#clarke

[foreverbaby25]

[thoughtwriter]

on air - g. clarke

summary -> [ part 2 ] you’re a guest on the useless hotline podcast hosted by your secret boyfriend | george clarke x fem!reader

wc -> 1.2k

WARNINGS -> secret/private relationship, george is smitten

masterlist | main masterlist | requests

george knew inviting you on the podcast was a bad idea.

not because you wouldn’t be great - quite the opposite, actually. you were quick, charming, dangerously funny. the kind of guest that made a podcast episode fly by and rack up views. but because george had a very hard time pretending you weren’t his girlfriend, and the useless hotline was filmed in 4K and recorded with high-grade microphones that picked up everything - including every slip-up, lingering stare, and voice crack.

and right now? he was seconds away from combusting on camera.

you were sitting across from him, legs crossed, mic in front of you, hoodie sleeves pushed up to your elbows, looking like you didn’t have a secret in the world.

meanwhile, george was sweating. literally and figuratively.

“right, welcome back to the useless hotline,” he said into the mic, trying to sound normal, casual, definitely not like a man who had been up until 2 a.m. last night with the very guest now smiling sweetly across from him. “the show where we help you with your problems, whether you want us to or not.”

“usually not,” max muttered next to him.

you laughed—a soft, familiar sound george had heard a thousand times before, but now it echoed in his headphones like a siren call.

max leaned forward, smirking. “and today we’ve got a very special guest... content creator, chaos gremlin, and george’s—what was it? longtime friend?”

george gave him a look. a subtle but deeply meaningful shut up look. you just smiled and said, “that’s what we’re calling it, yeah.”

you were good at this. at pretending. too good.

george could barely keep his eyes off you. the way your fingers tapped the mic stand absentmindedly, how your lips twitched whenever max made a joke, how you’d glance at george when you were holding back something private - something only the two of you knew. well not just you two but also not the rest of the world.

he was so screwed.

“so,” max said, reading the first listener submission. “this person says: ‘my situationship keeps liking my Instagram stories but never replies to my texts. what do I do?’ classic.”

you leaned in, “oof. see, that’s emotional terrorism.”

george barked a laugh - too loud, too sudden. you glanced at him, amused, and he felt his neck heat up. “sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “just - ‘emotional terrorism.’ that’s gold.”

“tell me I’m wrong, clarke,” you teased, tilting your head.

his full name. dangerous territory. it made his stomach twist in ways it shouldn’t while on camera. “nah, you’re spot on,” he said, but his voice cracked slightly at the end.

max turned his head slowly, eyes narrowing. “you good, george?”

“yep. yep. great.” you smirked. george wanted to crawl under the table.

the episode went on. more questions. more advice. more jokes. and the longer it went, the worse george got. because you were so effortlessly you. because every time you teased him, he had to stop himself from reaching across the table and grabbing your hand like he always did when you were off-camera. because every time you laughed, he remembered what it felt like to kiss you mid-laughter, tangled in sheets and sunlight.

you reached for your drink, eyes flicking to him mid-sip. that look. the look you gave him when you wanted to be alone. private. quiet. yours.

he nearly dropped his mic. max noticed—of course he did.

“george,” he said suddenly, interrupting whatever nonsense advice you were giving. “what’s going on with you today? you’re being weird.”

george flinched. “i’m not being weird.”

“you’re being super weird,” max insisted. “you’re staring at her like she’s about to float away.” you raised your eyebrows in mock surprise. “am i?”

george laughed nervously. “i’m just - she’s just funny. that’s why she’s here.” max narrowed his eyes. “uh-huh. not because you live together or anything.”

you coughed. george blinked, “we don’t live together.”

max smirked. “not technically. but didn’t you stay at her place last night?” george’s mouth opened. closed. you shot Max a look that could kill.

“wow, max,” you said slowly. “way to make it weird.”

george leaned back, palms up. “can we not do this on air?”

“oh my god,” Max gasped. “you two are actually—?”

“nope,” you cut in smoothly. “still besties. he just likes my cooking.”

“yeah,” George added, voice hoarse. “just... spaghetti and stuff.”

you knew he was remembering last night. the way you kissed him in the kitchen, salt still on your fingers, shirt half-unbuttoned from laughing too hard during dinner. the way he picked you up and laid you across the counter, like-

“george,” max said again. “dude. you’re gone.”

“okay, next question!” george blurted, slapping the desk. “this one says: ‘is it a red flag if my boyfriend won’t post me?’”

max raised an eyebrow. “a very fitting question for the current vibe.”

you looked at George. your voice was low, almost teasing. “well, it depends, right? some people just like privacy.”

“yeah,” george said, throat dry. “privacy’s important.”

max squinted. “sure, but like… if you’re dating someone and you’re never in their stories, never on their grid, don’t even get a soft launch - what’s that about?”

you shrugged. “maybe they’re just waiting for the right time.”

