#lysabelle

We Should Just Kiss (Like Real People Do)

Summary: "Isabelle watched her, and she thought: how easy it would be to lean in right now and kiss her. Perhaps that feeling had always been there, from that very first day, hidden in the corners of every moment they’d shared with each other since then, scattered across the memories they’d made. And Isabelle had never had much of a penchant for restraint."

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Isabelle Lightwood, Idris' princess, is bored... And then she meets Lydia Branwell, Palace Guard, and finds herself becoming rapidly enamored with her.

This beautiful fic was written by the amazing @nikialexx for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2023 by @malecdiscordserver

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To honor the last weekend of Femslash February, I’m accepting begging for WLW prompts 🎉 It’s as easy as 1-2-3.

Send me a pairing. My fandoms include; Shadowhunters, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Teen Wolf, Criminal Minds, and others if you just ask. 

Send me a prompt you’d like me to write. This can be as basic as a word or as thought out as an entire scene. Open to fluff, smut, and anything in between. 

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I can’t say I’ve ever written a high school AU before, but @skylar102 gave me this wonderful idea and it fit perfectly! Hope you like it!! 

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

“How are you not nervous right now?” Izzy asked from where she practically vibrated in her seat. It was already hard enough to sit in the too-tight dress she chose for the evening and the nervous anxiety skittering through her was definitely not helping. Lydia reached over and grabbed at her hand, holding it gently in her own. 

“Because I’m not the one up for Prom Queen,” Lydia responded, stroking her thumb across the back of Izzy’s knuckles. Izzy felt immediately calmer as Lydia let go of her hand in favor of resting it on her knee to stop it from bouncing. Izzy took a deep breath and pushed it out steadily just as Lydia’s hand squeezed the fabric covering her leg. 

“You should be,” Izzy countered, letting her perfectly manicured hand rest on top of Lydia’s. It was no secret that the two were in a relationship so displays like that one were pretty normal. After Izzy’s brother had come out and made the school just a little safer for the upcoming years, Izzy didn’t have to hide how much she loved Lydia, but that didn’t mean they could both be Prom Queen. 

Lydia huffed out a laugh and said, “I want nothing less than to be Prom Queen, Iz. Besides, you would beat me anyway, just like you’re gonna beat everyone else, okay?” Lydia reassured Izzy by stroking a hand across her hair. Izzy could feel her making sure every strand was in its rightful place and her nerves almost completely disappeared at the gesture. 

It wasn’t until Mr. Garroway jumped onto the stage and his voice came over the loudspeaker that Izzy froze again. Lydia grasped onto Izzy’s hand again and pulled it to her lips for a gentle, calming kiss as they waited for him to speak. 

“It’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for! It is time to announce this year’s Prom Court!” The crowd cheered and Lydia pulled Izzy to standing, moving her to the front of the crowd with the other nominees. “This year’s nominees for Prom Queen are; Brinda Darsey, Joan Wafford, Isabelle Lightwood…” At the mention of her name, her friends cheered loud enough that Luke had to pause before announcing the last nominee, “and Vinita Matko!” 

The long, dramatic pause filled with a drumroll and cheering from her classmates was too much for Izzy to handle. She wrapped her arms around Lydia’s waist and hid her face in her girlfriend’s neck, leaning into her as best she could. Lydia’s laughter echoed in her ear, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the sound of her name. 

“Baby, you won! You did it!” Lydia screamed, pushing Izzy away, but holding her at arm’s length so she could press a gentle kiss to her lips. 

“I--” Izzy didn’t know what to say. She knew it was a ridiculous reason to be emotional, but she had wanted to be Prom Queen since she entered high school and she always thought she never could, not with a girlfriend on her arm. But Lydia walked her up to the stage, arm in arm, and the most pride-filled look Izzy had ever seen plastered to Lydia’s face. 

Just as Lydia went to step back, Mr. Garroway pressed a hand to her shoulder and said, “Just a minute, Lydia.” Izzy glanced at Lydia with wide eyes and then over at her friends and classmates who were smiling knowingly everywhere she looked. “The senior class has decided that this year, there would not be a Prom Queen and a Prom King, but instead,” Mr. Garroway trailed off as Izzy sent a desperate glance to Lydia. 

