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theostrophywife · 1 year

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be my baby.

if you know how to by my lover, maybe you can be my baby hold me close under the covers, kiss me boy and drive me crazy

author's note: happy valentine's my loves. in honor of this day, please have this sweet, toothache inducing fluff of our favorite bat boys. the lil cas cookie cutness is dedicated to my darling @writingsbychlo to hold her over until i finish a smuttier cassian piece 😈 song inspiration: be my baby by ariana grande

The High Lord tapped his fingers.

The Illyrian general narrowed his eyes.

The shadowsinger crossed his arms.

The three brothers watched one another in quiet contemplation, waiting for the others to break the silence.

In true Cassian fashion, the male sighed and succumbed to his impatience. “So, what’s it going to be?”

Rhysand’s fingers hovered over his ornate desk, scanning the room. “It appears that we find ourselves in a conundrum, brothers.”

Azriel nodded as his shadows curled over his shoulders. “We have to make a decision soon. The day of hearts is coming up.”

“Well the solution is obvious, isn’t it?” Cassian stated. “One of us should just ask her.”

“Yes,” Rhysand agreed, “But which one?”

“Since I’m the one who even introduced her to you two idiots in the first place, I should be the one to ask.”

The High Lord crossed his arms. “Just because you met her first doesn’t give you some sort of claim,” Rhys objected. “Besides, it’s obvious that we have the most chemistry. Did you see the way she looked at me during dinner?”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Everyone was looking at you, Rhys. Who wears a godsdamned cape to a restaurant? You looked like one of those bloodthirsty vampyrs from the north.”

Cassian snorted in response while Rhys glared at him. “Like you were any better, Cas! Don’t think we haven’t noticed that all of the sleeves on your tunics have suddenly disappeared. We get it, brother. You have biceps.”

The shadowsinger bit back a smile. “It was a bit exhibitionary for my taste.”

“Not all of us can be dark, brooding, mysterious pretty boys, Az.”

“Did you just call Azriel a pretty boy?” Rhys mused.

“That’s besides the point!” said a frustrated Cassian. “Who is going to ask Y/N to be her date for the day of hearts? All three of us obviously like her so how are we going to decide?”

“Maybe we don’t have to,” Azriel mused. His brothers inched closer, eager to hear the shadowsinger’s solution. “It should obviously be her decision. Each of us will come up with our own strategy to ask her out this week. Once she chooses, then we put this rivalry to rest.”

Cassian nodded thoughtfully. “That works for me.”

Rhysand smirked, pleased by the challenge. “May the best male win, then.”

Azriel raised a brow. “I intend to.”

Rhysand was the first of his brothers to try.

It was early in the week when he invited you for a day out in the city. Never one to turn down brunch and a shopping spree, you found yourself walking down the sunny, cobblestone streets of the Palace of Thread and Jewels. You squeezed the High Lord’s arm as you strolled side by side along the Sidra River, throwing your head back in laughter.

“You’re absolutely vicious, Rhys,” you chastened in a teasing tone. “You almost gave our poor waitress a heart attack from all your shameless flirting.”

Violet eyes twinkled with mischief as he recalled the eventful breakfast. The two of you had indulged yourselves in pancakes, eggs, bacons, and bottomless mimosas, laughing and joking as you regaled each other with your most expensive purchases. Not unlike yourself, Rhys had a penchant for the finer things in life, often splurging on expensive silks and luxurious velvets. The most exorbitant of which was a shirt made of spider silk, which cost nearly a month’s worth of your wages.

Still, Rhysand had nothing on you. One of your shoes had diamonds the size of a fist encased in a transparent heel and the High Lord’s eyes had widened at the damage it had inflicted upon your coffers. It was worth every penny. As the drinks flowed, the more boisterous the both of you grew. The tables around you kept casting amused glances in your direction and your waitress, a pretty little nymph, had nearly fainted as Rhys sent her an apologetic smile.

“It’s not my fault that females find me irresistibly charming,” he retorted with a wink.

“And unbelievably humble, too.” You retorted dryly, “Is there anything you can’t do, High Lord?”

“Pull off a cape, apparently,” Rhys exclaimed with an exaggerated sigh.

You burst into a fit of giggles. “It was an interesting choice,” you mused, earning you a fond eye roll. “But you should really run your more experimental ventures by me first, Rhysie.”

“I won’t make the mistake of not seeking out your expert fashion advice again,” his lips quirked and an easy smirk spread across his devastatingly handsome face. “Though I know you prefer me shirtless and sweaty.”

