“Did you put my leather jacket in the washmashine again?”
- Jace Wayland to Alec Lightwood in Shadowhunters 01x05
(This comment is highly underrated!)
“Alec, did you see my leather jacket? The one from last Thursday’s hunt?”, Jace asked as he let himself into Alecs room, already scanning the familiar quarter before he even closed the door.
It was far from a strange sight, having his Parabatai burst into his space like that. They had given up on courtesies like knocking or announcing themselfs even before their bonding ceremony. After all, if you willingly shared a part of your soul with someone there is hardly anything that could be more intimate or private afterwards.
So usually Jace walking into his room like that wouldn’t even have made Alec look up from the book he was reading. Not even the question was that unusual considering the amount of time they spend in each other’s presence and therefore rooms. A whole bunch of clothing articles lay at the bottom of Alecs drawer that were too short for him since he was sixteen. How Jace had cursed his growth spurt back then. And Alec was completely sure that Jace still held on to one of his favorite t-shirts. He hadn’t seen it in months.
Therefore the situation was hardly out of the ordinary. Definetly no reason for Alec’s shoulders to tense for a second. It was short and a normal person wouldn’t have noticed. But for the blonde who could read the archers tiniest movement in the haze of battle it must have been like a flare. He abandoned the examination of Alec’s room, asking: “You ok?”
This time Alec visibly flinched and Jace raised an eyebrow at his odd behavior. “Yeah - and it’s here”, he mumbled quietly and put his book away. Carefully the archer rose from his bedside and walked over to the laundry basket, all the time avoiding eye contact with the other Shadowhunter. After a moment of rummaging around Alec pulled out a slightly faded garment. Jacket in hand he walked over to Jace and held it out to him, his eyes darting nervously between his friends chin and the ground.
Still looking confused Jace took it from him. His eyes widening in surprise as he touched the once smooth material. “Wow, I didn’t remember the shax ichor to be that bad”, he said at the detaching seams. “It wasn’t just the ichor - I - I tried to wash it”, Alec confessed.
Eyeing the jacket from both sides now Jace snorted: “How? Did you put it in the washmashine?”
To Alec’s surprise it took Jace mere seconds to go from light amusement to downright laughter. “By the angel you did! Alec half your own wardrobe is made of leather, what compelled you to do that?”, he cackled.
“I -”, Alec started but his voice broke before he could say anything more so he just turned his gaze and mumbled: “It’s not as sturdy as it looks, ok. But you can’t really complain until you start doing your laundry yourself.”
“After seeing this I should probably do both our laundry from now on”, said Jace and raised the ruined jacket that still failed to keep his huge grin.
Heat was setting his neck ablaze but Alec used every training lesson he ever had about self-control to keep his stoic look on his face. However the blush stayed ignored by his partner, just as Alec’s embarrassment about the whole situation. Jace simply threw the jacket away without another glance. Standing there in complete surprise Alec watched the other man walking over to his closet and pulling it open. “Jace?”, he asked carefully but the blond had obviously decided to ignore him. Just as Alec made a few steps to stand behind him the other turned around with a triumphant: “That will do.”
In his hands he held one of Alec’s own jackets, simpler then Jaces and obviously too large for him. “I don’t think so”, the ravenette started but was immediately interrupted by Jace. “Bullshit, thy people shall be my people, thy gear shall be my gear remember?”
“The oath I remember sounded a bit different”, Alec noted with sceptically raised eyebrows. Still he took a step back so Jace could pass him while throwing his jacket on.
Surprisingly Jace actually managed to fit into the gear piece quiet nicely undoubtably thanks to his melee fighting style. The arms stayed too long though. But Jace simply rolled them up a bit as if it was completely normal to wear unfitting gear. “That’s dangerous. It could end badly if you can’t move properly while your in battle”, Alec commented.
“Relax Alec, it will be fine. And you’ll have my back anyway, right?”
What a needless question.
Even Jace seemed to have realized that as he turned around with a cocky grin. “Or are you just jealous because it suits me better then it does you?”
Another pointless question.
Where Alec was concerned everything as well as nothing suited Jace better then him. And the other knew it. That damn smile was proof enough as the blonde looked over his shoulder. Shaking his head the archer asked: “Your going out then?”
“Yeah, shapeshifter in Manhatten. You comin?”
“Don’t get greedy Wayland. You already got my jacket”, Alec replied but non the less went to grab his own gear, casually of course. No need to make his lack of resistance obvious.
“Well you destroyed mine, more effectively than any demon I might add. So I need compensation! Or do you want me to walk gearless and alone into battle. Probably getting killed by some lowly shapeshifter.”, Jace mocked him but Alecs voice was sober as he replied: “You know I’d rather cut my own hand off then let that happen.”
Mischief sparkled in Jaces mismatched eyes as he grabbed Alec and pulled him forward. “What a waste. Let’s put your hand to better use.”
Alec didn’t resist, there was no point when Jace was like this - enthusiastic about even the most routine missions. And the ruined jacket lay abandoned in the corner of his room so he couldn’t really complain. “Do you actually have a permit for this mission? -”, he started and was quickly interrupted by Jace: “Come on Alec, stop wasting time. It will be a quicky. And afterwords I shall introduce you to the four proper ways of using a washmashine.”
Alec flinched but the others smile and touch were calming. The younger man once again managed to put him at ease without actually trying and Alec couldn’t help but return the gesture. Amused he asked: “There is more then one?”
His Parabatai snorted and pulled him out of the room, probably right into their next daily mess. But Alec wouldn’t want it any other way.
Do you know the greek myth on Hades and Persephone? Can you write a fluffy imagine with Keith being Hades and s/o being Persephone? Lance could act as Demeter.
