#Clexaweek2020

[bigg1999]

This Clarke x This Lexa

Or

Kostia x Leka

Confused? Read about the Depths of Love  (ClexaWeek2020 finally finished in 2023)

(Artwork by @kierenrose)

[youunculturedswine]

I haven't watched The 100 since Lexa died

[aphrodites-law]

Clexa Week, Day 3.

Clarke wakes up eight years in the future, where her college best friend happens to be her girlfriend.

The mattress was surprisingly comfortable beneath her, but it was nothing compared to the plushness of her pillow and the warmth of her blanket. Clarke refused to open her eyes, simply because such morning bliss was rare these days. Eventually she'd worry about her chemistry final, but for now she wouldn’t pop this bubble. 

"I know you're up," she heard, the voice sweet and amused. Clarke could recognize her best friend's tone anywhere. So it was Lexa who'd helped her get to bed after the party - that made sense.

"M'not," Clarke answered gruffly, pulling the blanket closer to her face. By some miracle, she didn't have a pounding headache and her mouth didn't taste like beer and chips. She felt the weight of Lexa's arm under her chest, but she could also feel Lexa's nose brush against her cheek while she pressed feathery-light kisses against her neck. Huh. That was definitely more physical than Lexa usually was with her.

"Are you sure?" Lexa asked as she pressed her body closer to hers, her hand inching lower until-

Clarke jolted around, looking up at Lexa who gave her a cheeky smile.

"Now you're up," Lexa said. 

Clarke's immediate thought was that she looked… different. Her hair wasn't the braided and dyed mane Clarke had last seen her sporting, but instead it was back to her natural brown and looser curls. She didn't have a lick of makeup on, not even a speckle of black that would point to her love affair with thick eyeliner. She looked refreshed and glowing, like she'd slept twelve hours and was ready to kick down doors with her resume in hand. Like they weren’t all hurtling toward an unknown in three months and scared to death about what it all meant. Lexa looked way more mature than the girl she'd played beer pong with just last night.

Startling good looks aside, something else caught Clarke's attention.

"Holy shit, your arm," she squawked in surprise. Lexa had a large tattoo wrapped around her bicep - very visible bicep - but there was no redness around it or any indication that it was new ink.

"What? It's fine, I swear," Lexa said, brushing her hand over the scratch marks Clarke then noticed below her elbow. Clearly, Lexa was referencing another conversation.

Clarke sat up and ignored the feeling in the pit of her stomach when Lexa's hand fell to her thigh. She looked around and recognized none of the furniture, let alone whose room they were in.

"Where are we?" she asked, now wide-awake. She couldn't remember a single thing after passing out on Lincoln's basement couch. She knew she'd had a lot to drink, and mixing her alcohol had been a horrible idea despite feeling absolutely justified in the moment, but feeling this confused the next morning was unprecedented.  

"I know. It's weird for me too," Lexa answered.

There were four moving boxes in a corner and a dresser in the other. One of the two doors was ajar, with what seemed like a cat bed surrounded by small toys just next to it. The room clearly wasn’t very lived in, with cream-colored walls still bright and bare. When Clarke leaned her head to the right, she spotted two other boxes labeled Shoes and Bags by the foot of the bed.

Something was very, very off.

Before she could even open her mouth, Lexa kissed her cheek.

"I'm gonna make waffles," she said before getting off the bed and leaving the room with a stretch of her arms above her head.

It was only after Clarke zeroed in on the ripple of Lexa's back muscles beneath her back tattoo that she was able to form words again:

"Lexa, you're…" she trailed off long after her best friend had left. "Naked. Holy shit."

Clarke threw the covers off her legs and looked everywhere for her phone, which she found charging by what she assumed was Lexa's on the windowsill. Or maybe the black one was hers and the silver one Lexa's. Fuck. She picked up the first and froze. The lock screen was a picture of Lexa and her kissing on a beach, both tan and in bikinis. Feeling her heart thunder in her chest, Clarke picked up the other phone. This one's lock screen was just a picture of her, but Clarke had no memory of ever standing beneath a waterfall, nevermind having hair that short.

"What the fuck!" 

She ran to the other door by the dresser, finding the bathroom and her reflection in the large mirror above the sink. Her hair wasn't much longer than the choppy bob in the picture, but it was her own face that Clarke barely recognized. She'd lost her baby fat and overall her features looked different. More mature - just like Lexa. Older, even. But that was impossible... right?

Clarke tried to unlock the phone in a panic, but her passcode didn't work and neither did Lexa's usual one. She zeroed in on the date: Sunday, March 13. Weird. She was certain yesterday had been March 15. Did she really drink that much? Clarke took a deep breath and ran a hand through her short hair, not disliking the sensation. She thought about the way Lexa had woken her up and frowned. It was nothing like her. They were physical with each other, sure, but not… naked physical. 

She heard a loud meow and Lexa laughing.

"I think we need to handle Nia with oven mittens now," Lexa announced from another room.  

Nia? Clarke shook her head, dismissing that nugget of information for now. She looked back at the picture of herself on the lock screen, reasoning that it just had to be really good Photoshop. Lexa might’ve enlisted Raven's help to do it and then maybe they'd chopped off her hair while she slept… though that was an idea Clarke didn't really believe Lexa, who was so passionate about consent in any situation, would agree to. And it still didn't explain the-

"Wrinkles," Clarke muttered as she stared at herself in the mirror again. She rubbed her forehead and the corner of her eyes, but none of the lines seemed to come off. Clarke wasn't vain but she wasn't demure either - she liked her body and liked showing it off. And this body still looked like hers, but it felt… different. The kind of different that couldn't happen overnight.

"Babe?"

Clarke turned around and gripped the counter, watching Lexa walk in. At least she'd put on shorts and a t-shirt.

"Do you think you can get the devil's kitten to eat her wet food?"

Feeling on the verge of a panic attack, Clarke nodded as if she understood what Lexa was even saying. She couldn't take her eyes off of her best friend, trying to spot any micro expression that would give Lexa away. A twitch of her lips, a glint in her eye or even a dimple - anything at all. Eventually, Clarke knew she had to go for broke:

"Lexa," she started, taking a breath. "You're fucking with me, right?"

Lexa smiled in confusion. "Regarding?"

Clarke motioned around them: "All of this."

Lexa glanced at the sink and then back at Clarke. "Did I leave the toothpaste open?"

"Lexa, come on, cut it out."

"Cut what out?"

Clarke grabbed her hair. "This! Okay, fine: I slept for ages and now I'm a hag! Haha! Hilarious!"

Lexa blinked. "What?"

"Raven's in the living room with her fucking camera, isn't she?"

Lexa's confusion vanished. "Oh, babe..."