His words drew the attention of the crowd around you, making you blush. You lightly pinched the inside of Rhysand’s arm. “Silver-tongued Rhys,” you said with an incredulous shake of your head. “One of these days that wicked mouth of yours will get you into trouble.”

“Trouble is the least of what this wicked mouth can get into, darling.”

You rolled your eyes in response and tugged him into one of your favorite stores. Tease or not, you weren’t about to let Rhysand distract you from the goal of this outing. You fully intended to shop until you dropped today. Luckily, the High Lord was more than happy to oblige.

The shopkeeper had a rack of the newest arrivals waiting for you at the back of the store. You were a frequent and loyal customer to the point that the female sequestered the largest dressing room for your use every time you dropped by. Today was no exception. Although now another rack filled with elegant suits and sleek shoes sat beside your own.

You plopped down on the cushioned seat in the middle of the dressing room, swirling a glass of champagne in your hands. “No capes this time, Rhysie.”

The High Lord rolled his eyes before picking out a few choice pieces and disappearing behind a thick privacy curtain. You perused through the dresses the shopkeeper had laid out for you, running your fingers through the fabric and setting aside the clothes that you were most excited to try on first.

Caught up in the beautiful garments, the sound of the curtain being drawn back registered a beat too late. You turned, mouth gaping and hand clenching around the stem of your champagne flute at the sight before you.

Mother save you.

Rhysand emerged from the dressing room clad in a lavender silk shirt that brought out the color of his eyes. The cut of the garment was seamless, accentuating every delicious inch of him. As was his custom, the High Lord left the first few buttons undone which granted you a generous view of his golden brown skin and the intricate tattoos swirling through his chest and shoulders.

Your mouth suddenly felt as dry as the desert.

He cocked his head to the side, waiting on the answer to a question you couldn’t recall hearing. A devious smirk spread across his face as he crossed the room. Rhys pressed something into your hands, his fingers brushing against your palm.

“Would you be a doll and finish me off, darling?”

You were pretty sure that your face was as scarlet as the famous locks of the Vanserras. “W-what?” you stammered.

Rhysand raised an amused brow. “The tie, dear.” You looked down at the slip of fabric in your hand. “I’d love it if you tied me up. You were always better at knotting than I was, if I recall correctly. A most useful skill to have.”

“Charming,” you muttered in bewilderment.

The arrogant, attractive, delicious…stop. You took a deep breath to center yourself before approaching the smug male before you. Rhysand was grinning as you looped the tie around his neck, focusing on the intricate knots. He watched as you worked, his fingers caressing the inside of your wrist. The touch was distracting and you had to re-loop the damned tie three times before you finally got it right.

“You’re quite good at that,” Rhysand mused. “I wonder if it translates to other uses as well.” You tightened the bow around his neck while glaring at him for making you blush so furiously. The High Lord only laughed.

“I’d stop your teasing if I were you. I’m half tempted to cut off your circulation.”

Rhys winked. “Who says I’m not into that, darling?”

Before you could respond, he strolled through the dresses you set aside and picked out a stunning, silver number that glittered against the light. “Shopping for something special?”

You swatted him away and grabbed the dress from his hands. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Rhysand sprawled out on the velvet settee, sipping on champagne and watching you over the lip of the glass. The scrutiny of his gaze awakened a horde of traitorous little butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Flustered, you drew back the private curtain and busied yourself with putting the dress on.

“I am curious,” Rhysand said from the other side. “The day of hearts is coming up, you know.”

As if you could ever forget. You’ve only been fretting over it for the past month. Mor was convinced that Rhysand was going to ask you to spend the holiday together and while the thought was extremely flattering, you couldn’t say yes. Not because you didn’t like Rhysand. Quite the opposite, actually.

But you’d also grown fond of Cassian and Azriel, which only served to complicate the situation. The last thing you wanted to do was get in between the three brothers. You valued their friendships too much and it would break your heart to lose any of them.

The safest route was to establish clear boundaries. You were friends. Just friends—even if a part of you craved more.

You slipped on the dress and straightened, reminding yourself of the same motto you’ve been drilling into your mind over and over again for the last thirty days. Just friends.

Rhysand’s head darted up as you exited. Your heart dropped as soon as your eyes met. The way he was looking at you…that wasn’t how friends looked at one another.

You wrung your hands together, turning your back on him and surveying yourself in the mirror. Attempting to busy yourself, you absentmindedly tugged at the zipper of the dress. It snagged halfway up your spine.

“Here,” Rhysand said softly. “Let me.”

