#jace herondale drabble

[sleepyangelkami]

TRUTH HOLDER j.herondale

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 1.3K

JACE HERONDALE X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - being a seelie had its cons such as the inability to lie. jace has decided to mess with you, using such a fact to his own advantage.

 ☆ WARNINGS - smut, fingering, slight manipulation, dirty talk, dom!jace, sub!reader, praise kink, hickies, overprotectiveness, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

"what are you doing?"

your meek voice could be heard from where you sat on the bed, jace's bed from inside the institute, clad only in one of the boy's oversized shirts, nothing beneath.

jace walked back towards the bed with evident cockiness in his expression, you were sure that he couldn't shake it even if he wanted to. "just putting the silencing rune on the door." placing his mouth against your neck and his hands against your waist, unable to think of anything other than you.

your voice was above a whisper, hands roaming towards his neck. "promise?" because though he was a shadowhunter, he could still lie. a disadvantage you were seemingly always caught up in.

he parted his mouth from your neck, cocking his head to the side with a playful smile on his lips. "don't you trust me?" as if the question had been one that didn't need an answer, he'd press anyway.

your mind danced to the flashback when jace had told you he'd put the silencing rune on the door and yet as you walked out of the room the next day, you earned many stares and glances. jace had smirked at that, once confronted stating that you were his and everyone in the institute should know so. "not really." you answered honestly, voice low as a mouse.

a low chuckle fell from the blonde's lips, eyes tracing your face. "i love that you can't lie."

you, not so much.

there were many things you could have went your entire life without telling jace but when presented with the right questions, you had no choice but to answer with the truth, unable to will a lie to stain your tongue.

your own eyes traced his face. you could feel the gentleness of his fingers against your thighs, they'd moved from your waist to the nakedness of your skin, inching just below the shirt that he'd drawn up more than he'd care to admit. from earlier activities, he knew that nothing lay beneath the shirt, it only egged him on more.

his eyes bored into yours, a grin against his lips. "you really love me, don't you?" it was more of a statement, not a question. he could see it in the way your eyes couldn't leave his, the way they traced his skin so gently. you two weren't exactly 'exclusive' just yet but he was yours and you were his, it was all that mattered to the both of you.

his fingers gently moved upwards causing air to trap in your throat. "you already know the answer to that." stating the truth but unable to admit what so desperately scratched at your tongue.

around him, you couldn't be held accountable for the tales you would tell.

"no lies there." he answered, lips attaching and detaching from your neck again. "but i want to hear you say it."

his hot breath against the nape of your neck along with the tone of voice he spoke in, one of certain demand, as if he were giving you straight obligations. it was enough to have your face hot and your hands clawing at his arms.

you didn't have to be inexperienced to get so flustered around jace, it simply happened. your voice was strained, holing in a mewl at the edge of your tongue. "i can't." voice broken and shattered.

it was hard to keep a steady breath when his fingers travelled further up your skin, lips sucking on the skin of your neck, creating what he'd soon assure you was simply a 'love bite' and assure you that it was nothing to be embarrassed about, convincing you to wear it about in the institute and have people look at you funny.

"yes, you can, angel." his voice reassuring and soft, his fingers gently squeezed at your thigh. however, you answered with only a shattered gasp leading his fingers to trail further and beneath the cotton shirt over your frame. "come on, baby, say it." voice a breathless whisper against your exposed skin. "lemme hear you say it, come on."

being a seelie, you were bound by the truth, unable to lie.

however, jace herondale was the reason your mouth would spew so many words.

he couldn't force the words out of you, that wasn't how being a seelie worked, he could make you talk. but he had such a good way at making you do it, manipulating your lips into moving.

perhaps it was the gentle hand that moved upwards to your pussy, collecting the wetness of your core and causing you to whine, the feeling of his thumb sinking down on your clit and gently circling it. "say it." he teased, smirking close to your cheek.

"i love you."

and jace wore a look of satisfaction, knowing you couldn't lie, knowing it had been the truth.

"good girl." left his lips, sinking back onto your neck and allowing the first finger to enter your core. you shook, your face pushing into his shoulder and muffling your noises. "wanna hear you." is all he mumbled back. "silencing rune is on the door, baby, no one will hear you but me."

and didn't that sound like an offer you simply couldn't give up.

once again, jace herondale managed to put you in a position where you couldn't so much as fight it. a whine left your lips, feeling him add a finger into your core and pump them in and out without grace, rapidly.

you had this thing about you, beautiful soft and slow. jace would like to add that he was quite the opposite. and he relished in it. he relished in using his fingers to ram inside your hole, the palm of his hand hitting against your clit and causing enough stimulation to have your back arching from the bed, hands pawing at him like a kitten, trying to hold onto whatever sense was left in your head, using him to ground you.

however, the more you grasped at his big arms, caging you, the deeper you fell.

it was almost impossible to will your mind back to reality and jace didn't bother to help. on the contrary, he pushed you even further.

"good girl, good girl." smiling gently as he repeated the words to himself. his free hand came down on your face, thumb swiping across your bottom lip and watching as your face scrunched up in emotions you couldn't quite string together. "such a good girl f'me, huh?" words as much of a tease as they were a praise. "my pretty girl, yeah? you my pretty girl?"

and you were so far gone that you couldn't register the words that moved from his mouth to your ears, nodding and babbling incoherent words, whines and whimpers stretching from your mouth.

finally, you felt the familiar knot inside your stomach and the boy did nothing to stop his movements, willing you over the edge until finally he felt your juices on his fingers. he brought his hand up to lick them off, watching as your eyes shut and your pawing hands pulled him closer.

this time, he moved with your hands, coming closer to your body and letting you grasp onto him, the only reality left.

and the words seemed metallic on your tongue, unable to string anything else together. "i love you." you whispered, hopelessly. "i love you." like a prayer on one's dying tongue.

there was something eerily comforting to jace, knowing you couldn't lie to him, bound only by the truth.

i love you too repeated in his own head, willing it to move to his tongue. jace wasn't like you, he had the option to lie, though he'd never do such a thing.

yet he found the words harder to lift onto his tongue, unknowing if you'd ever believe him in the assuredness that he believed you. perhaps it was everything he was afraid of.

which is why he said nothing.

main masterlist/jace's masterlist

[edwin-paynes-bowtie]

For @emmalovesfitzloved Clace Christmas present shopping in NYC- what does that look like? Who are they getting for what? What are they getting Malec’s kids? What r they thinking of getting each other? Era can be post engagement or already married

"Well, well, well," Jace said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. It was warm, lined with wool and fleece, functional in the way that he liked and sexy in the way that Clary appreciated. "Looks like we're in for quite the day."

