#Valentines Otome

[nekromeowncer]

[tigermousse]

Valentines Otome

genre: otome, romance, drama, mystery, stat-raising

Prequel: Halloween Otome Sequel: Christmas Otome

The second game in the Holiday Otome series by Synokoria is about Mira, outgoing and independent young lady, the best friend of Emma Cee (protagonist of Halloween Otome). Mira doesn't want to commit herself to one man. She loves flirting and prefer one-night-stands to serious relationship. Also she's a terrible cook and doesn't consider herself as a wife material. But next day after Valentines Day, when she takes her best friend and her cousin to the nightclub, she wakes up the with a hangover…and a ring on her finger. It appears that yesterday she has married one of the guys she met in a club. And now to save his reputation they need to pretend that they're newly married couple, so they have to live together for at least six month. But maybe in the end would be no need for the divorce? Could Mira develop real feelings for her husband during these 6 month?

OK, first of all I'm not OK with this accidental marriage thing. It is strange and unrealistic (at least one of four other people should have talked their drunken friends out of this marriage) - and also sudden moving in together with a complete stranger should be suffocating.

But we could pretend it is kinda like an arrangement marriage in an older times.

Also for Mira it works pretty fine, despite the fact that keeping the facade of this fake marriage actually doesn't give any benefits to her. She is in fact extremely kind person, because she wants to make everyone's life better. And she seems managing this relationship pretty fine for someone who hasn't relationships longer than "a series of one-night-stands" since high school.

The game has stat-raising system, that means that to unlock the best ending, or some events during the route of your choosing, you need to raise some stats high enough (or sometimes not raise it high enough)

Also the scenarios for routes slightly differ depending on which guy Emma ended up with in Halloween Otome (you can choose it on the beginning, basically you can choose different boyfriends for each route).

In this VN Emma's relationship with her boyfriend is also deepening, so there would be extra scenes with Erik, Tyler or Landon from the Halloween Otome (which is one of my favorite parts of the game!) I love that VN is a part of the series, it is so nice to meet old friends among the way. The other thing that I adore - is that how precious is the friendship between side and main characters.

CHARACTERS:

Mira (Miranda Cosgrove) is an unusual protagonist for otome VNs, because she's the opposite of shy, sexually experienced and has a fear of commitement. Traits: fun-loving, sassy, flirty, honest, smart, independent, kind. Occupation: designer and the owner of a fashion boutique. Fashion is basically her passion and her profession Hobbies: celebrity gossip, soap operas, romantic literature, clubbing, sex Talents: charm, design Fetishes: glasses Weak points: cooking Likes: penguins, making guys squirm Dislikes: taking money from other people I found it hard to relate to Mira despite the fact that we actually have pretty much in common, but she makes a great protagonist.

My rating: 5/5

Love interests (MILD SPOILERS AHEAD):

As suggested by creators, they have to be chosen in the Zane-Kiron-Daire order.

Zane

If he wasn't described as a playboy from the beginning of the game, I would say that Zane is your common cute, but moody guy-next-door, who doesn't care about his attitude, loves games, cat's videos and writing children books.

He has the same commitment issues as Mira, which they actually overcome together. His path is less dramatic than others, but the most romantic, with funny and cute moments.

My rating: 5/5

Kiron

Kiron is a school teacher (he was teaching Mira's cousin Maia). He is very kind, caring, also old-fashioned and polite. Actually he also dreams of having a family. But the problem is that he is in love with his colleague Annabelle, who sees him only as a friend. That path was the most dramatic, alas, the romance between characters wasn't so obvious until the very ending, which is, by the way, VERY good, and made me cry.

My rating: 5/5

Daire

Daire is that strong silent type, which in this VN was brought to the absurdity and he turned out too boring. However Daire's route has a lot of other colorful characters, who do all the talking for him - and sometimes it was overwhelming. Earlier I've made a mistake starting with Daire route, was bored out of my mind after several weeks of stat-raising, and forgot about this VN for several years.

My rating: 2/5

Overall:

Originality: 4/5

Graphic: 4/5

Story: 4/5

Characters: 5/5

Romance: 4/5

My Rating: 4/5

The game is free, you can get it from itch.io

[sukihallows]

!!!Otome review!!!

(An otome game is a story-based video game that is targeted towards women. Generally one of the goals, besides the main plot goal, is to develop a romantic relationship between the female player character and one of several male characters.)

Valentines Otome

A sequel to Halloween Otome, but this time you play as the last MCs flirty roommate. This one is defiantly longer and even has a stat system that leads to bad endings if you don't focus on the right stat. I've only played this one 2 times for two of the three guys, getting a bad ending then a good one.

This game is much darker than the last. There is still humor, but not nearly as much as before. The MC is stuck in a one night stand marriage for various reasons based on the guy you choose, so things start off kinda rocky. Be Warned, there is death in this. It seems in every rout you will be threatened and it depends on your relationship and stats weather everyone survives. The first character I played for was the serious business man (don't @ me) and I got the bad ending with him being beating to death (yikes!). The second one was the ex-playboy and I did use a guide to get the best ending, but it still got dark with a stalker and nearly getting stabbed.

If you've had a bad relationship any time in the recent past, I'd give this one a pass for your own mental state, it's not fun at times and not the easiest, funny how the one before it mostly was. The art is improved from the last one, and there are some implied CGs to make you blush.

Not bad, but not the most healthy of stories.

[tsukii0002]

Happy Valentine's Day 💕

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[violettduchess]

A/N: This is my gift for @readerinsertfanfiction 💜 The moment I saw Cyran on your list, I was thrilled. I hope you enjoy!

A huge thank you to @ikemenlibrary for her support and friendship and for being a generous, caring host 💜

Prompt: A servant, someone who knew Cyran from before his time in Rhodolite

Cyran x AU Emma

WC: ~4k

Obsidian: the Past

She runs across the cracked, sunbaked cobblestone streets, her treasure wrapped in a cream-colored tea towel and held protectively against her chest. Her worn leather shoes make a pleasing thunking sound against the stones as she hurries past dusty shop windows and faded porches, carefully dodging people on the street.

