#but it hits the clexa parts
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reallygroovyninja · 1 year ago
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Indra stood at the head of the long library table, her gaze sweeping across the faces of her faculty, each seated in the historic wooden chairs that had been part of Arkadia High's library for decades. The overhead lights illuminated the rich mahogany of the shelves, filled with books that silently bore witness to countless staff meetings.
Clearing her throat, she began, “I understand Spirit Week might seem like it's primarily for the students, but I'd like to emphasize the importance of faculty participation. Our students look up to you all. Your enthusiasm—or lack thereof—sets a tone for the entire school. I urge each of you, from the PE department to the sciences, from math to art, to dive in wholeheartedly. Let's show the students that school spirit isn't bound by age or subject. Let's make this Spirit Week memorable, not just for them, but for us as well." Indra's voice, authoritative yet warm, resonated with an unmistakable passion, compelling even the most reticent teachers to consider embracing the week's festivities.
Indra adjusted her glasses and glanced at the list in front of her. "Alright, everyone, the student council has made their decisions for this year's Spirit Week themes," she began, trying to infuse her voice with a hint of excitement.
"Monday will be Pajama Day, followed by 60's Day on Tuesday. Wednesday will be College or Pro Sports T-shirt Jersey Day. Thursday is designated for Movie Character Day, and we'll wrap up the week with School Colors Day on Friday." She paused, waiting for the reaction she knew was coming.
A collective groan echoed through the library. Ms. McIntyre, the history teacher, sighed dramatically, "Every year, it's the same thing. You'd think they'd get creative for once." Mr. Pike, from the PE department, chimed in, "I've lost track of how many jerseys I've worn on Wednesdays." Indra chuckled, understanding their sentiments, "We might know what to expect, but remember, for some of our students, this is their first Spirit Week. Let's make it count for them."
Indra saw the palpable sense of deja vu among the teachers and decided to introduce a twist. "However," she began, drawing the room's attention with the slight rise in her voice, "the student council introduced an incentive this year. The student displaying the most spirit throughout the week will be awarded a $500 gift certificate. But, they didn’t forget about you all." She smiled wryly, catching the twinkle in a few teachers' eyes.
"The teacher who goes above and beyond, showcasing the most spirit, will receive a $250 gift certificate. So, let’s see which one of us can give our students a run for their money!" The atmosphere in the room shifted from mild dread to competitive enthusiasm as murmurs of challenge buzzed between colleagues.
As the room settled into a hive of chatter, teachers contemplating how to win the coveted gift certificate, Clarke turned to Lexa, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of a new challenge. "So, are you up for a little competition this year?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement. "I have to say, a $250 gift certificate could buy a lot of art supplies—or in your case, possibly the fanciest graphing calculator ever made." Clarke's teasing smile met Lexa's composed but amused gaze.
For a moment, the world beyond the two of them seemed to fade into a mere backdrop, the other teachers' voices a distant murmur. In that instant, it wasn't just about the gift certificate or even Spirit Week; it was an unspoken acknowledgment of the camaraderie and gentle rivalry that had always danced between them. Lexa's eyes twinkled as she leaned in, whispering, "Challenge accepted, Clarke. May the most spirited teacher win."
Indra noticed the competitive sparkle that had ignited in her teachers' eyes, satisfied that her announcement had sparked more enthusiasm than she'd first sensed. "Alright, if there are no further questions, let's call it a day and gear up for a memorable Spirit Week next week. Meeting adjourned."
The faculty began to rise, chairs scraping against the wooden floor, but the atmosphere had shifted from routine resignation to spirited speculation. As the teachers filed out of the library, each wore a thoughtful expression, already lost in strategic calculations.
Ms. McIntyre was heard mumbling about recreating a '60s protest sign that would blend history with spirit. Mr. Pike flexed his arms, contemplating how many sports jerseys he could layer on without causing heatstroke. Clarke and Lexa exchanged one last look, their smiles a mutual promise of the spirited battle to come.
There was a newfound spring in everyone's step; if Spirit Week was a game, then this year, it had suddenly become a high-stakes tournament, and each teacher left plotting their moves to outwit, outplay, and outlast.
The evening air was cool when Lexa arrived at Clarke's inviting house, a place soon to be their shared home. Clarke greeted her with a smile, the comfort of their time together contrasting the semi-chaos of the house. Amidst the boxes labeled 'Lexa's Books' and 'Clarke's Art Supplies,' it was clear they were gearing up for a new chapter together.
"So, I've been thinking," Lexa began cautiously, setting down her overnight bag by the entryway, "For Spirit Week, what if I stay at my own apartment? That way, our outfits can be a surprise for each other every day."
Clarke chuckled, her eyes twinkling with both amusement and affection. "You really are taking this challenge seriously, aren't you?"
Lexa nodded, her face a playful blend of seriousness and excitement. "Absolutely. Do we have a deal?" Clarke grinned, captivated by Lexa's enthusiasm. "Deal," she agreed. With a knowing smile, they leaned in and shared a lingering kiss, sealing their playful pact for the week ahead.
The first rays of Monday morning painted the Arkadia High courtyard in a soft, golden light. Students, still groggy from the weekend, shuffled in, casting curious glances around to see which of their peers and teachers had embraced Pajama Day.
Among them, Lexa made her entrance, capturing more than a few amused stares and chuckles. Clad in a cozy, dark-hued pajama set, she confidently strode in, the words "Come to the dark side, we have π" boldly printed across her top.
Her choice of sleepwear, a playful nod to her math specialization, was as much a statement of her personality as it was her commitment to Spirit Week. As students whispered and pointed, it was clear that Lexa had set a spirited tone for the week, and many wondered how the other teachers, especially Clarke, would rise to the challenge.
Just as the school was buzzing over Lexa's clever pajama set, Clarke pulled into the parking lot, igniting a fresh wave of chatter among the students.
She stepped out of her car wearing a rainbow unicorn onesie, complete with a horn on the hood and a colorful tail. Across the chest, in bold, glittering letters, read the phrase "I Don't Believe in Humans." As she walked through the courtyard toward the school building, students couldn't help but stop and stare, their eyes widening in both amusement and admiration.
Clarke's artful approach to Spirit Week was unmistakable, and her whimsical onesie instantly became the talk of the school. She wore the outfit with an air of casual confidence, as if unicorn attire was just another artistic medium for her.
When Clarke and Lexa finally crossed paths, their eyes met, and for a moment, their playful outfits said more than words ever could—each had brought their A-game to Spirit Week, and the competition was on.
During their brief encounter in the teachers' lounge, amidst a sea of equally spirited but far less creative pajamas, Lexa leaned in close to Clarke and spoke softly. "Alright, I'll admit, you may have outdone me for Pajama Day. That unicorn onesie is a work of art—literally."
Clarke grinned triumphantly, enjoying her moment of glory. Lexa's eyes, however, twinkled with a sense of impending triumph. "But just wait until 60's Day. That's where I'll claim victory. I've got something special planned, something that even your artistic mind couldn't conjure."
Clarke looked at Lexa with a mix of curiosity and excitement, wondering just what the math teacher had up her sleeve. "Challenge accepted," Clarke said, her voice tinged with anticipation. "May the best outfit win." And with that, they shared a smile that carried the weight of a friendly rivalry and the deep affection that underlay it all.
On Tuesday's 60's Day, the Arkadia High courtyard came alive with the echoes of a bygone era. Among the students sporting flower crowns and band tees, Clarke's entrance became one of the day's spectacles.
She emerged from her car in a vibrant tie-dye shirt that danced with swirls of purples, blues, and greens, making it look as though a rainbow had melted upon her. Paired with her top were high-waisted flare jeans that accentuated her stature, giving off a carefree yet confident aura. She wore a pair of round, oversized sunglasses, their tinted lenses reflecting the morning sunlight.
Around her neck, she had a peace-sign pendant, and her feet were adorned with brown, fringed sandals. To complete the look, a simple braided headband held back her loose, wavy hair, emphasizing her dedication to the day's theme. As Clarke stepped onto the school grounds, she personified the very spirit of the 60s, her outfit a testament to her innate ability to merge creativity with authenticity.
Not long after Clarke's entrance, another car rolled into the Arkadia High parking lot, and out stepped Lexa, providing the next big reveal of 60's Day.
She was a vision of mod fashion, challenging the bohemian vibes set by her counterpart. Wearing a mini skirt that featured a bold geometric pattern, Lexa paired it with a form-fitting sweater in a contrasting color, amplifying her look's retro edge.
But what really turned heads were her knee-high leather boots, polished to a shine and perfectly complementing her ensemble. As Lexa walked through the school, her boots clicked with each step, emanating an aura of absolute confidence. The math teacher had indeed made good on her promise: her 60's Day outfit was a masterstroke of style and strategy, one that captivated students and faculty alike.
When Clarke caught sight of Lexa in the hallway, clad in her 60's-inspired mini skirt and knee-high boots, her heart skipped more than a beat. Lexa exuded a kind of effortless sensuality that caught Clarke utterly off guard, making it almost impossible to focus on the friendly competition at hand.
While the whole point of this week was to surprise each other with their Spirit Week outfits, for a fleeting moment Clarke regretted their decision to keep their living arrangements separate for the duration.
The thought of not being able to see Lexa first thing in the morning and last thing at night, especially when she looked this captivating, left her with a sense of longing she couldn't easily shake.
The playful rivalry was still there, but it had taken on a new, electric charge that neither of them could ignore. Clarke took a deep breath, steadying her racing heart, knowing that the week had just become more intriguing in ways she hadn't anticipated.
Clarke and Lexa bumped into each other in the deserted hallway, their eyes meeting over the vivid splashes of 60's fashion they each wore. "You look like a real-life Woodstock poster," Lexa commented, visibly impressed.
Clarke chuckled, her eyes drifting over Lexa's form-fitting ensemble. "And you're channeling the Swinging Sixties in London so well, it's hard to remember we're in a high school in 2023." The tension between them was palpable, charged with something more than their usual friendly competitiveness.
Seizing the moment, Clarke glanced around and noticed her art classroom door was ajar, the room empty. "Come here," she said softly, grabbing Lexa's hand and pulling her into the empty space.
As the door closed behind them, Clarke looked into Lexa's eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. "I can't help it; you look amazing," she confessed, before pressing her lips to Lexa's.
For a few suspended seconds, the world outside—the students, Spirit Week, the competition—faded away, leaving only the two of them lost in a kiss that seemed to say what words could not.
When they finally pulled apart, both were slightly breathless but smiling, knowing that regardless of who won Spirit Week, they had something infinitely more valuable.
Clarke felt a magnetic pull towards Lexa that she couldn't resist. Her hand gently touched Lexa's cheek, her eyes meeting those striking green orbs for a moment before leaning in for another kiss.
