#lucien vantera drabble

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Lovers' Day

A/N: This is a collection of short drabbles of how I imagine ACOTAR men would celebrate Valentine's Day with their S/O. Enjoy!

Azriel

Azriel didn’t need words to show love. He never had. 

He let his actions speak for him, the way he always seemed to be there, anticipating your needs before you voiced them.

So when you woke up on Lovers’ morning, you didn;t think much of it. It was just another day. Azriel never made a fuss about things like this, and honestly, you had completely forgotten.

But Azriel, well, he never forgot anything when it came to you. And this time, he had planned ahead, with a little help from Rhys.

A week prior, Rhysand had informed you about an incoming mission. A simple infiltration, something requiring subtlety and mingling. The only strange thing was that Rhys had specifically told you to wear something nice, to blend in. It had seemed odd at the time, but you had dismissed it and agreed without question. 

Now, standing on the roof of the House of Wind, you found Azriel waiting for you, arms crossed, face unreadable. But instead of his usual Illyrian leathers, he was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit.

You blinked. “Oh, you’re also going to blend in tonight? Not staying in the Shadows as always?” 

His lips twitched slightly, amusement dancing in his hazel eyes. “Something like that.” 

There was a subtle smile tugging at his lips, but he said nothing more as he extended a hand to you. You took it gladly, intertwining your fingers with his scared ones.

The familiar pull of winnowing wrapped around you, and when the world settled again, you found yourself atop one of the highest rooftops in Velaris. The city stretched out below like a sea of stars, the Sidra reflecting the soft glow of faelights. 

And in front of you-

A single candlelit table, dinner spread out with  precision only he could manage. Your favorite cuisine, appetizers, carefully arranged, two glasses of Rhysand’s most expensive wine waiting to be poured.

But that wasn’t all. On the ground beside the table lay a large, thick blanket, with two more folded ones resting at the side. A woven basket sat nearby, promising more hidden surprises.

You turned to face him, and he was already watching you standing so close his hands easily found your waist. He still hadn’t spoken much, letting the weight of the moment settle between you.

“Az…” Your voice was soft, uncertain. “What’s this?”

His thumb brushed over your hip, his gaze never leaving yours. “Do you like it?” His voice was low, almost hesitant.

You looked at the table again, at the small details that spoke volumes, how much he had thought about this, how much he knew you. “Th- this is for me?” Your brows furrowed in confusion as your mind caught up. “I thought we were supposed to be- wait, what about the mission?”

He shook his head, a small secretive smile playing on his lips. “There’s no mission, baby.”

It took a second for the words to sink in. “Then what about Rhy- Oh. Oh!” You turned back to him, realization dawning. “You planned this with him, didn’t you?”

His lips parted slightly, watching the way your face lit up in understanding. He nodded, his smile growing when he saw yours. “I wanted to do something for you.”

Something warm bloomed in your chest. Without thinking, you closed the small space between you, stepping onto your toes as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “It’s perfect,” you whispered against him.

His shadows curled around your wrist, a silent response, as he intertwined his fingers with your and led you toward the table. 

You glanced toward the blankets, curiosity flickering in your gaze. “What’re those for?” 

Azriel pulled out your chair, waiting for you to sit before settling in across from you. “I thought we could watch the stars together after dinner,” he admitted, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. “The blankets are just in case it gets cold.”

You smiled, warmth radiating through you, not from the candlelight or the wine, but from the male sitting in front of you, the one who loved you in the quietest, most breathtaking ways.

Cassian

Cassian wasn’t very good at keeping secrets, or throwing surprises. He was too impatient for that. 

So on Lovers’ Day, he burst into your room at the crack of dawn, grinning like a fool. “I challenge you,” he announced.

You groaned, barely awake, propping yourself up on your elbows as you blinked blearily at him. “Cassian,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes, “What in the Mother’s name are you on about? A challenge to what?” 

He folded his arms over his broad chest, expression smug. “An arm-wrestling match.”

You snorted. “Oh?” You raised a brow, an amused smile curving your lips. “Or…you could just tell me what you want, since we both know that you’d win.”

His grin widened as he sank onto the edge of the bed, looming over you. “A kiss.”