“Langsam, Emma!” someone yells as she flies past but she doesn’t listen to their warning. She can’t slow down. She has somewhere to be.

Finally she reaches the edge of town and takes a sharp left, leaving the cobblestones behind for a ribbon of dirt road that winds its way along tired hills covered with sparse sage-green grass and dotted with scraggly yellow dandelions. Another turn onto an even smaller path, a faint thing that meanders through the knee-high growth and then, finally, the faded barn comes into view. 

She smiles, pumping her young legs harder, willing them to swallow the distance faster and faster until she reaches the peeling, splintered wooden doors and haphazardly flings one open.

“Cyran? I’m here!!”

The boy, just shy of fourteen, turns away from the wooden beam he has been faux-sparring with, lowering the dull, well-worn practice sword he is so proud of. His hair gleams like fire in the hazy sunlight that shines through the pocked roof. 

Emma hurries over, gulping down huge breaths of musty air as she grabs his thin forearm.

“C’mon. I’m dying to see how they taste.”

Cyran laughs, struggling to sheath his sword as she drags him over to the blanket thrown over the hay in a cozy corner of the barn. This is their favorite place to meet, an escape from the outside world they discovered several years ago while exploring. It is here that Emma sometimes reads to him from one of her treasured books. She’s even shared stories she’s written, romantic tales of princesses and dragons, knights and monsters. Cyran is always the hero, the knight who slays the monsters and rescues the damsel in distress. Emma will change her roles in the stories. 

Sometimes she needs rescuing. 

But sometimes, she is the dragon.

Often they sneak treats to each other, hard biscuits or smoked meat or, if they are really lucky, sweet berries brought across the border from the lush neighboring country of Rhodolite. Cyran’s neighbor is a servant for some of the merchants that make the risky trips over and when he’s lucky, she manages to tuck away a few treasures just for him.

He settles himself down on the frayed checkered blanket and pushes his bright hair away from his forehead, eagerly watching as Emma drops down next to him, laying the tea towel down. Her face is flushed from her run and from the thrill of what she’s managed to bring him.

“Ready?”

He nods, enthusiastically motioning for her to unwrap it already. He has hands that are too big for his young body, growing the way many boys do at this age, in odd fits and spurts. 

Emma leans forward, pushing up the sleeve of her too-big dress and carefully pulls back the edges of the tea towel.

The smell hits them first, the warm spice of cinnamon, the tang of nutmeg, the slight bitterness of the cloves, the unmistakable scent of ginger. It wafts up towards them, exotic and tempting. Cyran breathes in deeply and then sighs happily as he looks at her, eyes bright and admiring.

“It smells so good.”

Cyran had carefully been saving up the exotic store of spices, some of them gifts from his neighbors, others decadent purchases made at the market from his meager earnings made mucking stalls and chopping wood. He knew that Emma would be the one who would create something special with them. Young as she was, she was a talented cook and baker, able to make the most fantastic treats out of the simplest ingredients. And now that she had been given such a treasure trove to work with, she had spun pure magic.

The spiced biscuits are dappled dark brown and gold. When she hands him one, it is with a reverence that echos a priest giving communion or a child receiving a shiny new toy at Christmas.

Their gazes meet and she nods.

“Together.”

He returns the nod, staring into the warm depths of her soft brown eyes.

“Together.”

They bite into the cookies at the same time. Emma breaks into a proud smile as Cyran closes his eyes, savoring the medley of flavor and even better, the knowledge that she made them just for him.

“It’s good, isn’t it?" she asks, grinning. She sees the look on his face, the way he is practically melting with enjoyment.

He lifts his shoulder in a casual shrug, feigning indifference.

“I guess……”

“What?!”

He takes another bite, leaning back on one hand. “I mean, they’re ok. But you know, Hilde’s biscuits are also really good–OOF.”

She’s tackled him, throwing herself at him with all the force of a frenzied feline, her nimble fingers scratching at his sides. Cyran breaks into laughter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tries to squirm away from her.

“Ok ok Brown Eyes, enough!”

Emma lets him go, sitting back on her heels with a glowing, triumphant smile.

“Never say that about Hilde’s cookies again.”

He pushes himself up, heart pounding furiously in his chest. Only some of it is from laughing. He tears his gaze away from the unsettling beauty of her eyes, traveling up to her hair.

“You’re a mess. You got straw in your hair and your braid is a disaster.”

Emma turns and scoots until she is sitting in front of him. “Since it’s your fault….you fix it.”

Cyran heaves a sigh he doesn’t mean and then settles himself into a comfortable position, reaching forward and with a tenderness and care far beyond most boys his age, begins slowly picking the straw from her messy plait.

Emma’s eyes drift closed as she revels in the attention he’s giving her, the gentle way he untangles her braid and then very slowly begins brushing his fingers through her soft, chestnut-colored hair.

It feels comforting and safe.

It feels thrilling.

It feels like the early evening has come to a standstill and they have all the time in the world.

But their time together is like a rose slowly losing its petals.

A petal falls as he tells her, wide-eyed and shaken, that his neighbor has been killed in her own home, throat opened in the dead of night and left smiling its ghastly red smile until she was discovered hours later. Emma rubs his back, not knowing what else to do. This is not the first death in their village as of late. And it will not be the last.

A petal falls as they lay, side by side, on the blanket in the hay, staring up at the patches of starry sky visible through the holes in the roof. “My parents are scared,” she whispers. He turns his head to stare at her profile and knows it isn’t just her parents who are frightened. “I’ll protect you,” he whispers, voice fierce with youth’s naïve promise. Her gaze remains on the silver stars but she reaches out, taking his hand and squeezes it.

A petal falls as she comes to their favorite spot, face pale as bone, to tell him that her family is leaving. Her father has contacted distant relatives that live far to the north, as far from Rhodolite and the dangers it poses as one can get. Cyran feels like his young heart may break right there in his chest and he will be forced to live the rest of his life with its pieces rattling around inside of him. Though filled with dismay, Emma’s eyes are as beautiful as ever. They shine with tears, rivaling any star they have ever spent time gazing at.