The room fell silent as he stepped behind you. His reflection was one of hesitance, but he gingerly swept your hair over your shoulder and gently pulled the zipper up. Your breathing was shallow as he worked, the back of his knuckles brushing against your skin as your eyes met in the mirror.

“You’re stunning,” he breathed, twirling you around. The dress flared around your ankles like soft dusk and the diamonds embedded into the fabric glittered like stars as you swayed across the plush carpet.

Rhysand smiled. A bright, genuine smile that caught you completely off guard.

Beautiful.

Rhys was so beautiful.

“Have you gone into shock, love?” he asked with a low chuckle. You blinked, unable to speak. The High Lord tucked a stray strand of hair behind your pointed ear, his thumb caressing the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “No one would blame you if you did. I am quite irresistible.”

You snorted, swatting his hand away. “Careful, Rhys. If your ego grows any bigger, you won’t be able to fit that fancy little crown of yours.”

“Then take me down a notch,” he said smoothly, sliding his hands inside those perfectly fitted trousers. “Be my Valentine and spend the day of hearts with me, love.”

Eyes widening, you stilled as panic seized you from within. You wanted to say yes—so, so badly, but you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. It would be utterly selfish considering how you felt about Cassian and Azriel.

Plastering on a half-smirk, you turned towards Rhysand and cocked your head. Boundaries. You had to draw boundaries. “As enticing as that would be,” you said softly, “I already have plans for that day.”

If Rhysand was disappointed, he didn’t let it show. Instead he gave you a sly, easy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh? Anyone that I know?” His tone was casual, but you could hear the curiosity that he was trying to reel in.

“No.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. You planned on spending the day cooped up in your flat while reading one of the steamy romance novels that Nesta had lent you and Rhysand technically didn’t know the brooding silver-haired elf prince on the cover.

“Well, whoever it is,” Rhysand drawled, his gaze meeting yours in the mirror, “I hope he knows that he’s a very lucky male.”

The afternoon passed quickly after that with you and Rhysand indulging in more shopping and champagne. With your pockets lighter and your head swimming, the two of you strolled side by side along the Sidra River as you walked home. Like a true gentleman, your friend insisted on carrying your shopping bags for you though the starlight dress wasn’t among your many purchases. Mostly because you couldn’t get that look on Rhysand’s face off your mind and you realized that you didn’t want to wear it if you didn’t get to see the twinkle in those violet eyes of his as you twirled.

The High Lord bid you goodbye and kissed your cheek. Before he winnowed from your quiet street, Rhys handed you your bags and departed with a wink.

You didn’t think much of it until you were putting away your purchases. Tucked underneath the skirts and corsets that you’d splurged on was the starlight dress. It was neatly folded and tied with a lavender ribbon. A note with familiar handwriting snagged your attention and you bit back a smile as you slowly unraveled it.

It would have been a shame to leave this at the store. Promise to wear it out even if I’m not there to witness it. A beautiful dress like this deserved to be worn by an equally beautiful female. Go outshine the stars, darling.

Yours,

Rhys

The smile that spread across your face remained even as you turned in for the night.

Cassian’s plan was foolproof.

The Illyrian general approached the task of asking you to be his Valentine with a well-thought out strategy, considering the pros and cons of each idea with the perspective of a battle hardened warrior. In the end, he settled for a simple yet effective plan.

“You do know that the goal is to actually bake the cookies, right?” you stated, batting Cassian’s hand away from the bowl of cookie dough.

Your flat was filled with the sweet smell of chocolate as you whisked the mixture in your hands. For all his preaching about maintaining a balanced diet, Cassian had devoured nearly half the bowl of cookie dough and you hadn’t even decorated the first batch.

He snatched the mixture from you and stirred faster, his strong arms flexing with each movement. “Says the female who devoured half a cup of chocolate chips when she thought I wasn’t looking.”

You gasped, feigning an affronted expression. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to shame a female for her eating habits? Someone should really teach you some manners, Cas.”

Cassian smirked. “I’d like to see you try, sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes, you snatched the bowl back and hip checked the Illyrian general as you rolled out the dough. Cassian fell into place beside you, watching intently while you worked. Despite his sweet tooth, he managed to stay on task and follow your instructions. It was highly amusing to watch the large, heavily muscled warrior squint in concentration as he rolled the dough between his rough, calloused hands.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as Cassian’s brows furrowed in concentration. The two of you had always shared a love of cooking, having met at a master class in the city. The instructor had assigned you as partners and by the end of the night, you and Cassian managed to prepare a six course meal and strike up an instant friendship.