“or maybe they’re secretly dating their podcast guest,” max said under his breath. george choked.

you snorted. “i think we’ve veered off-topic.”

george could barely look at you for the rest of the episode. he was red, flustered, and so obviously not okay. the fans were going to eat this up. the clips alone were going to break tiktok. you were cool as ever - effortlessly gliding through the chaos.

but as the outro music played and the red light on the camera clicked off, you finally looked at him properly. the kind of look that said, you’re in so much trouble, but i kind of love you for it.

george leaned toward you, voice low, private, almost pleading.

“i was trying so hard to keep it together.”

you leaned closer, “you did terribly.”

he laughed, soft and warm, “i know.”

you looked over at max, who was pretending to check his phone but was definitely eavesdropping. then you reached over and squeezed george’s hand under the table, a quiet promise between the chaos.

“next time,” you whispered, “maybe we don’t pretend.”

george blinked. “yeah?”

you grinned,“yeah.”

TWITTER

@/uselesshotlinepod - Y’all… there’s NO WAY George and y/n are just “friends.” This episode is wild and you can go watch it now.

i’m on a role rn slayy. feel free to request i get to them within a week of when they are requested

[livvymd]

Watching Him on Inside (Part 2).

You should’ve put your phone down.

Really.

But instead, you were still scrolling, still reading through tweet after tweet, as if you were trying to torture yourself.

— "Their chemistry is so good, are we sure they’re not secretly dating??" — "George is so different when he’s with her. They have something. I just KNOW it." — "Not to be dramatic, but I would die for them."

You groaned, flopping back against the couch.

This was ridiculous.

George was your boyfriend. Not hers. Not the Internet’s. Yours.

And yet, somehow, Twitter had collectively decided that they were soulmates.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. You weren’t jealous. You knew George. You trusted him. He’d even joked about this before leaving, telling you, "If I get a weird ‘ship name’ on Twitter, just remember: I only fancy one person, and she’s sitting right next to me eating half my chips."

And yet—

Your stomach twisted as you watched the screen.

Because there he was again—sitting with her, separate from the chaos, talking, laughing, nudging her with his knee.

You knew that laugh.

You knew that look.

And clearly, so did everyone else.

"Why am I doing this to myself?" you muttered, finally putting your phone down.

But just as you did—

A new confessional popped up on-screen.

George.

His stupid, cheeky smirk aimed right at the camera.

"So apparently people think I fancy her," he said, completely unbothered. "I’ve seen the tweets. Very flattering. Wrong, but flattering."

You froze.

"She’s great," he continued. "We get on really well. But yeah, nah—" He glanced off-camera, grinning. "There’s only one girl I fancy. And she’s probably watching this right now, getting very annoyed at the internet."

Your heart stopped.

Then—

A jump cut to him sitting on the couch, scrolling his phone.

"If you’re reading the tweets, babe, put the phone down," he said, smirking. "You’re not gonna like them."

Your mouth fell open.

The show knew.

They’d edited that in on purpose.

And suddenly, your timeline was exploding.

— "WAIT WAIT WAIT—GEORGE HAS A GF??" — "Not me thinking I had a chance and he’s been taken this whole time 💀" — "Imagine being his gf watching this LMAO she must be FUMING." — "WHO IS SHE. SHOW YOURSELF, QUEEN."

You stared at the screen.

Then at your phone.

Then back at the screen.

And finally—after a long moment—you burst out laughing.

Because of course George had done that.

Of course he knew you’d be fuming.

And of course, because he was him, he had to wind you up about it.

You were going to kill him when he got home.

But first—

You grabbed your phone and texted him.

[You’re the worst.]

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed.

[I know. Love you. ]

[mudshadow]

halves of a whole

[cforbes]

uhhh it’s been 5 years and turns out im still not over clarke killing bellamy. I’m so angry to this day. the most batshit insane writing choice ever made

[lolitastories]

Endless

Bellamy Blake

Oxygen, never knew it could come with something more beautiful. I would always look through the glass windows of the ship and see how we orbited earth but it was never a thought. You read it in books but it was all different when you got the chance to see it for the first time. The green trees and grass. The colorful flowers and land so long that you don’t see the same thing twice. The sound of a waterfall or birds singing with the wake of the sun. But the thing that imprinted in me was when I felt open air travel through my nose and into my lungs, I was breathless. Ironic, but I was. So as I stand here in the same spot I decided to go down to earth with Raven, I am scared and with so many questions. The only difference now is that I know what is down there and my heart yearns for it. For my friends, for the home I made. It feels hard to breathe. “You okay?” I jumped a little not realizing Raven was standing right beside me.

“Yeah,” I smile looking back into the serene view. “I guess I unconsciously put my guard down since there are only 8 other people here.”

“Yeah,” She bumps into me teasingly. “5 years of not running away from someone trying to kill us,” Weird.

“We just have to worry about surviving.” Thankfully Clarke was right. We made the food we had last until the Algae farm could provide for us. The Oxygen and water was stable too. But up here for 5 years?, it will eventually drive us crazy.

