#clexa are always ready for her to do something but she just likes to sit and write stories

[lexa-griffins]

I know we have a lot of headcanons with Madi in farm clexa but almost nothing on her baby sister Saige. How is Saige?

Oh my god I've been hoping for someone to ask me about Saige!!!!!

So Saige is the princess of the household. I don't mean she is treated like one or that she acts like a spoiled princess, but she is the princesy girly fairy of the kids. She's all Clarke in looks, long wavy blonde hair, round faced, down to the beauty mark above her lip, despite her aqua eyes feeling more Lexa than Clarke. She's all the whimsy of her parents put together, a disney princess with Lexa's love for books and nature and Clarke's creativity and brighter look of the world.

Saige is a mama's girl completely, Clarke is her prince charming and knight in shinning armor while Lexa is her fairy god mother whom she adores so very much. She's a little romantic and she tells Lexa more than once she hopes she finds a boy just like mama when she grows up, making her older sister roll her eyes and Lexa promise her she will.

She's a creative soul, a natural storyteller who unlike Madi who fights dragons in the living room, sees fairies in the woods surrounding the farm, with names and unique stories for each of them. She has a wild imagination and always seems to be a little bit in her own world which can be a problem when she spaces out during chores or classes.

Madi is her idol, Saige adores her big sister like no other. She copies so much of what Madi does only to realize half way through she hates getting dirty in the mood like Madi enjoys, isn't a fan of heaving lifting of being around the noisy chickens. The bunnies and the soft sheep are much more her vibe. She gets her heart broken much more often than Madi ever did and more than once Lexa and Clarke have been called into school because Madi made a little boy cry for breaking up with Saige, who spent the entire time holding Madi while crying.

The farm is her happy place but in a different way than it is for her moms or Madi. She's much homier, prefers the garden where Lexa's flowers are to sit down and read, instead of learning about them from the gardening perceptive, prefer to learn about the meanings of the types and colors.

She's a princess and a fairy with a romantic personality that despite being so different from Madi's more independent and farm girl personality, there isn't much rivalry, perhaps because they are raised in an environment where they arent compared to one another or told one should be more like the other, just like their younger siblings aren't. As teen girls they do have some more petty sisterly fights, they share a room and its sometimes hard to have time for themselves in a house so full of kids but if theres one thing they are taught by their moms is to apologize and move on, which they do. They might have the strongest bound out of all the siblings, even stronger than the bound the twins have honestly. Madi adored her little sister since the moment Lexa told her she was pregnant and Saige adores her just the same back :)

[butmakeitgayblog]

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

[coneheda]

87 clexa 🤩

87. “You were never just my friend.”

“Wanna tell me about them?’

Clarke glances up from where her fingers idly run through water droplets on the walnut bar top to find the bartender giving her a knowing look. What they know, Clarke isn’t sure, mostly because at this point her brain is swimming with more questions than answers and what ifs and not yets, that- combined with alcohol- leave her brain nothing more than three pounds of mush. 

“Who?” She feigns, resting her head in her hand. She tries to blow an errant strand of hair that falls in front of her face, but gives up after her fourth attempt makes her light headed.

The bartender replaces her empty tumbler with a glass of water.

“The person who has you moping in a bar at eight o’clock on a wednesday”

“It might not be a person y’know. I could be having problems at work or an early mid life crisis.” Clarke grumbles. Who is this guy thinking he knows what's going on in her life?

“I’m no therapist, but I’ve been doing this job long enough to know the difference between those looks and your face says love life all over.” He crosses his arms smugly.

“You couldn’t be more wrong about that.” Clarke mutters, taking a sip of water.

“We’ll see about that.” He says.

“Don’t you have work to do or something?”

“You’re the only one here, the glasses are polished, silverware wrapped, and I have more limes sliced than I’ll ever need for tomorrow. Aside from actually closing up which I can’t do for another two hours, you are my work so no I have nothing better to be doing.” He says, wiping away condensation masterpiece without a second thought. “Look you can sit here and brood quietly while you sober up or you can talk it out and see if it helps any.”

Clarke sighs. What could it hurt? 

“Her name is Lexa and she is…or was a friend”

“Ookay, tell me about this friend Lexa then.” He says mirroring her position across the bar.

“She’s leaving tomorrow and I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again, which is stupid because she’s only moving 30 minutes away, but… after today I dont think she’ll want to see me.”

“And why’s that?”

“I think I broke her heart” Clarke admits, leaving out the ‘and maybe my own’

“So it is your love life!” He snaps his fingers and grins like he just won a game Clarke didn’t know they were playing.

“No!” Clarke splutters “We were never- we aren’t- I don’t- she’s my best friend okay? That’s all its ever been.”

The bartender gives her a dubious look. “Yeah not buying it. She sounds like a lot more than a friend to me.”

“I guess that’s the problem. We never were just friends but we were never more than that either. There was- when we met we almost...but we were both just out of relationships and I wasn’t ready to be in another one and didn’t want us to just be a one off or a regret so I stopped it, said not yet and that became not ever when we fell into a regular friend routine and everything was fine! Mostly. I mean I guess there was always that nagging ‘what if’ in the back of my mind about that night and maybe I think of her in ways I don’t with other friends and there were times that I thought something might happen, but it never did” Clarke admits trying to tame the heat rising to her cheeks. “But she never brought it up either! Until today. Because why not wait until the last possible minute right? Who does that? Lexa. Lexa does that”  

“So if you like her and she likes you…” He trails off. If only it were that simple!