“What is going on?” She asked, her heart beating faster by the minute. Lydia shook her head, her eyebrows furrowed as she shrugged her shoulders. 

Mr. Garroway continued, shouting, “Please welcome this year’s Prom Royalty; Isabelle Lightwood and Lydia Branwell!” 

If Izzy wasn’t crying before, she was when Lydia ran up the stairs and straight into her arms. She barely remembered any part of getting their crowns and sashes and suddenly, she was slow dancing with Lydia with a crowd of their peers around them. She didn’t think that the night could have gotten any better when she first saw Lydia in her dress but dancing with her like there was no one else in the room made for the most perfect night. She wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world. 

(500 word prompt: Purple) (Read on AO3)

Izzy doesn’t think twice about asking to train with Lydia. After that impressive arrow-catching move she’s determined to learn everything she can from Lydia, and not just when it comes to quick reflexes.

Lydia Branwell is the embodiment of everything Izzy’s family needs her to be right now - she commands attention whenever she walks in a room, when she speaks others listen, and she’s got the ‘serious professional’ thing down perfectly.

So Izzy watches and learns. She volunteers for the same assignments, stands close during debriefings, telling herself it’s just business. Just the means to an end… until it isn’t.

It doesn’t take long for Izzy’s initial admiration to turn into something softer the more she gets to know Lydia. Lydia isn’t just clever and severe, she’s also kind and genuine. The more time they spend together the more Lydia opens up about herself and her past, and Izzy realizes she’s more than just another ruthless Clave lackey.

Izzy isn’t sure when, but at some point her desire to impress Lydia shifts from wanting to make a good impression as a Lightwood to wanting to make a good impression as herself, as a potential friend, as… maybe more than that. Then she reminds herself that Lydia’s only here because Isabelle’s family’s reputation is in shambles, and gives up any hope of something more.

That doesn’t stop Izzy from flirting, of course. There’s no harm in a little flattery, even if it is one-sided.

They’re on patrol one early evening when the two of them pass by a shop with a small flower display outside. “One second,” Izzy says, doubling back for a minute before catching back up to Lydia with a single purple flower in hand.

“Here,” Izzy says, placing the flower behind Lydia’s right ear, the stem disappearing into the blonde hair Lydia always keeps tucked back when it isn’t pulled up. Izzy wonders briefly what those golden locks would look like falling loose over Lydia’s face, but resists the temptation to untuck them and find out.

“What’s this for?” Lydia asks, growing still at the unexpected touch, tone wary.

Izzy stands back and admires the flower before nodding once in silent confirmation with herself. “I thought purple would suit you,” Izzy says with a smile, and it’s all she gives by way of an explanation before turning to continue on their path as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened.

It isn’t until Lydia strides into the Ops Center the next day wearing a purple dress and suit jacket - to match a familiar flower now braided into her hair - that Izzy starts to think maybe she isn’t the only one trying to impress.

“Nice outfit,” Izzy says when Lydia approaches.

“I thought you might like it,” Lydia smirks.

“The outfit isn’t the only thing I like,” Izzy says, deciding to take a chance. “Maybe we can head out early before patrol tonight, grab dinner?”

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.”

Lydia is everything Izzy’s always hated and everything she’s always dreamed of having, and she doesn’t know what to do about it.

Except marry her.

Pairing: Isabelle Lightwood/Lydia Branwell & Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Rated: Teen  Summary: “What do you know?” Magnus asked as he stroked at Izzy’s hair, holding her face delicately in his hands with a pleading gaze in his eyes. Izzy shook her head and gestured toward the screen replaying the last bit of information the Institute had.

“The Heads of all Institutes were in the grand ballroom and they were just about to announce the new Inquisitor when there was an explosion and the feed went black,” Izzy explained as Magnus watched it happen on the screen. He winced when the screen clicked off and his grip on Izzy’s shoulder tightened.