“We will be okay. You have plenty in one person to keep you company.” My eyebrows furrowed as I turned to look at her. “You know who I am talking about.” She playfully bats her eyelashes and swings her hair like she was flirting. “Why thank you Bellamy,” I bit my lip hearing her impression of me. “Thank you for saving us,” My mouth falls open, ready to defend myself but she is quicker and places her hand over my mouth. “With those pretty brown eyes, dark curly hair, and not to mention those muscles,” I groaned, pushing her away.

“Shut up,” I roll my eyes. I hear her laughing, “I thanked the rest too. He wasn’t the only one who made the trip to Becca's lab alone.” To be honest I would have thanked him like that if I had the chance. Of course I would keep the last part to myself. But for him and the rest to risk their life so close to the radiation wave hitting well, they deserve all the thanks. Especially now since their actions got them stuck in the ark again, far away from people they love.

“Yeah but he was the only one who made the trip especially for you.” I kept my mouth shut that time. It would be nice to know he did do it for me, probably would cause my already hyper beating heart to actually run out of my chest. But Bellamy and Clarke were our good friends and down there, we knew we had to do everything to protect ourselves. Emori, Murphy and Echo came along because they thought they didn’t have a chance to stay in the bunker due to past choices. Harper and Monty were nice enough to give them all a ride after they were attacked by some grounders, calling them unlucky.

“You can’t be sure of that,” She stands there with an annoyed expression and her hands on her hips. “You’re the one who slept with him,” Her mouth falls open. “He could be here for you,” I simply shrug and turn to walk away.

“That was a long time ago!” She screams out to me. “Don’t deny it! He likes you and you like him!” I know it was a low blow to bring that up. Raven told me how bad she felt sleeping with Bellamy. She did it out of spite because Finn was too close with Clarke. Raven loved Finn and still does, I know Bellamy and her are only good friends now. I walk down the halls of the Ark, the sounds of groans and hits call out to me. As the common room came into view I saw Echo and Emori training together. Emori had Echo on the floor in an arm lock. I tower over them seeing a pleased look on Emori’s face.

“Want next?” She says jokingly. I am not a bad fighter, I know enough to protect myself but I prefer using other things than fist.

“Why would she need it?-” I looked over at Echo who could barely get her words out. “She has a guard dog,” Emori’s quick chuckle was cut off when Echo uses her legs to push off the ground and twist herself out of Emori’s hold.

“That's right.” Defeated, Emori lays flat on the floor. “Shame to let your knowledge of your guns and our weapons go to waste since you always have him around.” I scoff knowing damn well that Bellamy wasn’t always around, and if he was it was because it was smart for all of us to stick together.

“I will say that she knows all this tech stuff too, like Raven.” I look up toward Echo who for once had a smile on her face. “She’s more brain.” I felt like I needed to say thank you but somehow I was confused because they were unminding me too.

“And his muscles.” Their conjoined laughter made me feel happy. The past 2 months, all I could hear was normal banter since they were irritated with everything. So having someone laugh was a huge change of improvement. “He is over there if you were looking for him.” As I hear Emori stand up from her mat, my head turns to find Bellamy leaning against the window, he was busy looking outside. I flinch a bit feeling someone’s hand land on my shoulder. “Go reel him in for lunch,” I turn, finding a small grin on her face. “Monty made a new version of his soup.” We share the same disgust look but eventually it is replaced with a smile.

“Sounds delicious,” She nods agreeing with my sarcasm. I take a deep breath before making my way over to him. Echo and Emori’s steps have faded meaning they were already out of the room. “Seems like you got a better view here.” Eden looked bigger on this side of the ship. The spectacle of hope was small but one day we would be back.

“I am open to sharing.” Damn. I am truly lost, ain't I? I thought by not looking at his eyes it would be best but by just being near him, he can make my heart race. I turn my head meeting his eyes. Raven hit it spot on when she used the words pretty. Those brown eyes, so pretty. “I haven’t gotten a chance to get you alone,” oh? “In the afternoons you are either trying to fix the radio with Emori or the panel with Raven,” I turned my body towards him as his eyes never left mine. “Spending late nights working,” My heart strings tug with a little bit of sadness. I hadn’t noticed that I have been busy, I just know that if I stopped then I would start thinking. Missing. I didn’t want him or anyone in the ship to think that I was in some way ignoring them. “And in the morning,” Tunnel vision, that is what was happening. It felt like the walls were closing in and I couldn’t focus on anything other than Bellamy. Somehow we ended up only an inch apart, my hand probably couldn’t pass between us. My head tilting up as he towers over me. “Seems like everybody wants your attention too.”

“Too?” A small smile was playing on my lips. Since Bellamy and I have gotten close we became good friends. Friends who occasionally couldn’t stop staring at each other. At first I thought it was because I was closer to age then everybody else. Maybe he found comfort in not being the only adult (ish.). And those lingering stares went to the trash when Gina came into the picture. She was nice and I never had anything against her but when they were together it made me realize it was just me who felt a connection. “If you need to talk-” I freeze. His hands currently moved up to cup my face. His eyes drop towards my lip, “I am always free.”

