AN: Hello! If you know me, then you know this isn't my usual beat. For starters, I haven't read the TMI series. I haven't even watched the movie lol I am stupidly charmed by the show though, which is the reason why this is here :) FAIR WARNING THOUGH, my knowledge of the Shadowhunter world extends to what the show has given us and some brief reading on the wiki - which means there are some possible future spoilers? Maybe. Also, I'm not striving for ~complete accuracy~ in this world. I'm taking some liberties, but hopefully no one minds too much! Hope you guys enjoy :)
DISCLAIMER: This particular fic was inspired by a post made on tumblr by the user royalyaoi8059. Which means, this is a Soulmate!AU. Also, I own nothing except all the feels given to me by Isabelle Lightwood. Title comes from BLAJK's "French Class" :)
It's been on the inside of her right wrist for as long as she can remember.
So hot.
She doesn't know what it means, hasn't even thought it could mean something, because while her whole life symbols have adorned the skin of the people around her - none have looked like this.
Until.
She's six years old, fresh from swimming lessons, when she notices the words on her brother's lower back as he puts on a dry shirt.
More like medium-rare.
She doesn't hesitate to reach out and touch them. She traces the letters the same way she has always traced the runes on her father's hands: with reverence.
(As an adult, she'll tease her brother about him having a "tramp stamp," but as a child there is only curiosity in her voice when she speaks.)
"What do they mean?" She quietly asks.
Alec turns around and gives her a soft smile. He takes her hand and leads her to their mother.
Her brother always guides her.
(Maryse Lightwood will explain to her daughter about soulmates and first words; she'll use phrases such as "in due time" and "the right context," but her voice will have an edge to it that Isabelle will struggle to understand until she turns 16.)
(Reputation.)
Isabelle nods at her mother's explanation as if she completely understands. She then dutifully takes her first rune: celaverimus. To conceal.
Isabelle is 10 years old when she learns that "context" is a fucking joke.
She still hasn't gotten her period, her nose is too big for her face, she's got huge boobs, she's short, and she's still full of baby fat that makes her chubby.
Who is ever going to find me hot? She wonders, taunts on her mind, tears on her face.
(At age 10 a blonde boy with different colored eyes will move into their home. He and Alec will be joined at the hip so much they will eventually become parabatai. Isabelle will look on with pride and admiration and only a hint of jealousy, a small voice in the back of her mind reminding her of her wish that she and Alec would have been the ones to take on that bond together.
Jace Wayland will also be the one to convince Isabelle to reveal her soulmate mark to him. He will be the one to correct her about her impression that it means something related to fire. He will come into their lives and carve a place for himself that she and Alec will desperately try to emulate for years to come.)
Isabelle finishes drying her tears in the bathroom stall before she walks out.
Alec is waiting in the hall - so tall and handsome already - leaning against the lockers.
(At age 10 another young boy will join their family as well. He'll struggle to pronounce Isabelle's name. The first time Alec repeats the mangled pronunciation, will be the first time Isabelle feels the puzzle pieces of her life begin to slot into place.)
"Who was it, Izzy?" He asks determinedly.
Isabelle doesn't hesitate to answer, because just like her brother is always there to guide her, he is always there to protect her.
She is 18 when she first realizes how fragile their world is.
As doctors from the Institute look over her injuries from their latest hunt, Alec stands against the far wall rigid as a board.
Izzy glances at him and gives him a smile, "Guess I did my job as the distraction a little too well, huh big brother?" She jokes weakly.
Alec's lips twitch. It's the closest thing to a smile he gives out nowadays.
Because, you see, Alec is a year shy of full adulthood, of taking on all the responsibilities of the Institute.
The weight of the world always pressing down on his shoulders.
(She's 16 and will be at a party with other fellow Shadowhunters. Jace will place his hand on Alec's lower back as he leans in to whisper something to him over the thump of the music. Alec will shatter the beer bottle in his hand.
Isabelle will grab the nearest body and grind on it like there's no tomorrow.
Except there is.
Her reputation will suffer for it, but no one will remember the look on Alec's face. Her brother had always been tall and handsome - always the center of attention.
The leader.
It will be the first time Isabelle truly understands the value of being the distraction.)
A few new runes later and Izzy is back in her room staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her face has finally grown into her features, her body has stretched, her baby fat transformed into womanly curves. She is hot.
More pieces slotting into place.
There are more than enough looks - and comments - of appreciation.
There are more than enough looks - and comments - of shaming.
(Every summer, her parents will send Alec and Isabelle to the Mexico City Institute to spend time with their grandmother. It will be tradition, up until she turns 8, when they come back home speaking Spanish.
She and Alec will spend their whole first night back awake, desperately trying to shed the accent thick on their tongues to alleviate the scolding searing their shoulders.)
Izzy is the distraction and Alec is their leader.
Alec no longer has his accent.
Heavy is the head that wears the crown.
At 21 Isabelle wakes up everyday knowing what today will look like, what tomorrow will look like, what the day after tomorrow will look like, what the day after that will look like, and then the day after that.
Until.
Hey, can you watch where you're going?
You can see me?
(Izzy knows what Jace's soulmate mark looks like too. Her heart will once again fill with pride and admiration and only a hint of jealousy.)
Until.
They give Shadowhunters our demon-fighting powers.
So hot.
(Izzy will walk into her room, the tray of food in her hands, and she and Simon will speak about Clary and Jace as if they both don't know what's under Simon's left-hand wristband;
As if they both don't know what is concealed on the inside of Izzy's right wrist;
As if they both don't know what is written on the back of Clary's neck;
As if they both don't know what is concealed on Jace's shoulder blades.
Izzy will pretend for as long as he needs her to, because when it comes to this - to her soulmate - Izzy won't be just a distraction.)
And then.
Well done.
More like medium-rare.
Jace rushes into it like he too understands how fragile things are.
Izzy knows true patience, knows what it means to be needed to hold it all together.
Alec's crown will turn to one of thorns.
Izzy desperately wants to guide him, wants to protect him, wants to distract him.
Hermano, déjame ayudarte. Por favor.
(It will be three weeks later when Alec finally knocks on her door and speaks to her.
Isabelle, te necesito.
Another piece, slotting into place.)
Isabelle is 22 years old.
Max will never be that age.
She lays on her bed, no makeup on, curled up into a ball.
Arms wrap around her, a tender kiss placed on the nape of her neck.
"I'm here, Izzy." Simon says.
Isabelle chokes on her sobs.
She's 23 and she's hot, she's the distraction, she has her soulmate and yet -
the world is still fragile.
The world's been ending for a thousand years. You get used to it.
"Hey, here." Simon says, a goofy smile on his lips as he hands her a beer.
Isabelle feels the fresh bite on her thigh twitch.
She smiles.
She's still has pieces slotting into place, but she's used to it.