Christmas in Times Square was always a ridiculous affair. One time, Jace and Clary had run into a homeless guy dressed as Santa, and when they bought him a paper cup of cider he'd turned out to be an Eidolon demon that thanked them with a surprise attack. Another time they had almost squared down with a group of teenagers who were trying to climb onto a bus selling Christmas-themed trinkets. Clary had giggled at them, clearly remembering all of the shamefully stupid antics that she and Jace had gotten up to at their age, and the kids had glared daggers at them in a way that made Jace wish he could attack. "We're not going to fight some kids, Jace," Clary said, yanking him away by the hand. "We're way too old for that."

"But what is I want to fight?" His voice was a lazy drawl. "What if I want to feel alive?"

"Then you can start by finding the perfect gift for your new fiancee," she said. A small smile played on her lips, and Jace thought about how he wanted to kiss each of her freckles individually before dragging her into one of New York's many nooks and crannies before...

Well. He shouldn't let his mind get that carried away.

"I do have a great gift for you," Jace said, and it was the truth. Why wouldn't she love a little Swarovski crystal shaped like a wolf? "Who I don't have a present for, though, are Magnus and Alec."

"Or Max and Rafe," Clary said, and Jace hummed his agreement.

"I, for one, think we should get Max a coloring book," Jace said. "All kids love coloring books. Demon Drawing, you know."

"Or we could get him some kid's comics," Clary said. "I think both he and Rafe are at about the right age for some Pokemon. Maybe even Yu Yu Hakusho, or Tokyo Mew Mew if they're down to break gender stereotypes."

"I think you're a genius," Jace said to Clary. "That's way better than black-and-white pictures of demons."

"I mean, a Pokemon manga is basically that with a twist," Clary bumped Jace on the shoulder. "Have you ever seen Grimer? Muk? Ditto?"

"I barely know what Pokemon are," Jace said with an air of superiority.

"I would say I pity you," Clary told him, "but I don't. I'm pretty excited for you, actually because as soon as we're done here, we're definitely going to go back home and binge-watch the Indigo League."

"I have no idea what that means," Jace said, and Clary grabbed his hand and dragged him off in the direction of Newbury Comics. "Here," she said, "I'll give you a sneak peek."

[takaraphoenix]

❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜ for Magnus and Jace? 👀

So this was supposed to be a smutty prompt but it accidentally turned into just pure possessive/protective Magnus with no smut? Ooops

--

A few weeks after he'd started hooking up with Magnus, Jace started to notice subtle changes.

Downworlders he encountered treated him with… recognition, at first. A certain degree of respect even. Not in a 'bowing down before him' sense, but rather… treat him as an equal than just as another Shadowhunter nuisance. He didn't notice at first, it took him a couple weeks.

He only noticed when it became more apparent. When Downworlders, particularly warlocks, started to… there was no other way to put it; to protect him. Like he was one of their own. They had his back, stepped in when someone else was out of line toward him. Which was just bizarre.

It wasn't hard to guess that this was related to Magnus, especially since warlocks seemed the only ones to actively step up for him and that this particularly happened in Pandemonium. He was getting VIP treatment at the club these days, got waved in ahead of the line, the bartender knew his favorites and always served him first. And whenever someone was even a hint of inappropriate with him, someone stepped in like he was a damsel in need of a knight protecting his virtue. It would severely piss him off if he didn't find it somewhat funny, quite frankly.

It was a couple months into it, and into whatever he had with Magnus, that it gave him pause. One particular incident that really struck Jace and left him reeling. He'd been hanging out at the bar, bantering with the bartender, Timothy Jeong, with whom he'd grown closer over the past months, when a warlock sat down, very close next to him, interrupting their conversation.

"Hello, gorgeous," the warlock smelt like alpha and sounded like sleazebag. "What's a pretty omega like you doing here all alone? I think you should go back to my hotel with me."

Jace was used to people hitting on him. Back in the day, he used to relish in that and take pretty much everyone home with him, living a life of hook-ups. Nowadays, he did consider himself taken, even though him and Magnus had never quite put a label on it. Yet what had started out as drunk, convenient hook-ups between roommates felt much different now, three months into it. So while Jace still liked the ego-boost of being hit on, he also didn't hook up with them anymore. He turned toward the man with a pleasant enough smile on his lips – knowing that some alphas could react very testy when an omega didn't immediately fawn over them and Jace would like to avoid causing a scene at Magnus' club. Before he could say anything did Hal Armstrong step up to them – head of security, the biggest, bulkiest alpha Jace had ever seen, tall and bald and with arms the size of Jace's head. If Jace had to guess, he'd say that Timothy must have called for security.

"Is that alpha bothering you, Omega Bane?"

And that was it. That was the moment Jace realized that whatever was going on was definitely more than just a bit suspicious behavior from some Downworlders around him. Omega Bane. It actually took Jace a while to register that Hal was talking to him, and then another couple moments to digest that and try to formulate a reply. Too long for Hal, it seemed, because the alpha was already standing right behind Jace, a looming presence, glaring down the stranger.