You rolled your eyes. “You get kisses every day, Cass. Come on, tell me what you really want.”

He leaned in, voice dropping to a husky murmur. “I want to take you out for breakfast.” His fingers brushed along your arm, making your skin prickle. “And then, I have a little gift for you.” His grin turned downright wicked as he added, “As for my gift…I want you.” 

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, low, certain, possessive. But before you could respond, he continued, pausing just long enough to let the anticipation build. “Lying in bed tonight,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear, “with nothing on but a ribbon…while you wait for me.”

Your jaw dropped. Then, without hesitation, you grabbed the nearest pillow and  threw it at him. Cassian caught it with ease, laughing as he tackled you onto the mattress, pinning you beneath him. His hands pressed into the sheets beside your head. “Happy Lovers’ Day, sweetheart,” he whispered, lips brushing over the curve of your neck. 

And judging by the way his body pressed against yours, you knew he wasn’t going to let you leave this bed anytime soon.

Rhysand

Rhysand had been smirking all evening.

He had something planned. He always did, but you weren’t sure what, and that was what made you suspicious.

The two of you sat comfortably in the living room, a deck of cards between you, glasses of expensive wine half-full. Rhys dealt the next round, his violet eyes twinkling with mischief.

“If you win,” he mused, “I’ll grant you one wish. Anything you desire.”

You arched a brow. “And if you win?”

His smirk widened. “You’ll have to find out.”

You narrowed your eyes, determined to beat him at his own game. But always, Rhys played dirty. Lingering touches, whispered words in your mind, distractions that made your thoughts fog over.

When he laid down his winning hand, you groaned, glaring at him. “Fine. What do you want?”

Rhys leaned in, brushing his lips against your ear, his voice a slow, sinful purr. “You. Every second of tonight, in whatever way I please.”

Your heart skipped a beat, throat tightening. Not that you were complaining. Or that he didn’t already have you however he pleased often. You swallowed hard, shrugging in what you hoped was a nonchalant gesture. “Fine.”

Before you could blink, darkness surrounded you, and the next thing you knew, you were standing on a balcony overlooking Velaris, the city glowing beneath the moonlight. Rhys stood behind you, his hands sliding to your waist as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. “Open your eyes.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the anticipation. Rhys always found a way to surprise you, ways to keep you on your toes. And you never knew whether the night would be one of slow seduction or raw passion.

Your lips parted in surprise as you took in the sight before you. “Oh.”

The bastard smirked. “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

You turned to him, mock glaring. “In my defense, you were insinuating something else.”

“You have a dirty mind, darling,” he teased, his grin widening as your glare deepened. 

Before you could retort, he leaned down again, his voice brushing against your skin like silk. “Don’t worry, you weren’t wrong.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before lowering his lips to your ear once more, drawing out every word, slow and deliberate. “But first, dinner.” A pause, then, just as your breath caught- “I’m feeding you before I feast on you.”

Your eyes widened, heat flooding your cheeks as you smacked his chest. “Rhys!”

He chuckled, catching your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Come on, darling,” he murmured, tugging you inside.

Lucien

Lucien was a hopeless romantic. He spoiled you every day and every night. But today, he was determined to spoil you even more. 

You woke to the softest of touches, featherlight kisses pressed to your face, the warmth of his lips trailing along your jaw. A gentle hum rumbled in his chest, the only indication of his presence as he continued his slow, unhurried worship.

It was only when you stirred, a sleepy murmur escaping your lips, that he finally spoke, his voice low and affectionate. 

“Good morning, my love,” he murmured against your skin.

You groaned softly, your voice husky with sleep. “Mm, morning.”

Lucien chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before tilting your chin up. “Come on, wake up. I’ve planned a lot today, starting with breakfast.”

When you finally opened, you saw a beautifully arranged tray sitting on the bedside table. Your favorite fruits and pastries, along with a delicate teapot filled with your preferred brew Everything meticulously placed, because of course Lucien would make sure the presentation was just as perfect as the taste. 

“Lucien,” you whispered, your heart clenching at the effort he had put into this. “You shouldn’t have.”