This time, the kiss was deeper, more intentional, as if they were sealing an unspoken pact between them. However, just as their lips met and they began to lose themselves in the moment, the harsh sound of the school bell rang out, shattering the intimate bubble they had created.
They pulled away, their eyes meeting in a mix of frustration and amusement. "Well, duty calls," Clarke said, her voice tinged with a regretful smile. Lexa nodded, her eyes still locked onto Clarke's. "Yes, it does, but this is far from over." They shared a knowing glance before reluctantly heading out of the classroom, each lost in thought.
Throughout the bustling day at Arkadia High, the school's empty spaces bore silent witness to a series of clandestine moments. At every opportune moment, Clarke, driven by a potent mixture of affection, playful mischief, and perhaps even a dash of Spirit Week fervor, found a way to steer Lexa into a momentarily deserted classroom or a conveniently shadowed supply closet.
The door would barely have time to click shut before Clarke would close the distance between them, capturing Lexa's lips in soft, lingering kisses. These weren't just displays of affection; they were little stolen moments of connection amidst the chaos of the school day.
Every time they emerged, there was a slight flush to their cheeks, their smiles barely suppressed, as if they were privy to a secret the rest of the school could only guess at. Lexa began to anticipate these spontaneous rendezvous, the unpredictability adding a layer of excitement to the rhythm of their day. The spirit of competition and the gentle tug of romance had them both ensnared in a dance only they understood.
Wednesday dawned, bringing with it the anticipated College/Pro sports t-shirt jersey day. Most of the Arkadia High staff approached the theme with predictable choices, donning jerseys and shirts of well-known teams.
However, Clarke wasn't one to be outdone, especially with what many deemed a rather straightforward theme. She arrived donning an ink-splashed jersey that immediately drew attention. The vibrant, artistic streaks on the fabric clashed with the neat logo of the Polis University Commanders, her cherished alma mater.
The jersey was a work of art, turning the concept of a mere sports jersey into a canvas of memories, creativity, and loyalty. It wasn't just a nod to her college days; it was a beautiful blend of her past and present, her love for art merging seamlessly with the pride of her university years.
Whispers filled the hallways as both students and faculty members paused to appreciate her ingenious take on the day's theme. Clarke had once again redefined the norms, making a simple jersey day into a statement of her unique identity.
As the morning bell neared, Lexa made her entrance, and it was nothing short of dramatic. Instead of opting for a traditional jersey or t-shirt, she arrived clad in her Arkadia College fencing outfit, a crisp white ensemble that hugged her form, perfectly tailored to every curve and muscle.
The mesh mask dangled casually from her hand, and her foil was secured in a sleek case strapped to her back. The Arkadia College emblem proudly adorned her chest, reflecting her dedication to the sport during her collegiate years.
The sight was both surprising and mesmerizing, drawing a mix of admiring and puzzled glances from students and colleagues alike. It wasn't just a nod to her alma mater, but also a bold statement about her passion and expertise in a sport that demanded precision, discipline, and elegance.
While Clarke had turned the theme into a canvas of creativity, Lexa showcased the art of mastery and skill, reminding everyone that there was more to her than met the eye. The dynamic duo had once again turned an ordinary theme day into a memorable spectacle.
The moment Clarke caught sight of Lexa in her fencing ensemble, her breath hitched. Even though they'd been together for over a year, Lexa's ability to leave her awestruck never waned. The Arkadia College fencing attire suited her perfectly tailored in a way that accentuated her athletic build, making her appear both elegant and formidable.
Clarke was reminded once again just how multifaceted Lexa was; a mathematician, a fencer, a strategic mind, and an incredibly attractive woman. The sleek lines of the white outfit seemed to make Lexa glow, highlighting her already striking features.
Clarke felt a familiar warmth spreading through her, part pride and part desire, as she realized just how fortunate she was to be in a relationship with someone as amazing as Lexa. In a sea of standard jerseys and college t-shirts, Lexa was a vision, taking Clarke's breath away just as easily as she had the very first time they met.
Finding themselves alone in the break room during a brief lull in the school day, Clarke seized the opportunity to comment on Lexa's striking outfit. Her eyes swept appreciatively over Lexa's fencing attire, finally meeting Lexa's gaze with a look that was equal parts admiration and desire.
"You know, I've seen you in various outfits, but this fencing gear is something else," Clarke murmured, her voice tinged with a sense of awe that went beyond the fabric and embroidery. Lexa caught the look and felt a flutter of warmth, fully aware of the magnetic pull she was exerting at that moment. "I aim to keep you on your toes, Clarke. Besides, this uniform has always made me feel powerful," Lexa replied, locking eyes with Clarke as if challenging her to look away.
Clarke took a step closer, her voice lowering to a whisper, "Well, mission accomplished. You look as powerful as you are captivating." The electricity in the room felt palpable, the air thick with the unspoken yet deeply felt connection between them.
Reading the unspoken invitation in Clarke's eyes, Lexa took a decisive step closer, closing the small distance that separated them in the break room. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this today," Lexa murmured softly, her voice tinged with a blend of anticipation and assurance.
Before Clarke could reply, Lexa leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that spoke volumes. It was a kiss that melded tenderness with passion, a perfect encapsulation of the intricate dance they'd been performing all week—sometimes playful, sometimes intense, but always filled with unspoken emotion.
The world seemed to narrow down to the space they occupied, the electric charge that had built up between them finding its release. When they finally pulled apart, Lexa looked into Clarke's eyes, both women understanding that no matter the playful competition or the chaos of Spirit Week, their connection remained the most captivating game of all.
On Thursday, the halls of Arkadia High were abuzz with excitement as students and teachers alike showcased their favorite movie characters. But the highlight of the morning was when Lexa walked in, embodying the iconic Princess Leia.
She had opted for Leia's classic white dress, the high-necked, flowing garment accentuating her figure while maintaining an aura of royalty. Her hair was meticulously styled in Leia's signature twin buns on either side of her head, and around her neck hung the silver necklace Leia wore.
The ensemble was completed with knee-high white boots. Students and teachers alike stopped to admire and compliment her choice, recognizing the strong, independent character she represented—a fitting choice for someone like Lexa, who embodied those same qualities in real life.
Clarke, especially, couldn't help but beam with pride and adoration, the sight of Lexa paying homage to one of cinema's most enduring heroines touching a special chord in her heart. The choice was perfect, blending Lexa's grace with the character's iconic strength.
In stark contrast but equally impactful, Clarke showed up as Sarah Connor from the "Terminator" movies. She was dressed in tactical cargo pants, a fitted tank top, and a faux-leather jacket, her look completed with combat boots and a pair of aviator sunglasses perched atop her head.
A toy gun was tucked into a belt holster, adding an extra layer of authenticity to her portrayal. Her biceps, normally hidden under her art-teacher attire, were on full display, and she even managed to rough up her usually clean-cut appearance with a smear of charcoal for makeshift battle grime.
Students and faculty were captivated by her transformation into the relentless, resourceful character, remarking how brilliantly she pulled it off. When Lexa saw her, she was visibly impressed, her eyes scanning Clarke from top to bottom.
Transformed into Sarah Connor, Clarke stood out not just because of her impeccable costume but also because of the raw power she exuded. Her normally gentle blue eyes were steely and determined, her posture radiated strength, and there was a swagger in her step that hinted at a newfound confidence.
Lexa, usually composed and eloquent, found herself without words. The transformation was more than just aesthetic; Clarke embodied the spirit of the fearless warrior she portrayed. Lexa had always known Clarke was strong, both in spirit and character, but seeing her like this — it was as if she was witnessing a side of Clarke she had always known existed but had never seen in full force. It was awe-inspiring, leaving Lexa spellbound and a little breathless, and it took her a few seconds to remember how to speak.
Regaining her composure, Lexa stepped closer to Clarke, her gaze unwavering as she took in every detail of the Sarah Connor ensemble.
"Clarke," Lexa started, her voice low and filled with genuine admiration, "I've always known you to be strong and capable, but this outfit—it amplifies everything about you. It's not just the strength of Sarah Connor that I see, but an undeniable allure. You've managed to embody both power and an alluring charm that's hard to ignore."
Clarke raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips as she caught the hint of desire in Lexa's eyes. "You think I'm sexy, huh?" she teased.
Lexa chuckled, her eyes dancing with unmistakable affection and a hint of desire. "Think? No, Clarke, I don't 'think' you're sexy. I know you're sexy in that outfit," she asserted, letting each word sink in.
"You've captured Sarah Connor's essence so perfectly that it amplifies your own innate strength and allure. It's not just attractive; it's magnetic." Lexa allowed her gaze to drift briefly over Clarke's form once more before locking eyes with her again. "Today, you're not just the art teacher or my incredible girlfriend; you're a force to be reckoned with. And yes, that is incredibly, undeniably sexy."
Clarke's eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and pleasure, her grin stretching wider as she soaked in Lexa's words. It was a moment that encapsulated the balance of their relationship—both strong, both intense, and each finding the other irresistibly captivating.
Reading the mutual admiration in each other's eyes, the electric charge between them reached its natural crescendo. Lexa stepped closer, closing the gap that had felt too wide despite being only a few inches. The air grew thick with anticipation. "May I?" Lexa whispered, almost rhetorically, as Clarke's eyes answered before her lips could.
With that unspoken consent, Lexa gently cradled Clarke's face in her hands, her thumbs caressing her cheeks. Clarke's eyes fluttered closed as Lexa leaned in, both of them feeling as if they were the only people in the world at that moment.
When their lips finally met, it was as if a current ran through them — a tender, yet potent connection that conveyed more than words ever could. The kiss was soft, lingering, a delicate expression of love and a potent reminder of the electric chemistry that they shared. They parted slowly, both slightly breathless, and Clarke couldn't help but think that if this was the power of Spirit Week, then let every week be so spirited.
When Clarke walked through the doors of Arkadia High on Friday morning, she felt the full weight of school spirit envelop her. The hallways were awash in the school's colors, but Clarke had decided to make her own unique statement for School Colors Day.
She wore a tasteful, tailored black pencil skirt that stopped just above the knees, paired with a crimson blouse that seemed to shimmer in the morning light. To complete her outfit, she donned a pair of stylish black ankle boots and a red and black scarf that perfectly captured the day's theme.
As she carried her art supplies to her classroom, she couldn't help but notice the approving glances from both students and faculty. It was clear that she'd nailed the spirit of the day, blending her own artistic flair with Arkadia High's iconic red and black. And as she spotted Lexa down the hall, her heart leapt with excitement, not just for the day ahead but for the simple joy of sharing this spirited week with the woman she loved.
Lexa, always one for understated elegance, chose to embody the spirit of the day in a way that reflected both her professional demeanor and her personal style. She wore a well-tailored black pantsuit that fit her like a glove, accentuating her lean frame.