“She asked me if I could think of a reason for her to stay, can you believe that? Like I’m going to be the one to hold her back so I said no and-”

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse you?”

“I said bullshit. Yeah she may have done some straight out of a romance movie shit and left it until she had a reason not to see you after if things went south but you just told me you like the girl and she’s only moving 30 minutes away. Is she not worth the little extra distance? Who cares if she’s here or there if you both finally figured your shit out.”

Clarke buries her head in her hands, muffling her groan. 

“Yeah you fucked up, but you said she’s not leaving until tomorrow right? You still have time to fix it. I’m sure all that built up tension between you will lead to a-”

“I don’t think that’s appropriate” Clarke says, her face flushes as images flash through her mind. Not that she’d be opposed to that, but still he doesn’t need to know that.

“Hey,” he points to himself  “bartender not a therapist, remember? The only LCSW I have is a license for spirits and wine.”

“You forgot the C” Clarke points out, thankful for the change in subject. The bartender flicks his towel at her..

“Mmm crummy-advice say it real fast though so it sounds like one word.” He grins “Now off you go, win your girl back.”  

—

A loud knock wakes her from her nap on the couch. Is it still considered a nap if its after 9pm and she probably would have stayed asleep if not for the banging? She didn’t mean to fall asleep, she was just exhausted after a long day and her eyelids got heavier as the TV got trashier.

She rubs the sleep from her eyes, muffling a yawn into her sleeve as she walks to the door. She barely has it open before a flash of blonde darts in and she’s engulfed in a bone crushing hug and her favorite scent.

“Clarke?” Lexa says hesitantly as she wraps her arms around her. A few hours ago she thought she was never going to hear from Clarke again let alone hold her and she's not going to waste the opportunity.

“I went to your place, but Anya said you decided to leave early since you had everything packed.” Clarkes muffled reply is barely heard through the fabric of Lexa’s sweatshirt.

“Yeah, I thought it would be better this way.” Lexa says loosening their hold so they are still embracing but she can look at Clarkes face. Her eyes are red, nose runny and- “Please tell me you didn’t drive”

Clarke shakes her head “My keys are still at the bar. Murphy called me a ride and then Anya grudgingly called me another one since I guess I left my phone at the bar too and I don’t think she likes me that much right now.” She shrugs eyes locking with Lexa’s “But I had to see you tonight” 

Lexa didn’t look at her phone before answering the door but she guesses she’ll find a few texts if not a missed call from her friend warning her about her late night visitor when she does. She sighs, leading them toward the couch, tucking a leg under herself as she sits and gestures for Clarke to do the same.

“You already saw me today.” Lexa starts when it’s clear Clarke isn’t going to.  

“Can we pretend I didn’t? Or at least have that conversation again?” Clarke asks.

Lexa tries to quell the hope rising inside of her, but the girl sitting in front of her has always been her greatest weakness. “I asked if there was a reason for me to stay”

“And there isn’t” Clarke nods and just like that the hope sinks like lead in her stomach. Seeing Lexa’s face fall Clarke hurries to continue “Wait wait that’s not what I meant! At least not totally. I don’t want you to stay for me, you hated your old job-”

“I could have found another one in the area.” 

“You found this one though and it is such a good fit for you.” Clarke says, taking Lexa’s hand in her own. “And I don’t know why it had to be one or the other.”

“What are you saying?” Lexa asks, searching Clarkes face for the answer.

“Why did you wait until today to ask me?” Clarke counters.

Lexa sighs, rubbing her thumb on the back of Clarkes hand. “I didn’t mean to. I kept wanting to talk to you, but I was scared I made everything up and I didn’t want to ruin whatever time we had left together with my feelings for you.”

“Lex…you’re making it sound so dramatic. You moved 30 minutes away, not to the other side of the country!” 

“You seemed to agree with me earlier!” Lexa huffs, turning her body away from Clarkes. "You said we were just friends"

A finger on her chin draws her back and suddenly Clarke is sitting a lot closer to her than she was before. Lexa swallows hard, eyes flitting back and forth between Clarkes.

“I was an idiot before, you were never just my friend and I’m not going to let something good slip between my fingers just because I’m scared are you?”

Lexa shakes her head and that's all the permission Clarke needs to close the gap between them.

[coeurdastronaute]

Xmas Day 36: HSAU

Day 35

Clexa: HSAU first Christmas back home

Home. 

Lexa hadn’t thought she’d miss home as much as she did, but something about walking back through the familiar screen door, and remembering all of the familiar smells and the way it felt-- as if the temperature itself was different, perfect-- she sighed and let her mom hug her so tightly she was certain she’d broken her ribs again. 

“Still sore?” 

“Just a bit,” she lied. She was very sore, but no one needed to know that. 

Her bag dropped  and as soon as it did, Bear leaped up, hands on her hips, hugging her and wiggling so much he couldn’t sit still long enough for her to get a good pet in either way. He was the one she missed the most, she decided, crouching down on the floor and letting him wiggle all over and lick her here and there, unable to express anything quick enough. 