A petal falls as she rushes through the dark, on the night before her family is to leave, her throat burning with feelings she can’t quite name, waves too strong to try and understand for fear they will sweep her away. She bursts through the barn doors and finds him already there, his hair dark as garnet, damp with sweat. He has spent the entire day doing heavy labor, removing heavy wooden beams, hauling ancient and broken equipment, sweeping the dusty, straw-strewn floor. Several lanterns placed around the interior bathe the space in warm, yellow light. The barn is as clean and inviting as he can make it. He wanted to give her one more memory, something beautiful, that she can take with her on her journey away from here. Away from him.

Emma is frozen in place, soaking in all he has done, before finally stopping on the young man at the center of it. He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Already his shoulders carry the hint of what manhood will bring him: strength and breadth. Arms that with training will turn hard and sculpted, legs that will lengthen until he is taller than most. He is the faint beginning of what he will become. Emma wonders wildly if she will ever get the chance to see the finished masterpiece.

“Emma,” he says, his voice raw and rough, deeper than she has ever heard it.

She sets down the bundle she is holding, the one she carried so close on the way here, leaving it on top of a weathered wooden barrel.

“Cyran,” she answers, her muscles tense, like a fawn when it hears a crunching in the underbrush.

He starts forward, one hesitant step and that is enough. She flies towards him, throwing her thin arms around his neck and buries her face in his worn linen shirt, clutching him to her. There is power in her small frame, something fierce and bright, a hurricane in crystal. Cyran holds her close, his eyes closing as he breathes in her familiar scent. He’s been teased his whole life because of his last name, but she is the one who reminds him of a rose, who always smells so sweet.

The anticipation of loss that has them clinging to each other slowly ebbs and something else, something that has been burning low and quiet in every laugh, every touch, every glance begins to emerge. She is suddenly aware of the press of her chest against his, of how much taller he is, the earthy smell of his skin. She leans back to look at him and sees the same awareness mirrored in his dark eyes.

Outside a rooster crows, loud and discordant.

Cyran turns his head toward the sound and Emma, sparked by the frantic knowledge that she must leave, grabs his chin, pulling him back to her and rises onto her toes, pressing her lips to his.

It is a sunbeam bursting through gray clouds. A spark breathing life into a pile of dried leaves. It is hope and promise and wonder.

And heartbreak.

With a stifled cry, she steps away, turns and flees the barn, not wanting to see the look on his face as she leaves, not wanting that to be her last memory of him.

Cyran watches with a thundering heart as the door swings shut. Flooded with helplessness and misery, he notices the bundle she left behind. Tenderly he lifts it, undoing the sky-colored ribbon. It’s her favorite handkerchief, white with pale blue forget-me-nots painstakingly embroidered along the edges, and nestled inside are several of her spiced biscuits. His favorites.

Rhodolite: The Present

Rhodolite is so much MORE than she expected. The streets are wider and cleaner and lined with greenery, more trees and flowering bushes and grass than in the entire garden of the palace in Obsidian. There are more people than she expected too, many standing under awnings and lampposts, peeking through windows and around doorways, watchful eyes in beautiful faces following the royal procession as it makes its way towards the palace. 

When she had been told by the Head Chef that they would be accompanying Prince Gilbert and his entourage to Rhodolite, Emma had felt a familiar ringing through the cockles of her heart. Rhodolite is where Cyran was rumored to have ended up. Whispers from the south had traveled her way, over the many years since they parted. He had joined the army when he was of age. He had left Obsidian for the verdure of Rhodolite. He was employed by one of the Princes there. Crumbs of information she had managed to gather, hoarding them tightly like precious drops of mana. 

He may not even be here, she reminds herself as her tired gray mare plods along down the street. She and the other servants are at the end of the procession and most of the people have turned away, not interested in anything but the dangerous Prince Gilbert with his sharp smile and blood-red gaze. 

Still, Emma finds herself scanning the crowds as they pass, looking for any head of red hair. She spots a few but they are never him.

As the overwhelming elegant palace suddenly rises towards the heavens before her, she draws in a sharp breath. 

We’re here…….

…….Is he?

The palace looms closer, a breathtaking monument of pale beauty.

And if so….how in the wide world will she ever find him?

Cyran runs a hand through his thick mass of russet hair as his long strides make quick work of the pathway towards the training hall. It’s late evening and the young, freshly-minted knights are at the end of their training and he needs to make sure everything went well without him there. He knows Lucian is more than capable of leading them through their drills but Cyran has a responsibility to make sure. They are all under his charge.

Entering the hall, he sees several of the knights laughing in a corner. Some are sitting and catching their breath, others are pushing the heavy sandbags they sometimes train with back into their storage room. What he sees reassures him. They look tired and sore, yet satisfied, faces bright with the feeling of accomplishment a tough training session will leave behind.

He’s about to go look for Lucian, expecting a full report when he notices several of the knights standing by the wooden table at the far end of the training circle, the one usually covered with straps for shields and rope and other odds and ends. They’re smiling, far too widely to be discussing anything so mundane as weaponry. Several are chewing. He approaches the table, greeted by his men with smiles and respectful nods. Immediately he notices the tin: it’s round and black, covered with decorative golden swirls. 

“What’s this?” He glances towards the first knight at his left, a tall lad with sandy blond hair.

“They were brought here by an Obsidian servant. She said they were a present for us.”

Cyran frowns, a skeptical look on his face as he reaches inside the tin for one of the golden brown cookies.

“And you didn’t think to–” He was going to ask if they thought accepting gifts from strangers was a good idea when the scent hits him, cutting through the sweat and musk of tired men.

The warm spice of cinnamon, the tang of nutmeg, the slight bitterness of cloves, the unmistakable scent of ginger.

He goes still, the breath knocked from his lungs.

Could it be…..

Something in his face hushes the men around him. They watch, curious as Cyran lifts the cookie and takes a bite. 

The man who sees everything, ever watchful, closes his eyes as he chews and the knights are transfixed by the absolute stillness that has overtaken their leader.

And then those eyes open and something in them has begun to burn, bright and alive.