"Out of every omega at the club, you really picked the wrong one, pal," Timothy chuckled, casually leaning against the bar. "That's not just the club owner's omega. That's the High Warlock of Brooklyn's omega. If I were you, I would… scram, before Magnus Bane sees you."

Jace blinked repeatedly, looking between the guy who had hit on him, Hal and Timothy. What. The name Magnus Bane did the trick though, because the warlock's eyes widened in recognition and fear, before the man simply ran off. Jace tilted his head and crossed his arms.

"What was that," Jace asked, voice sharp.

"We want you to have a good time here and be undisturbed," Hal smiled at him.

The man looked scary at first glance but really was just a gigantic puppy. Jace heaved a sigh.

"I don't need you to intimidate people who hit on me, Hal. I'm quite capable of shaking unwanted attention myself, you know. This… was not necessary."

Hal faltered, looking like a kicked puppy, and Jace nearly felt bad. Only nearly though, because he really did not appreciate being patronized by alphas. He'd had to fight for everything, every ounce of respect from alphas in the field. To prove that he didn't need saving.

"Look," Jace sighed. "Thank you for wanting to help, I appreciate that, but how about, from now on, you help me when I signal that I need your help?"

"Oh. Okay. Yeah," Hal nodded quickly. "Sure, I'm sorry. I just, Alpha Bane said-"

"I do not need any alpha to speak for me," Jace's voice was final. "Not even Magnus, not even in his own club. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Omega Bane," Hal ducked his head like a naughty child.

And there it was again. Omega Bane. There was a weird sense of pleasure, pride and giddiness bubbling in Jace's chest that he tried to squish. Couldn't think about that right now. Maybe couldn't think about that at all. Because if he thought about that too hard, he might have to confront his feelings for Magnus. And that was something he'd effectively avoided thinking about these past months. Mostly, he admitted, because there was always something else going on – between Valentine's return, Jocelyn's death, the loss of the Mortal Cup, the reveal that he was Clary's brother, the reveal that he wasn't Clary's brother. When was he supposed to reflect on the nature of his feelings for the alpha warlock who had taken him in, became a drinking buddy and then became a convenient hook-up, repeatedly, until it started feeling like more than hook-ups.

/break\

That had been the first time Jace really noticed, but it wasn't what pushed him into talking to Magnus about it. Feelings. He didn't do those, much less talking about those. No, that only happened about a month later, when he'd been on a mission with Clary and Izzy and things had gone awry. Alec was missing. Jace and Alec were a duo, they were so in-sync, they worked as one. Now that Alec was head of the Institute though, he went on far less missions and Jace was still adjusting to that, while Clary was still adjusting to being a Shadowhunter, missing years of training.

They'd been overrun by demons, overwhelmed, got separated. Jace was bleeding profoundly from a slash on his side where one of the four demons he was battling on his own had hit him with its claws. He'd managed to kill two of them at this point, but he didn't know where Izzy and Clary were and he was starting to feel dizzy from the blood-loss. One of the two demons left roared at him and slashed at him again, but Jace wouldn't be Jace if he didn't battle to the very last second of his life. He cut off the beast's hand, causing it to roar in distress. However, it was also distracted, just enough for Jace to try and run. A coward's move, his father would say. A means of survival, his parabatai would say. He made it out of the sewers and toward an alley.

"Oh shit, oh crap you are bleeding, like, a lot," stranger, female voice, panicked. "Wait. You're the. The High Warlock's omega. Oh shit. Hold on."

Jace squinted, trying to make the blurry person in front of him out. The blood loss was getting to him. Someone – this person – grabbing his arm was the last thing he noticed before blacking out.

/break\

When Jace next came to it, it was in a comfortable and known environment. Magnus' bed in the loft. He recognized the soft sheets and the safe scent of his alpha all around him. A hand reached out, brushing his hair out of his face. Magnus' hand. He'd recognize those fingers anywhere. Humming softly, he leaned into the comforting, gentle touch.

"You awake, Trouble?" Magnus' voice was soft. "Do you need anything?"

"Wa… Water," Jace coughed, blinking his eyes open.

The next moment, Magnus held a water-bottle against Jace's lips, helping him drink. Jace's heart was skipping a beat at the gentle care. He was so used to powering through any injury mostly alone, the only one who'd get close enough to take care of him for any extend of time was his parabatai.

"Alexander left about an hour ago. I had a hard time prying him from your bedside," Magnus smiled bemused. "But he was in need of a shower, a warm meal and his own bed. Andrew helped me lure his boyfriend back to the Institute to take care of himself for a change. I'll text him."

"Thank you," Jace heaved a sigh as he tried to sit up, but a stinging pain brought him down.

"Sh," Magnus rested a gentle hand on his chest to ease him back down. "You were seriously injured, you need to lay down and rest more, Trouble."

Slowly, bit by bit, the events that had brought him into this bed came back to him. "Clary and Izzy."

"They're fine," Magnus assured him with the smallest smile. "Couple bruises, broken arm in Isabelle's case, but other than that, no serious injuries."

A deep, relieved sigh as Jace settled into the bed more comfortably. Magnus' bed. It had been two months at least since Jace last slept in 'his' bed – his bed at the loft. Far longer since he'd been back to the Institute. Even after Aldertree had been removed as head, Jace never returned. By then, him and Magnus had already started sleeping with each other and Jace was so comfortable here.

"How did I get here?" Jace asked slowly. "I remember the sewers, but…"

"Phoebe Nightingale, one of my warlocks, came across you in an alley and portaled you here," Magnus looked utterly pleased by that. "It was greatly appreciated."