Clarke held her breath when Lexa reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Why was she nervous standing in front of her best friend? They talked like this all the time! They applied each other's makeup and did each other's hair too often to count. Sometimes they even woke up in each other’s arms with both their heads on the same pillow. Being close was their thing. Feeling comfortable around each other's bodies was like second nature.

So why did it feel different now?

"I promised no surprise party," Lexa said in a soft tone. "No one's going to jump up from behind the couch and pop a balloon. Raven is still in Hawaii, thousands of miles away. We're just going to stay in all weekend, order greasy food, and focus on unboxing our stuff. 30 is going to hit you so gently you won't even feel it. We ca-"

"30. I'm 30?" Clarke asked in horror.

Lexa kissed her exposed shoulder. "Well, not yet…"

Clarke barely breathed as Lexa continued peppering kisses on her neck. She felt so lost, trying to grasp what the hell was happening. At the same time, her body felt… strangely calm. She couldn't help but lean into Lexa, head tilting to the side to give her more room.

"Lexa…" she trailed off, eyes struggling to stay open. "I think… something's wrong. I'm not supposed to be 30, I… God, is that why I'm so sore?"

Lexa nuzzled her neck, off in her own world. "I'm pretty sure that's from the sex," she mumbled, busy sucking on a tender spot Clarke wasn't even aware she had.  

"The sex," Clarke repeated after stifling a moan. "Right. The sex we had. Together?"

“You're being weird."

"I'm not," Clarke croaked.

Lexa cupped her ass while she took her earlobe in her mouth. "I'm kind of into it."

"Lexa!" Clarke sputtered, blushing furiously.

Lexa laughed as she finally drew back. Her nose was scrunched up and Clarke had never seen her so…

There had been Costia, of course, the reason why Clarke knew what romantic bliss looked like on Lexa’s face, but she'd never… she'd never been the one directly facing that expression. Never been the reason for the softness in Lexa's eyes or her lazy, lovesick grin. It almost physically hurt to realize it then.

"Lexa-"

“C’mere.”

Lexa cupped Clarke's cheeks and kissed her, the whole thing so smooth that Clarke closed her eyes on reflex and fell into it, as if her body knew exactly it needed this. Lexa smelled like nothing else, familiar and yet new. This was her best friend; the girl she'd take a bullet for. Now her best friend was slipping her tongue in her mouth and Clarke couldn't think of a single reason to stop her. Her heart went mad in her chest, pounding away. She'd never felt a kiss like this, where her mind went blank and all she could do was fall into it knowing Lexa would catch her. It felt like nothing else she knew. Like it was ruining her for any other kiss that didn't taste exactly like this.

"Hmm…" Lexa pulled back with a slight frown, slowly licking her bottom lip. She opened her eyes and took a step back, as if something wasn't quite right.

Clarke panicked, wondering if the kiss had been different than what Lexa was used to. "What is it?"

Lexa stared at her for a beat longer before her face relaxed into a smile. "Happy first day in our new home, babe."

- 

Part 2

[femininenachos]

The Pursuit

~7k words, rated M.

Renowned across the frontier as one of the fastest, deadliest guns in the West, there's been no lack of adventure in the life of bounty hunter Lexa Woods. But she gets far more than she bargained for when she stops by the local saloon before taking on her next job.

Because that's when Lexa sees her.

Read on AO3

[bottom-lexa]

Clexaweek - Day 4: Roommates

We’re just friends who happen to live together

The fic is from Clexaweek 2017. So are the edits. But tumblr deleted my old post, apparently it was inappropriate, so I’m reposting it. I had fun making them, and I’m mad that tumblr got rid of it so I wanted to share it again.

Roommates AU where Clarke and Lexa live in the same apartment and have been for the past two years. There's clearly something there with them but well, denial's strong. Raven and Octavia have no chill when it comes to "clexa" and this fic is just some things Clarke and Lexa deal with when living together.

read here || other clexaweek works

[100hearteyes]

Clexa Week 2020 - Day 7 - Free Day

(thank you @butmakeitgayblog for beta'ing and cheering me on 🙌 and @dreamsaremywords for helping me avoid the pitchforks and torches)

Read it on AO3.

–

Eventide

“Your Majesty?”

A queen did not start.

A queen did not get distracted while being courted by a handsome foreign duke, either, but Clarke had never been quite like her peers, for better and for worse.

She dragged her gaze from the horizon line and met the kind eyes of Duke Finneas; a boy who meant well but could never be her equal match.

Perhaps he too meant well. Though Clarke’s heart yearned for the kind of devotion he would give, her brain craved a wicked mind like hers. Someone just as brilliant and terrible as her.

Someone else.

“You are distracted today.”

He said it kindly, amusement clear in his voice, and Clarke hated him for it. Still she bowed her head, as she should, and blushed like the besotted girl she was supposed to be.

“My apologies, Finn.” He preened at hearing the sound of his nickname, as he had asked her to call him by it countless times before. “I sent the best of my Queensguard to the border and they are expected to return today. I can barely wait to hear whatever news they bring me. And I am… naturally worried about their safety.”

He smiled softly at her. “Few would be so concerned about the lives of those who are sworn to protect them. You have a noble heart, my queen.”

The irony almost made her smile.

--

The Captain of the Queensguard knelt before her, head bowed and a fist closed upon the left breastplate of ornate, light grey armor.

“As I am sure you remember, Your Majesty, your cousin, Earl Aden, lost both his parents to the harsh bite of winter this year. He has requested to spend the next winter with you, so as to avoid further tragedy.”

Clarke nodded, thinking fondly of the boy with unruly blonde curls and a gentle smile. “I shall make arrangements in that regard. Is there anything else?”

“Your Majesty, the rest of the information I bring you,” distrustful eyes landed on Prince Finneas, “is meant for your ears only.”

Clarke did her best not to roll her eyes. The Captain of her Queensguard was extraordinarily competent, dedicated, and brave, but had a drastic tendency to be dramatic. There was no need for such showmanship, yet the Captain seemed intent on fanning out feathers and strutting back and forth like a peacock.

“If you say so, Captain,” she conceded at last. “Would you care to accompany me to the balcony?”

The Captain stood up and the two of them strolled past the thick curtains that separated the throne room from a balcony that oversaw acres upon acres of beautiful, green fields and thick forests.

Clarke walked up to the railing, resting both her hands on it. At times like this, it was soothing to feel the rough stone under her palms, scraping at the fair skin.

It grounded her.

She steeled herself as she felt the Captain sidle in next to her.

“Did you have a safe trip home?”

Clarke felt more than she saw the Captain nod next to her. She hadn’t expected any different. When she glanced at the elegant figure next to her, she found the Captain’s gaze trained on the horizon.

“What sensitive information is this that you requested a private audience?”