You’ve been crushing on him since then.

There was something endearing about his gentle manner, the softness that came out when he was doing what he loved. It was the complete opposite of what you’d expect from a battle hardened warrior, but it made perfect sense at the same time. You watched with a fond smile as Cassian leaned over the counter, his wings pressed tightly across his back, a pastel pink apron tied around his midsection, his shoulder length hair haphazardly thrown into a half bun with a few strands framing his ruggedly handsome face. Rich, hazel eyes were laser focused on icing the cookie in front of him.

You hadn’t realized how intently you’d been staring until Cassian looked up at you. He lifted a brow, the slit in the middle rising as he shot you a smirk. “See something you like, sweetheart?”

You stuck your tongue out, making Cassian chuckle. “Actually, I was critiquing your piping methods. It looks a little sloppy if you ask me.”

“No one’s ever complained about my piping before,” he said with a suggestive tone, “But you’re free to correct my form if you’d like.”

Heat crept up your cheeks, but you weren’t about to back down now. Not with the challenge dancing in Cassian’s molten gaze. “Let the professional show you how it’s done, Cas.”

Before you could think better of it, you grabbed his wrist. You tried not to gape at the obvious disparity of your hands, the way your fingers barely covered his palm, the roughness of his skin against your own, the warmth of his touch as you directed the piping bag over the surface of the cookie.

With shaking hands, you drew a sprawling shape with the red frosting and Cassian chuckled behind you as he beheld your creation. “Wonder what that could be,” he mused.

The rendering was a little off, but that was to be expected thanks to Cassian’s effect on you. Under the conditions, you thought you’d done a rather great job at imitating those giant wings of his.

“Looks awfully accurate,” he continued. “Been thinking about my wings quite a bit, have you?”

“It’s kind of difficult not to when they literally take up half the room.”

“I’ve been told they’re bigger than average.”

Fire snaked across your belly. “But not the biggest, right?” you said with a smirk. “I believe that honor belongs to Azriel.”

Cassian scoffed. “My brother has yet to prove that claim. Az refuses to measure.”

You giggled as your friend took the bait. “He doesn’t have to,” you said with an innocent smile. “Az just has big wing energy, you know?”

“Big wing energy?” Cassian repeated. His confusion made you burst into uncontrollable laughter. He rolled his eyes once he realized that you’d been toying with him. “You’re devious, you know that?”

“Perfectly aware, thank you very much.”

The Illyrian general chuckled to himself as you returned to your own pile of cookies. Pink, red, and white frosting were spread out across the marble countertop and the two of you worked in silence, wrists flicking in the air as you drew hearts, arrows, and other decorations befitting the upcoming holiday.

“Do you remember when Varian asked us to teach him how to bake a cake for Amren last year?” you asked, adding frills to your sugar cookie.

Cassian snorted at the memory. The Prince of Adriata was good at a lot of things, but baking was not one of them. With Amren’s newfound ability to actually consume food, he wanted to gift her with something of his own making. Though he did purchase a diamond the size of Cassian’s fist in case the cake went horribly wrong, which it did.

It would’ve been fine had Varian not insisted on making the entire thing by himself while the two of you watched. You had suggested something easy like a plain vanilla cake with strawberry filling, but the Prince was dead set on a molten chocolate lava cake, which was considered a generally advanced bake.

In the end, the desert that he had presented to Amren looked more like a heap of ash than anything remotely edible. Cassian had to give it to the Tiny Ancient One, though. She limited her grimace to two side eyes directed at the both of you before fixing her expression into a reluctant smile. You nearly wet yourself from laughing so hard.

“I honestly thought we were done for,” Cassian remarked. “Amren looked like she wanted to stick us in the oven after that first bite.”

“It’s not our fault!” you exclaimed, “Varian was adamant about doing everything by himself.”

“This is why the nobility have private chefs and cooks. They’re all helpless when it comes to cooking. No offense, duchess,” he added with a smirk.

You scrunched your nose up in distaste. While the noble title had technically passed to you upon your parent’s passing, you rarely used it outside of your emissary duties. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“Not as much as Amren hated eating that cake,” he responded dryly.

The two of you doubled over in laughter. Wiping your tears away, you chuckled softly. “Love makes you do strange things, I suppose. Either way, it was a day of hearts that Amren will never forget.”

“Speaking of which,” Cassian said, training his voice into a casual tone, “The big day is coming up. Do you have any plans?”

He kept his eyes on his own cookie, the writing almost finished as he placed one final loop over the question. Cassian angled it towards you, the culmination of his plan coming to fruition. This was it. The big moment. The final play.

