Too Bad
Fandom: The Mortal Instruments
Rating: G
Pairings/Characters: Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood, Simon Lewis, Jocelyn Fray, Alec Lightwood (mentioned), Jace Lightwood (mentioned)
Warnings: None
Summary: Clary can't stop thinking about the raven-haired beauty she met at school.
A/N: I think I'm a little bit in love with this pairing and I'm not even sorry.
When the lunch bell rang, Clary rushed to pack up her books and scurried out of her math class and down the hall to her locker, hoping to get there and downstairs to the art room without Simon noticing her. She’d promised she’d help pass out flyers for his band’s next show and, while she was always happy to help a friend, it never did much good. Most of the people who came to the shows were either there on accident or because they were already at the venue. Of course, she’d never tell Simon that. It wasn’t that their band was bad, they just weren’t spectacular like you need to be to make it these days. It also didn’t help that they seemed to be constantly changing their name. Clary felt like it changed every other day, so most of the time she didn’t even bother committing it to memory anymore.
She was almost at her locker when she heard a familiar voice calling her name over the bustling sounds of hungry students. “Hey, Simon,” she said, trying to hide the disappointment. She’d wanted to get a head start on her next art assignment, but it didn’t look like that would happen.
“You’re helping us hand out flyers today, right?” Simon asked, a pleading look in his eyes. When she opened her mouth to make an excuse to try to get out of it, he interrupted her, “Clarissa Fray. You promised.”
“Oh, alright,” Clary sighed as she stashed her stuff in her locker. “I’ll do it.” Simon smiled and handed her a stack of brightly coloured papers. She followed him to the cafeteria, where she would have to pretend she was super enthusiastic about their band (which was now named Dichotomous Lemur, according to the flyer).
Lunch hour was about half over when Clary saw her. She had long, sleek black hair and dark eyes that looked like they held a million stories. The girl was clad in black - black boots, black jeans, and a tight black tank top. Clary’s hands were shaking a little as she approached her and the two guys she was with. “Hi,” Clary said, cursing inwardly at the shakiness in her voice. “The band Dichotomous Lemur is playing a show at McNally’s tomorrow night at 8. You should come check it out,” she smiled, holding out a flyer.
The two boys didn’t seem to be paying her any attention, but the dark haired girl was giving her a once over, like she was assessing her. “Are you in it?” the girl asked as she took the bright blue paper from Clary’s hand.
“Uh, no,” Clary stammered. “My friend over there,” she pointed to Simon, who was being ignored by the group of people walking past, “and a few of his buddies started it.”
“Oh. Too bad,” the girl shrugged and turned on her heel before walking away.
‘Well,’ Clary thought, ‘there’s another waste of paper.’ She continued handing out flyers until the bell rang and, when it did, she added the remainder of her stack of flyer’s to Simon’s. “Maybe you should try hanging up the flyers,” she suggested. “I hear that works, too.”
“Oh, Clary, have you learned nothing?” Simon teased. “This way, people will actually pay attention.”
Clary was going to comment that no one actually paid attention when they handed out flyers, which was evident because hardly anyone ever came to the shows, but Simon was gone before she could. There were a few little girls who had a thing for Simon that were there religiously but, other than that, Clary was the only non-band member who was consistently at their shows.
The day seemed to creep by achingly slowly. Since Simon had taken up the lunch hour she’d wanted to spend painting with handing out flyers, she was itching to get home and up to her studio. When she finally did, she sighed in relief and wasted no time in taking out her paints.
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For Clary, painting was a full-body experience. With the swells of music in her ears, she would use her entire body to create her piece of art. Often, the mood of the music would affect what her final product ended up looking like, it helped dictate her colour choices and the overall tone of the painting. Clary picked up a brush and started to paint, not really sure what it was going to turn out to be, but just happy to be putting a brush to canvas.
“Who’s that?” Clary’s mom, Jocelyn, asked when she came into the room.
Clary jumped at the words. She hadn’t noticed anyone come into the room. She looked at her painting and felt her cheeks go red. It was the black haired girl from the cafeteria. “Uh, no one,” Clary said, hoping her mom wouldn’t see through her lie or see the blush on her cheeks.
“Mhm,” Jocelyn smiled before heading back towards the door. “Dinner’s ready!” she called over her shoulder as she left.
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The next day, school seemed to go by faster than usual, not that Clary was complaining. Before she knew it, it was 7:30 and she was walking towards McNally’s, readying herself for another one of Simon’s shows. Even though she knew it wouldn’t happen, she couldn’t help but hope that the black haired girl from the cafeteria would be there. Clary had kept her eyes open, hoping for a glimpse of her in the school hallways, but she hadn’t seen her yet.
Once she arrived, Clary grabbed a seat at a table that was pressed against the wall of the restaurant. She tried to sit towards the back, just in case she decided to read when she got bored, which she knew she would. She ordered a coffee and settled in to watch the show, sitting sideways on the chair so that she was leaning on the wall.
Just as the band started playing, there was a voice by her shoulder. “Are they even any good?”