Green eyes finally met her own, dancing with mischief and something else tender and forbidden. “Everything was in order while we were there.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “So you wasted your queen’s precious time to tell her everything is exactly as it should be?”

The sky was painted in broad, reckless strokes of pink and purple, and the sun had started to hide behind the skyline. The moon would soon take its place on the throne with the stars as her witness.

“I would not go so far as to say it was a waste of time.” The Captain’s tone was teasing, but laced with fondness. “I gave you the chance to see the sunset, I know how much you like it.”

Clarke liked the night best. It was at night that stolen moments were a solution rather than a problem and sneaking, when the palace was cold and silent, didn’t feel so scandalous anymore. Sunsets were the promise of night. A promise that just for a few hours, she could take the crown off her head, leave the corset on the bed, and be just Clarke. The girl in love with another girl.

“Your absence was felt.”

Lexa’s lips twisted minutely. When she spoke again, it was almost a whisper. “Be careful, my Queen. The walls have ears.”

The Captain’s cautious words were betrayed by the tips of long fingers brushing against Clarke’s on the balcony rail.

Their hands were concealed by coats and dresses, but Lexa’s touch was featherlight nonetheless. It still gave Clarke pause; her entire body’s focus was on the points where their skin came into contact and her heart was a fist banging at the doors of her chest. It wanted out, as it always had; it yearned to flee its golden cage and tell the secrets the walls around them would have killed to hear.

“The stars have eyes, too.”

“Luckily, they haven’t mouths to tell a secret.”

Lexa’s words may have been meant to be soothing, but they awakened Clarke’s mind. They reminded her of the boy in the throne room, of long walks along the palace gardens and the crown atop her head.

“Duke Finneas of Traisson will be staying at the palace for a few weeks. He has stated his intention to court me.”

It was only because she was so attuned to Lexa’s touch that Clarke felt the sudden absence of delicate fingers against her own, so light had the pressure been to begin with. Nevertheless, it felt like a stab to her chest. The world around her dimmed, colors became duller. Clarke felt trapped in a world in tones of grey.

“He took me to the orchards. It seems to be a popular spot for courtship.”

“What makes you say that?”

“We found this… carving on a tree. Very queer.” A smile played at the edge of her lips, teasing at more carefree times. She found it mirrored in the Captain’s clever eyes. “Couples ought to be more discreet, don’t you think?”

“They ought to.”

--

“Can a queen ever marry for love?”

The bench they sat on, made of stone only, wasn’t the most comfortable to perch on. However, the way the moonlight slanted and made the orchards look like a pathway to heaven more than compensated for a stiff behind. When she turned and saw how Lexa’s features looked in the same light — cheekbones sharper, lips fuller and eyes prettier than she had ever seen them —, Clarke realized she could spend days sitting on that bench, never moving.

Lexa looked like those otherworldly spirits mythology books told tales about, so impossibly, painfully beautiful one may turn to stone just from looking into her eyes. Clarke would’ve taken that risk. She would’ve dared never moving again for just one chance to bask in the glow of Lexa’s eyes. For all of the Captain’s aloofness and penchant for speaking as few words as possible, her eyes spoke loudest than any Clarke had ever seen. Their expressiveness… The way they could never hide what Lexa was feeling… Clarke had tried to replicate them on paper countless times, only to come up short. She’d usually get the shape, the lights, and the shadows right, but— something in those eyes was simply unrepeatable.

Human hands couldn’t recreate it. Lexa had been shaped by the gods, and her eyes were the map to eternity.

And Clarke was always oh so close to unlocking the secret, to reaching the summit, but something always pushed her off a cliff and sent her hurtling back to the ground.

“Love is weakness, Your Majesty.”

Clarke was used to the impact. It didn’t hurt any less. Still, she stood, then and again, and braced herself for the climb. One day she would make it to the top.

“And civilizations are fickle. History is ephemeral. We live and die and whatever mark we leave on this world can easily be erased by war and pillage. Love is forever.”

“It lasts only as long as those who feel it.”

“No,” she countered, stubborn as ever. “It lasts longer. Love is immaterial, it lingers in the air around us, beneath our breaths and through this life and the next. Castles and parchment stay here until someone burns them. Love travels with us to the afterlife.”

Lexa stood up without a word and waited for Clarke to do the same, before taking off on a brisk pace towards the castle.

Catching up to Lexa was neither easy nor dignified, but Clarke eventually fell into step with the Captain, who took pity on her and slowed her pace to a languid stroll. Now going at an appropriate pace for a queen, Clarke took her chance to admire the trees around her, with ripe fruit hanging from thin branches and pulling them towards the ground.

No matter the heights one reached, gravity always did its bidding and pulled one back to earth. Clarke felt its effect now. She had reached for the stars once and been pulled so violently back she’d lost her footing. Then again, and again, and again. Every time, Lexa was there to catch her fall. And Clarke would swear the earth had turned upside down, it had to have, for Lexa was the very stars she had been trying to grasp.

How lucky she was, to touch the stars without having to lift her feet off the ground.

It had only been much later in life, when she’d been told to find a husband or doom her kingdom to ruin, that Clarke had realized just how cruel it all really was — the stars would always be within her reach but she would never be able to catch them.

Why love a star if you cannot have her heart?

As they neared the edge, Lexa halted, eyes locked on a tree in one of the final rows. Clarke followed her gaze and felt her lips sketch an outline of a smile.

Feeling reckless, Clarke followed a short, but uneven trail towards the tree and laid a hand on the rough bark. Her palm grazed the bumps and ridges of an age old carving and she read the words without seeing them.

L + C

Feelings cut into wood a lifetime ago, indelible as they were immutable, able to endure generations for the robustness of their canvas. Only human hands could erase them; only human words could disprove them.

Clarke felt Lexa’s presence behind her and turned around, her hand never leaving its home. They shared a secret smile, although Lexa’s was somber as her eyes swept over the entire orchard. One of many trees. As if it ever fell, it could be replaced with another. The earth it drank from and gave its strength to, however, could not.

Clarke knew the knife was coming before it embedded itself in her heart.

“If we are to be judged at the gates to heaven,” Lexa started, voice not quite trembling, though thin and weighed down by regret, “let it be because I failed my heart rather than the people I am sworn to protect, above all you.”

Clarke knew that song from heart. Lexa would’ve died before being selfish and taking something, or someone, for herself. And Clarke would’ve given her the world, yet she couldn’t afford to relinquish the political hold on her own heart.

Clarke and Lexa held the axe in their hands and little by little they were chipping away at the trunk. Human hands and human words.

Lexa turned around, ready to return to the palace. She stopped only at the sound of Clarke’s voice, scraping like sharp claws against the walls of her throat. “One day they will weigh my heart and find it heavy with sin and regret. None greater than for allowing the world to convince me to let go of you.”