“I—um, well I—”

That was not a good sign. Cassian perked up at the hesitation in your voice. In all the time that he’s known you, you’ve never faltered. You were sure, decisive. It was one of the many qualities that he found incredibly sexy about you.

But now you looked like a deer caught in faelights.

Retreat. Fall back. Abort mission.

“Well, I’ve actually already got plans,” you declared in a rushed whisper.

His heart clenched in his chest. Of course. Of course he’d been too late. One of his brothers probably already asked and you’d said yes, which would explain why you looked so uncomfortable.

Cassian’s eyes widened as your gaze landed on him. He immediately looked down at the cookie and the silly question he’d carefully frosted over its surface.

Be my Valentine?

The pink and red cursive of his own handwriting mocked him. Cassian had to get rid of it. Now.

You stepped closer to him and any second you might look down and see his pathetic little question. Cassian only had one choice to make.

The Illyrian general stuffed the whole cookie into his mouth.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes widening at your friend’s sudden outburst. “Cas?” you asked incredulously. “What the hell are you doing? You’re gonna choke on the damned thing!”

Cassian coughed, wincing as fragments of the cookie scratched the back of his throat. Still, the embarrassment he felt in this moment paled in comparison to what he would’ve felt if you’d seen the writing.

He smiled sheepishly. “I was hungry,” he said, swallowing the last bits of his botched plan.

You furrowed your brows in concern before Cassian wiped his hands on the front of his apron. He grinned, elbowing your side. “So, you’ve got plans, do you?” he said even though pain lanced through his chest at the words. “Whatever you do, don’t bake him a molten lava cake.”

The two of you broke out into another conspiratory grin before you looked down at the cookie before you, angling it away from your friend. The wings you drew earlier flared out with the help of your magic and as they fluttered, you flicked your wrist to wipe away the doodles that you added.

Tiny pink and white hearts that matched the striped apron Cassian was wearing.

Unlike his brothers, Azriel didn’t see the need to resort to gimmicks.

The shadowsinger had always been meticulous about every goal he set his sights on and asking you to be his Valentine wasn’t any different. His best chance would be during your weekly meetup in the city and he was fully prepared to execute his strategic ten step system until he’d walked through the coffee shop to find you seated at your usual table.

Then you looked up at him and smiled and he forgot all about the damned system and nearly tripped on his feet trying to get to you. Before he knew it, a half hour had passed and he still hadn’t built up the courage to ask you the pressing question, but instead rambled about the mystery novel he’d just finished reading.

Not that you minded one bit.

One of the things you adored most about Azriel was your shared love of reading.

While the shadowsinger was by nature a silent male, he came alive when you talked about books. You loved listening to him talk passionately about a new novel he’d discovered, watching as those brilliant hazel eyes glowed golden, his shadows darting excitedly around his shoulders as though they too, found the change in his reserved behavior entirely enchanting.

That was the Azriel that greeted you in the cozy alcove of your favorite coffee shop, his beautiful face animated, his hands gesticulating as he explained the plot twist of his newest read, his normally cool, dark voice filled with warmth and excitement. Your friend was a brand new male and you were grateful to be able to witness such a breathtaking sight.

Azriel cocked his head, a smile toying at his lips. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You shook your head, forcing yourself out of reverie. “Nothing, you’re just cute when you’re passionate.”

The shadowsinger narrowed his eyes. “Cute? I’m the High Lord’s Spymaster. I can rip a male’s spine out without blinking.” He crossed his arms, clearly affronted. “I am not cute.”

“Yes, yes, you can be quite terrifying, shadowsinger.” He pouted as you reached across the table and tapped his nose. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re absolutely adorable when you get excited like this, Az.”

The Illyrian male playfully flicked your wrist. “You’re lucky I like you, angel. No one else would dare to speak to me like this.”

You rolled your eyes, snorting. “Just drink your damned hot chocolate before I hex your nose off.”

Azriel stuck his tongue out, but did indeed take a sip of his hot drink. It was a little known fact that the shadowsinger had a vicious sweet tooth, which was yet another similarity that you bonded over. You’d won him over by inviting him to Deja Brew, a little hole in the wall coffee shop tucked into a quiet street at the Palace of Hoof and Leaf.

The shop was quaint and homey, part coffee shop, part bookstore, complete with the most delicious hazelnut latte you’ve ever tasted and a collection of books that rivaled your own shelves. By far its best feature was its privacy. Within its walls, you never had to worry about being viewed as the shadowsinger or the emissary. You were simply two friends eating, reading, and laughing without worrying about garnering unwanted attention. No one even looked at you twice in here.