Underneath the blazer, she opted for a deep red silk blouse that added a splash of vibrant color, contrasting strikingly with her dark attire. To complete the look, she added a narrow red tie, giving her outfit a final touch of school pride without compromising her inherent sophistication. On her feet, she wore black leather loafers that provided both style and comfort. As she made her way through the hallways of Arkadia High, she felt not just the school spirit but also her own unique contribution to it. When her eyes met Clarke's from across the corridor, she knew instantly that they had both succeeded in not just honoring their school's tradition, but in adding a bit of themselves into the mix.
Throughout the day, it seemed as though fate conspired to keep Lexa and Clarke apart. Whether it was meetings, classroom sessions running overtime, students needing additional attention, or even a misplaced set of keys, the pair could never quite find the elusive moment to connect.
Both were keenly aware of the other's presence in the building, feeling it like a magnetic pull, yet every time they seemed poised to intersect, something would come in the way. It was almost comical, and by lunchtime, the shared, almost telepathic glances they shot each other across the courtyard were ones of amused frustration.
The day's bustling activities culminated in the much-awaited pep rally for homecoming, and it was amidst the loud cheers, music, and colorful banners that Lexa and Clarke finally found themselves side by side. Their hands brushed against each other, a shared smile passed between them, and in the midst of the roaring school spirit, they found a quiet, intimate moment, understanding that sometimes, anticipation only sweetened the eventual reunion.
In the school's bustling gymnasium, anticipation hung thick in the air as the student council prepared to announce the Spirit Week winners. When the student winner's name was called out, a burst of cheers erupted from a corner of the gym, accompanied by the jubilant cries of the victor's friends.
However, it was the announcement of the teacher winner that caught most by surprise. The name "Ms. Reyes" echoed through the gym's speakers, causing many students to exchange shocked looks. The computer science teacher, always ensconced in her tech-laden classroom and generally perceived as reserved, was the last person most had expected to win.
As Ms. Reyes rose from her seat, a modest smile on her face, applause filled the gym. Clarke and Lexa glanced at each other in mild surprise, realizing that in their playful competition and mutual admiration, they hadn't noticed Ms. Reyes's quiet participation in Spirit Week. Yet, as they clapped along with the rest, both felt genuine happiness for their colleague, reminding them that sometimes, the quietest participants make the loudest impact.
As the announcement settled in and the applause for Ms. Reyes continued to resonate through the gymnasium, Lexa and Clarke simultaneously turned towards each other, a mixture of disbelief and amusement evident in their eyes.
Clarke, always the more expressive of the two, let out a light chuckle. "Raven Reyes, huh? Should've seen that coming," she remarked with a playful grin.
Lexa shook her head, her lips curving into a smirk. "Of all the people to be outdone by… Raven," she responded, her tone light and teasing.
They both knew Raven was a formidable force in her own right, always surprising everyone with her hidden talents and unwavering spirit. Their eyes locked in mutual mirth, and they both burst into soft laughter.
Neither had anticipated being bested by the computer science teacher, but the revelation only added to the fond memories of Spirit Week.
As the week's events concluded and the halls began to empty, the competition that had once seemed all-consuming was now just a fond memory. Clarke leaned against a locker, her gaze finding Lexa's across the corridor. "I've got to admit," Clarke began with a chuckle, "this was one of the most memorable Spirit Weeks I've ever experienced."
Lexa grinned, walking closer, "Agreed. And as much as I loved our little rivalry," she playfully nudged Clarke, "it's the shared moments and memories that matter the most."
Clarke nodded, "It's not about winning, but about the journey and the fun we had along the way."
The two exchanged a knowing smile, understanding that the true reward wasn't a title or prize, but the strengthened bond they'd forged amidst the playful challenges.
With the week behind them, they looked forward to many more shared experiences, knowing that every moment, competition or not, was an opportunity to grow closer together.
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owl127 · 8 months ago
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I love your sports fics!! Can you write one (preferably in the Clexa universe) where Lexa has to get off before the game or else she doesn’t play well because she’s all horny. Im indifferent as to if it’s another locker room based fic, or it could be Lexa and Clarke are rooming together at an away game and Lexa keeps waiting for Clarke to fall asleep so she can mastrubate and Clarke ends up hearing and helping her out. Also I love the football world but whatever
(Ao3)
You have a routine. It is a meticulous process, though parts of it are spontaneous. The candles, the warm bath, the classic music, they all play the perfect part in relaxing your muscles and mind, preparing your body for the battle to come. You will demand perfection from yourself tomorrow at the game, so when you can, you take your time to prepare.
The water is borderline scalding as it fills the ostentatious hotel bathtub. The team went all out with the reservations, and you are grateful for the extra leg room. Your phone chirps lightly to Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto as the vetiver candle hits its earthy undertone. The fluffiness of your robe rubs against your exposed skin as it falls to the floor, leaving pleasant goosebumps over your things and arms. It’s perfect.
You’re halfway into the tub when a loud knock resonates from the bathroom door, making you slouch water on the pristine white tiles.
“Yo, Lexa!” Clarke, your loud roommate for the night, knocks again as if you didn’t hear the first time she almost brought the door down. “I’m going to get smoothies with the girls. Do you want to come?”
Why would they want smoothies right after dinner? Tall players like Clarke seemed to have an endless appetite. “Lexa?” Clarke’s large, goalkeeper hands smack the door again, and you finally respond, “No, thank you! Have fun!”
Clarke grunts an affirmative, and you wait until the bedroom door closes with a far away thud. Laugher and heavy steps die down the hallway, and the air calms. You trace the water with your fingers, drawing invisible patterns in the rose-scented bath. Music plays quietly, and finally, you relax. You let your eyes close, bundling up one of the many available white towels behind your neck, taking a deep breath.
You wake up with a high note from your phone, surprised at the song. You must have napped, the water lukewarm on your skin. The rustic, golden faucet squeaks as you open it to fill up with warm water. It falls next to your feet, almost too hot, but you enjoy the small torture, the decadent warmth. Your feet rub together while you stretch, the towel around your shoulders sliding down to soak into the tub. It must have been at least a thirty-minute nap with how stiff your neck is. Long fingers run over the tight ropes of your muscles, and you sigh at the pressure. Your fingers linger, the touch initially soft, but growing in pressure and expansion, exploring your collarbones, ribs, until they brush your breasts underwater, and you bite your lip.
It’s not unheard of, you argue with yourself to detox your association of pleasure with guilt that was hard coded into your brain. It’s not unheard of for sexual pleasure to be used for muscle and mental relaxation. So when you’re in the mood, you add an extra step to your pre-game routine.
You wait for the music to change from the boisterous major chords to the intriguing minors, which escalates beautifully. The water is a couple of degrees higher, the turbulent sound of the stream mixing with the song. You open part of the cold water and switch inside the tub so the thick stream hits your neck, with the velvety touch like a warm, large hand on your skin. It’s irrelevant to dwell on thoughts of large, freckled hands, or the day you found out your team’s starter keeper had freckles on her hands at all. Always hidden in her colorful gloves, you remember the moment in the break of dawn of the training room when long, freckled fingers curled around the chest bar to press an unsurprisingly heavy set. But you block these recurring thoughts because Griffin is a colleague at best, an annoying teammate at worst, and you have no intention of unbalancing team dynamics like that. So you do not think of the warmth of large hands on you as you close your eyes and touch your peaked nipple. Instead, you search through your memories for the audiobook you listened on the way to the away game, the trashy sapphic novel of girls fucking in a car. Faceless, fictional characters are safer than the thought of Griffin’s dimple, so that is your focus as you feel yourself slick between your folds. Sometimes you wonder if you would make more noises with a partner, but by yourself you are quiet, biting on your lips as you spread your legs as far as the tub allows you. The built up steam helps in your fantasy as you remember the rough voice in the audiobook begging, “fuck me hard, babe.” The music swells and so does your clit, and you feel the rush of an approaching orgasm, your toes curled on white porcelain, the water’s touch warming up your nape, and then—
“Lexa?”
You grunt to swallow the moan threatening to slip through. “You alright? You’ve been in there for a while.” Griffin’s voice is low and concerned, her large knuckles touching the wood softly as she knocks. “Lexa?”
“I’m okay,” you force out, croaking the words above the music and the shame burning your chest. “I’ll be right out!”
“Okay.” Some shuffling, and the creaking of mattress coils from the bedroom.
You slump down into the water and turn it to cold.
Something brings you back from unconsciousness, and you blink in the barely lit room. There is an undetermined source of light to your left, so you turn to face Griffin’s bed. Unsurprisingly, the goalkeeper fell asleep watching some show on her tablet, and the mix of lights take over the bedroom as your eyes adjust. Clarke sleeps soundly, her headphones lost inside a wild mane of sun-kissed blonde hair. You don’t want to stare, but the single source of light is right in front of Clarke’s face, dancing with hues of red and blue on her freckled skin. Your cheeks are warm, and maybe the light wasn’t the only impulse waking you up. Part of you wants to blame the impromptu tub nap, but the growing warmth in your lower belly claims you’re up because of other unfinished business. You watch Clarke, but not because you want to, but yet to judge how deep asleep she is. The woman snores quietly, a delicate expiration every time her lungs empty the air against her loose curls. Her mouth is slightly open, surrendered to sleep, and her limbs are scattered over her queen bed. You judge she’s dead to the world, and wonder if you can get away with touching yourself very quietly and very quickly. Since you are known for your efficiency, you ignore the rising alarms in your mind and shove a hand between your sleep shorts. Thinking of Clarke while touching yourself right next to her is too much, so you turn your back to her and close your eyes, focusing on the sensation of your fingers gliding through your folds.
The AC and the faraway, muted noise of Clarke’s discarded headphones combine with soft gasps that insist on leaving your pursed lips, but your bet is that nothing will awaken the goalkeeper. You try, you really do try to think of anything but the woman asleep next to you; you think of the smut books you indulge yourself into when the need strikes, or memorable past lovers, but those damn freckled hands keep coming back, and you feel yourself getting wetter at the thought.
Maybe just a peek won’t hurt.
You turn around on the mountain of pillows in your bed, snuggling close into the multi thread sheets, your skin hot against the soft fabric. Clarke remains immovable, chest rising and falling softly under a cotton shirt you want to touch, her nipples poking it and begging for your mouth. You lick your lips at the mere idea of your mouth on Clarke’s skin, soaking through your panties as your fingers struggle to find space in your haste. The hand spread on Clarke’s stomach twitches; the fingers shaking for a second, and you wonder how those fingers would feel inside your mouth, or inside of you. One of your own fingers complies with the idea, and you muffle a moan on your pillow. You got your fill, so you should turn around and finish this by yourself, but your eyes continue to take, take, and take, cataloging every detail of the magnificent creature that is Clarke Griffin. Her hands, the strip of pale skin under the messed sheets hugged tightly over a hipbone, the long line of her neck sneaking into her strong jawline, the dark into her eyes as she stares at you with such intensity you might—
Fuck.