The High Warlock's omega. Jace remembered hearing those words in the alley. It made him think of the other instances he'd been referred to as such by warlocks. Omega Bane. Jace had ignored it for weeks now. Maybe because he… liked the sound of it. Maybe because he'd gone through yet another identity crisis, gone from being a Wayland to being a Morgenstern to Luke and Clary trying to make him a Fray to… not being anyone, really, because he didn't know who his parents were, just that Valentine and Jocelyn weren't it. He currently had no real last name, not really.

"Why do your warlocks think that I am your omega?"

"Because you are, honey," Magnus raised one eyebrow, his fingers gently tracing Jace's face. "You're mine, and I take care of what belongs to me."

Jace flushed, his head racing at Magnus' words. He'd never dared to ask what they were, but it seemed that Magnus had a pretty clear idea of what they were. Reaching out, Jace took Magnus' wrist to pull him down onto the bed with him and, slow and with a wince, Jace rolled over to snuggle up to his alpha. Magnus hummed pleased, wrapping an arm around his waist.

~*~ The End ~*~

[nachtmaer]

#NACHTMÄR. private multi-muse roleplaying blog ft. muses from various fandoms. 30+. very slow writing/low activity. please read the rules before interacting!

MUSES FEATURED:

Viktor (Arcane)

Quentin Coldwater (The Magicians)

Legolas (LotR)

Ethan Talbot (Penny Dreadful)

Lambert (The Witcher)

Mamoru Matsuda (Sword of Kaigen)

Wrathion (WoW)

Jace Herondale (Shadowhunters)

Arthur Pendragon (BBC Merlin)

RULES (see below) | MEMES

BASICS

This is a private rp blog and I will be very selective. I only write with mutuals.

This blog is very low activity.

I only write with people over 21, ideally over 25.

Most muses are up for grabs, however some of them have (ship) exclusivities - more info on my muse page.

I don't care about reblog karma or personals liking my stuff. Go wild.

WRITING

I prefer plotted verses/threads and longer replies (multi-para).

I also like asks/memes and drabbles to develop dynamics or break the ice. My meme tag is always open and available.

I usually use icons or banners in my replies, but I don't mind iconless writing partners.

SHIPPING

I enjoy writing ships but I am, again, selective, and I need writer chemistry and development.

I don't auto-ship, even "canon" ships. I always want to hear your takes first and discuss to see if our ideas for them match.

If you'd like to ship, just ask me. Worst you'll get is a no.

I don't ship shame and I don't respect people who do. Cancel culture is for fools who haven't yet seen the day where it will turn against them. Keep your drama and witch hunts away from me. Live and let live.

There might be NSF.W content, if so it will be tagged.

Thank you for reading my rules!

[malec-ao3feed]

Carol of the Bells: A Winter-Themed Drabble Collection

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/IlzJVye by thegirlofthorns Drabbles about various Shadowhunter couples, friends, and families, written just in time for the holidays. Words: 6950, Chapters: 15/16, Language: English Series: Part 5 of Holiday/Seasonal Fics Fandoms: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, M/M Characters: Alastair Carstairs, Thomas Lightwood, Tessa Gray, Will Herondale, James Herondale, Sophie Collins, Gideon Lightwood, Clary Fray, Jace Wayland, Ragnor Fell, Catarina Loss, Grace Blackthorn, Christopher Lightwood, Matthew Fairchild, Lucie Herondale, Cordelia Carstairs, Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood Relationships: Alastair Carstairs/Thomas Lightwood, Tessa Gray/Will Herondale, Tessa Gray & James Herondale & Lucie Herondale & Will Herondale, Sophie Collins/Gideon Lightwood, Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Ragnor Fell/Catarina Loss, Grace Blackthorn/Christopher Lightwood, Matthew Fairchild & James Herondale & Christopher Lightwood & Thomas Lghtwood, Alastair Carstairs & Lucie Herondale, Cordelia Carstairs/James Herondale, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Additional Tags: One Shot Collection, Drabble Collection, Winter, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Tree, Christmas Decorations, Oneshot Prompts Challenge, short prompts read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/IlzJVye

[sxgitta]

time.

❛ that’s all jace needed, right now. nothing more. ❜

Here. I wrote a super sad Jace drabble for my wife. Spoilers contained: After the ending of 3A. Its um, Really Sad™. So here you go. 

                ( warning: throw up mentions )

&& --  Google Doc Here.

[writinqss]

[x] [x] requested by me // request here!

wc: 111

////

Jace takes a long draught of his water, his shirt discarded on the bench next to him and his runes curling across his skin.

Your gaze flicks toward him, giving him a quick up-down, as you stretch out your arms. Your voice holds a loud challenge, “Another round, pretty boy?”

He holds up one finger and shakes his head slightly, dropping the water bottle from his lips and screwing the cap back on. Jace runs a hand through his golden-threaded hair and fixes you with a look. “That nickname is stupid.” He says, adding, “It suits me though.”

You roll your eyes and he grins wickedly.

“Let’s go another round, princess.”

[justonemorechapternicercy]

❛ is that my shirt? ❜ Can Phoe have a tiny Jagnus?? as a treat?? *puppy-dog eyes*

Magnus frowned. He knew that shirt.

Jace was talking about something, probably something important, based on the increasingly frustrated way he paced around.

Yet all Magnus could think was how his thin purple shirt stretched on bulging muscles, enhancing the already drool-worthy shapes.

"Are you even listening to me?!" The shadowhunter growled, annoyed at the lack of reaction, but instead of his usual sassy quip, all that left his mouth was:

"Is that my shirt?"

The angel stopped, his arms falling down to his sides, and-

Was that a blush on his face?!

"No!"

Yes. That was a blush indeed.

Of course you can 💜💜💜

[industria-adastra]

Lack of love nourishes poison in my lungs

A/N: More or less a rewrite of a old one shot that’s just chilling in my personal blog (Here if you want to read it). Once again, I don’t really know what I’m doing. However, hanahaki au brainrot.

