Share the most cheesily romantic line you’ve ever written, or the most over-the-top VP you’ve done, or anything that suits your fancy (as long as it’s earnestly and unabashedly cornball).
tagged by @gortashsrighthand and @cinder-rellish181, who shared their own super sweet moments. Thank you guys!! THIS ONE WAS HARD - as Cinder struggled as an angst writer, as a crack enthusiast I too floundered 🫠 but also Val and Gortash are embarrassing af so I prevailed. Gently tagging anyone else with a little V-day fluff and cheese to share!
Val frowns, setting down the seeds he’d been sorting to come around the counter, “When was the last time you slept?”
Enver shrugs, too tired to try pinpointing something as slippery as time. Behind him, the door closes with a wave of Val’s hand. To his delight, that same hand cups his jaw, turning his face for Val’s assessment. Whatever he sees makes his brow furrow, lips pressing together unhappily.
Enver basks in the comfort of the moment, his own lids dropping shut. Something tense within him unclenches, bringing attention to every ache his body can muster.
“Come on,” Val murmurs, and though he mourns the loss of contact when the other steps back, he marvels at the way their fingers slide together when Val takes his hand instead.
He follows the other in a haze, led like a lost child.
They end up in the back, that wonder of space full of grass and dirt. Enver drifts, only coming to when he’s shoved onto the couch.
“Take this off,” Val commands, tugging on his clothes. No level of exhaustion could stop the flash of heat at having the other trying to undo his belt, so Enver does as asked.
“Gladly.”
He smiles when Val snorts, helping him shuck the heavy leather of his coat off, “As if you could even get it up right now.”
Enver has a terrible, growing suspicion that he might, even if it killed him, but he lets the matter lie in lieu of a relieved sigh when he’s finally freed of his stiff outerwear.
“Stay.”
Tipping his head against the back of the couch, Enver chuckles, brain swimming, “Bossy.”
He loses seconds. Minutes. Treaties march behind his eyes, schematics full of tangled lines and dry, legal propositions.
“Drink this.” That he takes the cup and does is a testament of his trust. The tea is warm and smooth, distinctly medicinal. Finishing it saps the majority of his strength, but by the end his temples have stopped throbbing and his stomach has eased. Where before exhaustion had been sickness, now the world has gone soft and syrupy. Golden.
Or perhaps that’s Val.
He blinks at the man knelt between his legs. There’s a glow about him, a warm amber energy that resonates in the hands cradling his jaw. Without thinking, Enver drags one to his mouth, lips pressed to the lines of Val’s palm.
He’s rewarded with a flush across the bridge of Val’s nose and fingers carded through his hair. Everything dims, his eyes unable to remain open.
“Sleep, Enver.”
Vaguely, he recognizes he’s being maneuvered to lay down, knows that it’s Val tugging at his boots and covering him with something soft and warm. He breathes in once. Exhales. Then knows no more.