The colorful hues of Clarke’s tablet reflect on open, alert eyes. Her lips part and she arches an eyebrow, watching, judging your moves; the sudden freeze of your hands under the sheets, the air that feels heavy as you gulp a loud breath.
You want to say something, and you want to disappear, suspended in between as Clarke’s eyes take your entire body up and down once, twice.
Her mouth twists to one side, a shadow of a smirk. She caught you.
You wonder if moving to Germany and buying a new identity would solve your problems. But any thoughts of identity theft and a recluse life in Berlin evaporate as Clarke deliberately slips one of her hands inside her pajama bottom. It is a purple string shorts sitting loosely on her muscled thighs, stretching to accommodate the largest hands you’ve ever wanted to be inside you.
She doesn’t move, though. Eyes as dark as you’ve ever seen them stare at you, waiting. Her headphones pool around her neck, and you notice how her nose flattens with a harsh exhale. She’s waiting for you. Silently, she lets you know that it’s your call.
You manage to convey a small nod, and it grows in vigor as you give consent. Your foggy brain can’t offer more than that desperate nod, and you hope Clarke understands. Clarke smiles, small and sweet, unbefitting of what you’re on the precipice of doing, and then bites her lips and plunges right in. You don’t hold your moan this time and she gasps, dark eyes shutting as her hands explore what your mouth desires.
You’ve never done this before. God, you almost never masturbate, but this? Touching yourself as you watch your crush’s hand move under unspeakable purple shorts, her breath catching every time a whimper escapes you; you must be dreaming. It’s the conclusion that keeps you going, that brings your hand to renewed gusto, that brings you closer. Fuck, you’re going to come watching Clarke touching herself.
You make a wish then, a small plea for one day for it to be your hands touching Clarke.
“Lexa,” she breathes because of course Clarke would ruin this with words. “Lexa, fuck, you’re gorgeous.” Or maybe not ruin this. You moan again as you fuck yourself with two fingers. You think about how thicker and longer Clarke’s fingers are, and how they would fuck you silly instead.
“I can make that happen if you want,” Clarke says, and you realize words were possible even in your frenzied state. “You’d look so good taking me.” An indescribable noise leaves your mouth, and you will die swearing you didn’t, but you whimper at Clarke’s words, nodding, touching, feeling. “Yeah, baby, let me hear you come,” she continues speaking because of course there’s no way to make her stop talking once Clarke is on a roll. Midway to the race for pleasure, you notice that in truth, you enjoy it. You like Clarke’s voice urging you on, telling how beautiful you look while you touch yourself, how wet you make her. “Lexa,” her voice is high, and you snap open closed eyes to watch as Clarke’s face contorts in bold pleasure, and can she, is she—
“I—I’m going to come for you,” she says and closes her eyes, hands lost in her sheets, and you cannot do absolutely anything else but follow her.
You come moaning Clarke’s name as she shudders on her pillow. There are few things you are sure of in your life, and that you will never forget Clarke’s face at the frozen moment of utmost pleasure is one of them. It does not simply push you to your own orgasm, it barrels you down the cliff like a runaway bison herd, and you meet pleasure in a new, flashing light, your tight muscles spamming in bliss, your toes pushing against the sheets, your mouth muffled over white linen.
Your breath is loud and wet as you slowly come back to yourself, your heart desperate and loud in a rib cage that doesn’t seem able to hold it inside. For a moment you almost forget you didn’t reach this alone, but reality and shame crash on you as a tired voice asks, “Lexa?”
Heat warms your cheeks. You clear your throat and face Clarke, watching the pink in her face blooming to her neck. “Yeah?” you say, gauging her reaction, doubt creeping in as endorphins fade from your bloodstream.
“Was this okay?” It is not always that Clarke Griffin has a small voice, but it’s how she asks you, shy and unsure, and you want to untangle the knot between her eyebrows.
“Yes.” You’re the captain. It’s your job to show certainty, even when you have no idea of what to do.
“Do you,” Clarke says and pauses, moaning softly as she takes her hands out of her shorts. Your eyes follow the wet digits, eagerly taking her in as she licks her own fingers in deliberate fashion. After your affirmation, the shy girl is gone. “Do you want to do it again? I can come over.” Her eyes dart between your beds. “If you want.”
You are sure of another thing now: you, Lexa Woods, are in trouble.
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butmakeitgayblog · 11 months ago
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Any new headcanons brewing in your head after seeing Alycia at the AACTA
Not... entirely
But I've had thoughts. Bear with me.
I'm not even remotely the person to write something like this at all, but it definitely did have me thinking of a SORT OF SHOEH-esque type fic. Something involving them being closeted and in Hollywood. Getting their flowers for their talent and being in love, but having to keep it quiet their entire careers. I've seen some fics along this line here and there, but inevitably in the fic, one or both eventually come out on stage or something.
Which is great! That's a lovely and hopeful ending.
But also....
Not entirely realistic.
Or even half as heartwrenching.
"Well yeah jesus fuck, why do you want sad shit Andi, why are you always such a glutton for punishment and literary pain?"
Well I'll tell you why: cuz... shut up
Idk it just got me thinking of Clexa as two Hollywood starlets on kind of differing ends of the spectrum of Hollywood that in the public eye are generally never really thought about together.
Lexa tends to do more gritty work, a lot more indie films. Dark threaded moody pieces and emotional roles, not generally thought of as box office fodder, but pretty much always a contender at awards season. Sleeper hits, you get me. Things like that. She definitely has a well known name, but she's selective in her work and that gains her a lot of respect with fans, even if they have to sometimes wait 2-3 years between projects. Because whatever she signs on for, it's pretty much always really fucking good. Whereas Clarke is more of a mainstream girly. She does a decently broad spectrum of films, but they're by and large always ones with bigger budgets, bigger release dates, more screens. It's not that they're not quality pictures, it's just that Clarke likes to work a broad range of things. One year she's in a comedy, the next a period piece, the next action. There's no real labeling her career.
And most importantly, they're both very, very straight.
At least, their personas are.
Alexandria is a smoky eyed femme fatale who leaves all the men eating out of the palm of her hand. Very "Look but don't touch" attitude that adds to her allure, to her mystery, despite her always being attached to leading man's arm. Miss Griffin is the picture of buxom Hollywood glam that every guy has on the List. Known for leaving a string of broken hearted men in her wake with little more than a cheek kiss-stained in signature red lipstick
Lexa and Clarke though?
Lexa and Clarke are two friends who have been deeply in love and committed to each other for the better part of 5 years.
They love each other in secret because that's what they feel like they have to do. They have two seperate houses with two separate addresses, and only one bed they actually sleep in.
It only really burns on the big nights, which I think would be an interesting oneshot. Just a glimpse into their life and what it feels like in that moment. The night when all their work and their sacrifices are being honored. Because even though, yes, they do play the part of friends and manage to sit near each other, it's not the same. It's not the same when they can't get ready together or even show up in the same car. When they have to remind themselves not to lean into each other too often, or even reach for the others hand to calm their nerves.
When one wins, they walk up alone without a hug or kiss from the only person who actually matters. They thank their families and their friends and their management that they can barely stand half the time, and remind themselves to smile like it's the happiest moment of their life even though at least half it all feels like a lie. Because yeah, they get lonely in the months when projects and shooting schedules pull them to opposite sides of the globe... but somehow those months never feel quite as lonely as being in a room filled with people who act like they adore you, while the love of your life sits quietly with her own "date" half an aisle away
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sylvanas-girlkisser · 1 year ago
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Okay I had a thought, and now I can't get it out of my head: Whyy do you think ABO specificially has become such a prevalent kink, even in (f/f) fandoms that are otherwise very "resistant" to sexual content.
Like I can throw a rock into a crowd of Clexa fics and odds are I'll hit a 200k word dubcon daddy kink ABO fic; but if I want spanking I'll find maybe 2 examples, each of which is 3.2k words of which 2.9k is Lexa going "are you sure you're okay with being spanked?".
Working theory: it's a combination of it's origin in fandom resulting in it being seen as a trope instead of (rather than as well as) a kink; and a countercultural push against the lack of kink in fandom. I.e. you get to write something relatively kinky (breeding, marking, dubcon, D/S, intoxication, animalistic behavior etc.), but can avoid the callouts by saying its part of the AU.
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liminal-zone · 1 year ago
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fanfic round up 2023
(2021, 2022)
LIST OF FANWORKS
Posted
Crave (LOTR | haladriel | tentacles and rings of power | rated E)
somewhere in the haze (LOTR | Celeborn/Sauron | mutual stockholm syndrome | rated M)
taking me with your song (The Little Mermaid (2023) | Ariel/Eric, Ariel/Ursula | tentacles and possession and mindfuckery | rated E)
can't escape the ghost of you (The 100 | clexa, clarke/the judge | being fucked by the divine wearing the face of your dead lover is better than therapy | rated M)
Eating fire (SPN | Claire Novak | the girl who was castiel grieves for her fathers | rated T)
Bound (SPN | megstiel | a demon and her angel | rated NR)
uncharted territory (Supergirl | supercorp | the dangers of being hated by a luthor | rated M) (technically, just chapter 4 counts for 2023)
nothing can go wrong when you're in love (Nimona (2023) | Nimona/Gloreth | when your boss’ boyfriend looks like your ex, ugh! | rated Gen)
through a father’s eyes (Narnia | King Lune | dads gotta dad | rated Gen)
atomic blonde (Narnia, LOTR | Susan/Eowyn | it’s not the first time a power beyond understanding ripped Susan away from her home to fight in another world’s war | rated M)
Beware how you give your heart (LOTR | haladriel | a fourth age haunting | rated M) (a wip!!)
a little touch in the night (LOTR | haladriel | a love letter in tiny bites | rated T)
+three yuletide offerings to be revealed in January!
WIPS
MCU: the king and queen of Asgard wrt Valkyrie/Carol Danvers
MCU: the final conclusion of my winterbaron sugar daddy fic
LOTR: Doriath trash party wrt Melian/Galadriel
LOTR: “Sauron becomes a tree”
LOTR: dark Galadriel/Samwise and their garden of the world
LOTR: healing generational trauma with fourth age Arwen and her peepaw
The Matrix: Trinity and Smith as mirrors
Good Omens: Crowley haunted by his angel
Star Wars: A really scandalous dinluke sex pollen
Total number of completed works/fandoms written in: fifteen completed works in 2023 for a total of just over 32k words; six LOTR, two SPN, two Narnia, the rest sundry & various.
OVERALL THOUGHTS: ::taps the top of this car:: you can put so much monsterfucking in this bad boy, jfc.
PERSONAL FAVORITE: Getting unblocked by the most unlikeliest of sources and FINISHING MY SUPERCORP HATESEX. uncharted territory finished FIVE YEARS LATER. This has been a weight on my shoulders for years; I always knew it ended with a sadistic Lex Luthor torturing Kara (oop), but it was time passing and The Flash (2023) that got me where I needed to be to get that banged out. I’m really really pleased how that ended, and that I actually can finish a WIP.