Summary:  Sebastian thinks about Clarissa at times. And as he does, he coughs out petals.

-----

When Jonathan, no, Sebastian (His name is Sebastian now, something that he chose for himself, something that is now his and only his) opens his eyes again, he feels that same itching in his throat, the tickling in his lungs that he could never explain before when he was merely Father’s little monster, still training to be the best weapon he could possibly be. He could not explain it even now, when he’s nearing adulthood. How strange that even dying once could not rid him of that irritating itch and ache within.

Sebastian wonders if Jace can feel it too now that he is bound to him through Lilith’s rune.

It was a slow day when he asked about it. “Jace.”

“Yeah?” Comes the reply.

“Do you ever feel an itch in your chest at times? Or perhaps experience coughing fits in the middle of doing something?”

“Nope, I don’t think I do...How come you’re asking?”

Interesting. Perhaps the bond did not allow them to share unique physical afflictions that ailed one party. Perhaps Lilith’s rune was weak in certain areas. He’d have to look more into demonic runes later.

“Sebastian?” Ah, right, Jace’s question. He hadn’t given an answer back yet.

“No reason.” There was no need to ponder upon the questions of the past for now. Sebastian needed to focus on the future now; his future, now bright and clear after Lilith (Clary, really, in her foolish fit of grief-stricken impulsiveness.) gifted him a second chance.

If he got the chance, he'd have to thank her for that.

On another boring and slow day he asks Jace about the fate of their (his) father since he clearly failed his goal in the War he waged with the Clave and the downworlders. After all, there was obviously no ongoing eradication of either fae, vampires, warlocks or werewolves and such currently happening. Was Father dead? Or was he stripped of his marks, forced to live as a mundane? It would be an amusingly cruel yet fitting punishment for his purity obsessed Father if that happened.

Jace tells him that Clarissa-his sister, who was nothing like him (or so he thought)-had changed the runes for Valentine’s name to her own, causing the angel Raziel to strike him down (With lighting brought down with righteous fury, a part of him jokes morbidly), for he was no longer considered the one who summoned him, killing him on the spot. Clarissa had then asked the angel to bring back Jace from the dead-Sebastian didn’t listen after that, since he already knew that anyway. (Why else would he be alive and walking again?)

But Sebastian found himself thinking of that single action Clarissa had taken. At sporadic periods of time during the days that passed by, he wonders and ponders and contemplates questions and what-ifs. He finds that he chokes up a near-concerning amount of petals during those times.

Little Clarissa, all sparks and spitfire but with no true bite had done that to Valentine? Indirectly murdered her own family in cold blood? Like light parting through mist, Sebastian’s world is illuminated once more. Clarissa, dear little sister, had killed their Father, and judging from the glances and the little that he had seen of her-was completely unaffected by it. This fact brought unexplainable hope in his twisted, blackened heart. Part of Sebastian shivers with excitement at the thought of her joining them, him.

Would she love him like she loved Jace? With a scorching intensity and undying loyalty that would tie them together forever, never to leave each other? If he cut her open, how much of him would he be able to see?

Perhaps, just maybe. Maybe.

Perhaps his sister was like him after all. Enough that he’d be able to take those strings that connected the two of them together and bind her to him-forever.

(Perhaps, he was not so truly alone.)

Sebastian coughs lightly, and a purple-blue petal comes out. His chest itches again, and his throat feels dusty and dry. How curiously annoying.

Nevertheless, he starts to wonder if Clarissa would ever join them.

He coughs up delicate pink petals at times. Whenever Sebastian saw a flash of red, an artist on the streets, the mesmerising crackle of flames or looks up at the stars. He’d cough up those annoying pink petals that scratched his throat and hindered his ability to properly speak at times. Sebastian ignores it, because it is something that he has lived with for the past seventeen years of his life. Albeit, it was without the flower petals. But he has lived with this irritating condition for so, so long, that he shoves the worry and confusion to the back of his mind and goes back to planning and preparing. (Sebastian pushes away memories of father sometimes coughing up what he later learned were daylily petals.)

Sebastian had no time for such thoughts and feelings. Time waits for no one. Heaven, and Hell, waited for no one. One couldn’t raise Hell without power. And he needed more of it-fast, before anyone could strike him down through Jace.

(His “brother” was a useful tool, but Sebastian couldn’t simply rely on one tool. He needed more.)

But he wonders.

He wonders if his sister would prefer to have some other clothes rather than wearing the ones Father had prepared in the hope his- her Mother would come around and joyfully leap back into his arms like she had never betrayed him, never left him for dead, never ran away from him. (How delusional of him. And yet, he prepares to do the same.)

Knowing Clary (and himself), she probably would.

[suchalovelydisaster]

Priorities: An Alec Lightwood Drabble

Word Count: 100

Read it on Ao3

A short fic showing what Alec values the most. 

CW: Swearing

Fuck it. That seemed to be Alec’s mentality when it came down to his family. Fuck the Clave. Fuck the rules. He could not care less about how other shadowhunters viewed him. What mattered to him was that he set an example for other shadowhunters to live their truth. What mattered to him was that he raised his children to know that they are and will always be accepted for who they are. What mattered to him was that he would be able to take care of Magnus, Rafael, and Max and show them all the love in the world.

[sleepyangelkami]

JACE HERONDALE'S MASTERLIST

DRABBLES

truth holder

[bytheanchor]

d r a b b l e  (open to alecs)

──   jace lightwood herondale,    p o s t   c i t y   o f   l o s t   s o u l s

                                                    Jace was staring up at the canopy of Alec’s bed as he sat against the headboard. He’d done it a lot when Alec was away, sat on his bed, staring at the ceiling, and feeling the ache in his soul. Alec was with him now, though, and they’d been talking quietly for a couple of hours, about everything and anything. Something they hadn’t been able to do in what now felt like years. Since before the final battle in Alicante, since before Alec went on his trip with Magnus, and Jace only really saw him again when he’d woken up in the Institute’s infirmary room, calling for him, and for Clary, in a daze, with Heavenly fire burning in him. 