--

“Duke Finneas proposed today.”

Clarke could see Lexa stiffen despite the dim light. The Captain turned on her heels and approached the window, laying a quivering hand on the parapet, back turned to her sovereign.

It was unusual for the Queen to visit her Captain’s quarters. The rumor mill surely would’ve started running the moment Clarke stepped inside Lexa’s chambers if not for the circumstances they found themselves in.

Lexa’s room was as Spartan as could be in a royal palace. Moonlight shrouded it in mystery, much as it did its owner’s expression, whose features were unreadable from ten feet away.

Words weren’t a clue, either, when spoken blankly. “Have you given him an answer?”

Clarke desperately wanted to let the ensuing silence speak for her, but she knew she owed Lexa a proper answer. She, who helped take down their tree, should swing the axe.

“I said yes.”

For a moment, Clarke thought she saw Lexa’s knees buckle and she might collapse. However, the Captain stood tall and brave, and Clarke admired her so for her stalwart asceticism.

“I see.” Lexa’s voice was brittle, no more than a murmur, and it was only the grim silence that carried it to Clarke and cut her with it.

Clarke bled, and with the pain came resolve. She took a step forward, then another, and a third. A deep breath later, she’d gathered the courage to take the leap.

“It’s my last night of freedom. We could finally—”

“No,” Lexa interrupted, turning to face her.

The Captain’s tone left no room for discussion, but Clarke had never been one to be content with the space she was assigned. She felt the need to push the walls, expand the perimeter and win back the room she had been denied.

So she stepped closer even, broaching Lexa’s personal space. “I cannot fathom a world where I don’t know the taste of your lips.”

Lexa’s eyes shone with agony, as though Clarke had struck a dagger to her gut and was twisting, and twisting, and twisting. They were mere inches asunder, so close Clarke could feel Lexa’s shallow breath on her cheek. She couldn’t remember a time there had been less than the width of her crown between them.

“You can’t say things like that, Clarke. Not when—”

Lexa reached for Clarke’s face, but froze before allowing herself to touch. Her hand hovered, fingers yearning and twitching minutely above a pale cheek. “I shan’t let you disgrace yourself for me.”

Clarke closed her eyes, sighing, mustering the courage to lean away from Lexa’s absent touch and speak the words that lingered in the back of her mind since she’d said yes.

“Then I am letting you go.”

Lexa lowered her hand as though she’d been burned, but made no other motion to draw back. She remained steadfast as Clarke watched the questions flit across her eyes, all of them going unasked.

All but one.

“Why?”

Clarke swallowed, though it did nothing to untie the knot in her throat. “I am setting you free,” she husked, resisting the ever-present urge to take Lexa’s hands in hers. “I can find another captain, someone you would recommend. Just… Please go, Lexa. Find someone else. Love someone else. Be happy.”

This time, Lexa recoiled, face twisting with resentment. She would have looked less affronted had Clarke slapped her.

For once, Clarke wished the stars would bear witness to one of their trysts and grow mouths to yell at Lexa to go and never look back — to love someone else, anyone else. Someone who would not chain her to a love story without closure.

No great epopee ever ended with a broken heart.

“I will not leave, Clarke. I shall stay and see you married and love you like the day I carved my soul into a tree.” Lexa took a step towards her, closing the rift she’d created moments ago. Clarke counted the lashes resting on the elegant bow of her cheeks, long and dark and thick like the night that hid them from prying eyes and outstretched ears. Lexa’s lips were parted and Clarke would have given her kingdom to be able to brush a finger over the bottom one; to feel the supple flesh give under her thumb. Longing green eyes danced between Clarke’s own and dropped to her lips for just a moment, before once again plunging into pools of midday sky blue. “Who I love is not my choice to make. My heart has never been my own, Clarke. I believe you’ve held it in your hands since long before we were even born into this life.”

No great tragedy ever ended with a smile.

--

Clarke was dressed in white and gold when the letter arrived.

Amongst a thousand apologies, Finneas relayed about how he had fallen in love with one of her ladies in waiting and decided to run away with her before the wedding. Clarke would have felt humiliated, if she’d cared for anything except the way her heart sang for joy.

She was free.

Clarke all but ran up stairs and down corridors, towards the hall where she knew her most faithful soldier stood waiting and suffering, withering under the weight of their most dreaded day.

There Clarke found her Captain, and something about her (perhaps the light shining in from the window and setting her hair on fire or the way her eyes widened with concern when Clarke barged through the heavy double doors; maybe it was simply that freedom made everything look twice as beautiful) almost propelled Clarke to start crying a river at the mere sight of her.

So focused was she on the object of her adoration, Clarke didn’t register everyone else filing out of the room at the flick of the Captain’s wrist. It was but a coincidence that the moment the door closed behind the last intruder, Clarke fell to her knees at Lexa’s feet, taking flummoxed hands between her own. Her fingers trembled, but she had never felt so steady.

“He’s gone. He ran away with one of my maids.”

The stricken look on Lexa’s face — the tragic, mechanized selflessness — made Clarke love her just that little bit more. “Your Highness, I am so sor—”

“Don’t you finish that sentence, Captain, for I am not.”

Clarke brought Lexa’s hands to her lips and kissed the knuckles one by one, tasting the salt of her own tears. When she looked back up, she found them mirrored in Lexa’s eyes. “What will you do now?”

The question yanked a laugh from Clarke, wet with tears and husky with bliss. She brushed a kiss to long fingers and held Lexa’s burning gaze, unfaltering.

“I swear myself to you, my love,” she whispered reverently. “My heart is your heart, my soul is your soul. My life is now yours. I needn’t a ring to speak my vows.”

“Clarke, you can't—”

“I can,” she stated, pushing to her feet, “and I will. Let the people know I’m no less of a queen without a man at my side.”

If anything, she would have been less of a queen for not being brave enough to follow her heart, Clarke decided. How could she be expected to make hard decisions for her people if she couldn’t make them for herself?

“What about the throne, Clarke? Your kingdom needs an heir, or else it will be at the mercy of its enemies,” Lexa insisted, raising mountains across the road of Clarke’s dreams. “I will not accept that.”

Clarke’s will knew no boundaries or chokeholds however, and she’d weave roads around mountains and over precipices to meet her goals. This time, with or without witnesses, and despite the slumber of all stars but one, Clarke would finally make promises she could keep.

“I plan to train Aden to be king and appoint him as my heir. He will carry on the bloodline and keep the crown from falling into the wrong hands.”