MOST UNDERAPPRECIATED: Bound is really exceptional. It was part of my WIP amnesty week, and a revisitation and remix of a meg masters fic I wrote in 2013 after I had a terrible life-altering accident. My favorite 2023 additions are how she can only speak in the language of Sodom at the end. It’s not a GREAT fic, but I really love Meg and I love Meg & Castiel.
MOST POPULAR: Definitely Nimona (nothing can go wrong when you're in love) with 1,200+ kudos. Y’all, the teen/gen fic in younger fandoms hits hard. OOPS. re: my deeply funny stats for the little mermaid tentacles fic with over 3k hits and 86 kudos. AHAHHAHAH. welp.
STORY WITH THE SEXIEST MOMENT: OKAY, so this is sexy specific to me: in Crave, Galadriel taunts Sauron about how he has to fuck Ar-Pharazôn (a mini love letter to my beloved 5ummit!) and this, to me, is everything: “And you’ll never enjoy Ar-Pharazôn’s little prick again,” she says, drinking in the horror of his recent memories, a soured scheme. “Your play at feigned pleasure in service to a base creature will be ash in your mouth now. You will only think of the taste of my cunt with his cock shoved in your whore mouth.” The crass words burn on her lips but she can sense how he trembles, even in this form. “You’ll hunger for the taste of me. And when he’s dead, when you’ve sucked the miserable mortal life out of him, you’ll never take a lover again for the rest of your unnatural life,” she says. “You know where your dick should be sheathed. In me and no where else.”
MOST FUN STORY TO WRITE: Okay, I traveled for work a LOT this year and one night I was feeling down and angry about the world and asked on twitter that for every like, I’d write a soft haladriel headcanon and by the end of the night, i had the bulk of a little touch in the night and I was such a happy delighted lil soul. Such a highlight of the year.
HARDEST: A tie between Crave, which was writing on hard mode since I’m violently anti dominant Sauron (oop), and uncharted territory since I had been blocked for years.
BIGGEST SURPRISE: The delicious lush connection of Celeborn/Sauron in somewhere in the haze that STARTED AS A JOKE and now I’m full rarepair conspiracy theory into it.
DID YOU TAKE ANY RISKS IN WRITING THIS YEAR? Posting SPN in 2023, lol what was that. And neither of them explicitly destiel. Girl. Both tanked but I love those two fics.
MOST UNINTENTIONALLY TELLING STORY: Okay, one of my yuletides this year is really too close to something I’m working through in therapy. Oop.
FAVORITE LINES/SCENES: Okay literally everything in atomic blonde, that fic is nonstop bangers imho. I love this especially:
“Ah, there it is,” he replies. Stops, and turns to look into her eyes. To drink in her fury. “This isn’t your world, Daughter of Eve. Take your cursed horn and your beautiful face and take the little shieldmaiden too for all I care and leave Middle Earth to me. Grow old and find joy in women’s work.” He blinks, nonsense words emerging out of him: “In Christian Dior dresses and Chanel lipstick, in Italian leather handbags and silk nylons, in handsome British officers and those American boys who offer more than kisses, in the rumble of a Jaguar and the cries of healthy babies who do not fear war. Live and die on an island far, far away.” He blinks again. “I do not want you here.”
MY FAVE PART OF FANDOM IN 2023: Repeatedly saying “you hear me, baby? hold together” at the haladriel fandom like Han Solo does to the Millennium Falcon and we did! We made it another year!!! Let’s go, 2024!!!! (YOU HEAR ME, BABY. HOLD TOGETHER.)
2024 WRITING AMBITIONS: same as last year’s: Write more steadily and consistently. Get back into the drabble mode. Make time, take time, just do it. It doesn’t have to be groundbreaking, it just has to be creating something. The joy of creation is like nothing else. Chase that high.
2024 FICS ON THE IMMEDIATE HORIZON: Jan 1 - htp trash fic exchange Feb 3 - rffa exchange March - haladriel exchange!
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bababaka · 2 years ago
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Clexa x reader headcannons
Part 1
English is not my first language, so if you catch a grammar mistake or have any tips to help me improve, just send me a message.
This was meant to be a fic i was writing but i'm lazy and wouldn't finish it. This is best second thing. I wrote this cause i wanted to read it. Write the fic you wanna see in the world.
If ends up being too OOC i apologize. Its been years since i watched the 100 and i was too eager to write and post this to do any research of the plot and Lexa and Clarke personalities.
That's it. Hope you enjoy.
Warnings: violence, mention of child abuse and death. 
- You are an assassin.
- Some would call your methods cowards ones, but they couldn't deny they were efficient.
- You were from Azgeda.
- A fierce assassin. Trained since you could remember.
- The first things you could remember was your trainer hitting and toughing you up. Molding you.
- The twin knives you had were what gave you comfort.
- The lifeless gaze of your victims was what gave you purpose.
- You were a puppet of Queen Nia. With no mind of your own. Not really. What she said was what you believed.
- So when she said "the Heda is weak. She must be dethroned". You didn't bat an eye. You sneered at the thought of Heda.
- When they kidnapped Costia. You were there. You didn't get to torture her. But you watched.
- Costia never said a thing. Screamed. Begged. Yes. But never said anything about Heda.
- You felt disgust, disdain. She was pathetic.
- You had been through this many times. As a part of your training. You wonder why she couldn't hold herself. You did this when you were a child. She is a woman, in her 17 years old. She was just a disgrace to her lover.
- But, somewhere deep and hidden within you felt respect. She was loyal. You could see in her eyes. She knew something and yet she never told. You could admire that despite her making such a mess.
- She just was caught in a dangerous game.
- Ronan was your bestfriend. He was your greatest rival and greastest ally.
- He gained your respect when he bested you.
- And gained your friendship when he protected you from a punishment.
- He was the one to gift you your twin knives.
- He was soft. You knew that. But he still did what needed to be done.
- Until he didn't. He tried to free Costia, to run away with her.
- He didn't suceed. He was exiled. She was killed.
- You were on a mission when that happened. They sent Costia's head to Lexa then.
- Once you came back and learned of Ronan's betrayal, you were livid. disapointed. Alone.
- He was just too soft. Not fitting for the prince of the great Azgeda.
- The Queen Nia told to send for you. She had another mission for you.
- Heda forgave Ice Nation, therefore there was no war. So, she came up with another plan, perfect for your skillset. An assassin and spy.
- You were to serve Lexa, gather information, and when the time was right, assassinate the Heda.
- So along with other gifts, you were "given" to Heda as an "apology".
- Gustus and Indra didn't like you, they distrusted you.
- Titus was indiferent.
- Lexa hated your guts. Because of what you represented. Costia's murder.
- It takes a long time for you to get Lexa to even look at you. Let alone speak to you.
- When Queen Nia gets insastified with the lack of progression, you come up with a plan to get Lexa to see you as more than your nation.
- You plan something like Gustus did.
- A meeting of the clans is about to happen. But before that, there is a feast. And that's when your plan come to fruition.
- You poison Heda. "Save" her. Blame one of your companions. They take the fall without a complaint.
- When they look at you, awaiting for Lexa's final blow. They see the words forming in your mouth "Glory to Ice Nation".
- Lexa begins to trust you. And bit by bit, you two start to form a relationship.
- And slowly worm your way into Lexa's heart. And secrets.
Relationship with Lexa
- Angst :)
- Enemies to friends to enemies to lovers
- Lexa hated you and you hated her.
- To you, she wasn't deserving of being the commander.
- She was no Heda. Not your Heda.
- To her, you were a reminder of what was done to Costia. Her suffering, her murder, her severed head in a box.
- She may have allowed Azgeda to enter the coalition, but she didn't forget what they'd done. And she didn't forgive them. She couldn't.
- Before your plan, she wouldn't look at you. After it, she looked and talked to you, but distant, cold.
- But, oh well, it was something. And you tried to take advantage of that.
- You tried to talk. To aproach the Costia subject. To apologize.
- She almost cut your tongue right off.
- You don't try that again.
- None of your tricks to get her trust and sympathy were sucessful.
- What worked was something you didn't plan.
- Your interactions with the young natblida. Especially with Adrien.
- You liked children. Being among them. Playing and laughing as if everything was alright and nothing mattered more than having fun.
- You didn't have a happy childhood. It was robbed from you. And some part of you yearned for that.
- Kids reminded you that life could be good. If only you let yourself believe.
- Until one mission went wrong. You had to kill a mother and her child. Now, you couldn't bear to look at kids. The guilt consuming you.
- But, in Lexa's castle(?) you sometimes had to interact with them. To care for them.
- And, with time, you warmed up to them.
- You watched them train, and tried to give some pointers but not too much to reveal you were a very capable fighter.
- You started talking with them. At first very formal and to the point, but as time went on and they started to annoy and try to lure you into conversations, you somehow became a part of their group.
- Pranks, fights, and some missdeeds. All of that far from Titus of course. And near you.
- And sometimes, there were times in which you caught tears streaming down your face. Your heart squeezing. In those times, you always leave early.
- Lexa found you there. Playing fight with the natblidas.
- You built a bond with them.
- And when she saw you with Adrien, laughing so carefree, enjoying the ausent adults, she thought that perphaps, you were not that bad of a person.
- And that way, finally, your attempts at talking with Lexa were met with answers.
- At the begining, the thing you talked the most was the natblidas.
- That was how you found out how Lexa was protective and wanted to change things for the next generation. To be better. For them.
- And, slowly, little by little, your view of Lexa began to change.
- She was smart. Driven. Fierce. Strong. Determined to do whatever it takes to protect her people.
- Lexa was a stoic person. Not one to laugh easily or to joke and play around.
- There were few moments you saw her smile. Most of them were around Adrien.
- And you loved when she had a smirk in her lips.
- You start hunting together. And you had to downplay your real abilities.
- Still, there were times you tried to impress Lexa. And you did. She just didn't make a big deal out of it.
- Then, like a fire or a star falling from the sky, a new threat apperead. The skaikru.
- And you realized Lexa trusted you when she asked your opinion of them.
- She also took you with her. To meet those people who fell from the ceilling.
- You sure were an oddity. Normally helpers weren't brought along. Considered an annoyance, you received a few ugly looks, but you weren't bothered by it, you were used to a lot worse.
- Despite being busy trying to deal the best way with the skaikru, you tried to spend time with Lexa.
- Help her. Sooth. Plan. Train. Prepare. Talk.
- One night, she talks about Costia.
- She was so bare. Vulnerable. So genuinely sad. Your heart broke for her.
- And the guilt came like a snow storm you didn't prepare for. It buried you alive.
- And when she slept and you looked at her, you knew at that moment. You couldn't bring yourself to kill her. To pierce a knive in her heart.
- She did it to yours first.