And the silence—comfortable, glorious, silence enveloped you like a warm hug.

You basked in it and you knew Azriel did too. As much as you loved your friends, the two of you were introverts at heart. Sometimes all you wanted to do was sit in a quiet room and read until the sun disappeared over the horizon. Thus, Deja Brew became a sacred haven for you and the shadowsinger.

Once a week, you had a recurring date to simply sit in silence and read. Most days, you barely spoke a word to one another aside from the initial greeting. It didn’t matter who arrived first. Your designated spot underneath a hidden alcove towards the back of the shop was supplied with the usual. For you, a hazelnut latte and an almond croissant. For Azriel, a hot chocolate and a cinnamon roll the size of your head.

The elder dryad who owned Deja Brew brought another refill of your drink, her kind eyes appraising you as she set the latte down. “Thank you, Esme,” you said with a smile.

Esme grinned back. “Anything for my two favorite customers.” She set a heart shaped danish between you and Azriel, a knowing look on her face.

“I don’t think we ordered this,” Azriel murmured.

“It’s on the house, dear.” Her eyes flickered over his face as a deep flush turned the tips of his ears pink. “In celebration of the day of hearts. I’m experimenting with some of my recipes. If you two don’t already have plans, you should stop by during the holiday and try some of the other pastries I have in store.”

It was your turn to blush. “That’s quite sweet of you, Esme. We’ll keep that in mind.”

As the dryad winked and disappeared beyond the alcove, silence settled between you and the shadowsinger. A different type of silence. A tense, adrenaline inducing silence that made your body crackle with electricity. Hazel eyes darted towards your direction and suddenly, your mouth felt as dry as hay.

Azriel gave you a lopsided grin, shrugging his shoulders in such an endearing way that you were almost tempted to close the gap between you and kiss him right then and there. But you didn’t.

Instead, you reigned those feelings in and focused on your book instead. Except you couldn’t focus on a single word. Not with the way Azriel was looking at you from across the table.

Hiding behind the safety of your book, you allowed yourself to sneak a glance at the shadowsinger. Azriel’s cheeks were a lovely rosy color, warm from the heat of the crackling hearth, its hazy red glow kissing the elegant planes of his face. His scarred hands, as beautiful as the rest of him, toyed with the spine of his book as the bright emerald green and soft earth of his irises swirled to combine into the most stunning color. The golden flecks in his eyes gleamed brighter as his shadows swirled around his wings.

They were moving about excitedly. One curled around his ear to whisper something. Azriel’s head snapped up, smiling as he found you openly staring at him.

It was one of those rare Azriel smiles. A smile that had taken you months and months to coax out of him. The force of it would have knocked you off your feet if you had been standing.

“I love it when you look at me like that,” Azriel said quietly. His voice was barely a hoarse whisper, but the words reached the depths of your soul nonetheless.

“How do I look at you?” you asked, curious.

The shadowsinger held your gaze. “Like you see me. All of me.” Something unreadable flickered in his expression. “And you’re not afraid of what stares back.”

You grinned, feeling your chest tighten with emotion. “I could never be afraid of you, Az. When I look at you, I think about books and cinnamon rolls and comfortable silence. I think about our secret little spot, away from the crowds, away from the noise. It makes me feel…safe.”

So much for containing your emotions. The revelation settled between you, but you didn’t regret saying them. Azriel deserved to know. He needed to know what this friendship meant to you.

The shadowsinger’s expression softened. He stared at you, weighing his words. “And should I expect to see you in our secret spot for the day of hearts?”

Your heart fluttered at the question, but you quickly tampered it down. First Rhys, then Cas and now Azriel. Every rejection felt bitter in your mouth, but you had no choice. You were not going to let your selfish desire ruin the wonderful relationship you had with each male.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to miss out on Esme’s new creations,” you said with a small smile. “As I’ll be indisposed during the holiday.”

Azriel’s expression revealed nothing, just mild curiosity. He smiled back, but it wasn’t like before. It was guarded, masked. Hiding layers of emotion that you couldn’t decipher.

“Very well, then.” Azriel stated in a cool, even voice. It might’ve made your stomach twist into knots had he not followed it up with a sly grin. “That leaves more sweets for me.”

Grateful to settle back into the comfortable silence, you spent the rest of the night reading. At least, you attempted to. You weren’t sure you retained any of the plot of the novel in your hands as you and Azriel walked through the empty streets of the quiet market square. While you usually would’ve winnowed while Azriel flew back to the House of Wind, neither of you seemed keen to end the night quite yet.