She knew Lexa had a soft spot for the young Earl and would gladly help her broaden his shoulders enough to trust upon them the burden of sovereignty. Meanwhile, Clarke would be so powerful and so ruthless none would dare question the absence of a king consort. Human hands and human words bore the power to devastate, but also to mend what was broken and etch new life into faded vows.

She looked out the window; the sun was setting, hanging new oaths on the sky and yielding up its holy perch for the moon to take. Sunsets held the promise of tonight, when a lifetime’s worth of dreams could finally become true.

Lexa’s voice pulled her focus back to the present. “If this worked… How would I fit into it?”

Clarke had always been bravest at eventide.

With hands that no longer hovered, she grabbed the back of Lexa’s neck and reeled her in for a kiss.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Clarke + Lexa (A Romeo and Juliet AU)

“What is she doing here?”

The air steals from her lungs as her eyes fall to the offender in question, her hand tightening lethally around the stem of her glass. Clarke could do nothing more than clench her jaw painfully as she watched the mortal enemy of her family’s bloodline nod and smirk smugly at a scowling passing stranger.

“I don’t know,” she seethed.

Her heart throbbed with indignant disbelief. Though she shouldn’t have bothered with dubiety at any actions rising from her, knowing quite intimately the ends to which the whole lot would stoop to make a point.

At least she seemed to be alone this time.

“Well I’m not going to stand for it. I’m going to have her removed.”

“No, Bellamy,” she said sternly, lifting a hand to the man’s chest to impede his path. “You will not cause a scene.”

“She’s doing well enough of that on her own.” His emphatic gesture drew her attention back to the interloper, feeling a spark of something dark and unbecoming at the way the woman’s eyes traveled along the bust of a party reveler’s gown.

Gritting her jaw at the blatant appreciation, Clarke drew herself up and continued decisively. “I will go speak with her and remind her that she is… not welcomed in these halls. A moment, please.“ 

Regally squaring her shoulders, Clarke handed her forgotten drink off to a waiter, folding her hands behind her back as she swept across the floor. She felt her stomach tighten in apprehension and annoyance as a twinkling set of green latched onto her instead as though nothing were out of the ordinary as she watched Clarke approach. 

Stopping just short of barreling into the self satisfied woman, Clarke expelled an anxious breath of air through her nose as she struggled to restrain herself. “What are you doing here?”

The cheeky grin she registered before receiving a prim bow only served to raise her hackles and internal temperature just that much more. 

Straightening, the woman tucked the tips of her fingers into the tight lapel of her posh looking jacket, an air of self indulgence radiating her every word. 

“You know how I love a good party.”

“I don’t presume to know what you do and do not enjoy, Ms. Montague.”

Tipping slightly forward, the woman smiled devilishly. “Now, Clarke… We both know that simply is not true.”

Feeling the flush explode across the apples of her cheeks at her regret of her choice of words, Clarke’s eyes darted around to register those whose steely gazes lingered on them through the exchange. “You have to go, Lexa. They’re already unhappy with your presence here.”

“Fortunate for us all that I am not here for their enjoyment, is it not?”

“Lexa-”

“You lot can be unbearably no fun when you want to be… Very well,” she conceded airily, holding her hand up in a show of surrender. “If you say I must go, then I shall leave.”

“Tha-”

“But it will be you who must show me out… If for nothing other than to save us both a scene at the rough hands of others.”

Words dying on her tongue, Clarke floundered a moment, miffed with herself for not having seen that coming. She knew the games, the never ending battle of wit between them quite well enough by now. How she’d walked right into that checkmate of reasoning…

Eyes doing a final lap of the ballroom, Clarke nodded discreetly as she stepped forward and gripped Lexa by the arm. “Do not make this worse than it already-”

“Unhand me!” Lexa exclaimed with a smile as she very much willingly allowed herself to be dragged from the room.

Rolling her eyes deeply, Clarke realized she should’ve seen that coming too.

___________________________________

“Why must you do this every time?” Clarke sighed and then moaned, hands gripping fistfuls of brunette locks as lips trailed over the swell of her breasts. 

“My eyes screamed for the chance to see you in this gown, what would you have me do,” Lexa mumbled into the giving flesh. “When I spied it hanging in your chambers, I knew neither God nor the stars above could stop me from making an appearance.”

Grunting annoyedly, Clarke gently pulled the woman back up, cupping her jaw as she panted against kiss bruised lips. “You can’t keep doing these things. They’re going to hurt you one day-”

“I’d very much like to see them try,” Lexa grinned roguishly, her chin lifting defiantly as her hands continued to wander. 

“Why must you tantalize them with offerings of conflict?” Clarke asked between pulls from primrose and champagne bubbled lips. “So I or you both may be caught in the crossfire? You’re perfectly content with such thoughts, Lexa?… My family, like yours,” she emphasized for what felt like the hundredth time, “have generations of hatred between them-”

“And yet I love you… With every breath of my lungs.”

Melting into the woman currently pinning her to the wall of the small drawing room, Clarke rested her forehead against her lover’s, needing a moment to clear her mind from the words and suppleness of her kiss. “… This peace, this truce… it is fragile… If they begin warring again-”

“I will side with you,” Lexa pulled back with a small serene smile. “The absolution of that you must hold within your heart, Clarke. The surety of my love and devotion… The sun will rise each morning, the tide will surge and retreat, and I will denounce the very sound of my name, rather than live a life without you.”

“You cannot say such things,” Clarke whispered with pained solemnity, hands cupping the face looking upon her in adoration. “I will not survive should anything happen to keep you from me. And they would plunge heaven and earth asunder at the very whisperings of you and me.”

“That will not happen… My heart is yours. Nothing beyond that matters.”

“Your family-”

“Is stubborn,” Lexa cut in softly, trailing fingers over the cleft of her jaw and chin. “And foolish. And blind for not seeing how beautiful the vowels and consonants the name Capulet can feel upon the tongue.”

Clarke could only fall deeper into the woman, shuddering with baited breath with each declaration, touch, and kiss.

“We will wait for our time. For when I am the head of house and crest… And when that day comes? Family name will no longer matter… As yours and mine will be the same-”

Lexa’s words cut off as their lips crashed together. Strong hands ever steadying as Clarke’s heart swelled beyond her ribs, beyond her body, at the promise and need to reciprocate in kind. She very nearly wanted to cry with it all, imagining a someday that only felt real within the safety of those arms.

And then she heard a knock.

A small gasp burst from her lips as she pulled back with a pop. 

They stood frozen, staring flushed and slack jawed at each other for the longest beat of a moment. A smirk began to pull at the edges of plump lips, blue eyes flashing dangerously in warning to whatever ridiculous thought was playing through that infuriatingly gorgeous mind. 

A second knock sounded, effectively kicking Clarke’s brain into action. “Go,” she whispered in a frantic rush, unceremoniously shoving Lexa toward the window. “Go, go, go.”