- Queen Nia found a way to contact you. Eager for information on the skaikru.
- But once she learns Heda intends on forming an aliance to rescue the people locked in the mountain, she sets her plan in motion.
- This happens shortly after Gustus death
- You tried to stop it, but it was too late.
- The army was ready and coming towards you.
- You talk to Queen Nia, subtly trying to convince her to at least delay her attack. But to no avail. It was happening.
- You didn't want to. But as Nia looked into your eyes with ones hard as ice, unmelting and unrelenting as the cold, you were reminded of your duty. Of your purpose. Lifeless gaze. But, for some reason, imaging it on Lexa's green eyes sickened you.
- The attack started and you awaited in Lexa's tent. Full gear. Your knives in your hands. And your heart on the ground. Shredded to pieces for what you'd have to do.
- Lexa enters in a haste. An enemy army was attacking. Azgeda.
- Not only preparing to fight, but to make sense of what was happening. To make a plan.
- When she sees you.
- And her expression of despair. Of urgence. Of worry falls as soon as she realizes the blades in your hands. The light armour on your body.
- Her expressions hardens then. As her heart breaks as she comes to an understanding.
- You don't talk. Nothing you could say would be able to remend the situation. Or your heart.
- As you lunge for her, she dives for her sword, in the far corner in the room. And as soon as she gets it, you know you're in disadvantage
- Lexa was an acomplished warrior. You were an assassin. You were quick, silent, deadly. She was strong, resistent, powerful. And deadly.
- Either way, you held your ground. As did she. Though you didn't really think you could overpower her.
- Until she slipped. And you took advantage of it. You disarmed her and pinned her to the ground. A knive to her neck.
- If she wanted, she could throw you over. Switch positions.
- If you wanted to, you could slit her throat.
- Yet, you both stood still. Panting. Waiting for the other to make a move.
- You heard footsteps.
- Whatever was your decision. You needed to do it now.
- You tensed. Gritted your teeth, trying to steel your resolve, still your trembling hands. But it all came tumbling down when you locked eyes with that emerald green.
- And you were reminded of that little smirk on the seldom times she'd make a joke.
- Of the strong and beautiful woman, that wanted to do good. That thought of Adrien as a little brother, but would tell no one. That would bring down anything and anyone that disturbed the peace and threathened her people.
- A great leader. The Heda.
- Your Heda.
- You couldn't kill her.
- So you fleed. Got up and before Lexa could say or do anything, you ran.
...
"What about Clarke???"
Worry not, she's a lot more on the part 2 :)
Part 2
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booasaur · 1 year ago
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Yo Booasaur, do you think Cruz&Aaliyah fics might have the staying power to rival Clexa fics? I don't feel like there's been a tv show that's sparked like them for some time (at least in the english speaking world). There have been cute couples like Izzie&Cassey, Josie&Penelope but this just hit's different. There's a part of my head that's laughing at how predictable *that* scene is but executed so well... you could probably hear panties dropping...
No, I don't think so. So many things went into creating the Clexa phenomenon, and I don't think that can be repeated. The one thing that I could see really boosting Aaliyah/Cruz is if a season 2 is announced and both actors returning, in the same way Lexa's return in s3 really propelled Clexa to heights that I don't think any f/f ship has come close to reaching, including Aaliyah/Cruz.
The biggest thing is longevity, you need multiple seasons. The top f/f fandoms on AO3 are Swan Queen and Supercorp, each of which had years and years of full seasons to keep people invested and writing. Clexa didn't get even two shorter ones, but it was canon and involved the lead and had the hiatus to really build momentum and incredible popularity, based in part on the promise of better-than-average f/f treatment, and then the anger at that broken promise along with every other f/f ship that year being killed off one by one made people stay with it in a way I'm not sure they would now.
The memory of Clexa itself now makes sure people won't get that invested in anything. I myself was literally telling people to wait till the finale aired to watch SOL. And we have enough other media now that we can just move to instead. Warrior Nun, I think, is probably a good current example of how popular ongoing central f/f rep can be, and I think theirs would be good numbers for Aaliyah/Cruz (we need a ship name that isn't just repeating the two names!) to aspire to.
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unchartedcloud · 1 year ago
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The Art of Defiance - Prologue
Part 2 of a Clexa Star Wars AU
Freshly minted Jedi Knight Lexa Woods is on a mission to uncover a mysterious buyer of Sith artifacts for the High Council. She’s competent, highly trained, and the most promising Jedi of her generation. But when a cocky and beautiful bounty hunter nearly dies protecting her from that buyer, an exiled Jedi named Roan, Lexa is forced to confront a terrifying reality: she has feelings for that bounty hunter and—worse yet—they're requited. Now she not only needs to find Roan again and put him away for good, but to do so while trying to figure out just how far she can push the tenants of the Jedi Code.
In other words: Lexa is a lawful Jedi in love, and Clarke is a chaotic bounty hunter who won't admit her feelings. This is SWAU.
The place isn't too huge, for which Clarke is grateful. Set a little ways behind the boardwalk's main drag, it seems more like a dive bar than an actual restaurant. A sign out front declares it "The Jolly Spacer." Definitely seedy by Alderaan's standards, but neither Raven nor Clarke are known for their highbrow taste in food—or anything, for that matter. It's predictably dim inside, long, thick shutters drawn mostly closed over the wide windows set into the cantina's numerous walls. They angle in and out of view, creating smaller cubby holes along two sides, but leave space for a long, straight bar on a third; all of it is set slightly below grade, and they have to descend a few steps before their boots hit the floor.  Clarke's penchant for keeping her head on a perpetual swivel was instilled long before she had a bazillion credit bounty on her head, and it remains even now. As she takes the one, two, three steps down, she clocks every exit, notes every cluster of partially-illuminated figures. It's the usual mix of spacers one can expect to see near the docks, people wearing slick jackets and some face coverings and the occasional piece of body armor. But none of them pay their entrance much attention, as quick to look away from the open door as they were to glance at it.  All except for one figure, that is.
One figure sitting in the back of the bar at a recessed table, only one other person sitting with them. One figure that gets to her feet the second she spots Clarke, and it's only a blast of disbelief that stops Clarke from recognizing her immediately. And, in recognizing one of them, she quickly recognizes the other. Brown robes, off-white tunics, polished brown boots—and the not so inconspicuous hilt of a lightsaber strapped to their belts.
Read on Ao3.
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creativekha0s · 11 months ago
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*deep sigh*
Chapter 16 of Arkadia is currently underway, the finale to my Clexa story. It hasn’t hit me quite yet but around the corner I know a deep post story depression is going to destroy me, probably worse than how I’m feeling now. And I love this chapter so far because it is just going to be, like, around 9000+ words of pure Clexa happiness.
I did however decide that after Chapter 16 is posted, there’s going to be a Chapter 17 that I’ll use as a giant author’s note to explain basically everything I’ve been saying on here, answer questions, deleted ideas for the story, etc.
I’m truly grateful and I can’t say it enough. Just the fact that there are thousands upon thousands of Clexa stories out there, and I get to have my story a part of their legacy, words can’t describe how amazing it feels at the same time. So bittersweet.
Forever Clexa 💚💙
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dragonmp93 · 1 year ago
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AO3 Stats 2023
What fanfic was the world writing in 2023? (AO3 Year In Review) - centreoftheselights - Fandom - Fandom [Archive of Our Own]
It's never going to be not weird but also it's never going to be not funny when people complain about how femslash shippers have it better or sapphic content is more popular/accepted/widespread/mainstream/(insert adjective here), and makes me think that I'm speaking to a parallel universe.
Like were you on a diet of videos from James Somerton and the like, or something, because I don't know someone can come to that conclusion.
Just look at the AO3 stats, the stats tracking goes back a decade and the only F/F ships that made it to the top 100 list at all for years were Santana/Brittany from Glee, Rose/Kanaya from Homestuck, Laura /Carmilla from Carmilla.
And then there is the unholy trinity that is Swan Queen from Once Upon A Time, Clexa from The 100 and Supercorp from the CW's Supergirl, I swear that there is going to be a study in a couple of decades about the noxious and detrimental to health effects of being involved on those ships.
It wouldn't be until 2020 that She-Ra and the Owl House gave some variety to the list, also Arcane in 2022.
That gets us to 2023, and as pathetically as it sounds and which carries over from 2022, 6 whole F/F ships in a top 100 list is the highest ever and a two-year high holding since 2022.
The 2023 stats goes:
#19 Robin Buckley/Nancy Wheeler from Stranger Things.
#22 Wednesday Addams/Enid Sinclair from Wednesday.
#23 Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes from Harry Potter.
#25 Amity Blight/Luz Noceda from The Owl House.
#93 Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva from Warrior Nun.
#95 Mary Macdonald/Lily Evans from Harry Potter.
And there is a couple of things of funny things from that list, like the F/F ships sticking together, in top 25 for the most part, probably because they get overpowered by the other ships to claim higher.
And the Harry Potter ships are pretty much the kicker about femslash shipping, Marlene and Dorcas are very much like the guy that got hit with a bagel in Into the Spiderverse.
One of them literally only gets mentioned once and the other one has been dead for around two decades before the events of the first Harry Potter.
The other ship is giving a girlfriend to Harry Potter's mom.
As a final note, I'm happy that Warrior Nun at least finally made it to the list.
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reallygroovyninja · 4 months ago
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Sneak Peek of a story I am working on called Eden. I feel like if I show the first part off, it will motivate me to keep going. It currently sits at 12.5k, and I need a reason for Clexa to meet up again. No, they haven't done anything yet beyond talk. Kinda a slow burn for me. lol.
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The crowd was a living, breathing wave of energy, and Clarke thrived in it. She strutted across the stage, her voice a weapon that commanded the room. The heavy beat of the last song thumped through the venue, a pump-up anthem that had every person on their feet, fists in the air, singing along. Clarke grinned as she belted out the final chorus, sweat dripping down her face, her heart racing with the high of performing. 
From the wings, Raven and Octavia stood in the shadows, trying to figure out who Clarke had been eyeing all night. 
“It’s gotta be the blonde,” Raven yelled, nodding toward the front row, where a tall blonde had been practically worshipping Clarke from the start. Her eyes were wide, lips mouthing every word Clarke sang, body swaying in time with the music. 
Octavia squinted, leaning forward for a better look. “I don’t know. I think it’s the brunette. She’s barely paying attention, and you know how Clarke loves a challenge.” 
Raven tilted her head, sizing up the brunette, who stood a few seats over from the blonde. She was texting on her phone and occasionally, she’d glance at Clarke, but mostly she seemed unfazed by the chaos around her. 
“True, Clarke could be into that whole 'I’m not interested' vibe,” Raven mused, her eyes flicking between the two women. 
They both knew the routine well. By the end of the night, it would be up to them to figure out who Clarke had locked onto. It was a pattern they had grown used to—find the omega Clarke had been watching and somehow convince her to head to Clarke’s hotel room for the night. That’s how it always went, and Raven and Octavia always had to make sure they didn’t screw up the choice. 
