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Femslash February: Day 22

Fandom: Shadowhunters: The Mortal Instruments

Main Pairing: Lydia/Izzy

Prompt: Lazy

–

Isabelle looked so gorgeous in the dark-green satin cocktail dress. Her hair, in tight curls, fell over her shoulders as she laid curled together on their bed, snoring softly. Her makeup was a bit smeared, most likely from mushing her face into the pillow. Lydia smiled softly as she approached her wife and carefully removed the high heels at least, putting them in front of the bed. Isabelle hummed at it in her sleep and pulled her legs up more. Sighing, Lydia sat down on the edge of the bed.

Both their jobs were demanding. Lydia, after having recovered in Idris had also returned to her job there as a consul. Even though she had been dying to return to New York – return to Isabelle, help during the war. Now that the war was over, Isabelle Lightwood was the new head of the New York Institute, together with her parabatai Clary Fairchild. Alec had left New York to live in Idris, accepting the offered consul position (mostly so he could be closer to his parabatai, who was in Idris for his own mental recovery). Naturally, that kept both Lydia and Isabelle very busy.

Isabelle was still getting used to her new position, to the responsibility, to working in this capacity with Clary and to working without Jace and Alec. Lydia had a lot to clean up in Idris, the Inquisitor was still out of commission after the Owl had attacked her, so many institutes were short on Shadowhunters after the war and it fell to the Clave to figure out solutions.

Still, their marriage should not come short. They had gotten married when the war had ended, a large celebration of both the victory and their shared love. And then work pulled them apart. They tried to make as much time for each other as possible – but at least they had experience with long-distance, having been dating for many months, even during the time Lydia had been back in Idris. So this, this was fine. Not getting to see each other for days (never more than a week), barely finding time for dates. It wasn’t new and they knew that their love could outlast that.

Tonight, they had planned to go on a date. Isabelle had made a reservation at a fancy restaurant and Lydia had been supposed to be here about an hour ago – but things had gotten in the way and she was running late. By the time she entered their bedroom to pick up Isabelle, Izzy was curled together in the bed, deep asleep. Which only spoke to how exhausting her day must have been too.

“That much for our fancy date”, sighed Lydia to herself as she took her own shoes off.

Yawning, she laid down behind Isabelle and wrapped her arms around Isabelle. Slowly, the head of the institute stirred, eyelashes fluttering as she turned sleepily to look at Lydia.

“He—ey”, whispered Isabelle, nuzzling into Lydia. “…Nap for date…?”

Lydia hummed amused, closing her eyes. Tonight was going to be a lazy date. And that was good.

~*~ The End ~*~

Under Me You Felt Just Fine

Flufftober Day 14: Indirect Kiss (Read on AO3)

Isabelle knows she’s testing their boundaries, but this little game between the two of them is too enticing to stop. Eyeing Lydia from across the room, from across the shoulder of the very fine, eligible young Nephilim bachelor her parents not-so-subtly sent her way, Isabelle laughs at a joke that isn’t funny and places her hand gently on the inside of his arm. She watches Lydia tense at the sight of the touch, unable to help the small frown that creases her beautiful features before she’s a mask of impassiveness again…

Isabelle excuses herself and makes her way over to the side of the room where Lydia walked off to, towards a table lined with drinks.

“If you don’t dance with me, Miss Branwell, my parents are going to send every unmarried Shadowhunter my way the rest of the night, and you’re going to have to suffer through watching me flirt with every last one of them,” Isabelle says, her voice low.

“And why would that bother me?” Lydia asks. Even as she says it her eyes drift down from Izzy’s eyes to her lips, then lower still before she remembers herself and snaps her gaze back up.

Isabelle knows Lydia is here alone and that she hasn’t dated since her almost-wedding with Alec. Isabelle also knows that a month ago the two of them had the best sex of Izzy’s entire life after what started as a passionate screaming match over Lydia voting against her in a Clave referendum dissolved into just passion. Lydia acts like it never happened, but Isabelle can’t let herself forget.

She’s been shamelessly flirting with Lydia ever since - in public, in private, through texts when she’s not in Idris and fire messages when she is. So far to no avail.

“You’re right,” Isabelle says. “Why would me doing something like this-” as she says the words, Izzy brings her hand up to rest gently on the exposed skin of Lydia’s forearm. “-to someone who isn’t you-” Izzy trails her fingers slowly, softly down toward Lydia’s wrist. “-bother you? Such a meaningless interaction.”

Color springs to Lydia’s pale cheeks, enough that one might assume she had blush on for the evening, though Isabelle knows she doesn’t. Lydia pulls her arm back and turns away abruptly to hide her face, busying herself with the table of drinks beside them. When she turns back a few moments later it’s with a glass of champagne in hand.

“Isabelle, you can’t keep doing this. We can’t…” Lydia sighs, taking a sip of the drink to stall, leaving a print of red lipstick behind.

Isabelle reaches out and takes the glass from her, turning it intentionally so that when she brings it up to her own lips it’s directly over the lipstick mark Lydia just made, pressing her lips against where Lydia’s touched only a moment before. Izzy lets her own lips linger, then licks along the edge of the glass, all the while never breaking eye contact with Lydia who swallows thickly as she watches.

“We can’t? Or you won’t?” Isabelle challenges. “Say the word and I walk away now and you never hear from me again.”