Lexa was grateful that her family was able to come see her play just two weeks prior. She was grateful someone came out every few weeks for a game-- it made it pass quicker, made her less homesick. But nothing would beat this feeling. 

The house was decorated much like it always had been. The squat tree was in the corner near the fire place, where the stockings were hung haphazardly but still there. Little knickknacks made an appearance during the holidays and garland was around all of the banisters. The kitchen smelled like her favorite dinner and Lexa smiled while her mother and uncle chatted about plans for her break. 

She hadn’t thought to not look, unable to help herself. Clarke had arrived two days prior, done with her finals early and itching for home. For some reason not being on the same coast made Lexa feel oddly lonely as she wrapped up her finals, hopeful for solid marks across the board. The balance of it all, of school and practice and training-- it’d been an adjustment. She was ready to recuperate. She was ready to see Clarke, even though the was shopping with her--

“Finally!” Clarke shouted, hopping down the stairs, Aden in tow. “That took ages.” 

“I thought you were shopping.”

“A clever rouse. I wanted to make sure everything was ready for you and your mom invited me to dinner.” 

“And you accepted?” 

“Ha ha,” her mother called as she retreated to the kitchen, waving a towel as Gus chuckled and plopped down on the couch. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” she asked her brother, smothering him in a hug as well. 

“You got taller… and more muscles?” 

“Not much more,” Lexa disagreed, looking down at her body. 

She’d gotten a trainer provided by the department. She got regulated meals and specialized training to be better. She was going to take advantage of getting and staying in shape. But she didn’t think she changed that much. 

“Quite a bit,” he disagreed.

“And you shrunk,” she punched his arm. 

Aden had grown a solid four inches in what was just a month since she’d seen him, or so she thought. 

Clarke clung to her side and kissed her shoulder, earning a kiss on her head. She was wearing the sweatshirt Lexa had given her when she first decided to go to Yale. She was proud. 

“God, it feels nice to be home,” Lexa whispered. Clarke squeezed her again. 

XXXXXXX

It was weird, as much as it was wonderful, to be home. Lexa missed her bed most of all. She missed her room and her things and how much it felt like she wasn’t growing up even though she was. But at the same time, it felt like starting a book in a language you barely understand-- you can’t move languidly through the adjectives and you can’t feel the richness when you’re trying to remember if it’s present or past or imperatif. Home felt like that, a little bit, Lexa decided, though after a few days she started to remember it quite easily. 

“I miss your dorm,” Clarke whispered. 

“Just in this moment, I do too,” Lexa nodded. 

Hushed and pressed close, the heat from the two bodies helped chase away the chill that always settled in the attic anytime after October first. 

There were benefits to going away to school,” Lexa realized as they carefully and quietly celebrated being together. It wasn’t that they didn’t get to see each other enough. Both were careful to allow the other their own life at college. It was just that they really liked to be together, much to the amusement of their friends who teased them ridiculously. Lexa was even used to teammates telling her to go get laid instead of coming to a party when she got particularly snappy during practice. 

It was just a two and a half hour train ride, and Lexa didn’t mind making it when she didn’t have practice. She knew Clarke would come to her more in the fall and she’d make the trip in the spring. She liked the idea of almost five hours on the train total to get work done. It was like a moving library and study pod at that point. 

But this, she sighed as Clarke kissed her ribs. This was better than she remembered, even if they did have to be exceptionally quiet. 

“Are you sure your mom is home?” Lexa complained. 

“I’m positive. I got enough of a guilt trip leaving to come over here on Christmas Eve, I know she is waiting up for me, too.” 

“Maybe I can keep you up a bit later then?” 

Clarke didn’t get to answer before she was twisted, put on her back and pinned down. A strong thigh ground down and the artist bit her lip against a moan. She wanted to feel Lexa’s back. She liked holding onto her shoulders. For some reason, the pinning was working though. 

“Santa won’t leave us presents if we stay up all night.” 

“I don’t want anything other than you,” Lexa murmured, kissing the soft spot of skin under her ear. 

It was slow. Quiet and slow and close. Pressed together, they didn’t move far, just chased that feeling together, growing slightly sweaty under the heavy duvet and old quilt on Lexa’s bed. It was still more room than the twin in the dorm, yet they couldn’t be bothered to untangle and provide any kind of breathing room. 

Crushed beneath her girlfriend as she tried to catch her breath, Clarke pulled her fingers out and up along Lexa’s back, finally, herself still circling her hips as she came down from the shared high. She liked the weight. She liked to feel it all. She liked to cling to Lexa who languidly came back to earth, reminding her to stay anchored before she floated away completely. 

“Fuck, I missed you,” Lexa sighed, her head moving to Clarke’s chest, kissing until her chin was on her stomach and she looked up in the dim light at her girlfriend. 

“I saw you last weekend,” Clarke rolled her eyes, pushing hair from the quarterback’s face. “And the weekend before that.”

“It’ll never be enough.” 

“Did you ever think buying all those coffees would lead to this?” 

“I could have never imagined something as good as us,” Lexa shook her head. “My mind was incapable of believing this existed.”

“Oh shut up.” 

“It’s true.” 