As the music began to build toward the final note, Raven bit her lip. “So, we picking the brunette, then?” 
Octavia nodded. “Yeah, she’s got that unattainable thing going on. Clarke loves to win over omegas like that.” 
“Alright,” Raven said, glancing at Clarke as she worked the stage, commanding the crowd like a queen. “We go with the brunette.” 
Clarke’s voice hit its peak, the last note hanging in the air for a split second. The crowd exploded, cheering and screaming for more. Clarke turned toward the audience, her lips curling into a wicked smile. Her eyes flashed, and then—just as Raven and Octavia prepared to move—Clarke pointed directly at the blonde in the front row and winked. 
Raven and Octavia froze, their mouths dropping open. 
“Shit,” Raven muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. 
Octavia laughed, slapping Raven’s arm playfully. “We were so close!” 
“I swear I thought it was the brunette,” Raven groaned, rubbing her arm. 
“Well, guess we know our job,” Octavia said, already moving toward the stairs that would lead them down to the front row. “Let’s go grab blondie before she passes out from excitement.” 
Raven smirked. “Yeah, no kidding. Clarke’s gonna have fun with this one.” 
As Clarke stood on the stage, basking in the adoration of her fans, Raven and Octavia disappeared into the crowd, ready to find the omega Clarke had picked for the night. 
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bottom-lexa · 1 year ago
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Can someone please write me a Clexa fic where g!p Lexa is the quarterback of a tackle football team and Clarke is the trainer, but also her girlfriend and it’s all very steamy. Like maybe Lexa is filled with nervous energy before the game or is pissed because they are down at halftime and Clarke is there to stretch and massage Lexa and it turns into sexy time. Football is so gay—all the touching, tackling, grabbing, hitting. Bonus points if Lexa is still in her pads while they are having sex
You could ask someone who usually writes fics like this nicely for it.
I, personally, don’t write a lot of g!p Lexa nowadays. I’ve seen the light and write more with Clarke. And I’m not really a fan of this sort of dynamic.
This would probably be? College Clexa? I haven’t written them in a while. If we’re in the US, then there isn’t anything after college that isn’t the NFL as far as I know so they’d be pretty young. We have a lot more here in Europe between uni and the national teams. I could see Clarke as one of the QB coaches, or assistant coaches, but tbf I can’t see Clarke involved in any sort of sports with very few fic/au exceptions from a couple of writers.
Also the last part. It would be soooo uncomfortable to fuck in shoulder pads, for both of them. They wouldn’t be able to get as close to each other with them on, Lexa would be more stiff and less flexible if she was wearing them. And. The most important thing when it comes to football gear. They stink. It smells Bad. It smells like, what we call, football. Same with fucking in the locker room. Smells so bad in there. Heated post-game sex where it’s all the adrenaline needing an outlet, and it’s quick and fast, I get. That’s the only time I can excuse it happening in football gear in fics. Also getting out of those pants during halftime or something? That’s another thing and I know now I’m just ranting about the inaccuracies in fic that have football player character. But basically football pants are So Tight. And there’s like at least two layers under them. More if it’s cold.
This got away from me 😅 but yeah, not my jam but there might be someone else out there who’d wanna write it.
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ao3feed-the100 · 2 years ago
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Days of Crisis
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/bRW6jd9
by TalktomeinClexa
Sheriff Lexa Woods’s life is turned upside down when a hurricane hits her small Californian town, bringing in its midst a beautiful geologist as smart as she’s brave. But when said geologist returns a few months later to study Polis’s geographical situation and assess the risks in case more natural disasters occur, neither can deny the attraction anymore. Will they manage to open up before a series of catastrophes puts their lives at risk?
For Clexa Week 2023 - Day 7 - Free Day
Words: 3493, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Series: Part 7 of Clexa Week 2023
Fandoms: The 100 (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/F
Characters: Clarke Griffin, Lexa (The 100), Aden (The 100), Madi (The 100), Anya (The 100), Lincoln (The 100), Gustus (The 100), Indra (The 100), Nia | Ice Queen
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Additional Tags: Clexaweek23, Clexa Week 2023 (The 100), Clexa, Natural Disasters, scientist clarke, Sheriff Lexa, Minor Character Death, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Smut
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/bRW6jd9
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sassymajesty · 4 years ago
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i’m swinging wildly between “IM FREEEEEE!!!!!!!! WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY FUCKING LIFE” and “Un-Follow Me Now, This Is Gonna Be the Only Thing I Tweet About For The Next Week. Ive Wanted This For Years Fuck. What The Fuck.” after watching the 100 series finale and i’m pretty sure i won’t decide between the two options anytime soon
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bababaka · 1 year ago
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Part 4 - Clexa x reader "headcannons"
No idea what i'm doing. Enjoy. Cause its the last one…
You can see how i was getting done with this as the end nears.
Part 3
- You were released. Yay. The problem was, being releasead by Heda? With no consequences? Oh. Opositors didn't take too kindly to that.
- You took that to your advantage. You had to lie and say that Heda should've killed you or at least torture you. She was too soft! 
- It worked. 
- not on all people, of course. After all, you were a traitor to both Heda and the Ice Nation.
- there were those who tried to kill you. To rally the crowd to execute you. 
- Most met their end in the middle of the night. Misteriously. Choked on their own blood. 
- You never left a trace. This wasn't any different. 
-  Those who were still alive and oposed to you had to be swayed by you. 
- They didn't trust you. But as you plead you could be useful, they relent. 
- And that's when your abilities come to light. 
- Sweet talking people to get information. Going unoticed as you eavesdrop om conversations. Sneaking into places you really weren't allowed to. 
- It was dangerous. Yes. But you didn't care. Your life held no value. You are just a tool to be used and discarded.
- First, to the glory of Ice Nation. Now, it was to serve your Heda. To help Lexa. To help Clarke.
-Ok. At first. You are avoing the both of them. Only talking when necessary to give reports. You try to give them to Titus or maybe Indra, though you have real chances of getting out of that harmed with the latter.
- Most people are distrusting and waring of you. It makes sense. You are a traitor. 
So. You are happy to avoid as much people as you can. 
- Neither Clarke nor Lexa lets you.
Ot3 dynamic
- Their trope is gay mess :)
- At first, it was Clarke. 
- You were outside. Layed at the ground. Staring at the stars. 
- Clarke obstruct your view, only to ask
"Youre stargazing? Do you mind if i join you?"
- You only nod. 
- She lays by your side. 
- For some minutes. You only look at the sky. Blue almost black with little points of light. Like snowflakes when they fall and the sun hits them just the right way. Demesmerizing. Sometimes you forget that winter, the cold, can be just as majestic as it is cruel and unrelenting.
- Clarke breaks your line of thought. 
- "The stars aren't nearly as pretty from the space as they are from here."
- "Really? You came from the sky, Wanheda. You are saying the sky is not beautiful?"
- "It can be." she turns her head at you. but "it doesn't compare to Earth."
- She holds her stare. This time not on the sky, but on you. And you hold your breath. Scared to break the moment. To end this. To come out of this "bubble"/dream. To think of what she means. What her shining gaze means.
- At the end, is Clarke who turns away.
- "Earth may have its flaws but it still is pretty."
- You remain silent. Still unbalanced. Still wondering and confused. 
- Clarke leaves not much longer after that. 
- And as she gives a last look, a thought comes to you unbidden.
- Her eyes are blue. Like the sky.
- It doesn't take long for Lexa to come to you. 
- It is at the end of the day. She comes to your room. Not in her Heda clothes. Just in her normal outfit. Looking achingly like the young girl she was. So soft. With so much burdens to carry. The way her shoulders were low. Her hair loose. Her eyes demure. Open. Tired.
- She wasn't there to fight. Wasn't there to manipulate you, yell at you. Punish you. 
For more that you deserved. 
- You deserved it. Her hatred, anger, pain, the guilt. And yet, there she was. In front of you. So damn vulnerable. Nothing like the unbreakable and fierce warrior. 
- Your heart squeezed in your chest. 
- You might have done anything and everything if she asked you. 
- What she does asks you, though, takes a lot out of you to comply. 
- "Why?" is what finally comes out of her mouth. 
- "Why what?"
- "i- i don't know..."
- "Why?"
- Why you tried to kill me? Why you didn't? Why you betrayed me? Why you ran? Why you still hurt me?
- "You always knew about Costia. You knew they had her. You were there."
- "...yes..."
- "Did she die well?"
- "Yes." your first instinct is to confort. To lie. 
- You weren't there when she died. But you knew it wasn't a painless or honorable death. 
- You just couldn't bring yourself to say that to Lexa. Not when she looked so damn vulnerable. Breakable.
- "Hm...."
- "I'm sorry, Lexa."
- "so am i." Again, her gaze could tear you apart. Shred your heart to pieces. More than it already was. Lexa had that power over you.
- "why didn't you kill me? You had the chance. I hesitated."
- and so did I. But that's not what she asked. She asked why. 
Why didn't you kill her? 
- "I couldn't bear the possibility of killing you. The mere thought made me sick. I thought i could get past that... That flaw. Weakness. But the time came and... I couldn't."
- There were few moments in which you are as truthful as this. You look in Lexa's eyes. Green as the forest. 
- You always loved the nature. The sky. The florest. 
-" i thought despite my inner feelings, i could push through it. I could... Do it.. 
I've come to care for you as i gotten to know you."
- You felt tears gathering behind your eyes. 
- "And i'm so sorry that i betrayed you. Your trust. I never meant to. You deserve so much more. You are so much more."
- you kneel before her. Droplets of tears streaming down your face. 
- "Lexa, you are an amazing Heda. And an incredible woman. You endured so much pain. You lost so much. And yet you stay strong, you care about your people."
- "I am sorry, Lexa. If i could go back, i would. You deserved so much more, and i just didn't give you that. I am so so sorry" 
- Lexa joins you in the ground. And hugs you.
- You felt a weight off your shoulders as you cry and your shirt gets wet with Lexa's tears.
- You get hurt or something akin to that. And Lexa gets worried alongside Clarke. 
While Clarke fawns ovr you and take care of you (<3), Lexa only watches. 
- Clarke asks you what happened.
- You very begrudginly tell briefly what happened. 
- Lexa is quick to chastise you and say you shouldn't take such risks. 
- You counter saying you got valueable information. It was worth the risk.
- She says looking you in the eye. Piercing green eyes. And stony face. But with something vulnerable in her. Soft.
"Not over your life."
- As the time progresses you see yourself spending more and more time with Wanheda and Heda.
- Sometimes separate and sometimes the three of you together. 
- Your favorite moments were when Adrien tagged along with the three of you. 
- You weren't someone that felt happy that much. 
- Life to you was bland. Meek. Grey. Blue.