When Clary turned to see who was speaking, she was stunned to see the girl from the cafeteria. “Y…yeah, they’re pretty good,” Clary stuttered, which earned her a sweet smile from the girl.
“I’m Isabelle,” the girl introduced herself, as if she could read Clary’s mind.
“Clary,” she responded, feeling a little bit stupid for no real reason.
The two guys Isabelle had been with at school were sitting at the table as well, both looking extremely bored and slightly grumpy. One had the same black hair as Isabelle but his eyes were a brilliant blue. The other looked like some kind of god, the way his golden hair shone in the light and his bronzed skin stretched over cords of muscles. Noticing Clary staring, Isabelle told her, “These are my brothers, Alec and Jace.” At the sound of their names, the two boys looked over at Clary. She could practically feel the icy looks they sent her way.
Clary tried to pay attention to Simon onstage, but she couldn’t stop looking at Isabelle and her luscious, full lips. Isabelle looked so perfect and Clary wanted nothing more than to mess her up, starting with the blood red lipstick adorning her pretty mouth. “I’ll be right back,” Clary blurted out, unable to keep sitting there and staring at Isabelle. She picked her way through the tables and chairs and hurried towards the girls’ bathroom.
Not realizing that she was holding her breath, Clary let it out once she got into the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror and wished she’d spent a little time getting ready before she came today. Her mop of red curls was particularly unruly and she was wearing tattered jeans and an old t-shirt she must have had since middle school. Next to the dark, form-fitted ensemble that Isabelle was wearing, she might as well have been wearing a trash bag.
Clary was looking in the mirror, wrestling with her hair when the door opened and Isabelle walked in. Before Clary could say anything, Isabelle spoke. “You’re not very subtle, you know,” she said with a slight smirk.
She didn’t dare look at Isabelle face-to-face, so Clary looked at her in the mirror. “Wh… what do you mean?” she asked, trying to act casual.
Isabelle took a few steps closer, her heels clacking on the smooth tile floor. She was standing right behind Clary now, so close that the red-head could feel her body heat. She’d never realized how tall Isabelle was compared to her. “I mean, the way you’ve been staring at me all evening,” she practically whispered into Clary’s ear. Clary could feel her hot breath clinging to the hairs on her neck.
Clary opened her mouth to protest, turning around as she did so, but before any words came out, Isabelle’s lips were pressed against hers. It was a shock, at first, but it didn’t take long for Clary to melt against her, the heat of their bodies almost too much to bear. She barely noticed Isabelle’s hand sliding into her hair, she was too distracted by the sweet taste of her mouth.
Rating: G
Pairings/Characters: Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood, Simon Lewis, Jocelyn Fray, Alec Lightwood (mentioned), Jace Lightwood (mentioned)
Warnings: None
Summary: Clary can't stop thinking about the raven-haired beauty she met at school.
A/N: I think I'm a little bit in love with this pairing and I'm not even sorry.
When the lunch bell rang, Clary rushed to pack up her books and scurried out of her math class and down the hall to her locker, hoping to get there and downstairs to the art room without Simon noticing her. She’d promised she’d help pass out flyers for his band’s next show and, while she was always happy to help a friend, it never did much good. Most of the people who came to the shows were either there on accident or because they were already at the venue. Of course, she’d never tell Simon that. It wasn’t that their band was bad, they just weren’t spectacular like you need to be to make it these days. It also didn’t help that they seemed to be constantly changing their name. Clary felt like it changed every other day, so most of the time she didn’t even bother committing it to memory anymore.
She was almost at her locker when she heard a familiar voice calling her name over the bustling sounds of hungry students. “Hey, Simon,” she said, trying to hide the disappointment. She’d wanted to get a head start on her next art assignment, but it didn’t look like that would happen.
“You’re helping us hand out flyers today, right?” Simon asked, a pleading look in his eyes. When she opened her mouth to make an excuse to try to get out of it, he interrupted her, “Clarissa Fray. You promised.”
“Oh, alright,” Clary sighed as she stashed her stuff in her locker. “I’ll do it.” Simon smiled and handed her a stack of brightly coloured papers. She followed him to the cafeteria, where she would have to pretend she was super enthusiastic about their band (which was now named Dichotomous Lemur, according to the flyer).
Lunch hour was about half over when Clary saw her. She had long, sleek black hair and dark eyes that looked like they held a million stories. The girl was clad in black - black boots, black jeans, and a tight black tank top. Clary’s hands were shaking a little as she approached her and the two guys she was with. “Hi,” Clary said, cursing inwardly at the shakiness in her voice. “The band Dichotomous Lemur is playing a show at McNally’s tomorrow night at 8. You should come check it out,” she smiled, holding out a flyer.
The two boys didn’t seem to be paying her any attention, but the dark haired girl was giving her a once over, like she was assessing her. “Are you in it?” the girl asked as she took the bright blue paper from Clary’s hand.
“Uh, no,” Clary stammered. “My friend over there,” she pointed to Simon, who was being ignored by the group of people walking past, “and a few of his buddies started it.”