The other half of the cookie falls to the dusty ground as he turns on his heel and, practically jogging, exits the training area, leaving behind the half-eaten biscuit and a slew of surprised faces.

The rose gardens are somehow even more beautiful in the twilight of evening. The red petals seem to have darkened, shedding their bright rose-red for a sultry scarlet. Shadows emerge from the trimmed hedges, stretching across the winding stone pathways, giving a visitor like Emma glimpses of hidden benches and secret dirt paths leading into clandestine corners of the gardens.

She has taken several of these more narrow, less-trodden paths, not at all afraid of getting lost. Her heart is a bird, flitting between dark branches, full of a nervous, tightly-wound energy she can’t quite explain. 

As the sky darkens to a deep navy blue and the first stars open their eyes, Emma pauses in front of a gray stone fountain. Two swans, nuzzling their beaks together, bodies curved towards one another as a blossoming flower rises above them, water spraying outward in celebration. She tilts her head, the romantic in her sighing at the way the two swans perfectly mirror one another, two halves of a whole, two souls in perfect harmony. So enchanted is she by the fountain that she doesn’t hear the footfall on the path, doesn’t notice the man who has stopped several meters away from where she is standing, the sight of her freezing him in his tracks.

“Emma.”

She jumps at the deep voice, her eyes wide and dark as she turns towards the sound. The owner of said voice is standing, half in shadow, at the place where the small path to the fountain begins, beneath a shadowy arch of crimson roses. She is so startled, she doesn’t even register that he has said her name.

“Oh….s'il te plaît, excuse-moi,” she says quickly, doing her best to remember the phrases of the common language spoken in Rhodolite. “J'espère que ça va…” She trails off, trying to remember how to say she hopes she is allowed to be here but the man takes another step closer, leaving the blanket of shadows and stepping into the fading light.

Even the dusky hue of evening cannot hide the red of his hair.

A gasp as soft as the flutter of a bird’s wing escapes her. The young boy she knew juxtaposed against this tall, broad man before her sends her heart into a tailspin. Her hand flies to her mouth as she takes him in. She sees the same bright light of recognition and admiration and overwhelming emotion plain as day on his beautiful face.

“Cyran?” The word is a whisper, a breathless repetition of the name she has kept in her prayers for decades.

His eyes never leave her, almost as if he has the power to hold her there with his gaze, to keep her from vanishing into the realm of his dreams where she has lived for so long. Slowly, he reaches up and loosens the laces at the top of his tunic. His hand slides inside and when it emerges, he is holding a small square of cloth. As he slowly opens it, her heart falters.

It’s white, with pale blue forget-me-nots embroidered around the edges.

He holds it out to her, his chest rising and falling with every deep breath he takes. That handkerchief has lived next to his heart, in an inner pocket, one he has sewn into every shirt he has ever owned since the day he watched her leave.

“I think…..this belongs to you, Brown Eyes.”

She chokes back a sob, unable to contain the thunderstorm of emotion coursing through her and runs to him, falling into his arms as naturally as a willow bends to the wind, tears falling freely down her cheeks. Cyran wraps his arms around her, sheltering her, holding her the way he has imagined a thousand times. His throat burns with all the words he has ached to say, all those sleepless nights spent remembering the lilt of her smile, the music of her laughter, the bittersweet taste of her kiss.

Emma squeezes her eyes closed, breathing in the scent of him, at once so familiar and yet so strange. Her arms wind around his waist as she presses herself against him, drinking in the sensation of his body on hers. 

This is Cyran….her Cyran…..her….

A thought pierces her heart as she suddenly steps away from him, eyes wide, still so beautiful as they glimmer with the remnants of her tears.

“Oh…I…I didn’t mean…..you could be married. I shouldn’t have-”

His laughter is coarse, rough with emotion, a roll of rushing water as it careens over the lip of a cliff.

“As if I could ever love anyone else.”

Love…..

As if summoned by the very word, the moon itself parts the soft gray clouds, flooding the small section of the garden with silvery light. The tinkling of the fountain fills the momentary silence. 

Cyran’s cheeks suddenly flush, a hot mixture of embarrassment and panic overriding the elation of the previous moment.

“I…..I don’t mean to presume of course that you feel the same. It has been a long time and…..” He trails off, wincing. Fluster is such an uncharacteristic state of being for Cyran. “Ah, shit. I’m sorry. I–” 

His words are cut off as Emma launches herself back into his arms, hugging him fiercely.

“Please, don’t apologize.” She tilts her head up to look at him, still in awe of how she sees the young man he was and the handsome man he has become in his beautiful eyes, in his exquisite face. “It has always been you.”

Cyran drags air into his lungs, hardly able to believe he isn’t dreaming. His rough fingers capture her chin, his thumb running over the sensitive skin just under her lower lip. 

Slowly, he leans down as she stretches upwards, eager and nearly trembling with emotion. 

He kisses her, his hand still cupping her face. Gently his mouth moves over hers as he tells her a wordless story of longing, of a bruised heart that learned to somehow keep beating. 

He kisses her, a strong arm pulling her closer, his lips and tongue weaving the tale of a young soldier who never forgot the girl with the tender heart and radiant spirit. The soldier who dreamed of her face during his darkest nights and longed for her laughter on days of sunshine.

She meets him, kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke, sliding her palms along his broad shoulders, clutching him as she answers his tale, confessing without words how he has never left her heart. How his smile was her light in times of worry and despair. How seeing him again has been her northern star from the moment of parting.

Only the moon knows how long they stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, lost in each other’s yearning.

When they finally part, Cyran rests his forehead against hers, still keeping her tightly in his embrace. He may never let go again.

“You’re….in the employ of Prince Gilbert. I am here.” He frowns ever so slightly as he brushes several loose strands of hair away from Emma’s charmingly flushed cheek. “This could get complicated.”

Their gazes meet and she nods.

“Yes…..but we’ll figure it out.”

And suddenly he is carried back in time to an evening when her eyes shone just as brightly, just as excitedly, a young girl with something to give a young boy, a homemade cookie, an offering of love.

