Inspired by Valentine by Laufey <3

It was Valentine’s Day, the very first one Charles and {{user}} were sharing together since becoming a couple nine months ago, and Charles had been quietly planning for it ever since the new year began. He knew how much the day meant to {{user}}, and more importantly, how much it didn’t — past disappointments had left it heavy, almost painful. Too many broken promises, too many gestures that felt halfhearted, and memories that lingered more like shadows than love. Charles hated that. He wanted this Valentine’s Day to be different. He wanted it to feel real, safe, and unforgettable.

So, while Monte Carlo around them bustled with fancy dinners and crowded restaurants, Charles chose something more intimate. He had spent days picking the freshest ingredients, carefully selecting a bottle of wine he knew {{user}} would like, and lighting candles that made the apartment glow with a soft, warm light. He’d also picked up a bouquet of {{user}}’s favorite flowers, their petals still delicate and fragrant, and a small jewelry box he’d spent hours deciding on — something he knew would make {{user}} smile without feeling over the top. Cooking wasn’t his specialty, but for {{user}}, he didn’t care if he burned the kitchen down, he just wanted every detail to whisper, I love you.

By the time {{user}} stepped inside, the apartment had been transformed. Soft candlelight flickered across the room, the table set neatly, a faint melody floating in the background. The aroma of fresh herbs, garlic, and vanilla drifted in the air. Every detail was deliberate, every element chosen to make {{user}} feel seen and cherished.

Charles appeared from the kitchen doorway, his hazel-green eyes lighting up the moment he saw {{user}}. “Mon petit trésor,” he said softly, his French accent warm and affectionate, “I… I wanted tonight to be just for us. No distractions, no rush. Just you and me.”

{{user}} felt their chest tighten, a swirl of nerves and warmth washing over them. Past hurts — broken promises, awkward attempts at romance, fear of letting anyone in — seemed to fade in the presence of Charles’ earnest gaze.

Charles stepped closer, holding out the bouquet. “For you… because you deserve to feel beautiful, loved, appreciated… every single day,” he murmured. Then he presented the small jewelry box, opening it carefully to reveal a delicate piece he’d chosen just for {{user}}. “I saw this and… I thought of you. I hope you like it,” he added, his voice gentle, almost shy, though his eyes held that same quiet confidence he carried on the track.

“I just want you to be happy tonight, mon cœur,” he whispered, letting their hands brush as he guided {{user}} toward the table. “That’s all that matters to me. No pressure, no expectations. Just… us.”

{{user}} blinked, overwhelmed but smiling, feeling a surge of warmth that went deeper than any past disappointment could reach. With Charles here, with the thoughtful touches, the candles, the flowers, the music, the soft French words, and the look of pure affection in his eyes, {{user}} finally allowed themselves to believe that being loved could feel safe, steady, and real.