” You didn’t have time to hear him argue. With a snap of your fingers, you go to work, items and things all around the room went back to their places neatly, some levitating in the air to make it easier for you to clean.
With a flick of your wrist, you got a fire started, a heavy tome was placed on a coffee table in the living room, Varka sat in, the pages flipped quickly until stopping on a recipe, a stew of some sort.
“For as much of a constant headache you cause, the least you could do for yourself is tell someone you are going to dip off the face of Teyvat. Would make my existence easier.” You bring a pot of water to boil, in go some herbs, spices, and dried fruits, ah, a tea, Varka thinks.
“Oh, so you came all this way, tracked me down cause you thought of me and missed me, how sweet of you [name]. Call me crazy, but I may be to think you’re growing soft on me.” You enter the living area and hand him a steaming hot mug of herbal tea. It smelt delicious, from what Varka could smell.
“For your information, I did not come here of my own volition. Thankfully, the journey into this area outside the city is frustrating and annoying. I came because that annoying bard and his nosy deacon begged me to. If not for their insistence, you would have rotted by now.”
Varka ‘s face formed into a pout, but he found it sweet. Venti most likely would ask you, and maybe you did think of him this much to even take them on the request. He sips the tea slowly (totally burnt his tongue btw), while watching you clean.
“What kind of soup are you making? Classic chicken noodle? Carrot soup?”
“Generic and basic, what kind of witch do you take me as, Varka?” Your scowl was back, oh, how he missed it, but he did note a few iconic ingredients on the table you were pulling from his cabinets.
“I’m making spiced cream stew. You need the vitamins, and the spice can clean up your senses better. After you are taking a hot bath, then off to bed.” He makes a mock salute at you and nods, but offers good conversation while you prepare the chicken and veggies.
“You sure you don’t want me to help? I mean, I can chop a few veggies, honey.”
“Your aid would be as useful as the water claimed to be holy from that hack in Springvale. Otherwise, stay still. For once, you can allow me to help you without anything in return.” Like a good(dog) man, he sighs and remains seated.
The stew comes along nicely and smells even better. While the pot simmers, you took the time to clean the bedroom and dining room, which was…too clean.
“For how loud and obnoxious you can be, I would be a fool not to believe the Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius wouldn’t hold dinner parties in his home. Your dining parlor looks upsettingly vacant.” You gesture to the room, which was quite a somber sight.
Varka shrugs, his eyes downcast on his now-chilled mug of tea. You step closer and refill it, his voice croaks.
“True…but I’d have to be here long enough to throw them…” The tone of his voice was obvious despite the coughing that followed; you wince back out of fear of being contaminated.
“You’re here now, isn’t it what you always go on and on about to me? Being here now is better than nowhere else, so why not?” Your reason was there, but the statement held air for questions.
“I know, but…sometimes this place…feels more like an address to me. Just a place for my mail, I love it here, don’t get me wrong [name], but…being home.. when I think of it, it’s in Mondstat, just…”
“Not this exact location?”
“Yeah..”
His shoulders lower slightly, travelling changes you, changes the way you think. When Varka first bought his home over 4 years ago, he barely spent a few weeks in it before having to travel and head out and about. So, his feelings about home being in Mondstat but not this exact location made sense. It can be a house, but not always a home. No wonder it felt like a husk of a home.
You didn’t offer any further comment; instead, you prepared the stew, handing him a bowl and some bread. Varka ate 4 bowls worth before you shooed him off to take a bath or shower. You did stand guard at the door in case he got dizzy and fell, just to ensure he wouldn’t bump his head, was all you reasoned for yourself. While he changed, you took care of his bedding, opened a window, and tidied up.
When Varka reemerges, he towels dry his hair, and his eyes widen. You looked…at peace…no, perfect. You looked perfectly placed here with him.
You shoo him into taking a nap, and to help his dark circles. In the meantime, you do go out of your way to prepare some meals for him, since he seemed so busy he forgot to care for himself…and while you’re at it, why not refill the water pitchers, the ice box, and take out the trash? Just clean up and eat away at time, that’s all.