“Together.” 

Her voice echoes across the years, that word wrapping itself around his battered heart, a balm, a blessing.

He returns the nod, staring into the warm depths of her soft brown eyes, tenderly stroking the silk of her hair, and answers her now as he did back then. 

“Together.”

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @wordycheeseblob

[ravenstargames]

✦ Happy Valentine's Day!

Happy Valentine's day! 💜 As our main cast will get the spotlight in the upcoming demo, we thought Vycar was worthy of his own art piece for today!💜 Please have a nice day, do it for him!

[hellcatinnc]

Love & Deepspace Men On Spoiling You For Valentine's Day

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Warning This includes: SFW (Read Tags Before Continuing)

Tags: sfw, fluff, x Fem! Reader, romantic, romantic ideas, valentine's with the guys, valentine's day, vday, love and deepspace, pampering, cuddles, lights, bubble baths, rose petals, flowers, wine, champagne, gifts, plushies, stuffys, breakfast in bed

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What these men would do for you to show you that you are loved and cared for. They will show you what its like to be cherished on Valentine's Day.

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Zayne

he will have you a arrangement delivered to you while he is still at work - they will be sweet but traditional Lilies & Roses

Bottle of the expensive wine the ones that are $500 a bottle but only the best for his girl

Takes you out to a 5 star restaurant to spoil you

he will get off work early enough to come to your house start cooking cute heart pancakes and coffee in your cutest cup set he got you for the occasion

Pour a bath for your with rose petals lining the walk way

he isn't one who cares much about buying stuff at valentine's based on he has no interest but since he has been with you and realizes it matters then you will have a cute stuffed teddy bear in a balloon with candies in stuff in one buy

Rose Petals on the bed to make love to you on at the end of the night

Has a beautiful dress delivered to you ahead of time so he can pick you up from leaving his work get you by the salon to get your hair then show back up with his sports car to take you out - yes he is showing you off

Dances with you to a romantic song at the restaurant

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Rafayel

bubble bath he will go pick up your favorite scented one just for this occasion - move over though he is climbing in with you

will put out scented candles a few places in the house for scent only

strawberries and champagne

he will do your hair for you or at least play in it

he throws rose petals all over the house and bed - he doesn't plan to clean these up tomorrow :P

plays song in bath together to get you in the mood

he will decorate your bedroom in red roses surrounding the room

chocolate heart with a cute dolphin plushie

romantic card that plays music

Roses with Ferrero Roche flowers and chocolate

he will want to feed you chocolates but he will want the same in return

he didn't care if you wore anything else but the lingerie he got you he wasn't sharing you with the world today you were stuck in your place with him all alone

breakfast in bed and you both will hand feed each other so has to be finger food breakfast of choice - he just wanted to try something different

he painted you something that would always remind you of him no its not a self portrait its actually one of the ocean and a merman holding his woman

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Xavier

he will do the housework for you complain a bit about it but he will still do it

candles all around the bedroom for a romantic look

rose petals leading upstairs to the bedroom

Pours the bubble bath with votive candles and then helps you get undressed and step into this comfort

love songs playing low on the stereo

breakfast in bed but don't let him fool you he tried to cook the stuff first and when he burnt some of it he just went to the local coffee and bagel place got you and him some breakfast and coffee for you some juice for him then he will put it on a tray and carry it to you including a card and flowers

he will get you a stuffed animal but it will be big, the size will be big enough you can hold it and lay on it when he is gone and it will smell like him so you don't miss him as much

Matching bunny pj's to be wrapped up in matching for couples to cuddle together in

Dinner on the beach under beautiful heart lights

He has a movie under the stars planned for your night of cuddles

he will do your hair for you so you look even cuter in your bunny costume and braids

drinks in front of the cozy fireplace

1 Single rose to let you know you're the one

[velvet-cupcake-games]

Happy(?) Valentine's From Will!

Well, he tried. Or maybe he didn't.

He's gonna need a bit of polishing up.

[lafiaso]

men get flowers on Valentines too

[nonokoko-draws]

Made this drawing for today using the template Two and a Half Studios released. Click for better quality

This is your reminder you don't need an irl love life to enjoy this day, go ship or kiss characters in your head and fulfill your craves for romance. I see you, single and hopeless romantic person, you are deserving of a happy Valentine's Day too 🫵

+ Bonus panel I did uehehehe kith

[elvenpixiex]

💌💝 Virche Evermore Valentines Day cards 💝 💌

[aquagirl1978]

IKEMEN PRINCE HEADCANONS - SUITOR'S REACTIONS TO RECEIVING A VALENTINE'S DAY GIFT (Chevalier, Clavis, Gilbert)

Thank you for voting in the poll for the Valentine's Day Headcanons - these three suitors received the most votes.

Chevalier Michel

What do you get for a man who values worth over physical items, a man who sees no need or want for "gifts"?

You drove yourself mad with worry, turning these questions over and over in your head. Until, that is, when an idea popped into your mind.

Immediately, you went to Sariel with your idea to see if this was even possible. For your idea was a grand gesture; this was no mere token of affection.

Sariel agreed that it was a splendid idea, surely a surprise for the King of Rhodolite.

"I'll do my part here to help keep him occupied inside the palace," Sariel informed you. it helped to have the Palace's Devil on your side for this task.

It was surely a challenge to keep Chevalier away from your surprise. True to his word, Sariel did all he could to busy the King with paperwork and meetings.

But that did nothing to help in the evenings when Chevalier was ready to stretch his legs.

"What do you mean, we can't go in the rose garden?" he asked one evening.

Stammering, your mind searched for an excuse. "Er, it was raining earlier and the grounds are all wet."

"I was near a window all day and saw no rain."

Sighing, you quickly thought of something else. "Clavis set a trap out there, we should really go back to your library."

Chevalier narrowed his eyes at you. He had an inkling something was up, but wished to avoid any potential traps. And not spoil whatever it was you were plotting.

After that first time, however, Chevalier did not ask to go to the gardens, instead allowing you to guide him back to the library or his bedroom.

Until one night, when you suggested you head to the gardens.