It was only when your flat building came into view when Azriel bid you goodnight. You stood on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek, thanking him for—well, everything. For being him.

He descended down the stairs leading up to your front door, turning back at the last step. With his wings spread across his back, he looked at you over his shoulder.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Az?”

Azriel pinned you with his gaze. “You make me feel safe, too.”

With that, he shot into the skies, flying across the city of starlight and taking your heart with him.

On the day of hearts, the three brothers gathered.

Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys agreed not to reveal your choice until the morning of the holiday. The Illyrian warriors gathered at Rhysand’s office in the House of Wind, surveying each other with quiet contemplation.

This was the moment of truth.

“So?” Cassian prompted, “Which one of you did she say yes to?”

“Not me,” Rhysand said, his violet eyes shifting to the shadowsinger.

“It isn’t me, either.” Azriel declared.

A brief silence settled through the office. Cassian paced, his expression twisting into confusion. “If it’s not any of us, then who is it?”

“Maybe someone from the Day Court?” Rhysand theorized, “She was helping Helion out with his nobles during her last mission.”

“It can’t be,” Azriel said. “My spies would’ve reported any activity, friendly or otherwise, with the nobility.”

“Maybe it’s someone from Velaris, then.” Cassian interjected.

“Do you think she’s meeting up with him in the city?”

Rhysand tapped his fingers against his chin, a devious glimmer in his eyes. “There’s only one way to find out, brothers.”

“What?” Cas sputtered, “You mean spy on her?”

“We can’t do that,” Azriel argued.

“Why not? You’re the Spymaster, Az. It’s literally your job.”

The shadowsinger rolled his eyes at the High Lord. “I said we can’t, not that I can’t. You two are about as stealthy as two bulls in a china shop. I’ll scope out the situation and report back with my findings.”

Cassian snorted. “There’s no chance in hell that we’re staying back while you spy on Y/N. We want to come, too.” He cocked his head to Rhysand, who nodded in confirmation.

Azriel sighed in resignation. There was no use in arguing. His brothers would make a right mess of things if they attempted this on their own.

That was what the shadowsinger repeated to himself as the three of them staked out your flat from the rooftop across the street. Just a glimpse, Azriel thought. A glimpse of the male so he could go home and research every single fact about the poor bastard while sharpening his beloved dagger.

Rhysand and Cassian seemed to hold the same sentiment as they leaned over the railing, surveilling the empty street below. One misstep and his brothers would be hurtling towards the cobblestone steps. Azriel rolled his eyes.

“Cas, if you lean any further you’ll tip over,” Azriel said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And Rhys, stop pacing back and forth. You’re giving me a headache.”

“Wait!” Rhysand declared rather loudly. Clearly, the High Lord was not at all used to fading into the shadows. “There he is. Walking up to her door, right now.”

The three Illyrians hunched over, watching as you opened the door. You greeted the male with a bright, cheery smile. He seemed to be carrying a present of sorts. You gladly took it and Azriel waited for you to invite the male inside, but instead you placed a gold coin into his hand and bid him goodbye.

The shadowsinger moved, watching as you plopped down on the couch and tore open the box. He clenched his fist, only to release it a few moments later when you produced an array of food. Azriel recognized the logo of your favorite restaurant written on the takeout boxes.

“Is she…eating?” Cassian asked in confusion.

Rhys blinked. “This doesn’t make any sense. She said she had plans.”

You curled up on the couch, an egg roll in one hand and a romance novel in the other.

“Maybe she’s waiting for her date?” his brother said, scratching the back of his head. “Maybe he didn’t show?”

Azriel snorted. “If a male stood her up, do you really think Y/N wouldn’t be on her way to tear him to shreds rather than laying on the couch?”

Rhys chuckled. “Az is right.” He tapped his chin, “Besides, she never actually said she had plans with a male. We all just assumed. There must be another reason why she turned us all down.”

Cassian crossed his arms. “Well I’ve had enough of sneaking around. I say we go in there and ask her ourselves.”

“What?” Azriel asked incredulously, “You mean to march in there and demand answers from her? She’ll hex the three of us into the next century.”

Rhys grimaced. “You may be right brother, but at least we’ll know.”

“This is a terrible, horrible, idiotic idea.” Azriel grumbled his disapproval under his breath, but followed his brothers across the street.

He came to a stop behind Rhysand, who was watching Cassian knock on the door with a wary expression. A few moments later, you came to the door and gaped at the three males gathered outside of your flat.