“Yeah?,” With his hands on my cheeks I felt my face growing warmer than usual. The playfulness in his voice made the little girl in me start jumping. The way his warm breath felt against my skin as he spoke sent shivers down my spine. “I do want to talk.” He nods and it's like I was hypnotized, my head aimlessly copies his movement. “I want to make sure you are okay,” I slightly tilt my head to the side, I got my brain back for a minute. Why would he ask that? “This change has been tough on everybody, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” My hand instantly moved up to cup his hands as he still had his on my face.

“I’m okay,” I say as a whisper. “You?” He nods again with a smile. “It suits you,” He leans forward, resting his forehead on mine.

“What does?”

“Being okay. Your shoulders are no longer tense. Not having to worry about keeping everybody safe,” I close my eyes, loving how he feels close to me. “Being you, it suits you.” Before this the only contact I had with him was a hug or the occasional hand holding. Of course, the cause of those things was because we were happy to see each other, as friends. Or when we were beside each other receiving yet another bad news he would take my hand in his, as friends. If we were anywhere together, I would know because his arm would always graze mine. As friends do, right?

“I had a good reason.” I pull apart a bit to look into his eyes.

“Your sister.” I say plainly.

“Two reasons.” He responded instantly. His eyes felt more intense than a couple minutes ago. The way he looks at me and how his thumb slowly caresses my skin, this was not like friends, right? He was pulling me in and I couldn’t help but want to fall. “This might be stupid since we are stuck here for 5 years but I just have to say it,” He takes a deep breath closing his eyes. “I care for you.” When he opens them I notice his eyes full of doubt. Doubt that I may say I feel the same but caring can mean plenty of things.

“I care for you too.” Mine meant more. A little chuckle escaped his lips. He looked down like I wasn’t getting the point.

“No,” He shakes his head. “I care for you,” He put more emphasis on the word.

“I care-”My words tumbling out in a rush to repeat myself, when suddenly Bellamy’s hands pull us together. His lips brushed against mine. The kiss was gentle, yet insistent, and I felt my words die on his lips. His fingers moved to tangle in my hair making the kiss more intense. I felt a rush of sensation, two hearts beating into one rhythm. But when I returned the kiss it sent my head into a haze. The endless space we were surrounded by seemed miniscule; it didn’t matter to us. My hands slid down his arms and down his waist to pull us closer. He groans as I pull us apart for air. Bellamy’s eyes locked onto mine, his gazing yearning for something. “I care.” I breathe let out. My heart flutters seeing his lips curving upward into a smile.

“Good.” I scoff at hearing his cockiness.

“Such a dick,” I laughed, pushing him off playfully.

“Wait-no.” He stops me from moving by catching me and wrapping his arms around me. He knew I wasn’t mad; we both had a smile. “You didn’t let me finish,” I roll my eyes and until I look into his eyes he continues, “Good, because now I can show you how much more I care.” Okay, the butterflies are back. I caught him before he could lean in and capture my lips again by placing my palm on his forehead.

“You can show me once we eat Monty’s wonderful soup.”

“Ugh,” He throws his head back like a little kid.

“It probably tastes worse than yesterday.” He looks down with a pleading look but I shake my head.

“And like yesterday,” I grab his face and pull him closer, “We are going to be good friends and eat it.” I quickly peck his lips and rush out of his arms. "You coming?” I look back as I walk away leaving him standing by the window.

“Always.”

[michaeljclarke]

Spots like this one in the woods of the White Mountains have such a profound beauty to them that I always think fondly of when I am away from the mountains. Isn't there something wonderful about how while we get busy in our day to day lives these places just keep churning with wonder 24/7 and all throughout our changing seasons?

PRINT SHOP

[kpforpresident]

Chapter 7 | Part 2

Thanks for sticking with me, kids. A snippet for your patience x

Lexa, refusing to be cowed within her own private chambers, continues on her path away from the door.  Only years of training and instinct keep her steady in her slow methodical movements to pull the three throwing blades from where they buried into the head and neck of the dummy. Shards of wood flutter slowly past Lexa’s hand as she works the honed blades from the soft wood, landing across the dull black leather of her well worn training boots. Lexa can practically feel Clarke burning a hole in the side of her head, arms crossed angrily in front of her body as she taps her food impatiently on the worn wooden floors. She hasn’t moved more than a foot into the room, clearly unsure about being in this space despite her angry entrance. 

Polis feels a million miles away in this small space, a buttery stream of sunlight pouring through an upper window to fan out in a dreamy pattern on the far wall. The entire structure of the converted stable is wood, the mere memory of two horse stalls standing against the far right side, now filled with practice dummies, spare training weapons, and a jug of water that a young Natblida is tasked to refresh daily. A small tin bowl sits on the rickety table beside the stall entrance, a few apples and a small linen bag of jerky tucked carefully inside. This had been Anya’s addition to the space when Costia had died and Lexa hadn’t left the stables for a week, the silent plea the closest Lexa had ever seen Anya come to a concession. 

