It Wasn’t Just Mythroot
Pairing: Azriel x Inner Circle (platonic chaos, mild flirtation, crackfic)
Tone: Hilarious • Suggestive • Found-family teasing • Azriel is mortified
Summary:
Cassian finds Azriel’s secret mythroot stash — and because the Inner Circle never learns, he convinces everyone to try it. Within an hour, Rhysand is glowing, Feyre can’t stop laughing, Mor is flirting with everyone, and Cassian is declaring Azriel “kinky and mysterious.”
Then Azriel walks in. Turns out it wasn’t just mythroot.
⸻
Cassian wasn’t snooping.
He was “helping” Azriel tidy up the weapons room, which—coincidentally—meant touching absolutely everything Azriel owned until something interesting happened.
It didn’t take long.
He found it tucked under a folded shirt, a small black tin box. Sleek, unlabeled, mysterious. A treasure in plain sight.
Cassian grinned, reading the faint scrawl on the lid. For bad nights.
“Bad nights, huh?” he muttered. “How bad we talkin’, brother?”
Mor, who was polishing her nails nearby, looked up. “Cassian. Don’t.”
He popped the lid. “It’s just mythroot.”
Mor’s eyes widened. “You don’t know that.”
“C’mon, Mor,” he said, inhaling like a man who’d never made a good decision in his life. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
⸻
Thirty minutes later…
The room looked like a fever dream.
Cassian was lying on the floor, wings twitching and grinning like an idiot.
Mor was crying with laughter.
Feyre was mesmerized by her own hand movements.
And Rhysand—High Lord of the Night Court, ruler of the stars, majestic and terrifying—was sitting backwards on a chair, sipping something suspiciously sparkly, saying things like “what if shadows are just introverted light?”
“Cassian,” Rhys said suddenly. “I feel amazing.”
Cassian clutched his stomach. “Dude, I told you. This stuff is divine.”
Feyre giggled from the couch. “You’re glowing.”
“Am I?” Rhys ran a hand through his hair. “Does it look like moonlight or more of a ‘seductive lightning god’ glow?”
“Definitely lightning god,” Mor said, half asleep. “Sexy lightning god.”
Rhys preened. “I knew it.”
Cassian choked on laughter. “Bro, you’re married.”
Feyre laughed harder. “Don’t blame me! You’re the one winking at Cassian!”
“I did not wink!”
“You absolutely did,” Mor slurred.
Cassian gasped dramatically. “Rhysand, are you flirting with me?”
Rhys crossed his arms. “If I am, you started it.”
Mor fell off the couch. “This is the best day of my life.”
Cassian was nearly crying. “Oh my gods, you’re so pretty when you’re defensive.”
Feyre covered her mouth, tears of laughter streaming down her face. “This is unreal.”
“Speaking of unreal,” Mor said through giggles, “why are we all… warm?”
“Because the mythroot loves us,” Cassian said solemnly.
“Or because Rhys is radiating ‘seductive lightning god’ energy again,” Mor muttered.
Rhys turned to her, scandalized. “Don’t act like you’re immune to my aura.”
“Oh, I’m not,” she said, smirking. “It’s a little intoxicating.”
Feyre threw a pillow at her. “Stop flirting with my husband!”
Mor caught it, laughing. “He started it!”
Cassian was on his back, helpless. “I think—I think we should call Azriel. He needs to join—”
The door opened.
And there he was.
Azriel stood in the doorway, all dark calm and steady menace, wings half-spread in confusion. His shadows recoiled from the cloud of smoke like they’d been physically offended.
He looked at each of them. Slowly.
“…What the hell did you do?”
Cassian waved cheerfully. “Brother! You have to try this.”
Azriel’s tone went flat. “What did you take?”
“Your stash,” Mor sang.
“My—” His jaw tightened. “You opened the black tin?”
“Yes!” Cassian grinned. “You selfish bastard, keeping this from us!”
Azriel blinked. Once. Slowly. “That wasn’t just mythroot.”
Rhys looked up from his sparkling drink. “Define ‘just.’”
“It’s mixed with an aphrodisiac,” Azriel said evenly.
The room fell silent.
Mor’s mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry—what?”
Azriel crossed his arms. “It’s for pain relief.”
Cassian started laughing so hard he nearly choked. “Sure, sure. ‘Pain relief.’ For your—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
Feyre was blushing, giggling uncontrollably. “That explains… so much.”
Rhys looked horrified. “That explains why Cassian told me I have beautiful eyes.”
Cassian raised a lazy brow. “You do, man.”
Mor wheezed. “And why Feyre tried to kiss me!”
Feyre gasped. “I did not!”
“You looked like you were considering it.”
“LIES.”
Rhys groaned. “I’m surrounded by degenerates.”
Cassian was laughing too hard to breathe. “Bro—Azriel—this is gold. You’re telling me you’ve been getting high on sex-mythroot?”
“It’s therapeutic,” Azriel said, every syllable dripping with quiet threat.
Mor leaned forward, smirking. “I always knew you had a dark side.”
“I train with Cassian every day,” Azriel said dryly. “Of course I have a dark side.”
Cassian rolled over, grinning like a fool. “Admit it. You’re kinky as hell.”
Azriel stared at him. “You’re hallucinating.”
Cassian wagged a finger. “And you’re deflecting.”
Rhysand groaned, rubbing his temple. “This is going to be a diplomatic nightmare if anyone finds out the High Lord’s Inner Circle got high on accidental aphrodisiacs.”
“Please,” Mor said. “It’s the most relatable thing we’ve ever done.”
Feyre nodded. “I’m still laughing at Rhys flirting with Cassian.”
“I WAS TRYING TO STOP HIM FROM CHOKING.”
Cassian grinned wickedly. “With your tongue?”
“CASSIAN.”
Mor fell apart laughing again.
Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Before someone actually tries to sleep with someone, I suggest you all stop talking.”
“Too late,” Cassian said, smirking. “Rhys already proposed.”
“I DID NOT!” Rhys’s voice cracked halfway through the denial.
Feyre was crying with laughter. “I think we’re technically all married now.”
Mor wiped her tears. “Azriel, how do you live with these idiots?”
“I don’t,” he said, turning toward the door. “I hide.”
“Coward!” Cassian called after him. “Own your kinks!”
Azriel didn’t even glance back. “I’m not ashamed. I’m disappointed.”
Rhys put his head in his hands. “That’s so much worse.”
Cassian grinned. “Classic shadow daddy move.”
Azriel froze mid-step. “I beg your pardon?”
Mor howled. Feyre fell off the couch. Cassian wheezed so hard he almost passed out.
Azriel sighed—the long, soul-crushed sigh of a man who’d lost all hope—and walked out, muttering, “I’m burning the stash.”