Alec told him about his trip now, and Jace told him of the cold days in the Institute, and what it’d felt like to have the mother of demons in his head. What it’d done to him. They avoided talking about Jonathan, but they talked softly about Max, and Alec told him all about Magnus - Jace holding his hand through it. He’d even a attempted a small joke about Alec needing him, to keep things together, but Alec hadn’t laughed, just squeezed his hand tighter. Now they’d fallen silent, and Jace could feel his soul aching still, but in a different way, like skin ached and muscles burned, and even bones hurt, when blood flow was suddenly restored to a previously tied wrist. Like it was stretching and searching, but instead of finding only darkness, it found Alec. 

“He killed me, Alec.” Jace spoke, after several minutes of quietness, his eyes steadily lost upwards, head tilted back. “Pierced me from behind,” he said with wonder. It was still hard to recall, like a bad dream that happened to someone else, and he’d only heard the account of it. He had kept the secret from Alec for so long, that now it all felt numbed, and yet his throat thickened. “I had him. He knew I did. I had him and I was finally ready, ready to go through with it, to do whatever it took, even if-” he pressed his lips tightly together, then let them unseal and breathed. 

“But he summoned the Soul Sword, from behind me, and ram me through from my spine. I don’t know how, I never saw it coming. I was ready for anything, but he killed me, even so.” He had died, but sometimes it didn’t feel real, because here he was, and other times it felt like the darkness was still lingering, always closer than it had before in his life, waiting to claim and swallow him once more. “He held me, after.” He paused, and he didn’t know when he’d moved, but his hand was pressed under his heart, where twice now a blade had cut through his body. He remembered the feeling of the arms around him, had he cried? He thought he remembered tears streaming down his temples, but maybe it was what was happening now, confusing past and present. “He held me until the end, and he told me how sorry he was as my blood soaked us, and Clary was forced to watch,” his fingertips curled on his own shirt. “When I told him about Jonathan, he was impressed. He barely mourned. He looked, like he couldn’t believe I’d managed it. And then he held me, until it was over-” He swallowed, “speaking of regret. And still, he killed me. Dishonorably. After all of it, I died without honor, from trickery. There was nothing I could do to protect any of you.”

He was quiet again, for a while, before he went on, “the last thing I felt was our bond snapping.” And at his own words, his fingers trembled in Alec’s, “quietly, and then an endless darkness, before I was me again. But not.”  His speech was clouded in a haze of distant memory, he had his eyes closed and his brow furrowed trying to recall something far away. His mind had been messed with so many more times since, and the nightmares Lilith had provided still clouded his head, making it difficult to recall what’d been real, and what hadn’t. He had never told anyone any of this. Not even Clary. He blinked, clearing his eyes and downed them to where his hand was clutching to himself. 

“And yet... When I watched him burn. I mourned it.” He confessed, his throat so tight now, that it made it painful to speak. “Luke- Said I had a right to,” but his tone was doubtful, even as he spoke, his doubt ringing still as he still wondered what kind of person that made him. “I felt loss.” He breathed out, “I don’t know what I’d feel if I’d gone through with it, myself, if he hadn’t acted first.” And perhaps that was the most difficult part to say.

Sometimes he still heard his words before he’d passed over, at times he also still felt his arms around him, as clearly as he felt the pain of all the punishments, and violence, and hardship. And the isolation that made Jace scream into his own arms as a child. He felt all of it. The deep seated anger and the desperate yearning for something that was never real, and could never be. “He killed me.” He repeated after all, with a quiet finality, he needed to say it out loud, at least if only once more and never again, to make it as real in the out world as it was in his heart. “I died.” He looked at Alec and frowned. “I’m sorry.” 

[iamanhonestmess]

Clace and is there anything you cannot do with that tongue 👅 prompt 💛💚💚 love your acc btw

“Is there anything you cannot do with that tongue?” Clary asks as Jace spits out the twisted up cherry stem into his palm.

Jace shrugs. “Maybe, but I’m much more concerned with what I can do with my tongue,” he says suggestively, winking at her. “If you know what I mean.”

Clary laughs. “Oh. Is that so?” She leans forward so she’s closer to him. “Are you trying to threaten me with a good time?”

“If by good time, you mean the ride of your life… then yes.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“What do you say?” Jace asks, licking his lips. “You want a test ride.”

“I mean… when you put it like that…” Clary looks around seeing no one in the institute around them at that moment. She stands up, grabbing his hand. “Let’s go. Now!” she exclaims, dragging him from his chair and down the corridor to her room.

[marquisoforder]

Memento Mori

Alexander Lightwood Bane is 42 years old when Magnus notices it while laying in bed one Sunday morning. Something that makes his heart skip a beat and make him feel as if his chest is caving in. A single grey hair, right above Alec’s ear, almost unnoticeable unless you were looking extremely carefully. Magnus swallows hard and snaps his fingers. Blue sparks fly and Alec no longer has a grey hair.

🍂

Max Lightwood Bane aged like a Mortal until he was 25 years of age. Magnus remembers standing next to Alexander on Max’s 25th birthday dinner, a quite and intimate affair with only the four of them in attendance. He remembers swallowing hard and trying not to panic when he realizes that they all look older than him now. The four of them look like a mismatched bunch of siblings. He tries to shake off the feeling of impending doom and smiles at his sons before squeezing his husband’s hand.