Chevalier looked at your curiously. "The gardens? Are you sure there are no hidden traps?" he asked with a laugh.

Smiling, you slipped your hand through his bent arm. "No, I think it's all clear out there today."

He led you through a maze of familiar hallways until you reached the doors leading to the gardens.

"I assume you're aware what today is." Your voice was quiet, almost hesitant as you looked at him.

"Indeed. It's that ridiculous holiday that couples choose to celebrate their love for one another." Chevalier couldn't understand why there was one day dedicated to celebrating one's love for another; this is something that should be conveyed any day, every day.

Smiling, glad he remembered, you tugged on his arm, leading him towards the gazebo where he liked to read.

Chevalier raised a brow at you when you stopped right before the gazebo. There was more flowers than usual - dahlias and tulips in shades of pink, complimenting the roses that lined the gazebo. There was a new stone walkway leading to the seating area that was now furnished with plush pillows.

Amongst the new flowers, there was a small plaque, raised on a stake, your gaze was fixed on.

"The King's Garden," he read aloud, his fingers tracing the elegant raised letters. "This garden was planted for the King on Valentine's Day by...." His voice trailed off as he turned his gaze to you.

Your firsts clenched, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress, you averted your gaze. "I wanted to give you something that wasn't ephemeral. Somewhere you could go to everyday. Something that would live on, something future generations could enjoy."

"You forgot one thing, simpleton," he said, tilting your chin up with his thumb. Worried he didn't care for your gift, you looked up at him with wide eyes, hoping for acceptance. "There's no mention of the queen on this plaque."

Blushing, you were surprised by his question. "That's because I'm not the queen," you replied matter-of-factly.

"Yet," he said softly, kissing the top of your head. "You're not the queen yet."

Clavis Lelouch

"Oh my, it's horrifying!" Yves shrieked as he stepped away from the table.

"It looks just like his creations, it's scary," Jin observed as he peered at your masterpiece. "It's amazing, you nailed all of the details - the lopsided eyes, the weird ears. To think, it's all made of chocolate."

Jin reached out, ready to steal a piece to satisfy his sweet tooth.

"That's for Clavis!" you exclaimed, swatting his hand away before he could ruin your creation.

"What's for Clavis?" a familiar voice asked.

You spun in your spot, shifting to hide what was on the table. "Um, it's nothing."

Clavis tilted his head, trying to peer behind you. "It doesn't look like nothing." He took a step closer to you, trying to get a better look, but you kept moving, blocking his view.

"I think it's time we head back to the office," Jin announced, hinting to Yves that it was time to go.

"Good," Yves said as he followed Jin. "That thing was looking at me, and I didn't like it."

"Now what was my little brother talking about just now." Clavis stood right in front of you, his amber eyes holding your gaze, as he cupped your cheek in his hand.

Sighing, you stepped away, revealing the creation you were hiding.

Clavis sighed, clearly in awe of what he was witnessing. "It's....it's my bunny cake I make for you. But it's -"

"Completely made in chocolate," you said. "I had heard that chocolate is the traditional Valentine's Day gift, and I -"

"Recreated my masterpiece..." Clavis leaned in, gazing adoringly at the strange bunny cake.

"Shall we eat it?" His golden eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Yes!" you replied, curious to try what you made.

Clavis lifted you in his arms, placing you on the edge of the table.

"It's such a shame to destroy it like this, but then, it would be a shame not to eat it." He broke off one of the bunny's ear; bringing it to your lips, he offered it to you for a nibble.

The chocolate was sweet on your lips; smooth and creamy, it melted on your tongue.

"How is it?" he asked, anticipation alight in his amber eyes.

"So good, so very good." Your eyes drifted closed as you savored the sweetness of the chocolate.

You broke off the other bunny ear, offering it to Clavis to try.

He wrapped his hand around your wrist, as if he was going to guide your hand to his mouth. But instead, he moved your hand away to the side and kissed you, his tongue sweeping your lips, tasting the sweetness for himself.

"You're right, it's delicious."

Gilbert von Obsidian

You were so immersed in your own little world, humming to yourself as you prepared the raisin cakes that you didn't even hear him walk into the kitchen.

His footsteps were soft as he approached you. Without his cane, you didn't hear the tell-tale tapping sound as he stepped behind you.

He caught you by surprise, his arms reaching around your waist.

Without his fur cloak dampening his chill, his body was cooler than usual, his broad chest pressing against your back, his arms firm against your waist.

"You didn't tell me you were baking," he whispered in your ear, nipping the rim of your ear.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," you chided him as you continued to assemble to cakes.

He brushed your hair to one side of your shoulder, his gloveless finger ice-cold on your skin as he traced the ribbon your wore around your neck hiding the love bites he left on your neck last night.

Gently pushing the ribbon down, he found an expanse of unmarked skin. Dipping his head, he left sucking kisses on your neck, before clamping his mouth on your pulse point as he left another mark on your delicate skin.

Placing soothing kisses on your skin, he replaced your ribbon, covering the pale pink blossoms on your neck.

Gilbert rested his head on your should as he watched you prepare the raisin treats he once made for you.

Wordlessly, he placed his hand on yours, guiding your hand as you made his favorite treat, enjoying how your warm hand felt in his.

"Happy Valentine's Day." Twisting in his arms to face him, you held a cake to his lips, letting him have the first bite. "I tried to recreate your recipe from scratch..."

Gilbert bit into the cake; it was everything he remembered them tasting like. Maybe even more. Because they were made by you. Made with love.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he said before biting the tip of your finger.

[bestlaidplansproductions]

What's Valentine's Day without cards from your favorite villainess and pack of suspects?

In the next few days, you'll get a full Valentine's day greeting from each Save the Villainess character as well.

Until then, here's hoping the sweetheart you choose doesn't poison your sweets...

Interested in taking tea, dodging murder, and solving mysteries in a historical fantasy setting?

If so, check out Save the Villainess - our otome isekai visual novel inspired by Tearmoon Empire, Terry Pratchett, and Agatha Christie.

🦋Wishlist Save the Villainess on Steam.