“Ow,” Lexa chuckled under her breath, steps stumbling across the room under urgent hands. “Here I stand dousing you in sweet nothings of devotion, and I receive naught but a boot to the backside in return.”

“You’ll receive much more to your backside if they find you locked away with me,” Clarke hissed, flipping the latch and throwing open the window. “Now go.”

“What? No farewell kiss to tide me and my aching heart over?”

“Lexa,” she grumbled, fisting a hand to the front of her velveted jacket, feeling the stiff embroidered stitching of the Montague crest that stood as a bane on her heart and happiness. She smashed their lips together for a fraction of a second, resolutely ignoring the vibrating laughter against her mouth.

“My word,” Lexa grinned when Clarke pulled away. “Contain yourself, m'lady.”

Huffing quietly, Clarke pushed her to the edge of the sill, holding one hand to steady the woman as she lifted herself over to the ground outside. “The garden should be clear of the party by now, take the rose path to the servant gate. Now, go-”

“Wait,” Lexa interrupted, hands landing on the door of the window to stop it before it could close. “… Shall I come to you tonight?”

“Lexa.”

“Honorably, of course. If only to help free you from the intricacies of your gown.”

Snorting indelicately at that blatant lie, Clarke shook her head. “My dress? I’m sure.”

“If the occasion should arise that you require my hands in other matters?” Lexa whispered into the air between them, leaning until their lips were a mere breath apart, “I would joyously be at your service… However you should need me.”

The sigh escaped her before she knew what she was doing, neck stretching forward to chase the mischievous smirk as it danced just out of her reach. 

“Tonight, my love,” Lexa grinned, releasing her hands from the window and beginning to walk backwards toward the path. 

Correcting herself from where she had swayed in pursuit of contact, Clarke glared at the glinting green eyes that shone brightly under the hang of the moon. “You will be the death of me.”

“Strange. Within me, you breathe only life.”

Rolling her eyes at the saccharine words, Clarke shook her head and eased the windows closed. “Goodnight, Lexa.”

“Until tonight,” she emphasized through the darkness that had already fallen, finally turning away at the edge of the small grassy patch that lined the sprawling home to take off down the path as Clarke had instructed. 

As she snapped shut the latch on the folded shut window, voices filtered in from the hall to her ears. “Clarke?” came the call along with another knock before the handle turned and a head looked in. “There you are,” Bellamy breathed a disgruntled sigh of relief. “Octavia, she’s here.”

“Where have you been?” the younger Blake sibling demanded lightly as she hustled past her brother in the doorway. “We’ve been searching for ages. Why are you hiding in here? What did that wretched girl do?”

“What?” Clarke asked, feeling a slice of anger at the descriptor. “She did nothing. I asked her to leave and she did.”

“Then why the lack of answer when we first passed this room?”

“Not that you are owed an answer from me,” Clarke frowned, drawing herself up with a haughty air of elegance, “but I wished to take a moment for myself. These parties are taxing on the sensibilities as it is… An… annoyance such as that woman’s presence only adds to my distaste for it all.”

She felt sick at the words, the lies coating her mouth thicker and more acridly than normal with the ghost of soft lips and hands still fresh on her skin. She loathed the mantle of feud defined propriety she was forced to maintain. But life was what it was. And her name was unerringly Capulet, so the lies were a hideous necessity to her life, as well as the safety of the fleeing figure who commanded the very beat of her heart. 

A hand softly landed on her arm, her gaze shifting up to caring brown eyes. “I’m sorry the party was ruined by her, I knew I should have stepped in myself.”

“Don’t be silly, Bellamy,” she lightly assured, patting his hand warmly before pulling away toward the door. “She is nothing I cannot handle.” Clarke’s heart tripped over that decidedly more pleasant falsehood, smiling to herself at the cunning, sharp face smirking frustratingly within her mind’s eye.

“Well, let us all forget that unpleasantness for the time being and try to enjoy the party,” Bellamy said jovially as the siblings followed shortly behind her out into the hall. 

“Yes, let us enjoy what’s left of the festivities.”

“I have a feeling the night is going to turn out much more pleasurable than we’d originally anticipated.”

Clarke didn’t bother to temper her smile at the man’s offhand statement as they reentered the great hall.

‘Yes… More pleasurable indeed.’

[kokkoro]

and it’s a bittersweet (symphony)

“My name’s Clarke Griffin,” she says, and it’s professional despite how self conscious she feels when in reality it should be the opposite. She isn’t the one trapezing about New York in red and black spandex, and yet, somehow, face to face with this person she feels awfully small. “I work at the Ark.” Clarke pauses. “You haven’t told me yours.”

“Spider-man,” the woman says, and Clarke can hear the smile in it. Somewhere behind that mask, something small and gentle and warm. “Spider-woman as my friends like to call me. Or at least they would if I had any friends.”

The corner of Clarke’s lips quirk, and she tries to stop it but the resulting grin is inevitable. Her grasp tightens on the tape recorder in her hand and oh. This is bad. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

or that spider-woman!Lexa au (read here on ao3)

[thecrimsonknight]

Clexa Week 2020: Day 1: Forbidden Love - Gang leader Lexa/ Cop Clarke

[bigg1999]

“I don’t want to be me,” she confesses, before throwing herself on her small bed, “Not without her,” she sobs, breaking down into tears. Slowly, the darkness creeps in, and Clarke falls asleep.

After losing her love before being about to cherish her, Clarke goes through a lot, cutting off her hair and getting a face tattoo. Only when she wakes up that night, things are different. 

Depths of Love

[clexaweekofficial]

Clexaweek2020

(this amazing gif was created by @perxonal! Link here )

Clexaweek2020 will take place from March 1st to March 7th. Here are links to posts that provide more information on each theme.

Day 1- Sunday, March 1st: Forbidden Love

Day 2- Monday, March 2nd: Survival

Day 3- Tuesday, March 3rd: Time Travel

Day 4- Wednesday, March 4th: Roomates

Day 5- Thursday, March 5th: AU

Day 6- Friday, March 6th: Historical/Period Drama

Day 7- Saturday, March 7th: Free Day

Rules for tagging: makes sure to tag #Clexaweek2020 and the day and prompt first before any other tags to make it easier for me to compile the master list. 

So for example the first day, your tags should be #Clexaweek2020  #Clexaweek2020 Day 1 #Day 1 forbidden love #forbidden love (and then the others for the other days, ofc)

If you post your fic on ao3, you should also add it to the collection Clexaweek2020 as it makes it easier to find and to form the master list.

Submit a link to your post or directly to your work, whatever you would prefer, so that I can share/reblog it. Here is the link for that.

[aphrodites-law]

ClexaWeek, Day 6.