The silence seems to grow teeth as the two women look at each other- one with barely muted scorn, the other with trained neutrality. Far away, the river’s melodic trickle is the only reprieve from this moment that seems to drag out into infinity.  

Lexa flips her dagger slowly as she crosses from the spot by the training dummy to perch onto an stable door, leaning into the wood that had been worn smooth with centuries of use. This had been Heda’s private stable for many lives before Lexa’s, the war drums a constant and unending companion to many previous Commander’s reigns. Lexa was the first to lead a life that didn’t fall asleep and rise in the morning with a constant refrain of war just beyond her doorstep. 

This was a life that was mean to be dotted with peace, and propserity for her people. Lexa had fought and bled and strategized and lost to make it so. 

Lexa remembers with a pang how little Madi who worked in the kitchens had run in the week previously, breathless with joy over the return of the robins to the nearby meadow, where young children took their outdoor lessons. Lexa, who had yet to be broken of her habit of sneaking into the kitchen to sneak a few pieces of cheese and the end of the daily loaf of bread- much to Anya’s continued chagrin– had nearly swallowed her tongue in surprise when the door flew open to reveal the breathless, beaming youth. 

The birds had avoided Polis for Lexa’s lifetime thus far and her parent��s before her. Not that she blamed them- the clatter of the hammers in the smiths as they foraged swords from glowing hearths and the pounding of horse’s hoof beats had been the constant in the sunrise years of Lexa’s young life. 

Now, birdsong would sometimes float through the morning markets, the entire city seeming to hold its collective breath as the quavering notes filled the honey-sweet summer air. 

Madi’s little brother–Roni– had died in the attack by Nia. A pang hits Lexa deeper in the heart as she remembers the little boy’s tawny eyes and deep dimple in his cheek that would appear when Lexa snuck the little boy the scraps of her morning meal, studiously avoiding Lyra’s eyes as she tutted silently from the far end of the dining room. 

Lexa refuses to turn her back to Clarke as she storms farther into Heda’s sanctum. This is her space. She will not be cowed by some sacred blonde girl, sent down from the skies as if destined for her personally. 

Flip. Flip. Flip.

“I must speak with Aden regarding his inability to keep Heda’s location confidential.” Lexa hears herself saying as she runs a finger down the tightly wrapped leather handle of her weapon, feeling the worn material give slightly as she rubs the pad of her thumb into the spot just below the throat of the blade. 

Lexa practically watches Clarke catch fire in front of her as the blonde swells with the force of her anger, blue eyes sparking with barely withhead fury as she bears down onto the Commander with all the wrath of a summer storm. 

“It’s been days, Lexa! I had to practically emotionally black mail a twelve year old to tell me where you were! Because you, a fucking LEADER OF A COUNTRY decided that instead of comforting your people in a time of uncertainty and strife, you were going to hide in your quasi-man cave, SULKING!I”

Lexa blinks under the assault of Clarke’s spat accusations, Clarke’s pulse thrumming at the speed of light as the light shines passionately in her gaze. A moment passes as Lexa continues to turn her knife over and over in her hand, clearly finding some small comfort in the repetitive movement. 

“A man- cave…?”

“Not the point, Heda,” Clarke practically snarls. 

For the first time in Lexa’s short reign as a leader, she dislikes the sound of her title. Coming from Clarke, it sounds like a curse. 

Clarke’s so close now she can almost count the freckles that spray across Lexa’s nose like sand stuck to a wet canvas. Even gaunt and clearly sleep-deprived, whether from an unknown outside threat or her own doing, the Commander was beautiful. Grey-green eyes held steadfast to Clarke’s own, the deep calm within them unruffled despite the rapidly tightening corners of Lexa’s mouth, muscles growing taught as Clarke bears down on her. 

Clarke is suddenly reminded of a fox she had come across in the forest, trapped into a corner by a slightly larger, heavily mutated bobcat. The fox had grown stiller and quieter until it had exploded with fury at its attacker, snarling as blood sprayed from the ferocity of its attack. Still growling a challenge, the creature had bounded into the dense of the trees, scarlet tail flashing in the dying light of day. 

The way Lexa holds herself as Clarke closes in reminds her of the fox- and yet, she can’t find it within herself to stem the tide of her tirade as she moves even closer to the grounder. 

“I even came by your room, there was never candles lit inside and regardless of the hour, the guard would lie for you and say that you weren’t there–”

Lexa can’t stop the way her eyes linger on Clarke’s cupid bow as she talks, despite the absolute vitriol that coats her tone as she spits words at Lexa like arrows loosed from a bow. 

Has she always had that freckle?