🦋Follow Save the Villainess on Itch.

🦋Sign up on our mailing list for monthly news & character cards.

Credits: Characters by Somate Studio; Item art by @arodude; Backgrounds by @arodude & Karel Kok; Graphic Design by Sokei.

[vassalor]

Friend: I dare you for another fanfic!

Me: * counting the ones whom already started* yes?

Friend: Resident evil otome game version.

Me: which part?

Friend: All.

Me:

[violettduchess]

A/N: A break from all the angst! Here are the winners of the Valentine's Day Kiss Headcanon poll. And a special guest from Obsidian who slipped his way in 😘

Princes x f! reader

I wanted these to be shorter but that was not it's destiny so here we are at 2.5k words.

Happy Valentine's Day whoever reads this! Sending you all lots of love 💜

 Morning: Chevalier

The morning sun has dared to reach tentative fingers through the windows of Chevalier’s bedroom. You feel the warmth caress your face and a sigh, soft as silk, escapes you. The day is calling and you know at some point you’ll have to answer. But there is a strong arm holding you tightly against a warm body, one that is curled around you, heavy with sleep. Carefully you turn under the weight of his embrace, pulling your leg out from under his. A small grunt of annoyance is all your movement elicits. Without opening his eyes, he adjusts his hold on you, pulling you close again.

This close, in the pale light of morning, with him still swimming on the edge of sleep, you have a moment to study the face you hold so dear. The almost boyish fall of his pale hair. The sharp line of his cheekbones. The perfect curve of his lips. His lashes are long, framing eyes that to you have come to be the very definition of the word “blue.” They hold the sky at its brightest and the ocean at its most fierce and flawless sapphires and glacial ice all within their beautiful depths. Your hand rises to gently cup that face, to feel the soft skin of his cheek, the curve of his jaw. Your palm cradles him and your heart grows warm with love and affection and pride that you can call this man yours. “Chevalier,” you murmur. “We should get up.”

His eyes open slowly. In them you can see denial. He does not want to get up yet. He would attack the dawn with his sword if he could. He breathes out, stretching his long legs and buries the face you had been so admiring into your bare shoulder. His mouth is warm against your skin when he finally speaks. “Not yet.”

With a smile you reach down, your fingers finding his chin and tilting his face back up. He allows it because it is you. “We really should.” Not able to help yourself, you lean down, capturing his lips in a kiss. Again, only you would ever be allowed to take him prisoner. His response is slow, each movement languid, savoring the feel of your mouths together, of the way your lips lock and unlock. You are the one who deepens the kiss, shifting yet again in his arms, pushing yourself up. Now you are not laying parallel but rise above him, your hair falling to curtain his face.

He reaches up, gathering your loose hair, winding its softness around his hand, all the while kissing you back with an intensity that screams high noon and not mid-morning. You feel the hold he has on you and gasp, your lips leaving his to curl into a smile. He growls, catching your lower lip between his teeth, not wanting you gone even a moment, holding you in place for a heartbeat before releasing you. “Not. yet.” His repeated words are rough with need, sliding over your skin, mirroring the feel of his palms on your body.

This was not quite how you expected to wish him a happy Valentine’s Day. You had plans for the day…. and yet you give yourself over to the trembling ache of wanting him without a moment's hesitation. Everything else can wait.

Afternoon: Leon

You can only feel when the carriage finally rolls to a stop because your eyes are bound by a strip of dark red silk. It’s been hours, rocking back and forth in darkness. You hear Leon open the door and then feel as he takes your hands in his, his hands calloused and strong. Your fingers curl around them tightly as he carefully leads you down and out of the carriage, your boots touching solid ground. He exchanges a few words with the driver and you hear the rattle of the horses’ harnesses, the departing clip-clop of their hooves, muted as they travel over dirt and not cobblestone.

Holding your hands in his, he pulls you along, laughter threaded through his voice like golden strands. Just a bit further he says as the ground under your feet begins to incline and you find yourself clearly walking uphill. He does not allow you to stumble. You are safe in his guidance. You trust him implicitly.

“Leon….I don’t know if I can go much further.” You’re only half jesting when you say the words, your legs starting to shake from the climb. He stops walking and lets go of your hands. A split second passes and then your feet leave the ground. He’s scooped you up into his arms, carrying you as he continues on. Warmth for him blooms in your heart as you wrap your arms around his neck, trusting him to the ends of the earth and back.

The air around you grows cooler, delivering misty kisses upon your skin. Although you are still going uphill, his pace doesn’t slow until you feel the way his hold on you changes, the ground leveling out. Carefully he sets you down and then moves behind you, his touch never leaving you so that you remain steady on your feet.

“Alright, my love. On three. One. Two. Three.” The silk slides off of your eyes and when you finally open them, your breath catches in your throat. You’re standing at the top of a hill, one stretching itself as tall as possible. From your vantage point, you can see down across the lush green fields that blanket the rolling hillside. They are laid out like a green carpet, all the way down to the town. From this height, the buildings you are so familiar with look like miniatures. Even the palace, gleaming white in the midday sun, looks like a child’s magical toy. As you take it all in, you remember a day almost half a year ago, when you had been visiting Leon in his office, admiring a weathered map that hangs on the wall.

“What’s beyond here?” you had asked, pointing to where the map’s green lines ended, blurring into the faded brown parchment. Leon had looked up and smiled slowly. “Shall I show you someday?” You nodded, smiling that smile that sent his heart spinning. And now, when the snow had melted enough, here you were.

“You remembered.” You turn your gaze away from the view to another stunning sight: Leon beaming, your joy lighting him up from within. He reaches for you and you move into his arms, natural as breathing, like falling into a dream. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, holding you close against him. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” His voice is soft with affection, the sweet, low tone one he only ever uses when speaking to you. You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against the soft material of his cloak, feeling safe and warm and above everything, loved. 