He only smiled, brushing his lips against yours in a slow, lingering kiss. “Of course, I should. You deserve nothing less.”

After breakfast, he led you outside, winnowing the two of you to the Dawn Court.

Your breath hitched at the sight, the golden hues of the rising sun reflecting off the crystal clear lakes, soft melodies of birdsong filling the air. Everything about the Dawn Court was serene, ethereal, and today, he had planned the most romantic day imaginable.

The day unfolded like a dream. Horseback riding through rolling meadows, Lucien effortlessly guiding the reigns with one hand while keeping you steady with the other. Then, a private boat ride on the lake, where he reclined lazily, one arm draped around your shoulders, his other hand trailing absentmindedly through the water as you talked about everything and nothing at all.

As the day faded into twilight, Lucien winnowed you both to a quiet hilltop overlooking the sunset. The sky was a masterpiece of oranges and violets, the cool breeze tangling your hair as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding you close against his chest. His chin rested atop your head, his heartbeat steady against your back.

That night, after winnowing back home, he sat you down in front of the fireplace, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled a folded letter from his pocket. His amber eye flickered with emotion as he met your gaze. “I wrote this before we were together,” he admitted, handing it to you. “I never had the courage to send it.”

You carefully unfolded the paper, your breath catching as you read the words, his confession, his longing, the love he had harbored in silence for so long. The ink was slightly smudged, as if he had gone over the words countless times, his heart laid bare on the page.

When you finished, your eyes burned with unshed tears. “Lucien…”

But before you could say anything more, he reached for another paper,  his lips quirking into a shy smile. “That was then. But now…” He cleared his throat, straightening his posture. 

And then, he recited a poem. A poem he had written just for you. His voice was deep, smooth, steady, filled with adoration and reverence. Every line a promise, every syllable laced with love, By the time he finished, your heart was a mess of warmth and something else. You didn’t hesitate before launching yourself into his arms, kissing him deeply, hungrily, whispering his name like a vow.  Lucien chuckled against your lips, holding you tight, as if he never planned to let go.

“You are the greatest thing that ever happened to me,” he whispered, and you knew, he meant every word.

Eris

Eris did not do romance. 

He scoffed at the very idea of Lovers’ Day, calling it foolish, a ridiculous excuse for people to parade their affection like desperate fools. 

And yet- he still sent for you.

Later that evening, you arrive at your usual meeting point between your two courts. Eris was already there, leaning against a tree, arms crossed, his face carefully impassive.

He was fiddling with something- a small box, rolling it between his fingers.

 When he saw you approaching, he straightened forcing himself into stillness, his voice carefully nonchalant. “You came.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You said it was urgent. What’s wrong this time?” 

His smirk was slow, calculated. “It was urgent. I needed to see you.” He pushed off the tree, approaching you with lazy, confident steps, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed something deeper. He stopped just in front of you, holding out the small box. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

You raised a brow but took it anyway, fingers brushing over the carefully wrapped edges. “I thought you didn’t believe in this holiday?”

He scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I don’t. I just…” His jaw ticked as he glanced away. “Wanted to get you something.”

A smirk curled on your lips. “Ah, and it just happens to be on this specific day?”

His eyes snapped back to you, sharp as embers. “Don’t push your luck.” 

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “You really called me all the way here for this? You’re starting to make a habit out of it. Next time, I might not-”

You didn’t get to finish the sentence. Because in a single, swift movement, Eris closed the distance, grasped your face, and crashed his lips against yours.

The heat of him was blistering, unbearable- yet you couldn’t pull away. Didn’t want to. 

The kiss was measured yet scorching, each calculated movement knocking the breath from your lungs. His mouth moved with slow precision, as if he were branding himself into you, as if he hated how much he wanted this but couldn’t stop himself.

When he finally pulled back, you smirked against his lips, murmuring, “Next time, lead with that.”

His grip tightened slightly on your chin, his thumb brushing over your jaw in warning. “Shut up,” he muttered, before tilting your head up and kissing you again, deeper this time, hungrier, as if he were making damn sure you’d never forget the way he tasted- like fire and temptation, like something dangerous you’d willingly burn for.