With a sigh, Clarke finally stretched to look for her phone. They may have been college age adults now, but she still respected and liked Mrs. Woods enough to not press her luck. She still tolerated her own mother enough to know not to push too hard. Lexa squeezed her hips before getting out of the bed. She pulled on her briefs and pulled up her hair. Clarke looked over the top of her phone, forgetting what she was checking initially. 

The time.

That’s what she--

Lexa stretched her neck slightly and arched her back, searching for a sports bra in the dressed. Clarke fell in love with her as she scratched her calf with her foot absently. A gawky flamingo, half naked and tawny in the singular warm light on the other side of the room. 

“It’s after midnight. I might still catch Santa if I hurry.” 

“It’s starting to snow-- you don’t want to stay?” 

The way she says it makes Clarke smile before she drops the blind she’d peeped through for the weather report. They’d already braved worse back east. 

“I can handle my mom, don’t worry.” 

“I can’t help it.” 

Clarke shakes her head and pulls on her clothes, despite the lack of help from her girlfriend. They were already onto their third year of being together, and Clarke was ready for the rest. She wanted them all. 

“Can I give you your present now since I won’t see you tomorrow?” 

“You will see me tomorrow, it’s the 26th and we have a party to go to.”

“You know what I mean,” Lexa humphed, digging around in her bag. “But I can wait and hold on to this if you’re not feeling like the Christmas spirit.” 

They had a fifty dollar limit as both of them were barely working and being a broke college kid was stressful enough. But Lexa was never a rule follower and she was exceptionally eager to give her present. 

“I’m ready!” Clarke grinned before reaching for her backpack and pulling out a gift as well. “I’m more than ready.” 

“Was this your plan? Seduce me to get presents early?” 

Clarke shrugged and wiggled her eyebrows. 

“What’d you get me?” 

Hands out and waiting, Lexa exchanged gifts, still nervous to see if Clarke would like it. But Clarke tore in, eagerly tearing apart the wrapping paper and finding the smaller box inside. 

“Oh, Lex, you can’t--”

“It wasn’t that much. I found it at a vintage shop in New London,” she hurried, afraid of getting scolded when all she wanted was to be thoughtful. “I didn’t break the rules. I just.. I thought it was perfect.”

It was perfect. A tiny ring with a tiny emerald sat in the box. It was simple and soft and according to the man who sold it, nearly two hundred years old, though Lexa wasn’t sure how to tell. Clarke tried it on and smiled as it fit perfectly. 

“It is perfect,” she smiled, kissing her girlfriend swiftly. 

“I’m never buying you jewellry again. It was too stressful.” 

“You did so well though.” 

“I remembered you said your grandma had an emerald set and you loved them, but they got lost somewhere along time, and so I figured this could-- you know. You could start your own set. It’s tiny--”

“It’s perfect,” she promised again, gazing at it happily. 

“Good,” Lexa nodded, finally exhaling. 

“Now open yours.” 

Lexa nodded, ready to finally relax and excited to see what she’d receive. Carefully, unlike the heathen she was dating, she unwrapped and removed the lid of the box before dropping it to the floor and holding her breath. 

For what felt like a trillion years, Clarke looked at Lexa’s face and watched too many emotions playing across it. 

“This was my final for my portraiture class,” she explained finally, hoping to will it all away, that she’d ruined it and stepped across a line. 

“That’s me,” Lexa whispered, still not looking up. “And that’s Aden, and Mom, and… Dad? How did you-- When did-- What?” 

She was smiling. Tearing up but still, she was smiling, and Clarke smiled back hopefully. 

“Your mom sent me a few pictures. I thought… I thought a family portrait might be something nice for your to have. I know that last family picture you have was from when you were like fourteen, and it just-- I thought--”

“Clarke, this is-- you made this?” 

“Yeah.” 

“This is absolutely perfect. I don’t think I could treasure anything more than this. Seriously-- this is a gift that-- did you show my mom the final product yet?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Can I show her tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Clarke nodded, picking up her girlfriend’s astonishment and eagerness easily. 

“Wow,” Lexa whispered, tracing her fingertip softly along her father’s face as it smiled back at her. “It looks just like how I remember him. I’m always afraid I won’t remember, but you… I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Clarke smiled, carefully wiping a tear Lexa hadn’t noticed. 

“I look pretty good in this.” 

“You were the easiest.” 

“How?” 

“I know you the best. I could conjure you in my mind.” 

“Do you conjure me often?” 

“Constantly.” 

Lexa nodded and stared back at the portrait.

“Did you get an A?” 

“I did,” Clarke chuckled. 

“Good.” 

The snow was falling outside and the house was quiet while the other members of the family slept at a reasonable hour. But for now, the two in the attic hugged each other tightly on the old full-size bed in the back corner and felt their hearts growing bigger, if it were possible.

NEXT

[anonfanfic]

Rewrite The Stars || Clexa

“You’re wrong. During the test I sense every part of you.” Lexa, or rather The Judge, stood at a distance, which made Clarke’s heart ache as she stared at Lexa’s familiar face. “I’m feeling your pain right now.”

A blinding rage overtook Clarke and she moved toward The Judge with her hands pulled into tight fists.

“Really? Then feel my pain holding Lexa as she dies,” Clarke’s voice cracked, and she hated that she was exposing such raw emotions to someone who looked like her soulmate but was just a shell. It was like someone was taking a knife and running it though her heart each time she heard Lexa’s voice.