Evening: Clavis

You’re sitting in the salon, a warm fire blazing in the hearth, throwing soft orange and yellow light across the rich, dark wood and luxurious red velvet of the room. Clavis has disappeared, promising you one last treat. You wonder if your stomach will be able to handle “one last treat”. He’s spent the entire day showering you with little gifts, all of them food. A pancake breakfast with deep green and purple pancakes with some kind of blueish syrup. Lunch was a soup that actually glowed. (He swore it was supposed to do that.) And dinner? You’re not too sure. He claimed it was stew but the meat felt very chewy and the sauce was a bright orange you are certain does not exist in nature. But you ate it. Each meal, every bite. And you thanked him for his effort because you know he did it to make you happy.

But now as you wait for him, hands resting on your abdomen, you find yourself hoping he didn’t make something like the purple “bunny” he had created for your birthday. The one made out of some kind of jelly-like substance that left you smiling through a roiling, queasy stomach for several hours. And had tasted oddly like grass.

The wooden doors open and Clavis enters, holding a silver serving platter, covered by a silver dome. You push yourself upright even as your mind sends silent prayers to whoever may be listening that whatever is under there, it isn’t gelatinous. He kneels in front of where you are sitting on the couch, his eyes two golden pools sparkling with excitement. “Ready, my dear?” You draw a breath, trying to keep your smile steady and positive. “As ever.” He reaches around and removes the silver dome to reveal…

“Clavis….” The word is drawn from your lungs on a gasp. Laying on the silver platter is a small clay heart. It’s a pale lavender but it has a shimmer to it, as if it had been dipped in gold dust. A small hole has been made at the top, run through with a thin strip of soft, black leather. You reach out, taking the necklace in your hand, your heartbeat quickening. When you turn it over, you notice the initials etched into the back. Yours and his, in his signature loopy handwriting. When you look up at him, you see something for the first time today: nervousness shades his smile, uncertainty sparking in the gold of his eyes. “I thought of going to the royal jeweler, but then I remembered you talking about the craftswoman in town who makes these kinds of things and how much you loved her work. With the right persuasion, she helped me make this.” He licks his lips, forcing a smile. “If you’d rather have a gemstone,  we can–”

He is cut off as you throw your arms around him, pressing your lips to his lips. And then his cheek. And then his chin. And other cheek. And forehead. And lips again. Again and again and again you kiss him anywhere you can until the both of you topple over onto the plush carpeting and he breaks out into laughter. “So my darling likes her present.” 

You hug him to you tightly, your eyes closed so they miss the way his cheeks are tinged pink. Your reaction has both thrilled him to no end and surprised him. Sometimes....he can hardly believe that you are his. He returns your embrace, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. His heart beats a rhythm in his chest. I love you, it says. I love you. And yours answers in return: I love you too. I love you too.

Midnight: Gilbert

Valentine’s Day is not a holiday they celebrate in Obsidian. And so you have not mentioned it at all. You went about the day, business as usual. Together you and Gilbert inspected the latest garrison and spoke to its leaders. You met with a group of merchants promising seeds which have been bred to thrive in harsh conditions. You made the rounds of the palace while Gilbert tended to his correspondence. Now, as night falls, you stop by his study to check on him, your hand running over the nape of his neck, comforting and tender. He sends you to bed with a tired kiss to the back of that hand. He has work to do and you, Häschen, cannot help him. He would be happier to know you have gotten rest.

The study door closes behind you and you pause, leaning back against it. You could go to bed as he asked….but you don’t. Because you have an idea. So Gilbert writes, his black feathered quill scratching quietly on parchment, making notes in the margins of letters, and you make your way through the dark stone halls of the palace toward the room at its very heart: the kitchen. Gilbert writes. You work some magic.

It is hours later when Gilbert’s quill finally rests. He stands, stretching out his stiff limbs, one hand rubbing at the corner of his dark red eye. A country teetering on the brink of war requires constant vigilance. A role he understands he must play. But sometimes, wrapped in the secrecy of night’s darkest hour, he wishes he could set it down. The quill, the sword, the weight of Obsidian. And simply be with you.

He is bathed in shadow as he walks toward his bedroom, pushing open the dark, carved double doors. He moves silently, not wanting to wake you, but then he sees the candles still burning and you sitting on the edge of the bed, draped in a dressing gown of pearlescent white satin, holding a plate with something small and dark on it in your hands. He tilts his head, curiosity overcoming exhaustion as he walks over. “What’s this?”

The bed dips as he sits down next to you, his gaze traveling from the plate to your face. You clear your throat. “This….is a small tradition in Rhodolite. It’s Valentine’s Day.” You glance at the small clock on his nightstand, an ornate thing made of silver. “At least for another few minutes. And traditionally, it’s a day to celebrate love with cards and flowers and chocolate.” You shrug your shoulders, feeling suddenly shy under the intensity of his gaze. “I didn’t have time to make a nice card and flowers are hard to find here but I knew there was just enough chocolate left from what I brought with me to bake you a cookie.” You had only enough chocolate to make one cookie, a heart-shaped chocolate oatmeal cookie with chopped nuts and raisins inside. Not necessarily what you would enjoy but you knew they were all flavors Gilbert held dear.

He studies the cookie for a moment, silent. You wonder if maybe you’ve made a mistake. Maybe he just wants to go to sleep and not eat anything. Maybe he does not want to hear about a holiday from the country that is threatening his with war. Anxiety swells your heart and at the same time squeezes it with icy chains of uncertainty. This was a bad idea. Why did you even think it would be-

Gilbert lifts the cookie to his lips and takes a bite. His eye closes as he chews and you watch his face, the movement of his jaw. You notice the way his expression softens. There is peace in a face far too used to suspicion, to calculation, to hiding behind smiles and sharp words. There is bliss for a mind that has to think around a thousand corners. A mind that can now, in a moment of respite, simply enjoy the taste of something that you, the woman he loves, has made for him.

He finishes the whole thing with his eye closed. When it is gone, you reach out and take the plate from him, setting it down on the nightstand. When you lean back, he reaches for you. His kiss tastes like chocolate, like the richness of night, like the velvet softness of a love returned.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart

[darkflames29]

you think valentines day is still vaild? perhaps anyways happy belated valentines day!

played LBA in itchio its cute and flo sama is pretty