Taking a break, you took a seat on the sofa, relaxing momentarily before you felt two overly warm and strong arms encircle you, gasping aloud, you pinched and kicked at the culprit. A sleepy Varka (golden dog man).
“Let me go, you oaf! You will contaminate me with your germs! The least I do and go out of my way for, and this is how you repay me?!” You continued whining, but stopped when whispered words, innocent but sweet words, were whispered into your ear.
“Please? Just until I go back to sleep, honey, just...for a bit?” You could feel his arms relax, but still hold you close, his chest pressed against your back. In your peripheral, you could tell he wanted to sleep, needed to, but something external stopped that. He also did that stupid(adorable) pout he does when he really wants you to cooperate with him; his eyes get all big and sweet. With a sigh, no words of argument followed.
“Fine, you dam puppy…until you fall asleep, whining like a dam child.” Varka readjusted you to rest his head in the crook of your neck, his hand interlocks with yours, and his eyes finally close.
“A dam puppy…what did I get myself into? Whining like some kind of baby….” You muttered but squeezed his hand, maybe it was nightmares, maybe something else, but he smiled in his dreams.
You did fall too, sleeping soundly against his frame. The worry of illness was long gone when his hand found yours; instead, you patted his hair, cupping his cheek as he slept soundly.
The Knight of Boreas, the most noble and humble knight in Mondstat, at rest, relaxed, looked so…soft, tender. Not sharp or boisterous, just…soft. He wasn’t small by any means, but right now, you wanted to bubble this memory, keep it in a bottle…
Just to see him at peace, that’s all you want.
An hour or more later, you wake up to Varka making noises, not coughing or sneezing, instead humming. Your eyes slowly open to see him moving around the kitchen, and a smell of something sweet hung in the air. When you move to stand and stretch, he spots you.
“Oh! There they are, love of my life and light of my world. Now tell me, my [name], do you prefer milk chocolate chips or caramel candies? I snagged a few from Alice and Klee when I went out an hour ago.”
“I thought you were sick. Did I waste my precious time tending to you? For you to pretend?” Varka raises his hands in surrender, quickly. His face was still flushed, but he had more pep in his step.
“Now-now- no. I did not lie or pretend. If you think so, then thanks, sweetheart makes me think I could start up an acting career. But no, I went out to get some fresh air. You looked tired taking care of me like you always do, so I got some brownie bake going on as thanks. I washed my hands and everything. No germ contamination here!”
“That’s…that’s not how germs work…”
But he did show the nice hefty tin of brownies, and a card he wrote as thanks. Aside from the praises and deeply concerning handwriting, he did thank you for caring and humoring him during this time.
“Thank you [name], I mean it. I know you said to relax, but I could not pass up on the opportunity to make you something special.” He smiled in that dorkishly adorable way, and he was so pleased with himself.
“Fine…but I don’t want them here.”
“Oh? I can wrap them up to go if you want me to, I get it if you have to return home.” You stopped him with a point of your finger.
“Let's eat in the dining parlor, then you can explain to me how you snagged candy from Klee. A dangerous endeavor, really, some would say stupid.” You yawn while walking down the hall to the parlor. Varka pauses for a moment before following beside you, brownie tin in hand, with some glass cups.
“Well, when you’re best buddies with her, she is more than willing to share and keep secret that I was sick.”
“You still are sick; you still sound disgusting.” You take your seat at the table, and he takes one opposite you. The tin was warm, the glasses cold with milk, and he handed you a utensil to dig in. No plates required, why hassle with the dishes?
“Aw, but you like my voice, especially when I call your name.” He takes the corner edge of the brownies and starts to dig in; you go for the middle. You roll your eyes and remind him that he can still contaminate others and yourself by doing foolish things.
“It’s not foolish if I love you.”
“Yes, it is. What would have happened if you got caught in the rain? Or worse, had a dizzy spell and fainted? You’d have many think you’re dead.” You sip from your glass, and he mirrors you, pointing his fork at you.
“I didn’t hear a direct no or rejection, so I’ll take this as a win. Besides, this tastes better with you.” You could argue further, but the smell of the brownies won you over, so you let it go. Taking another bite, the fudgy chocolate melts on your tongue, warming your senses, and ending on a delightful salty note from the caramel candies.