Lydia remains silent.

“That’s what I thought,” Isabelle says, handing the glass back with a devious grin. “Meet me in the courtyard in 5. I know a place.”

And with that, she vanishes from the crowded hall, eager to see what the rest of the night will bring. 

9. + 31. Lydia/Izzy? no worries if you don't want to or can't think of something x

9. “You’re in love with her”

31. “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending they’re you.”

Thank you so much for this prompt! I adore writing Lydia/Izzy and this kind of cured my writers block. I hope you like it!!

Isabelle wrenches herself away from the werewolf woman she’d been kissing. The club’s bass rings loud in her ears and the woman looks back at Izzy in confusion.

Izzy blinks against the darkness. The woman is pretty, beautiful even. Blonde hair falling over her eyes and the hint of a smile on full lips.

She reminds Izzy too much of what she’s losing.

“I—I’m sorry, I need to go,” Izzy gets out feeling like she can barely breathe.

The woman takes the rejection easily enough, nodding and letting Izzy walk off the dance floor. Izzy all but collapses against the bar, trying to take a deep breath.

Fucking hell.

She is Isabelle Lightwood. She should not be this undone by one girl. One stupid girl who was never going to stay. Izzy knew that from the start, and yet somehow she’d let herself fall anyway.

“Alec said you’d be here.”

Izzy spins around and her heart jumps into her throat when she finds Lydia standing next to her at the bar.

Fucking Alec. He needs to leave this alone. “Alec’s an ass who should mind his own business.” Izzy retorts, looking anywhere but Lydia’s face.

“Isabelle—“

Izzy gasps in a breath that’s more painful than it should be. “Don’t Isabelle me,” she grits out, “You’re leaving tomorrow.”

“I know.”

It’s all she says. Nothing about the past five months. About how in these last few weeks Izzy had felt like maybe something had changed. That maybe this wasn’t just about the sex. Obviously she’d been the only one.

“So, nothing matters,” Izzy gets out, “It was just for fun. We had our fun. Now you’re leaving. It’s fine.”

You’re in love with her. Izzy’s brain supplies. She wishes it would shut up.

Izzy still refuses to look at her. She can’t. She can’t look into Lydia’s eyes and delude herself into thinking she sees any sort of affection there. No. Not again.

“Izzy, look at me,” Lydia’s hand on Izzy’s arm feels like fire and Izzy almost pulls herself away. “Iz please, we need to talk about this.”

Anger lights, hot and feral in Izzy’s chest. Why does Lydia get to remain rational? Izzy feels like the world is falling apart and Lydia can just stand here, hand steady on Izzy’s arm. It’s not fair.

Izzy finally looks at her.

“What do you want me to say, Lyds? That I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you?”

Lydia actually looks pained at that. Good. Let her feel some pain for once. Izzy’s been bearing this all on her own the past weeks and she’s not sure she has room for any more.

She doesn’t even care that she’s probably said too much. Revealed too much. It doesn’t matter anyway. Lydia is still leaving tomorrow.

“Izzy,” Lydia says, wrapping fingers around Izzy’s wrist. They press against Izzy’s pulse point, a familiar intimate gesture that Izzy had thought actually meant something at one point.

Izzy closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to look at Lydia’s face. She knows she’ll find affection there and that’s the problem. Lydia does care about her, just not in the way Izzy wants.

Lydia tugs on Izzy’s arm and Izzy surrenders to it because she’s weak and if this is the last time she gets to have Lydia, she’s going to take it. Wordlessly, she lets herself be pulled into a kiss that is both sweet and heartbreaking all at once.

When they pull apart, Lydia’s hands come up to cup Izzy’s face, keeping her close.

“What are you doing?” Izzy demands.

“Getting you to listen for one goddamn second,” Lydia says. Her thumb swipes over Izzy’s bottom lip and she lets out a breath that ghosts over Izzy’s chin.

Izzy steels herself for the rejection. Of the apology that Lydia can’t be what Izzy wants. Because surely, if she hadn’t known already she knows now that Izzy loves her. Izzy waits for the ‘I’m sorry I don’t love you the way you want.’

“I’m in love with you, Isabelle Lightwood.” Is what Lydia says instead.

Her eyes remain trained on Izzy, bright and defiant. Izzy has spent hours watching Lydia, trying to memorize every bit of her. “You—“ Izzy starts, floored, “you’re not lying.”

Lydia lets out a breathy laugh, pressing their foreheads together. “Of course I’m not lying. I am stupidly in love with you,” she says, “I have been for a long time now.”

Izzy scrambles to get her thoughts in order. This is not what she’d expected.

“But you’re leaving,” she blurts out.

Lydia goes back to Idris tomorrow morning. Her five month long stint at the New York Institute to help Alec out is over and she’s going back to Idris and the life waiting for her there. They’d just been friends with benefits. Izzy had believed that once Lydia was gone, it was all over.

“I know I’m leaving,” Lydia says, “but that doesn’t mean this has to end. I want to do this right this time. Not just hookups. I want real. With you. If you’ll have me.”

Izzy huffs a quiet laugh, not quite believing it. “Of course I’ll have you.”

Lydia smiles so wide that Izzy’s heart expands in her chest. This time she smiles into the kiss Lydia pulls her into.