Clarke’s looked into green eyes that had once looked at her with heated anger and more recently gazed in complete love. Now, however, there was only a cold distance that drove the knife even deeper into Clarke’s chest.

The Judge’s expression changed, and Clarke couldn’t read it. She was so concentrated on trying to figure out what they were thinking she didn’t immediately register The Judge moving toward her, closing the space in a few long strides.

The deep green eyes were still locked on her and Clarke couldn’t stop the drop in her stomach as they reached up and placed long cool fingers on her cheek. Clarke gasped as the reality around her melted away and was replaced by her own memories.

Lexa’s figure appeared in front of her like a celestial being. They were in Lexa’s private chambers in Polis Tower, before it had been reduced to rubble and ash. The setting sun was sending a radiating warm glow around the room. Clarke knew this moment. She had lived it most nights as she tried to find rest.

Clarke looked down at their locked arms and then back up at Lexa – her Lexa – the green eyes she loved looking at her with warmth and love. Clarke didn’t hesitate, she moved in pressing her lips to Lexa’s and unlike in her dreams she felt the pressure of Lexa’s response. It felt so real.

Clarke pulled back to catch her breath and watched a tear roll down Lexa’s face. They were saying goodbye, little did Clarke know at the time, the sands of their hourglass were down to single grains. Before Clarke could move in again, she felt herself being pulled away.

She watched as memories flashed before her eyes. Lexa’s face, Clarke alone in the woods for months, spitting in Lexa’s face, a knife to Lexa’s neck, both kneeling in front of the other at different times, and more intimate and private moments that the two had shared.

Some of the memories lasted longer than others in Clarke’s mind. It wasn’t until Clarke heard the firing of the gun and smelled the gunpowder that she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Stop!” Clarke screamed, the word tearing at her throat and wondering if this was her punishment, a living hell of having to watch Lexa die over and over.

Clarke waited and tried to use all her senses to figure out if she was going to open her eyes to Lexa’s shocked expression and dark blood pouring out of a gunshot wound.

She heard only silence and let her eyes flutter open. She was back in the present, the purple and blues of the galaxy swirling around them.

Clarke took a step back, The Judges hand still raised between them.

“You had no right.” Clarke’s jaw was clenched, and she felt her throat contracting.

“You have felt pain.” The Judge finally lowered their hand that was still hanging in the air. “You have felt injustice and the decisions you have made echo that pain.” The Judge’s lips pursed, and they looked up closing their eyes.

Clarke looked up into the purple expanse above them, wondering if some being or event was going to happen to signal the end of the test. After a moment that seemed to roll on into eternity The Judge looked back at Clarke.

“There were choices that were made for you. While we can’t give you back time. We are curious, if given the chance, would you make different choices?”

Clarke tilted her head in confusion, but before she could ask a question a blinding light surrounded her, and it felt like her body was melting away again. Her body was warm, not uncomfortable, more comforting like a tight embrace. Clarke wondered after feeling like she had been floating in a white expanse for years, if this was now her reality. Clarke hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until her lungs started burning. Maybe that was a good sign, she could still breath and was therefore still alive in some form.

Thankfully, Clarke felt weight come back to her and the harsh light beating against her eyelids started to dim. The smell of salt water and the cool breeze on her face gave Clarke hope she was back in some form of reality. Clarke opened her eyes and tried to get them to focus on her surroundings. She blinked and the world started to come back to her. She was on a beach surrounded by trees. She couldn’t be sure if this was real or just another part of the test.

“There are choices that come with free will and we have learned through our time with humanity that one of the strongest emotions is love. If given a chance at love, would that change our views on humanity?” Clarke heard the voice, like a part of the wind around her, in her mind. “Do not take this opportunity for granted.”

There was a sharp ringing in Clarke’s head. Almost knocking her off her feet as it interrupted her balance. She shook her head, trying to make it stop. As the ringing subsided, Clarke’s eyes scanned the shoreline of the beach. Small waves broke along the beach and there were different fallen trees and large rocks dotting the sand.

Clarke froze and her heart gave a painful lurch as she spotted someone sitting on one of the rocks facing the water. They were about twenty feet from where Clarke was standing their back to her.

“Lexa?” Clarke’s voice almost got lost in the waves lapping up on the shore. It was impossible. Wasn’t it? It was probably The Judge ready for another test.

Clarke’s heart skipped a beat as Lexa turned to face her. There were no braids, war paint, or armor. This was the Lexa that Clarke remembered from her private chambers. One of the last times they had been alone together.

The second their eyes locked Clarke knew it was her – it was the real Lexa. It was her Lexa.

Clarke’s legs were moving before her mind could keep up. She saw Lexa leap off the rock and rush toward her. Clarke felt her feet digging into the soft sand, trying to slow her strides, but it didn’t matter – Clarke would force herself to fly if it meant she could get to Lexa faster.

They met in a tangle of hands and lips. Clarke tasted Lexa and she felt pieces of herself starting to come back together. Her hands moved up Lexa’s arms to her face and Clarke was whole again. She had never really noticed how broken she had been without Lexa until this moment. Lexa was real and Clarke had her in her arms once again.

“How?” Was all Clarke could manage as they broke apart and stared at each other.