“Oh. Too bad,” the girl shrugged and turned on her heel before walking away.
‘Well,’ Clary thought, ‘there’s another waste of paper.’ She continued handing out flyers until the bell rang and, when it did, she added the remainder of her stack of flyer’s to Simon’s. “Maybe you should try hanging up the flyers,” she suggested. “I hear that works, too.”
“Oh, Clary, have you learned nothing?” Simon teased. “This way, people will actually pay attention.”
Clary was going to comment that no one actually paid attention when they handed out flyers, which was evident because hardly anyone ever came to the shows, but Simon was gone before she could. There were a few little girls who had a thing for Simon that were there religiously but, other than that, Clary was the only non-band member who was consistently at their shows.
The day seemed to creep by achingly slowly. Since Simon had taken up the lunch hour she’d wanted to spend painting with handing out flyers, she was itching to get home and up to her studio. When she finally did, she sighed in relief and wasted no time in taking out her paints.
-------------------------------
For Clary, painting was a full-body experience. With the swells of music in her ears, she would use her entire body to create her piece of art. Often, the mood of the music would affect what her final product ended up looking like, it helped dictate her colour choices and the overall tone of the painting. Clary picked up a brush and started to paint, not really sure what it was going to turn out to be, but just happy to be putting a brush to canvas.
“Who’s that?” Clary’s mom, Jocelyn, asked when she came into the room.
Clary jumped at the words. She hadn’t noticed anyone come into the room. She looked at her painting and felt her cheeks go red. It was the black haired girl from the cafeteria. “Uh, no one,” Clary said, hoping her mom wouldn’t see through her lie or see the blush on her cheeks.
“Mhm,” Jocelyn smiled before heading back towards the door. “Dinner’s ready!” she called over her shoulder as she left.
-----------------------------------
The next day, school seemed to go by faster than usual, not that Clary was complaining. Before she knew it, it was 7:30 and she was walking towards McNally’s, readying herself for another one of Simon’s shows. Even though she knew it wouldn’t happen, she couldn’t help but hope that the black haired girl from the cafeteria would be there. Clary had kept her eyes open, hoping for a glimpse of her in the school hallways, but she hadn’t seen her yet.
Once she arrived, Clary grabbed a seat at a table that was pressed against the wall of the restaurant. She tried to sit towards the back, just in case she decided to read when she got bored, which she knew she would. She ordered a coffee and settled in to watch the show, sitting sideways on the chair so that she was leaning on the wall.
Just as the band started playing, there was a voice by her shoulder. “Are they even any good?”
When Clary turned to see who was speaking, she was stunned to see the girl from the cafeteria. “Y…yeah, they’re pretty good,” Clary stuttered, which earned her a sweet smile from the girl.
“I’m Isabelle,” the girl introduced herself, as if she could read Clary’s mind.
“Clary,” she responded, feeling a little bit stupid for no real reason.
The two guys Isabelle had been with at school were sitting at the table as well, both looking extremely bored and slightly grumpy. One had the same black hair as Isabelle but his eyes were a brilliant blue. The other looked like some kind of god, the way his golden hair shone in the light and his bronzed skin stretched over cords of muscles. Noticing Clary staring, Isabelle told her, “These are my brothers, Alec and Jace.” At the sound of their names, the two boys looked over at Clary. She could practically feel the icy looks they sent her way.
Clary tried to pay attention to Simon onstage, but she couldn’t stop looking at Isabelle and her luscious, full lips. Isabelle looked so perfect and Clary wanted nothing more than to mess her up, starting with the blood red lipstick adorning her pretty mouth. “I’ll be right back,” Clary blurted out, unable to keep sitting there and staring at Isabelle. She picked her way through the tables and chairs and hurried towards the girls’ bathroom.
Not realizing that she was holding her breath, Clary let it out once she got into the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror and wished she’d spent a little time getting ready before she came today. Her mop of red curls was particularly unruly and she was wearing tattered jeans and an old t-shirt she must have had since middle school. Next to the dark, form-fitted ensemble that Isabelle was wearing, she might as well have been wearing a trash bag.
Clary was looking in the mirror, wrestling with her hair when the door opened and Isabelle walked in. Before Clary could say anything, Isabelle spoke. “You’re not very subtle, you know,” she said with a slight smirk.
She didn’t dare look at Isabelle face-to-face, so Clary looked at her in the mirror. “Wh… what do you mean?” she asked, trying to act casual.
Isabelle took a few steps closer, her heels clacking on the smooth tile floor. She was standing right behind Clary now, so close that the red-head could feel her body heat. She’d never realized how tall Isabelle was compared to her. “I mean, the way you’ve been staring at me all evening,” she practically whispered into Clary’s ear. Clary could feel her hot breath clinging to the hairs on her neck.
Clary opened her mouth to protest, turning around as she did so, but before any words came out, Isabelle’s lips were pressed against hers. It was a shock, at first, but it didn’t take long for Clary to melt against her, the heat of their bodies almost too much to bear. She barely noticed Isabelle’s hand sliding into her hair, she was too distracted by the sweet taste of her mouth.