Work Text:
Isabelle Sophia Lightwood is anything but vulnerable. To the world, she's headstrong; she's stubborn; she's sexy and assertive and forward and a badass. With her family, she's compassionate and fiercely loyal; she's loving, and she really does try her best to be everything everyone else needs.
But vulnerable? Ready to bare her entire heart, and be utterly naked in a completely different way? No. Nobody would ever accuse Izzy of being vulnerable. Except she is, for him. This Izzy is for Simon Lovelace and Simon Lovelace alone.
She watches him now, sleeping soundlessly next to her. Her eyes trace the slope of his shoulders, down the expanse of his back, face warming a bit at the scratches there. She notices, not for the first time, how he sleeps on his stomach, one arm shoved under his pillow and the other reaching out, always, for her.
He crept up on her. It was completely unexpected—he's so not her type, for one, but there was also something about him that was just . . . different. She couldn't put her finger on it. He's lanky and awkward and nerdy. He's no slouch, but he's not ripped or unearthly handsome like those she'd been with in the past. He's in a band that's probably going nowhere; he's the heart and soul of it if you ask her. Regardless of its name, the songs he writes, from the lyrics to the melodies, are some of the best she's ever heard.
But Simon—he's good, and kind, and he makes her laugh, and he makes her feel comfortable, regardless of what they're doing. And still, she didn't quite get it at first. Why she misses him when he's not around, why she can't stop thinking about him, how she can tell how he's feeling, no matter how imperceptible the change in his expression. Didn't understand why she remembers everything Simon has told her about Star Wars, or Dungeons and Dragons, or his newest indie musical inspiration, or his latest comic book series, when it really should have been the most boring thing she's ever heard.
Usually those she'd slept with didn't…. well they didn't really talk a whole lot. It was less about companionship and more about a much more physical kind of give and take. There was heat, but no warmth; desire, but no sensuality. It was easy, and she enjoyed the companionship, even if it did feel a little bit like something was missing.
“You're staring again, my love,” Simon murmurs, startling Izzy in the way he often does when she's spaced out in her thoughts—usually of him—this early in the morning. She isn't sure how he always knows, if it's somehow leftover from his time as a vampire, or if he's just that in tune with her. It had made her feel unnerved the first time it had happened, in the spare room at Magnus’ apartment. She had huffed and left the room quickly, back then.
She feels her cheeks flush and lays back down next to him, completely in his space, forcing him to turn on his side. Their legs tangle and his free hand pulls her close, playing with her hair. She looks at him, watching his chestnut eyes as they take her in, stopping with a lopsided grin when they reach her neck.
She shoves playfully at his chest. “Don't be so fucking smug, Si,” she says, smiling despite herself and rolling her eyes. “If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were still a vampire.”
He chuckles then, a deep rumble that makes her breath hitch. He rolls them over, trapping her between his arms; leans down to kiss her, one hand sliding up into her hair, his thumb caressing the bite he'd left on her, the other holding himself above her.
She hums against his lips, savoring the way he shivers as her fingers dance up his back, knowing it has nothing to do with the chill in the air. Izzy lazily brings her hands around Simon's neck, one hand playing with the soft hair at the base of it.
“Isabelle,” Simon murmurs, dropping his head and nipping gently at the mark he'd left last night. He says her name so reverently, so fondly, like it's the most important thing he could ever say. Her heart jumps into her throat as her emotions hit her like a freight train, and she can't bury the whimper that comes out.
His face twists in alarm as his head snaps up. “Izzy? What–did I hurt you?”
“I'm okay, Im not—” she clears her throat, “I’m not hurt” she mutters, avoiding Simon's eyes. “It's stupid. I'm fine”
“C'mon, look at me, what's going on in that beautiful brain? Crying in bed isn't usually a good sign,” Simon jokes nervously.
She covers her face with her hands. “No, Si, it's embarrassing, I'm not gonna tell you”
He sits up then, leaning back on his heels, pulling her hands gently away from her face. “Baby,” he brushes his lips over her knuckles, “talk to me.”
“Sometimes I just— you make me feel so much it drives me insane, Si,” She blurts out, her eyes still avoiding Simon's. Once he coaxes the words out of her, she can't stop. “You just—you love me, so much, and you call me your beloved, like I'm something special, and you say my name like its a fucking prayer, and by the Angel, Simon the way you mark my body, the way you make me want you to—”
Simon cuts her off with a deep, greedy kiss,pushing his way into her mouth, making her gasp and arch up into him. She pulls him down to her as his hands tangle in her hair, leaving no space between them.
He pulls his face back, watching her breathe heavily for a few moments before dropping his forehead to hers. “You are something special, Isabelle. You are my beloved, and mine alone.”
She's surprised to feel tears crop up at the corners of her eyes. She shakes her head and pulls him into a frantic kiss, needing him to understand just how much of an effect his words have had on her, desperate for him to understand how much they make her come undone.
“Fuck, Iz,” he moans quietly as he shoves his forehead into her shoulder, taking a moment.
The sound ignites a fire through her entire body. She realizes, suddenly, that she's never heard Simon say fuck around anyone else. In fact, she doesn't think he's ever said it around her when they're not in bed. She's about to tease him about it when he flips them over, crushing her to his chest.
“Si-mon” she breathes out, frustrated. “I was enjoying that, you know,” she says, even as she nuzzles her head to his chest.
“Oh, I'm very aware, Izzy.” he says cheekily.
She rolls her eyes and rests her chin on his chest, looking up at him, unsurprised to see him looking right back at her.
“I love you, you know?” She murmurs, smiling softly.
“I do. And I love you.”
Outside of her family, Izzy has walls. Walls she's built up to protect herself from ending up like her parents, from ending up hurt, or betrayed, or stuck in a loveless relationship. Simon had scaled those walls once, and she'd ended up heartbroken. And yet, she'd put herself out there for him, over and over again, because he taught her that some people are worth getting their heart broken for.
Later, as she's throwing on her jean shorts and one of Simon's Star Wars t-shirts, she thinks about how Magnus once told her that vulnerability was a strength, and how maybe, just maybe, he was right.
Simon was the boy with his heart on his sleeve and Izzy was the girl with her heart in a cage that only he held the key to. It isn't always easy for her to open up, even now. But her sweet, patient, gentle Simon always finds a way to remind her that she's safe, that she doesn't have to hold up those walls; not around him.
Izzy decides, then and there, that Magnus had been 100% correct, because her vulnerability with Simon makes her feel the strongest she's ever been; it makes her feel whole.