Lexa cupped Clarke’s face in her hands. She smiled and there was no more burden. Clarke was seeing Lexa as she had always wanted to see her, without the weight of her title on her shoulders.

“There are parts of humanity that are a choice. We have free will. I was given the choice to give up my place in the Flame as the Commander to live out the rest of my days with you – here.”

“You have up your birthright to be with me on an abandoned planet?” Clarke couldn’t believe the words were coming out of her mouth. None of this seemed possible.

Lexa smiled and leaned in to kiss Clarke. “We were all given a choice.” Lexa looked over Clarke’s shoulder. Clarke turned and saw her friends working together to make fires and shelter.

“Clarke.”

Clarke turned around as Lexa spoke her name. Even that was something she hadn’t realized until this very moment that she had craved. She loved hearing her name on Lexa’s lips.

“We owe nothing more to our people.” Lexa’s smile widened and she moved her arms down to wrap them around Clarke’s waist. “This time is for us.”

Clarke felt her expression lighten. She was lightheaded and knew that if Lexa were to release her, she’d probably fall to her knees in the sand.

This was it. This was the time that had been stolen for them. They had the chance to finally be together and not have the responsibility of leading armies. They were just two girls in love.

The girl from the sky and the girl from the ground. They had met again.

[cantgetoutofmyheda]

◼ and/or ♥ clexa

Hi anon! I love this combo. :)

I’ve never written Clexa as “older” - meaning, them married with teenaged kids... but the thought below has swirled into my mind on more than one occasion...

Headcanon Prompts

---

Clarke and Lexa are in bed, Lexa with her nose in a book and Clarke mindlessly watching something on the TV, when they hear a knock on their door. Already knowing who’s on the other side, Lexa calls for her to come in. Sixteen year old Madi saunters through the door and plops herself on her moms’ bed and has a timid look on her face—she waits for them to ask what it is she needs.

“How can we help you, darling daughter?” Lexa chides, eyes still stuck on the pages in her hands.

Clarke nudges her wife’s side and gives their teenage daughter a loving smile, “What’s up, sweetie?”

Madi sort of shuffles in her place, “Can I go out Friday night?”

This causes Lexa to close the book. She finally brings her attention to their daughter, “Out where?”

“Movies.” The girl shrugs before she adds, “And maybe something to eat after?”

“With a group of friends, yes?” Lexa gives her a knowing look. A look that suggests what she wants her daughter to answer, and Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Babe. For a lawyer you sure do ask a lot of leading questions.” Clarke lets out. She turns her attention to Madi and changes the course of the conversation. “I think what your mother meant to ask was... Who will you be going out with?”

“JJ.”

Lexa’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “JJ? Is anyone else joining you on this excursion?”

“Mooooommmm,” Madi whines. “It’s hardly an excursion. And no. It’ll just be me and JJ.”

Lexa turns to her wife. “Do you hear this? She’s trying to get us to agree to let her go on a date with JJ!”

Clarke gives Madi an apologetic look before she turns to Lexa. “Yes, I’m sitting right next to you. I heard her.” She sighs at her wife and offers her daughter a smile. “JJ is a lovely boy. Murph and Emori raised him to be just that.”

“He’s pretty great,” Madi replied with a smile matching her one mother’s.

“If he’s anything like Murphy was when we were their age, I’d beg to differ,” Lexa scoffs.

“You told me I could start dating when I was sixteen,” Madi quickly jumped in. “I’ve been sixteen for months now and I’ve never asked. I wanted to wait until I knew that I really liked someone.”

“That’s very smart of you.” Clarke nodded and turned to her wife. “Don’t you think so, babe?”

“Exquisitely noble.” Lexa’s sarcasm could be heard from a mile away. She looks at her daughter, still perched on the foot of their bed, then turns back to her wife and speaks in a more hushed tone, “Remember what we were like when we were sixteen? What we all were like? Are we really ready for her to grow up so quickly?”

Clarke has always known that Lexa would be the more over-protective parent. She’s always known because of the things Lexa and Anya would do as kids—things that Clarke would have to help them weasel their way out of.

Clarke takes Lexa’s hand in her own. “We raised a good kid, Lex. Look at her.”

They both turn to their daughter, who remains sitting in her spot. Doe-eyed and waiting for her moms to give her an answer so she can reply to JJ’s text message.

Clarke starts to speak again, “She’s incredibly bright and intelligent. She surrounds herself with friends that are basically family. We told her she could do this when she turned sixteen. We should probably make good on our word.”

Lexa sighs. “When we said that three years ago. It felt like a lifetime would pass before she got this old.”

“You guys are talking about me like I’m not sitting right in front of you...” Madi raises a brow. “I promise I’ll be home before curfew. It’s just a first date, mom. It’s nothing to set the alarms off about.”

Lexa takes a deep breath and her head moves to a tiny nod. “Okay. Okay, you’re both right. It’s fine by me. But I do want him coming in before you two go off to the movies.”

“Actually,” Madi starts. “I think Mr. and Mrs. Murphy are as weirded out by this as you guys are. JJ and I were thinking maybe they could drop him off here, and you all can have dinner while we’re out. We have the same curfew, so we’ll definitely be back before 10.”

“Sounds like you guys have planned it all out,” Lexa offers with a raised brow.