All of a sudden Lexa’s skin feels too tight, sweat still dripping down the small of her back. The handle in her hand is the only thing anchoring her to this moment and her tenuous threads of sanity, keeping her from falling into orbit with that dammed freckle–

She wavers. 

“It’s because I wasn’t there, Clarke.” 

The trudge back to Polis in the weak light of a dying day is not a pleasant one. Clarke, seemingly able to keep herself quiet only through some herculean force of will, glares daggers at Lexa throughout the entire, muddy walk through the rolling hills outside of Polis. And through the streets of the city, dodging sellers and shoppers alike as she silently follows a hooded, semi-disguised Lexa back towards the heart of the city, the tower. 

Moments prior, a silent brow had arched as Lexa sheathed her throwing daggers quickly and draped a light black shawl around her shoulders, carefully tucking her hair beneath and arranging it so most of her features were thrown into sharp shadow. 

Catching Clarke’s questioning gaze in the cracked mirror piece that had been hung at the door, Lexa shrugged as she tucked an errant curl behind her ear. 

“Keeps me from being spotted as Heda. Helps me move unnoticed through the city.” 

She leaves through the door within another word, leaving Clarke to ponder what occasions the leader of an adoring public would want to move through the city without the mantle of Heda. 

Now, back at the tower, Lexa lets the shawl fall back, the guards moving in a practice wave to let her in as she strides towards the rickety elevator. She quirks an eyebrow as Clarke hesitates. 

Gathering the remnants of her patience and courage, she follows Lexa into the hated rusty box and into the heart of the tower. 

///

[itsonlybaby]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 - 𝐣. 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐲﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

playlist !

John Murphy - Modern AU

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ in which you and your friends plan on throwing murphy a surprise birthday party, what will happen when the guest of honor is late to his own birthday? ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: kiss scene, sfw

"What's the theme gonna be?" I ask, excitedly.

Octavia, Bellamy, Clarke, and Lincoln sat next to and across from me in the university lounge. Jasper and Monty were in their respective classes but we'd text them the details after the discussion.

The discussion in question is Murphy's birthday party. Well, it was a secret birthday party.

Murphy hadn't been fond of birthday parties, or secret ones, or anything happy in general. It took a while for him to even come out of his shell around us. His snarky comments always bring a smile to my face.

"I didn't know you needed one for a birthday party," Lincoln stated, Bellamy nodding in agreement while I rolled my eyes.

Lincoln and Bellamy only seemed to be here for Octavia and Clarke, the rest of the friend group besides me didn't really know him- it's not that they didn't care for him perse; it's just he's only with us when we're all together. Nobody really gets to sit down and talk with him one-on-one.

"He doesn't even like parties, let alone surprise parties," Clarke spoke up from beside Bellamy. "Let's just get him a present from all of us and leave it at that."

Clarke has always tried to get the group to do what 'benefits' us most, or at least that's what she says when she gets called out on occasion.

But nobody is perfect.

What she had said struck something in me, we'd always thrown parties for everyone in the group so what made Murphy so different? Just because he isn't as social with everyone? I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw Bellamy agreeing with her.

"C'mon guys, were his friends, why do I have to constantly remind you all of that?" I stood up abruptly, catching everyone's attention and the eyes of passersby.

"She is right, it'll be fun Clarke," Octavia added, if I could count on anyone it'd be Octavia to have my back. I smiled when I saw Clarke's small smile, signaling she agreed. If Clarke was going then Bellamy was too. Same with Lincoln and Octavia. Jasper and Monty wouldn't pass up a good time with friends, Monty could even bring Harper!

"Alright! My place, tomorrow night at 6! Don't forget presents!" I say, a little to enthusiastic. I was already picturing the bright smile on Murphy's face, imagining how happy I'd be making him.

I grabbed my bag from the side of the beanbag and made a B-line to the parking lot after noticing the time. I hoped Murphy wasn't mad at me for being late. Murphy had a car, I didn't, he also had a license, I didn't. So he offered (I pleaded) to take me home after classes since we lived in the same apartment complex. It made things easier, I got to have small talks with him, and he... well he got a friend.

Opening the glass doors I saw Murphy's car, I was surprised he'd waited 40 minutes for me.

Opening the passenger door I tossed my bag behind me into the backseat, it landed on a pile of random clothes- thankfully only his. Murphy's car was decorated in my things, hair ties on the shift gear, lipgloss in the change holder, a car freshener I got him in the shape of a bow, he protested it made him look girly but he never tried to give the things I left back.

"You're lucky I waited." Murphy started the car up. "What were you even doing? I know your schedule so don't try and lie." He finished, pulling out of the parking space. He knows my schedule?

Looking over at him I examined his face, like I do every time I'm in the car with him. It's like I can never get enough like I want his face engraved into my brain. His not-so-slicked-back hair, his dark blue eyes, his prominent nose. The imperfections he saw I didn't. Even with his tough guy act I could tell, there were some things he wished he could change. Though I wouldn't change them for the world.