- Now, though, you felt your chest light and filled with this fire. Warm and confortable. Chasing the cold away.
- One day, you were with Clarke. And for some reason, the air felt stuffed. Like a snowstorm just waiting to happen. 
- The stares lingered, and the touches were more intimate.  
- It didn't take long to Clarke to make the first move.
- You already had sex before. It wasn't that daunting of a task. 
- At the begining, you get stunned. You thought she was with Lexa.
-You seen the stares, the longing. The love. 
- you resist at the begining. Thinking of how Lexa would react. Her heart. Her trust. Broken.
- "what about Lexa?" You ask amidst moans. 
- "What about her?"
- "Won't this upset her? Aren't you together?" You were trying your very best. But Clarke had nimble fingers and a skilled mouth. You don't think you'd resist much more. 
- "Don't worry about her. She's fine."
- You don't resist anymore. You don't think you ever could with the blonde. 
- You love the squeal that leaves Clarke as you let go and throws her in the bed. 
- In the next few days, you are very wary. And watch with hawk eyes every little interaction between Clarke and Lexa. 
- You can't take it. You couldn't betray Lexa. Not again. Not like this. You needed to talk to Clarke. 
- "No. clarke. I can't."
- "I love you."
- "W-what?"
- "I love you."
- Dumbstruck. Of all the things, you never expected this. Love. 
- An inner, minor, part of you thought: Weakness.
- You were quick to extinguish that thought.
- Mostly, you were just happy. Relivied. 
- She loved you. She loves you. 
- You kiss.
- then. You stop.
- "What about Lexa?" 
- Clarke smiles, affectionate. "She knows. She's ok."
- You don't try to refute, and allow yourself to enjoy the moment of happiness.
- Doesn't take much longer for Lexa to come to you. 
- You are tense. Afraid. Fearful that you were part of something that hurt your Heda. 
-"Clarke told me you are together. Congratulations."
-you gaze at her face. Waiting to see sadness. Anger. Maybe even disgust. But no. She was normal.
-Well, indeed, when Clarke said she was fine. She was. 
-She talks about something. You know she does. You don't pay attention, though.
- You were appalled. Waiting for the disaster to happen. The guards to come. The blade to be unshelth. Her smile simmer down. Become less distracting. Her curves less attractive. Her hair was down. Her clothes were normal.
-She was a sight to behold.
- Lexa takes the initiative. Not because you didn't want to do it. But just because you wouldn't. Too afraid to do something wrong.
-you stop. Though you didn't want to. To ask. "No. Wait. What about Clarke?" 
-"She knows and agreed."
- For a moment. Fleeting. You wondered why do they always know? Why were you always the last to get that information? You weren't used to not knowing things. Secrets.
-You don't keep on that thought though. Lexa's lips were far more enticing.
-Later, with a clearer head and no pretty distractions, you wonder about your situation. 
- and as you come to the conclusion you were done being confused, angry and a bit frustrated, you call Lexa and Clarke to meet you. 
- you get everything in the open. Everyone confesses. It's cute. It's awesome. It's wholesome. Yay.
- You are officially together. Congrats. You bagged Heda and Wanheda. I would brag.
- The problem though is getting together with the two leaders? Not easy. 
- They are always stressed. Always overworked. Poor babies. 
- At some point, you learn some techniques to relax and put those two at ease. 
-They were leaders. They were the ones who'd make the shots. You were fine being in the background, just following their lead.
- Clarke has a better time dealing with her emotions. While you and Lexa tend to bottle it up.
- When the hundred get on earth, reader is 20, Lexa is 19 and Clarke is 18. (Yes, you are the oldest suck it up)
- Clarke would be your moral compass. While she understood that sacrifices and a more rough approach were needed, she tried her best to reign you two in. Most times she succeeded. Most.
- Ya'll are switches. I don't take criticism on this. It's true and that's it. Bye. 
- You hunt together. It tends to be romantic and fun.
- none of you were much of a jokester, but you find yourselves joking around each other.
-Adrien is your adopted child. Maybe Maddie comes along later. Now though it is only Adrien.
Your happiness doesn't last much. Because of course not. You were never that lucky. 
You hear from Nia and Rowan.
Those two come back.
Lexa kills Nia. Rowan becomes the king. You reunite. Cry. Bond. 
The rebels dismantle
You guys live happily.
End.
Did i edit? Tried rereading to fix errors? No. And i won't either.
If it sucks, i don't care. Bye.
I've done my part. Now y'all go write for Clexa x reader. 
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aphrodites-law · 2 years ago
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26 Clexa pls
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“You cheated on me.”
“Cla-”
“That’s the one thing you swore you’d never-” Clarke’s voice breaks and tears suddenly blur her vision. “No, you vowed you’d never do this to me.”
"I never meant-"
“Oh shut up! Let me fucking guess: It was just a kiss! It was just stress relief after a long day at work. Just your fucking hands on her body!”
Lexa feels her heart pound, terrified at the thought of watching her wife leave for good. She sees divorce papers spread out on large tables and lawyers bickering. She sees herself trying to catch Clarke’s gaze across a room and failing. She sees Clarke growing old with someone else and her whole body tenses.
“I made a mistake,” she says. “The worst fucking mistake of my life.”
“You don’t even mean that. Your only mistake was getting caught, wasn’t it?”
“I didn’t even want to do it, fuck, I-”
“Oh poor you! She must’ve cast a spell on you, huh? It’s all her fault and you were just a victim.” Clarke lets out a bitter laugh. “God, I don’t even know you anymore.”
“Yes, you do,” Lexa insists. “I’ve just been so fucking confused. We haven’t been spending time together, we haven’t even kissed since October-”
“Oh so it’s my fault!”
“No! No, that’s not what I mean! But come on, this is the most we’ve spoken in weeks!”
Clarke shakes her head and gives her a furious glare. “You’re not going to turn this on me.”
“Please, baby, I-”
“Don’t call me that!” Clarke snaps, then turns to grab her purse in the entrance. “I can’t even look at you. I’m going to my mom’s.”
Lexa runs after Clarke and grabs her hand. “I’m not giving up on us.”
Clarke jerks her hand away, swiveling around. “Don’t touch me.”
Lexa’s bottom lip trembles. ‘Please… What can I do? How do I show you it meant nothing? That it was the worst regret of my life the second it happened?”
“You don’t,” Clarke says, feeling her own heart sink. “It’s done. You ruined us.”
“No,” Lexa pleads, refusing to believe it.   
“I can’t trust you anymore,” Clarke cries. “You shattered that forever.”
“Please,” Lexa whimpers, stepping closer to her. “It was a mistake. It was a split-second that I’ll regret for the rest of my life, but please, please don’t give up on us because of it. I’ll- I’ll do anything you want,” she promises, her voice shattered. “Let me regain your trust. Let me show you how much I love you. Only you. Please, please…”
Clarke shakes her head, feeling her resolve crumble. She’s always hated seeing Lexa cry. Seeing her face pale and her eyes pained. She can’t even remember the last time they were this close. She can’t remember when exactly they started drifting away from each other, just that she hoped they’d find their way back every day. 
Before she knows it, she feels Lexa bury her face against her neck, sobbing. “I love you. I love you so much, please... We can’t end like this.”
Clarke closes her eyes, blaming herself for the urge she feels to comfort and love. She wants to hate instead. She wants to scream and push and even hit. Instead, she allows Lexa’s kisses and listens to her pleas. She gives into the part of her that missed her so desperately. That missed them. How they were before they both forgot. 
Lexa kisses her cheek and jaw, then opens her eyes to look at Clarke’s face. She’s so beautiful it makes her ache. Waking up to this face has been the joy of her life – she can’t imagine a world where her bed is cold and empty.  She kisses her other cheek and then lingers near her mouth, watching for a sign Clarke won’t allow it. 
“I’m so sorry,” Lexa whispers again, her lips brushing against Clarke’s now. “You’re my whole world…”
Their kiss starts slowly, with Lexa hesitant to push but yearning for it too. She can’t believe it might be the last. It can’t be. With no word from Clarke to stop, she pins her against the wall, right in the spot they’ve kissed so many times before. Where she’s taken Clarke time and time again. Where Clarke’s gotten on her knees to devour her. Where they stumbled against drunk and giggling. She kisses her remembering every instant before this one, times when their love was never put in question. Clarke’s walls crumble as she sinks her nails into Lexa’s waist and opens her mouth against hers, allowing Lexa to deepen their kiss, chasing her tongue until they meet with mounting desire.
Clarke moans, soft but loud enough for Lexa to feel emboldened. She can prove to her right now and right here just how much she loves her. If Clarke allows it, she’ll worship her for hours -- for days.
“No, no, stop,” Clarke finally pushes her back, killing all hope. “Don’t. You can’t kiss me and think it’s all better now.”
Dazed, Lexa struggles to find her next words. “I’m not. I was going to- I thought-”
“Yeah, you thought it would work. You thought I’d forget you kissed someone else. Well, I won’t. I don’t want you to kiss me or touch me, or even fucking look at me! You make me sick, Sam.”
Lexa leans against the counter behind her and bites her lip, watching as Clarke blinks several times. The last of her tears fall and then their eyes meet. The tension between them ebbs, and then Lexa feels her whole body relax.
“Wow,” she says, glancing down at the script in her hand. “This part is intense.”
Clarke wipes her tears away and then sniffles. “What did you think?”
Lexa chucks the script on the counter and then runs her thumbs down Clarke’s cheeks, amazed by the display of anguish she mustered so quickly. 
“You’re incredible. If you don’t get cast then Nia Icelot is officially the dumbest casting director I’ve had the displeasure of meeting.”
Clarke laughs. “Hush, she’s one of the most powerful women in this industry. I need her on my side.”
“And how was I?” Lexa asks. “Do I have an Oscar yet?”
“You definitely elevated the material. I’m very impressed.”
“I think you were a little too impressed by my kissing there,” Lexa points out smugly. 
Clarke taps her shoulder. “You just had to sneak your tongue in. Poor Clarabelle didn’t stand a chance.”
They smile, their bodies winding down together. “I love reading with you,” Lexa says. 
Clarke wraps her arms around her girlfriend’s waist and then kisses her again. She takes her time with it, not liking that their last kiss was filled with so much despair, even if they only acted the part. Lexa was almost too good at it. She never even relied on the script in her hand, having learned the lines by heart for her. Sometimes it’s hard to believe they’ve only been dating a little over a year.
“You’re a natural at it,” Clarke says. “I seriously think you could get an agent.”
Lexa shrugs. “I’ll leave that to you. I like my dark editing room and freelancer woes too much.”
“I do like your dark editing room too. Especially your big… wide… desk.”
Lexa feels her cheeks grow hot. “Oh yeah?”
Clarke tugs at the bottom of Lexa’s shirt and pulls her toward said room with a grin. “Hm-mm. And I plan to thank you properly.”
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