“It was JJ’s idea.” Madi shrugs. “I think Mr. Murphy panicked similarly to you.”

“I do not panic.” Lexa deadpans, which causes her daughter and wife to simultaneously laugh. She exasperatedly looks between them both and adds, “I don’t panic!”

Clarke leans over and kisses the side of her wife’s head. “I’ll text Murphy and Emori tomorrow morning to set up dinner, babe.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Madi leaps from the foot of the bed towards her moms, hurling an arm around each of them.

Lexa particularly leans closer into the embrace, before she lets out a quiet sigh, “I didn’t panic.”

[kloxbian]

To the Fire I Fall

Synopsis:      

Clarke has been confined her whole life. To the Ark, and then, to Arkadia.

She’s done being confined.

Or maybe it would have been better to stay confined instead of accidentally wandering into enemy territory.

-AU with a twist: Elemental powers!

Notes: IMPORTANT: Though this contains nothing sexual, the relationship between Clarke and Lexa contains some not-so-subtle dom/sub undertones. This is my first time joining in on clexa week, and I have to say I’m very proud of myself for doing this. I started this as soon as possible because forbidden love is my weakness and I was goddamn ready to get on with it despite the fact that I had five (six?) fics going on at the time. I will also be making a second chapter to this after clexa week. Despite my love of open endings, this one deserves a more closed-off, certain one.

-

 Ever since the Ark had fallen to Earth, Clarke had wanted to explore the world.

 But she couldn’t because the fucking grounders wouldn’t let them.

 The peace that was between Arkadia and the clans was… fragile. They had a treaty, but it was nothing more than ‘if you don’t bother us, we won’t bother you.’ There was a five-mile radius around Arkadia that the Trikru had generously gifted, but anything more was off-limits. The only people even allowed within the limits were the hunting parties and those that tended to the fields outside the fence.

 Their peace had held for the past year since it was brokered, and, with a bit of support during the cold season, it hadn’t wavered. Neither side wanted it to.

 Clarke didn’t want it to, either. But she at least wanted to explore their territory. Was that too much to ask?

 According to her mother, it was.

 So she did it herself.

 “Shit, I never realized the trees were so tall.”

 Well, not just herself.

 “Raven, we could see them from inside Arkadia. They’re only, like, fifty feet from the border.” Octavia rolled her eyes. “Are they really that amazing?”

 “Yes! I mean, look! This trunk is wider than I am!”

 “Okay, you aren’t that fat.”

 Raven pouted and Clarke laughed. She hadn’t laughed until she reached the ground. Not after her father was murdered.

 “Ex-cuse you. I am sexier than you’ll ever be, bitch!”

 Clarke smiled widely at her friend’s antics but was more admiring the forest than listening to them. The forest was alive with birds singing, brush rustling as small animals moved within them, and it was a beauty Clarke had never experienced. The forest had such diversity, such color, it was more than she could ever have dreamed.

 “You still there, Clarke?” Octavia playfully knocked the side of her head, and Clarke smiled sheepishly.

 “Yeah. This is all just… beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

 “Ha! See, I told you, Octavia!”

 “Shut up, Raven, that was not what you were telling me!”

 Clarke’s smile was more genuine than it had ever been, in the forest with two of her best friends. But they were loud, exuberant, and, dare she say it, obnoxious.

 So Clarke slipped off alone, her disappearance unnoticed by her bickering friends.

 As their voices faded into the background, Clarke closed her eyes and just breathed. The air was fresh and tasted sweet on her tongue, the sunlight beaming through the trees warming her face and shoulders, the soft breeze caressing her face. It was the most amazing thing she had ever and likely would ever experience.

 She wandered on, surrounded by the environment of the forest, for a long time. She knew she could walk on forever and it would never get any less exhilarating. 

 That was her last thought before she felt herself pulled against a body and cold metal press against her throat.

 She felt breath wash over her ear. “Look at this; a Skai girl on the wrong side of the border. Did you get lost, idiot child?”

 Clarke cursed internally. She was going to be in so much trouble when she got out of this.

 The knife moved away from her throat, hovering just in front of it. “Talk.”

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I intruded. I didn’t even know where the border was!” She pleaded, not even trying to escape from the woman’s strong grip.

 “You didn’t know?” The woman laughed harshly. “Branwada. You should have.”

 Clarke was about to retort before something hit her hard in the side of the head and her vision went black.

 -

 When Clarke wakes, she’s behind bars lying in the dirt.

 She’s alone. There are no guards, no sounds, no nothing. Clarke wonders where the other prisoners are if they have any. She’d been told the grounders don’t take prisoners, that all offenses are punishable by death. They say it so harshly, like it’s the most terrible thing, even though they had done the same thing on the Ark. She’d always hated how they talked of the clans like they were a virus to be exterminated. She hopes she won’t agree after this experience.

 If she survives the experience.

 She hears footsteps coming down the corridor and a grounder steps in front of her cell. He looks at her passively, speaking over his shoulder. “Honon ste stomba raun, Oneda (The prisoner is awake, General).”

 “Os. Bants osir. (Good. Leave us.)” A woman stepped past the guard, looking at Clarke with contempt. Clarke recognized the voice as the same woman that had captured her.

 “What’s going to happen to me?” Clarke asked, wincing at the sound of her raspy voice. “Are you going to kill me?”