A cough from Murphy snapped me out of my trance, he must've noticed my staring. I shook my head and brushed a strand of hair out of my face.

"Just talking with the others at the lounge." I tried not to reveal too many details about the conversations prior.

Looking out the window, unable to see the frown on Murphy's face, "Of course, cause who wouldn't wanna spend 40 minutes in a university lounge." The stop light turned green and I felt the car pick up speed.

"You should really try talking to some of them more, and I mean like really talking. Like how we are now!" I say, turning back to look at him, realizing how... sad? he looked. I wished everyone could see what I saw in Murphy.

"Yeah, well, I only talk to them for you, so." His hand turned on the radio once he was finished speaking, the sound of Frank Ocean 'Ivy' filling the car shortly after, soon filling the silence. It was my favorite song that I had introduced him to, and ever since then, it's been his favorite too.

He only talks to them for me? As in he only talks to them for me? or for me? I had wanted to ask more questions but I decided to take the hint and leave the topic alone for now.

The song had started to get to me, "I feel a song coming on!" I say, turning up the radio. Murphy knew what this meant, as it wasn't his first rodeo.

"You better not! I will leave you on this highway!" Empty threats he was spewing.

"I thought that I was dreaming when you said you loved me!" I sang loudly, with no care in the world. Unbeknownst to me, Murphy was admiring me from the driver's seat, how I was so effortlessly beautiful to him. A smile found its way onto his lips, a rare occurrence to most, but a common one with you.

"The start of nothin'..." He grumbled through a smile.

"Had no chance to prepare, I couldn't see you comin'!" We both sang along, his smile growing bigger with every lyric.

It was amazing to see him like this, without his usual frown. His smile was beautiful, and I wish I had the guts to tell him.

Pulling into a parking space near our complex I leaned into the backseat to grab my bag. The sudden dread that the moment before would be cut short. Murphy seemed to feel it too as his smile returned to his normal scowl.

"Murphy?" I look at him before opening the door, catching his attention quickly.

"Yeah?"

"Come over tomorrow, at 6ish. And happy early birthday!" I hoped that didn't reveal too much about the party happening tomorrow. And with that I hopped out of the car and made my way into the complex, leaving Murphy with his thoughts, of me.

I had already gotten his present a week prior, it was a build-a-bear plushie. A big green frog, dressed in an outfit similar to what Murphy wears, but the best part is the voice message when you press his hand. It, well I, say, "yu laik ai raunon" meaning, you are my person, its trigdasleng. Few people know the made-up language, Murphy included. I just hope he likes it. It's also my way of saying, I like you.

It's been 30 minutes past six. Everyone was growing doubt Murphy would even come, but I had faith. I was staring out the window when I overheard Octavia and Lincoln talking.

"Why would you tell him? It's supposed to be a surprise Lincoln." Octavia whispered, crossing her arms in disapproval.

It was obvious now why he didn't show, but if he knew we were all coming why not just make an appearance?

Staring back out the window I saw Murphy's car pull up, joy flowed through me but was slowly dispercing the longer he sat there, unmoving. Why wasn't he getting out?

I made my way to the door with the plushie in hand.

"I'll be back guys," I state, not turning back to get their answers.

"Alright!" Jasper and Monty yell, too busy mixing together concoctions of drinks and making Bellamy taste them.

Coming up to his car I see his head resting on the steering wheel, I knock on the door and I see his eyes peek out to see me, he still made no motion to move.

I sigh and walk to the passenger side door and get in.

"Murphy?" I ask, putting a hand on his shoulder, making him sit up to face me.

"What." He blankly stated. I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a little hurt over his tone, but I pushed on for him.

"What's wrong?"

"Why are you here, y/n?" It was a genuine question, a dumb one, but genuine.

"What do you m-" He cut me off.

"Why are you here, acting like you care." His words stung, but it's now or never.

"I'm here for you, I'm here because I love you, Johnathan." I hadn't meant to say the last part with full confidence, and the look on his face turned into one of shock, the previous emotions long forgotten with my newfound confession.

Moments of silence passed and I took that as a sign to leave, I began opening the door but was stopped by his hand, it sent a chill down my spine.

"Did you mean that?" Murphy questioned, staring into my eyes, looking for any signs of deception or regret.

"I meant every part.." My voice wavered, becoming fully aware of the situation and how vulnerable I felt under his strong gaze and grip.

Before I even knew it his lips were on mine, the kiss was passionate and loving, full of months pent up with love, like it's what our lifelong goal was, to be here, in this car, with each other. No other care in the world.

I pulled away for air and fully examined him, the dusty pink that lined his cheeks, if I could take a picture of this I would.

"I love you too, but what is that?" He asked, pointing to the frog in my lap. I had completely forgotten about his present!

"Its for you!" I excitedly say, shoving the frog practically into his face

Murphy took it into his big hands and examined it all over, with a goofy grin on his face. He discovered the button and pressed it, my voice filling the air for a few seconds. He took a minute to translate the sentence in his head, but when he did he had the biggest smile as he kissed me again, and again, and again...