🍂

Rafael Lightwood Bane is 28 when he becomes a father. Magnus remembers him holding a little pink bundle close to his heart, with adoration and awe written all over his face. And not even a hint of fear. But Magnus remembers how scared he was about adopting Max. And then Rafael. He feels immensely proud of what these boys have become. He feels relived that him and Alexander were good fathers and now grandfathers. But with a jolt he realizes he will never look like someone’s grandfather.

🍂

Alexander Lightwood is 65 years old when one night he collapses on to a sofa, clutching his side. Magnus feels his breath hitching as he drops the book in his hand and rushes to his husband. But guilty relief washes over him when Alec look at him with tears eyes and whisper a heartbroken “Jace”. Magnus feels tears pricking at his eyes, but somewhere in his heart of hearts, he’s glad. He’s glad it isn’t Alexander.

🍂

Magnus Bane is 468 years old when Max and Rafael come barging into their, no, his, he has to remind himself, his room. He can barely make out Max’s face in the dark as he kneels by the bed and gently takes Magnus’s hand in his dark blue one. Rafael, ever the straightforward Shadowhunter, goes directly to the windows and opens the curtains, blinding Magnus with cruel sunlight and giving his sons a better look at the room that’s covered with dust and bottles of liquor. ”Don’t do this to yourself, papa.” They say. ”It’s been 18 years! You have to come out sooner or later! You can’t do this forever!”

”Oh But I can!” Magnus scares himself and his children with how broken and detached he sounds. ”I can do this forever, can’t I? I will be like this for the rest of my life. And the rest of life,” A dry humorless chuckle escapes his lips. ”will stretch forever.” He yanks his hand away from Max’s hand and glares at the open windows. ”Leave now.” His words are stuck somewhere between a plea and a command. ”And close those goddamn curtains before you go.”

[] Memento Mori - Remember Death []

[bytheanchorarchived]

@erchommai said: 💥 Try to calm my muse during an overwhelming emotional moment @ jace

bytheanchor answered: ( non verbal rp starters )

                                                    Jace wasn’t sure when he’d got into the room. Any movement he could had heard had been drowned out by his retching water onto the stone floor, and the blind panic rushing in his ears. He had told Jonathan earlier that he wasn’t really up for a bath, but the prince had insisted. It’d been a few nights now, since he’d been returned to his master, but Jace hadn’t been able to sleep through any of them, his nights being plagued by nightmares and fear. As a result, he’d been bone tired as he was left alone to bathe, a privilege he’d been allowed, and ended up sinking into the hot bath when he’d fallen asleep just for a moment. 

He’d woken up surrounded by water, and though he hadn’t actually drowned, his own panic as he became alert made him intake a good chunk of it down the wrong pipe. Jace had scrambled out of the tub and fallen onto the floor on a wave of milky water, and he’d started to immediately force it all out. His whole body was shaking, and he could barely hold himself on his arms when Jonathan found him. 

At Jonathan’s first touch, Jace had flinched, hard, and stared at him with widened eyes, before Jonathan’d held both his hands up in surrender, and asked Jace to please breathe with him. After he’d calmed down significantly, Jon had sat by him, stroking his back, until Jace felt aware enough to allow him to help him out of his fours. 

They were sitting on the bed now, and Jace was wrapped in several towels as Jonathan rubbed them on his skin, gently, one arm around him, and he could feel his face pressed against his head. Jace closed his eyes, but as soon as he did, memory flashes tormented him. Cold water being thrown onto his face, making him desperately try to cough it out as it mixed with his own blood and was pushed down his throat. The punches, the screaming when he fell asleep, the touching. He still had the bruises and cuts, as they were slowly healing, and the first time Jonathan had seen him, Jace had actually been startled, almost frightened of the anger he saw on his face.

He realized, slowly, that Jonathan was talking to him, making comforting sounds, and telling him he was fine. That he was safe, and Jonathan would chop off heads before he let something like that happen again. Jace closed his eyes again, and this time, only saw darkness. He wished he could believe him. He curled up more on his side, and onto the other, dreaming of golden times being awoken by his page and finely dressed for a day of lessons and social duties. Jace had hated them sometimes, feeling stuck, tied down by who he was, now he longed for it. 

Without thinking, he turned his face and pressed it onto Jonathan’s neck, and something about the other’s smell traveled down his body in a comforting wave. He let go of his own fists, and finally allowed reprieve to his mauled palms. He heard an approving sound and felt himself be held tighter.  He didn’t know that, if he could still be saved, there’d be anything to salvage in him. But the way Jonathan’s lips peppered kisses down his face made him think that maybe there could be.

[ketzwrites]

Malec and 5, and/or Jaia and 42? P.S. You're amazing.

Thanks, nonny! and why not both?

This is an AU in canonverse where Alec and Jace meet Magnus and Maia in a different way.

5. “Why are you helping me?” + 42. “I’m only here to establish an alibi.”

Magnus just wanted an easy, uneventful night for a change. Really, all he wanted was to have a drink or two, talk to Maia for a couple of hours, and head home. Downworlders weren’t supposed to be idly hanging out these days anyway, not with so many Shadowhunters disappearing and coming back as corpses the Hudson River washed back into town. Apparently, minding their own business was suspicious now.

Really whoever was murdering Shadowhunters shouldn’t have been walking around in Brooklyn. Magnus didn’t want a team showing up at his door and demanding his help in the case. High Warlock or not, Magnus was pretty disinclined to aid.

So, yeah. All Magnus wanted was a quiet night and a good, strong drink.

Of course, all his plans were foiled when two freaking Shadowhunters walked into the bar and took a table. Blondie ordered two beers just as Maia was about to kick them out, though Magnus paid attention to the other one. Tall but with big, gentle eyes. Now, that was a man.

Too bad Magnus hated him on principle.

“This is a Downworlder bar,” Maia said, crossing her arms as a refusal to move. “We don’t serve your type here.”

A blatant lie but, considering the situation, Magnus blamed it on the half-angels. As he did with most things, justifiably.