“She can’t be killed while she’s cursed, but she can be made vulnerable enough to let her guard down.”

Clarke felt uneasy. “How would one do such a thing?”

“Love. The curse has made her heart hard. Embittered. You can make it soft again.”

“So that I may run a knife through it afterward,” Clarke predicted.

Finn’s eyes gleamed at her quick thinking. “The manner in which you kill her is your choice.”

Mr. Collins had never been to a brothel before, that much was obvious to Clarke. He stood by the door of the room holding his hat in front of his groin, as if it would protect him from Clarke’s wickedness. His eyes looked everywhere in the room, from the made bed to the small window. The floorboards creaked in protest beneath his polished shoes and the heavy perfume in the air made his nose twitch. Clarke had guessed this wouldn’t be business as usual. She’d had timid patrons before, but Mr. Collins was a different breed.

She sat on the chair by the open window and observed him, glad they couldn’t hear the ruckus from the tavern downstairs.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Collins?” she asked. He’d introduced himself before asking for privacy, which she had granted after noticing the fine make of his clothes. He had money.

He loosened his tight grip on his satchel and placed it on the bed. “Have you ever traveled by the Forest of Polis?” he asked.

Clarke chuckled dryly. It wasn’t the strangest question she’d been asked, but nonetheless unexpected. The tall, dark forest was their city’s natural border in the north and east, but to most people it was considered a wall. Even foreigners knew to stay on the beaten paths.

“I don’t see much of the world outside of this street. If I did, my destination of choice wouldn’t be a deadly forest.”

“Cursed is the word I would use,” Finn said, then cleared his throat. “Have you heard of the keeper?”

Clarke picked up a hairbrush on the dressing table next to her. If he was going to bore her with stories, she might as well keep her hands busy. “I’ve heard of the tale told to frighten children, yes. The ruthless keeper lives in every tree and can see through the eyes of every animal. Adventuring too deep inside is a sure death sentence at her hand.”

“That isn’t quite the truth. She has great power over the forest, but she isn’t cruel. I could tell.”

Clarke paused her brushing, surprised by the revelation. “You’ve met her?”

Finn nodded. “A year ago. I had pigeons delivering a message at key points in the known parts of the forest. When one of the birds went missing for weeks, I thought it had died. To my astonishment, it came back with a reply and a rendezvous point. We met in a clearing by a river. I… had an enlightening conversation with her.”

“How—” Clarke shook her head, baffled. “So she truly exists? A woman living alone in that forest?”

“She does. And despite her power, she struck me as deeply human. I don’t think I was particularly interesting to her, but she asked many questions about Polis.”

“What was your business with her?”

Finn sat on the bed, leaving his hat on his lap. “You might have heard that the ancient city of Arkadia was built in the forest, with countless riches and fertile soil around it.”

“Another folktale to entertain children with.”

Finn seemed irked by her lack of wonder. “They are stories based in reality. Now imagine what we could do with these resources if we had access to them. How better our lives might be if we had the gold to better our businesses and the crops to feed our children. Our neighbors would finally respect us. Polis could become a great city again, as it was decades ago.”

“And you think a single woman stands in your way?”

“I know it for a fact. Six years ago, my father found the maps that proved Arkadia’s existence. We brought them to the Commander, but none of the soldiers sent to find it survived the forest. Our leaders may have given up on finding Arkadia, but I owe it to my father to realize his dream.”

Clarke sighed. She had heard this kind of talk before. “I don’t have much time for dreams, Mr. Collins.”

“Few people do,” Finn acknowledged, “but I believe in a better future for us all. That is why I sought out a diplomatic resolution with the keeper.”

“I take it she wasn’t interested in diplomacy?”

“She… became enraged. She said that Arkadia deserved its ruin and ordered me to leave. It was the end of our conversation.”

Clarke appreciated his honesty, but it still didn’t explain his presence. “And now you’re here.”

Finn fiddled with his hat, still not sure what to do with his body in tight quarters with another woman. If Clarke had to guess, he’d taken a vow of purity. “Since the keeper cannot be reasoned with, there is no other choice but to stop her.”

Clarke immediately felt that the conversation had shifted into something more sinister.

“It’s simple, really,” Finn said with the ghost of a smile: “She is lonely.”

“Surely she comes to the city once in a while.”

“No, she cannot leave the forest grounds. I believe her isolation has finally worn on her. She wouldn’t have met with me otherwise.”

“And you wish to send someone to her. Someone who would work for you.” Clarke knew she was right before he even nodded. “If what you say is true, the keeper has power and land—reasons enough for many to enjoy her company. But you came to a brothel, which means you’re looking for a woman desperate enough to say yes. Why?”

Finn grimaced. “The truth is, she’s not easy on the eyes. She was cursed with a mask of sorts.”

“A mask?”

“One that cannot be removed, as if melded to the top of her face. It’s white and textured like bone, but unbreakable. I thought to bring something similar.”

Finn opened the satchel and showed Clarke what seemed like the front part of a human skull. He brought it over his face, where it covered his visage from his forehead to his nose. His face suddenly looked beastly, like he might turn feral and rip her throat. Clarke’s blood ran cold the longer she stared. She could understand how no one would be willing to wake up to such a frightening sight every morning.

“I see.”

Finn hid the mask back in the satchel, staring at it for a beat, as if both entranced and disgusted. “She can’t be killed while she’s cursed, but she can be made vulnerable enough to let her guard down.”

Clarke felt uneasy. “How would one do such a thing?”

“Love. The curse has made her heart hard. Embittered. You can make it soft again.”

“So that I may run a knife through it afterward,” Clarke predicted.

Finn’s eyes gleamed at her quick thinking. “The manner in which you kill her is your choice.”

It was not the first time Clarke had been asked to kill. Spurned lovers or hateful spouses sometimes bribed her to get rid of their partners if they came back to her. She had never agreed to it, but she knew others had. Finn’s request was different. Clarke didn’t fully understand it yet, but she needed the full story before she made up her mind.

“Are you sure she would be seduced by a woman?”

“Yes, according to a witch’s knowledge of her curse... ” he revealed, but did not share any more. 

“You said she isn’t cruel, yet people are harmed by the forest she controls.”

"I wouldn’t say she controls it. There’s a reason we call her a keeper rather than a witch. But they are intricately connected, that much is certain. When my father sought to find Arkadia on his own, he recounted that the deeper he went, the more aggressive the plant life became. Even stranger? It was like the roots and thorns came to life, but neither blades nor fire affected them. He was one of the lucky ones to survive.”

There was a sadness to Finn’s tone that suggested his father had since died.

“Magic?” Clarke asked.