"Shall we go to the party, birthday boy?" I say in between little kisses.

"We could stay here, in the backseat." He replied, suggestively, I giggled at this

"Don't tempt me."

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[dirtyriver]

Mélusine 8: Halloween, 2000, written by François Gilson, art by Clarke

[lexa-griffins]

I was thinking about clexa the other day and I remembered your masc clarke ideas and I got so happy hehehe I think it's such a fun concept

🥹🥹🥹 I'm so happy my masc Clarke ideas make you happy when thinking about clexa 🥰 masc Clarke is very near and dear to me and I love her with all my heart so it's always so good to see other people who also enjoy her 🥰🥰

[freikdreinaslaw]

Bellamy: The real treasure was the memories we made along the way.

Clarke: Murphy almost died.

Bellamy: like I said, treasured memories.

[livvymd]

Inside Trouble (Part 2)

The kiss should have ended there.

It should have been a moment of clarity—one where you pulled away, looked at each other, and agreed it was a bad idea.

But when you started to lean back, breathless, George’s hands tightened on your waist.

"Not yet," he murmured.

And then he pulled you back in.

This time, the kiss was hungrier, like he had spent too long pretending he didn’t want this. His fingers gripped your waist like he was scared you’d slip away again, and you had to brace yourself against his chest as he kissed you deeper.

You felt dizzy—not just from the way his lips moved against yours, but from the fact that this was George.

And now you weren’t just thinking about him as your best friend.

He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it—in him.

Until—

Footsteps.

Your heart stopped.

You jerked away, eyes wide, breathing hard.

George groaned under his breath, tilting his head back in frustration, but he let you go just as another contestant walked into the kitchen.

They blinked at you both. "Uh… am I interrupting something?"

You scrambled for words, but George recovered quickly. "Nope. Just talking."

"Yep," you agreed too fast, forcing a smile. "Just talking."

The contestant raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. They just grabbed a water bottle and left.

The second the door shut, you let out a breath, pressing a hand to your racing heart.

George, however, just grinned.

"That was close," he muttered.

You shot him a glare. "You pulled me back in!"

He didn’t even look sorry. "Yeah. And?"

You stared at him. "And?! George, we’re literally on a reality show where people get eliminated based on social connections—"

"You say that like I wouldn’t take a nomination just to kiss you again."

Your breath hitched.

Because the way he said it? Like it wasn’t even a question? Like he meant it?

You shook your head, trying to ignore the warmth in your chest. "This is bad. Really bad."

George stepped closer. "You sure about that?"

You swallowed. "Yes."

His eyes flickered down to your lips, and suddenly, you weren’t so sure anymore.

But before you could figure it out, another contestant walked in.

This time, you didn’t wait for questions. You turned on your heel and left—before you did something stupid again.

Like let George Clarke kiss you a third time.

Day 16 – The Avoidance Game

You avoided him.

It wasn’t easy—George was everywhere. At breakfast, during group challenges, even when you were just sitting in the lounge. Every time you looked up, he was watching you with this annoying smirk, like he knew exactly why you were keeping your distance.

And okay, yeah. Maybe he did know.

But you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction.

At least, that’s what you thought—until he cornered you in the hallway.

"Are we seriously pretending that didn’t happen?" he muttered.

You stepped back, but your back hit the wall. Trapped.

"George—"

"Y/N." He stepped closer. "Talk to me."

You crossed your arms, trying to look unbothered. "It was just a moment."

He scoffed. "Oh yeah? Just a moment?"

You refused to look at him. "Yes."

George tilted his head, like he was deciding whether to believe you. "Then why haven’t you been able to look at me all day?"

Your breath caught. "I have—"

"Nope." His voice was low, teasing. "You’ve been avoiding me. And not very well, by the way."

You clenched your jaw. "Because I’m trying to be smart about this. The others are already suspicious."

George just shrugged. "Let them be."

You stared at him. "George, someone’s gonna notice."

He grinned. "Let them."

Your pulse spiked. "You don’t care if people find out?"

He exhaled sharply. "I care about you."

Your heart stuttered.

George took another step, so close now. His fingers brushed against your hip, and you felt your whole body heat up.

"You really want to pretend like that kiss meant nothing?" he asked softly.

You didn’t answer.

Because the truth?

You weren’t sure you could anymore.

George smirked. "Then stop me."

And then he kissed you again.

Slower this time. Less desperate, more intentional. Like he was proving a point.

And the worst part?

You let him.

Because George Clarke?

He had already won.

[commander-heart-eyes]

Clexa Spotify Playlist - Day 2

Hold on ~ Chord Overstreet

[low-budget-korra]

Please, stay // I cant 

Did we make it? // Yes, we did

You came // You called

Why are you still here? // I love you, silly

We cant be together  // I know

Are you here for the treasure? // Im here for you

I wish we had more time // Me too

May we meet again // I really hope we do