“You don’t need to serve us,” the blondie said and had the audacity to walk up to the bar and grab two cups, pouring down the first type of beer he found. “We won’t be here long.”

“Jace,” the other one called, his tone clearly a warning. The Shadowhunter’s eyes were glued at the windows and Magnus could swear one of his runes was activated. “They’re coming.”

Jace nodded, grabbing the two glasses and going back to the table. “Just pretend we’re not here.”

“I wish,” Maia retorted but just picked up a glass to wipe when the doors opened suddenly. Three Shadowhunters walked in this time, all geared up and angry-looking. Maryse Lightwood herself lead the trio, all sharp in a boring pencil dress.

Magnus vaguely wondered what the Head of the New York Institute wanted in the Hunter’s Moon. Not exactly a place he pictured her or any of her precious Shadowhunters. Apparently, the feeling was mutual, since Maryse seemed thrown-off by the other two guys’ presence. Still, she decided to ignore them and turn to Magnus.

“Bane,” Maryse said in a commanding voice. “Where were you tonight, at 8 p.m.?”

Magnus frowned. What was that about? “I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

“A suspect escaped from the Institute’s prison cells earlier this evening. He had help doing so.” Maryse greeted her teeth as if sharing the information was somehow a problem. “Your wards keep non-angel-blooded creatures out, but they seem to have failed. Or, they didn’t and the extraction was your doing.”

Oh. Someone had broken Meliorn free. So many had suspected he was behind the attacks and the Shadowhunters had captured him the week before, for ‘questioning.’ Magnus hoped the Seelie Knight was safe now. He had no lost love for Seelies, but nobody deserved to be at the mercy of panicked Shadowhunters.

“Unfortunately,” Magnus cocked his head to the side, sustaining Maryse’s vicious gaze. “It wasn’t my doing. I’ve been here all night.”

Maryse was ready to object, but then the tall Shadowhunter spoke up. “He’s telling the truth,” he said calmly, his voice smooth despite the situation. “Jace and I got here at six, after practice. Mr. Bane came in not long after that and he’s been here since.”

For a second, Magnus was sure the lie wouldn’t work. Maryse narrowed her eyes at him, looking for any signs of contradictions. When Magnus just smiled at her, she turned to the Shadowhunter. “Are you sure, Alec?”

“Positive.”

Magnus didn’t understand. That Shadowhunter had just hushed in, had his friend grab a half-full glass of beer, and now was lying to his superior officer in Magnus’ behalf. Why?

“Do you want us to come back and help with the investigation?” Jace asked, his body language relaxed just enough to mask an underlining tension. These guys were hiding something, Magnus was sure of it.

But Maryse wasn’t. She actually smiled and shook her head. “No, you two enjoy your night off.” All traces of affection left her expression just as fast as they showed up and she turned to Maia. “I have a few questions for you.”

As Maryse and the other two Shadowhunters approached the bar, Magnus stood up and gave them space. Maia held her ground well enough on her own and, from behind, Magnus had a better maneuver space if any of the Shadowhunters tried something against her. He could also keep an eye on the other two.

Alec and Jace. What weird duo they were. “Why are you helping me?” Magnus asked when he moved close enough that his voice wouldn’t draw Maryse’s attention.

“Because they think it was you but it wasn’t,” Alec said, all smoothness gone from his voice. There was only certainty left.

Magnus narrowed his eyes, examining Alec better. He was a gorgeous young man but that wasn’t the most impressive part of him. That would the iron resolve underneath the calm exterior, a confidence that laid just close enough to be felt but that didn’t overbear the sense of rightness.

“I’m only here to establish an alibi,” Jace said, shrugging. Once again, his posture was too relaxed, too undisciplined. Magnus could see right through it. Jace’s eyes followed what happened at the bar like a hawk making him ready to interfere at any time.

Thanks to Maia, though, he didn’t have to. She answered the Shadowhunters’ questions firmly as ever and she was smart enough to know not to pick a fight. Maryse seemed as satisfied as her stiffy ass could get and she took her buffoons with her on her way out. But not before turning to Magnus. “Come in next week to reinforce the wards,” she ordered and left.

Well, that would be her problem. Magnus had a conference in Berlin to attend. But, for now, he was more interested in understanding why Maryse’s absence had Jace sigh in relief so heavily or why had Alec frown as he clearly calculated their next move.

“What the hell,” Maia said, enunciating every sound, “is going on?”

That was when Magnus figured it out. They were there to create an alibi all right, but not for Magnus. “Someone broke out Meliorn tonight, but it wasn’t a Downworlder,” he smirked, cocking his head to the side and looking straight at Alec, “it was you.”

A shadow of a smile crossed Alec’s lips, but he didn’t answer.

“Don’t look at me,” Jace said in his place and winked at Maia. “I’ve been drinking here since 6 p.m.”

“Does that mean you’ll be paying four-hours worth of drinks?” Maia asked, crossing her arms against her chest and popping an eyebrow up.

Jace gaped, ready to refuse, but Alec snorted. “He will.”

As a smiling Maia took Jace’s begrudging money, Magnus stared at Alec. He seemed to catch the stare, since he cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly. What a weird Shadowhunter indeed.

Magnus smiled. “Careful out there,” he heard himself say, “we wouldn’t want you to go missing, Pretty Boy.”

Alec smiled too, this time a little more confident. “I’ll watch out.”

“Come on,” Jace said abruptly, all but dragging Alec away to the exit. “Before she rips me off some more.”

“You’re welcome back anytime,” Maia laughed from the bar, waving Jace away with a fan of bills.

Letting himself be pushed, Alec just had time to look over his shoulder at Magnus once more time before he and Jace disappeared through the door. Magnus huffed, still not quite sure of what had happened there. He went to his place at the bar.

“That was something, hm?” Maia said.

Yes. It definitely was.