“For the record, I tried to stop them.” Azriel announced in greeting.

Your gaze flickered from Cassian to Rhys to Azriel before you sighed in resignation as though you were expecting to face this exact situation. “Come in, boys.”

The three Illyrian warriors followed you into the cozy flat, settling into your couch. Rhysand crossed one ankle over his knee, Cassian sprawled his long legs in front of him, while Azriel leaned against the cushions, watching you.

“So,” you started warily, “I assume you’re all here for a reason.”

“We…were just stopping by,“ Cassian started. “Scoping out the mysterious plans you had for the day.”

You raised a brow. “By that, you mean you were all spying on me from the roof.”

Azriel groaned. He knew his brothers would give them away.

“We weren’t spying, darling.” Rhys said, cowering a bit when you glared at him. “We were simply satiating our curiosity.”

“I’ll satiate more than that if you don’t wipe that damn smirk off your mouth, Rhys.”

Cassian snorted. You turned on him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t even get me started on you, Cas.”

“And you,” you said, settling over Azriel’s calm expression. “I expected more from you, Az.”

He sighed. “Trust me, I have no idea how I got roped into this either.” Azriel offered you an apologetic smile. “Despite our questionable methods, we really just wanted to make sure that whatever lucky male you decided to spend the holiday with was respectful.”

“Imagine our surprise when you decided to ditch us for egg rolls and an elf prince,” Rhysand teased, nodding to the romance novel on the table.

You rolled your eyes. “At least elf princes don’t spy on me.” Pacing the living room, you pinned the High Lord with a withering glare. “Give me one good reason not to transform you into a slug.”

Cassian chuckled. “You wouldn’t dare. You like looking at our pretty faces too much.”

At that, you cracked a smile. “Idiot,” you said fondly, smacking Cassian’s knee. “You’re lucky that I have a soft spot for foolish Illyrian warriors.”

“Speaking of that,” Rhys said, segueing into the reason why they gathered here in the first place. “Why did you reject all of our offers? Though I was banking on myself as your favorite, I thought you’d at least choose Cas or Az once you turned down being my Valentine.”

You sighed. “It’s…complicated.”

“Try us, angel.” Azriel said softly.

“I said no because I wanted to say yes.” The three brothers exchanged a confused look, but waited for your explanation. “I wanted to say yes to all of you. Because I like all of you, but obviously I could only pick one and…I can’t. You all mean so much to me, in different, unique ways and I couldn’t bring myself to choose.”

Rhysand stared at Cassian and Azriel, seemingly conveying a mind to mind message. Cassian grinned while Azriel nodded in confirmation.

“Who said you had to choose?” Rhys said with a wicked smirk.

“W—what?”

“We all like you, too.” Cassian provided, “And we all want to make you happy. Nothing should stand in the way of that.”

“I don’t understand.”

Azriel grabbed your hand and caressed your knuckles with his thumb. “What Rhys and Cas are saying is that we’re more than open to explore between the four of us.” A mischievous smirk slid across that handsome face. “Besides, we’re all quite good at sharing, aren’t we?”

Rhys and Cassian grinned. The Illyrian general pulled your other hand while the High Lord twined his arms around your waist, enticing you in.

“What do you say, darling?” Rhys asked, his violet eyes flashing with desire. “My brothers and I are all on board with the idea, but the choice is up to you.”

Cassian nodded, tracing soothing circles on your palm. “Think about it, sweetheart. This way, you can have your cake and eat it too.”

You shivered as his words snaked down your spine. “How would this even work?”

Azriel chuckled, his gaze settling on Rhys. “Like this.”

You watched in suspense as the shadowsinger leaned in and pressed a hungry kiss against Rhysand’s lips. The High Lord responded with equal fervor, twining one hand through Azriel’s hair while the other gripped your right hip.

Not one to be left out, Cassian winked at you before palming Rhys through his expensive trousers. He twisted and kissed Cassian’s neck, eliciting a low growl from the Illyrian general.

Azriel chuckled as you bit your lip. “What do you say, angel?”

Rhys pulled you between his legs. “Make us the happiest males and be our Valentine, darling.”

Cassian brushed your cheek with his thumb. “Put us out of our misery, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, I’d like to be your Valentine.”

The three males smiled at you, but it was Azriel who tugged you into his lap and tilted your head back to give you a proper view of Cassian and Rhys as they continued kissing.

"I think you'll find that all three of us are more than generous Valentines."

A shiver went down your spine and you laid back as Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys pounced.

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