I could write about this allllll dayyyyyyy. I love Greek myths so much~
THIS IS GOING TO BE A TWO PARTER BECAUSE ITS REALLY GODDANG LONG OKAY OKAY
I hope you enjoy! ————————
Aphrodite could not hold a candle to your beauty, for it was both the nature inside yourself and the nature that you had held in your appearance that breathed life into the glory of spring- of the world outside his own, above.
Your smile radiated compared to even a thousand suns.
So bright, so kind, so far away from the hell that was his own.
Your name was Persephone.
You brought upon the spring- new life, new meaning.
A new chance.
Your toga carried hope, colored with every version of flower imaginable, changing and dancing with the season.
Your favorite flowers would bloom around your feet- for your soles were bare and shoeless.
But if was as if Mother Earth herself had pardoned way for you, as where you had set foot, it seemed that every blade of grass had flung itself- for how could even such a pure foot be any comparison to even the grass itself?
“Persephone!” Hades heard someone call, his jealous eyes hardened, darted over to one such Demeter, with his messy brunet hair, and intense blue eyes. His skin, flawless for a god like himself, born of the sun.
Adorned atop his head, a crown of wheat and barley, woven by your own, careful hands, had fitted itself comfortably.
Demeter was your guardian- your protector- and a fierce one at that; never letting you wander too far off, or away from his sight.
Though really, you the two of you were more of a close friendship- siblings.
But, you were a young god(ess) after all-
who knows what sort of dangers could be out there for such a powerful being?
Hades’ eyes softened as he watched you skip over to Demeter, your hands still possessing the flowers that only grew for you,
“Yes?” Your voice had replied, a rosy tint still apparent upon your cheeks; Demeter laughed joyfully,
“And what brings that smile to your lips on this fine day?”
You giggled at such a question, what fine day it was!
And if Hades had a heart, he swore it’d stopped beating at the sound,
“Why, like any other day, of course! The lavender just simply smells divine, don’t you believe? And the sun- gosh it’s so warm and lovely.”
The sun, Hades had remarked to himself, what is the sun to gain their affections? The ruler of the days, daunting such a delicate flower as them, no, they are the cruel tricksters! Stealing away the beauty of the day, for such venomous beasts rule the night.
What is the sun? Hades had wondered to himself, a thief to his affections- though he supposed there would only be one way to gain those over, of course, for even death was far fairer than life.
It would not be the malice that guided his actions today, but rather the opposite-
Demeter had left you alone in your field of flowers- he instead had tended to the grains that were growing alongside the lazily flowing river.
Hades watched in hesitance, in contemplation; what is he? To rip you of the overworld and home, to ask for your hand, for your patience, your guidance, your own love in return?
Perhaps that made him a demon of hell-
but he was already the king of them.
The ground had started to quake beneath you.
You started to panic, calling out to Demeter as quickly as you could, letting go of the flowers that had bloomed in your palms,
“Demeter!” You had cried, feeling the ground grow fiercer in its fit, the sounds of the earth beneath beginning to crack and collapse in on itself, “Deme-!”
You cut off by two strong, yet careful hands grabbing your own.
You didn’t hear the sound of the death chariot, for such as a sound as death could be no sweeter than silence itself.
Such epiphanies, however, were cut off by the sight of the world above you following into inky blackness, the pit of unknowing growing more and more, while the world of light grew less, and less.
You screamed at the suddenness, the speed, and danger which had followed as you still had no clue as to who as suddenly in possess of your limbs,
“Who are you?!” You had cried out, your heart palpating wildly in your chest.
But then came a voice, gentle and soft- so unlike what you had imagined such a perpetrator as he placed you carefully upon his chariot,
“Hades,” he only replied, a name that struck you to your core-
The God of the Dead, the King of the Underworld.
“O…Oh gods!” You cried, your eyes casting upwards, watching the last bits of your world fade away, and fall into this one.
You must have fallen asleep on the way down.
Your eyes, trying desperately to blink out the lights that had suddenly filtered through, were met with shock as you were not in a pit of fire like you had previously imagined, or upon a spike, preparing to be tortured.
You lay in a bed instead. Gold and ivory pillars held the canopy that hung above you, decorated with a moving painting- one of the grassy knoll that you had stood on only moments before.
There was a candle next to your bedside, burning a brilliant, yet oddly pale yellow. It sat in a golden holder untouched as if it were waiting for you to use it.
A goblet, covered in sparkling red jewels, held what looks like to be water inside of it.
You were hesitant to move, to even stretch out your legs or breathe fully. What would Hades want with you? What sort of demonic…cruel…twisted ideas was the king of all hell going to put yo-
“I see you’re awake,”
You jolted upright, your heart thumping wildly in your chest, your eyes dart to find a billowing, blackened figure in the corner, his robes stretching and binding at their own will as if itself was smoke.
“Hades!” You cried, “What purpose do you have for this? Why am I here?”
Shockingly, he seemed almost startled by your questions- or rather it the anger you showed that had done so.
“…Are you hungry?” He avoided the question, “I’m…I’m sorry if you’re frightened, I mean you no harm.”
Was that a slight blush to his cheeks?
Strange. He seemed more awkward for a death god than actually intimidating, as if all the torture and disgust the were strewn along the outskirts of asphodel, were for show.
You were still wary, however. And so with a reluctant tongue, you inquired,
“You still haven’t answered my question, Hades,” this time softer, “why am I here?”
“Forgive me my good goddess, a thousand pardons, if you will,” the god began, “But I was…I was lonely…
…And you are so…kind…”
He outstretched his hand towards you, pale white in the flesh- like a ghost.