“The woman’s curse. My belief is that, should it be broken, we would be able to clear a path just like the Arkadians did. We would finally have access to our rich heritage.”

“You are relying heavily on your beliefs.”

“I have no other choice. Polis can’t go on like this anymore. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Hm.” Clarke had no feelings about it either way. Her own survival mattered much more than that of a crumbling city. “Are you confident love would do the trick?”

“I have researched her curse and others for the past year. I have traveled to witches’ dwellings from south to west and risked my life for these answers. Love is the most human of powers—I’m certain it’s her antidote.”

Clarke considered the task for a moment. “Why kill her?” she asked.

Finn seemed surprised. “Pardon?”

“Why kill her when she becomes powerless? You said her powers are tied to her curse.”

Finn looked away, the telltale signs he hadn’t revealed everything. Clarke knew that expression too well.

“You’re lying to me, Mr. Collins.”

“I’m not!” he panicked.

“I won’t take on a fool’s quest without knowing all the risks. Spit it out or leave.”

Finn hesitated before yielding to her request. “When I say the curse will be broken, I mean that lulled would be a more appropriate word. Love would make her human side come forth again, but if she were to lose this love…”

“She would relinquish her humanity for good,” Clarke guessed.

“I fear then that she would become unstoppable. That we would never find Arkadia.”

“And no sane person would agree to a lifetime in a dark forest, pretending to love a masked woman.”

Clarke was glad she had gotten to the bottom of it. Still, something made her hesitant to throw herself in the fire:  “True love cannot be one sided.”

“I believe that it can. I’ve seen it happen. My father was madly in love with my mother. Devoted to her. She fulfilled her duties, but she had no love for him—at best, tepid affection. Yet it didn’t make his love for her any less true.”

“What makes you believe the keeper could love me?”

“Isn’t love your business?”

“Fucking is my business.”

Finn blushed, unused to such bluntness. “I saw you downstairs, in the tavern. You had patrons eating out of the palm of your hand. You’re a beautiful woman, but you’re also sharp. Witty. And you exude something that…” he struggled to hold her stare, but did his best to appear confident. “The witches I’ve met have all told me the same thing: She will be yearning for someone like her. An outcast. A woman who understands loneliness. At the same time, you would be her opposite. Someone constantly surrounded by people. You could travel the world and blend into the fabric of each city. I think she would like that. I think she might easily love you.”

“You spin quite the tale,” Clarke replied, then shrugged. “I’ve heard your proposal, but what’s in it for me?”

Finn dug into his satchel and took out a velvet pouch. He approached her and opened it, revealing gold and precious stones. Clarke nearly lost her breath. That was more than she’d ever seen and enough to last her years, even a lifetime if she was smart.

“It would also come with the title deed to a house and an orchard.“ Finn closed the pouch. "Land and money… Surely that is enough incentive?”

As he spoke, Clarke stood up to look out the window. She had expected him to come prepared, but the offer still shocked her.

“What do you have to lose?” he asked with thinly-veiled contempt. Clarke could hear that he had shaken off his awkwardness and was now anxious for an answer.

“Would you really miss this life? The filth and the noise? I’m offering you freedom. A home.”

Clarke studied the street, needing to ignore his gaze. It was an appealing proposition, despite the risky nature of it. The keeper was yearning for companionship but saddled with a frightening face—she would likely be receptive to someone’s affection. It was no different than the act she had put on to retain a faithful clientele here. To survive this world. She suspected Finn knew more about her than he let on. He had used the only word that might sway her completely: Home.

A home to call hers. A home where she would eat her own meals and clean her own mess. Walls, doors and windows that would keep her safe, not trapped. An orchard that would sustain her. It was the only dream she ever did allow herself to have, now attainable. 

“Are you interested or not?” Finn asked.

She turned to him and nodded. “I’ll need an advance—two months worth of living expenses. Then you’ll show me the house. Should I find the plot suitable, I’ll sign the title deed before my departure.”

Finn seemed taken aback by her demand. “Before?”

“I’m putting my life in mortal danger. I need a guarantee it won’t be in vain regardless of the plan’s outcome.”

He mulled it over, likely wondering if she would take her deed and close the door in his face. But without money, she would not be able to do much with the house. It needed upkeep, as did the orchard. 

“You think two months will be enough?”

“To have her fall in love? Perhaps not. But I will know whether or not it is a possibility.”

Finn looked elated, his chest puffing up and his boyish grin betraying his youth. His plan was finally being set in motion. “Very well, I’ll come by in the morning! I’ll have everything—anything you want.”

Clarke thought quickly about every step before it was too late. She would not get duped into a trap. “Where will I find a weapon if she has none?”

Finn took out a folded map from his satchel and opened it on the bed. He had truly come prepared. For his sake, Clarke hoped he hadn’t come alone. A naive looking man with such a heavy bag wouldn’t go unnoticed on this street.  

“Here are the known areas of the forest,“ he explained, showing her the shaded points on the map. He pointed to a twisted looking line. “When you feel the moment is right, you’ll find both a knife and poison beneath the thickest root of a weeper tree. I don’t know where the keeper stays, but you’ll only need to follow the river stream toward Polis to find the tree. Its branches are warped into such unique shapes that you’ll immediately recognize it.”

Clarke stared at the map but found herself drifting when he spoke about the rumored location of Arkadia. Could she truly kill a woman, cursed or not? Could she be so callous as to make love a fatal weakness? Clarke had looked for ways out of Polis’ streets for years and this was it. How could she refuse such an offer? Morals had to be flexible when it came to survival.

“How shall I find her without getting myself killed?” she asked.

Finn pointed to another winding line on the map, excited to divulge more of his plan. “There is a bridge…” he started.

[sheis-me]

Here’s my Clexa fic for day 1 of Clexa Week 2020 - forbidden love.

Moodboard by the amazing @didiefs-world​

[whydoineedtodothat]

💛❤💛❤

[cherrypersephone]

Day 7 - Free Day ✨

Love is patient, love is kind.

[nerdishpursuits]

After a fateful hunting accident sends her on the run from the law, Lexa finds herself deep in the heart of Trikru Forest. All she really wants to do is provide for her family and stay out of trouble, but when the Sheriff of Arkadia levies the largest tax in the history of the 12 counties, she’s forced to take matters into her own hands. Relying on the help of her merry band of misfits (Anya Scarlett, Little Gus and Lincoln-a-Dale) and Arkadia’s intriguing—and off-limits—baroness, Clarke, Lexa must find a way to pull off the biggest heist the counties have ever seen.

With both heart and freedom at stake, just how much will she risk to ensure the safety of the ones she loves? Clexaweek2020 Day 6- Friday, March 6th: Historical/Period Drama

insp. by Nottingham by Anna Burke (which I love to pieces and cannot recommend enough)