 The woman tilted her head. “Why would I do that?”

 “Isn’t that what you do to your prisoners?”

She snorted. “Your leaders know nothing of us, yet they tell their people that we are savages. I shouldn’t have expected any more from such arrogant leaders.” The woman shook her head, leaning casually against the bars. “No. You will not be killed. We have no proof that your intrusion was anything more than an innocent mistake made from Skaikru ignorance.”

“So are you going to let me go?”

She was silent for a moment. “No. You still are an intruder. You broke the treaty.”

Clarke gasped. “Please don’t hurt them because of this. I didn’t know, I swear!”

The woman considered her. “You protect your people. I do not see many Skaikru willing to do that. Are you one of the leaders?”

Clarke was taken aback. “Of course not! I’m not even eighteen yet!”

“Does that mean you cannot be a leader?”

“You can’t be on the council unless you’re over twenty-five.” Clarke sighed. “To them, I’m still a child.”

The woman looked amused. “Your ways are… intriguing, to say the least. Though you are still very much irritating, you are more competent than most of your leaders.”

Clarke decided to take that as a compliment. 

“As for what will be done with you, I shall have to consider. You have broken the treaty accidentally, with no malicious intent. Not something fit for punishment, but to let you go free without repercussion would encourage more purposeful intrusions.”

The woman tilted her head thoughtfully. “You are an odd case. I will have to think this over, but I can assure you we will not kill you, and that you will, at some point, make it home.”

Clarke sighed. “Thank you…”

“I am General Anya. You will address me as General.” With those last words, Anya turned and said something to the guards in their language before striding out of the prisons. A guard brought a plate of food to her and then the entire prison cleared out.

Clarke groaned as she tasted the meat. Despite it being food they were feeding to a prisoner, it was the best meat she’d ever had. Sure, Arkadia had hunting parties who brought back meat, but it wasn’t nearly as good as this. She swiped her finger over the coating of flakes on top of the meat and figured it must be what old-world called ‘spices.’ She was thankful for such a good meal.

She settled against the wall at the back of the cell. Who knew how long she would be there for.

-

Clarke was awoken by two men grabbing either arm and hoisting her to her feet. She struggled. “Hey! Where am I going?”

“Quiet, honon,” a guard said, yanking roughly on her arm. 

Clarke hissed, getting a hold on the ground and walking between them instead of being dragged. Outside, Anya was waiting on a horse with four other guards mounted around her. Another horse, this one without a rider, stood next to Anya.

The guards tossed her onto the horse, and she scrambled to sit on it correctly. “Where are we going?”

Anya spared her barely a glance. “I am taking you to Heda. She will decide your fate.”

Clarke was confused. “Don’t the guards call you heda?”

“They call me Oneda. It means ‘under Heda.’ Heda is the commander.” Clarke paled. She’d heard stories of the commander, how he was a ruthless murderer who wanted complete and total control, though considering what she’d seen here, it probably wasn’t accurate. She hoped.

Anya told her how to ride in the least amount of words possible before they were off. This was the first time Clarke had actually seen the village and she couldn’t help but gape. It was nothing like the council had described. Nobody looked miserable or angry, they all looked happy. Children ran around chasing each other, some carrying fake swords that they would pretend to fight with. Stalls were set up with merchants, bartering goods. There was a large pavilion off to the side that had smoke running out the side from a fire in which smoked meat lay. The chef tossed spices over the top of it and handed it out to people in exchange for what looked like trinkets.

Anya gave her an amused look from over her shoulder. “We aren’t savages, skai girl, no matter what your ‘council’ told you.”

No, they weren’t. Everything Clarke had heard about the grounders has so far been proven wrong. These people didn’t look like heartless brutes. They looked like normal people. Sure, most were bigger and far more muscled and maybe they wore different clothes and spoke a different language. They are still the same in the end. Just people trying to find their way in the world their predecessors created around them. 

They passed through two large wooden gates that closed behind them and they went into the forest.

-

Only an hour in and Clarke’s legs were aching.

She’d never in her life ridden a horse. She’d heard of them, even seen a couple, but never came close, much less sit atop one. At first, it was nauseating, the swing of the horse’s steps swaying her back and forth, but she learned to let her hips swing with the rhythm, to move with it instead of against it. As long as she sat back and relaxed, everything was fine. Except for the fact that sitting like this for an hour was not so comfortable. Clarke couldn’t imagine doing this for the entire day, much less think about how the grounders were able to perform inexplicable stunts on them. Sitting and walking was one thing. Putting your trust in a two-ton creature that could crush you under its feet? Not so easy.

They rode for the rest of the day, stopping once in between for a slight rest before they were back on the path. They passed many other travelers, most merchants trying to sell their goods. Most seemed put off by her, and Clarke wondered if the grounders viewed Skaikru in the same way as Skaikru viewed them.

Clarke was relieved to be off of her horse. The mounts were tied up to a tree and the grounders set up tents, four of them, on flat, even ground.  When everyone had eaten and drank, two guards took up positions on either side of the camp and the others each took a tent. “Try anything, Skai girl, and the guards will not hesitate to knock you out,” Anya warned before she sent Clarke into one of the tents. She passed out the moment her head hit the pillow despite sleeping half the day.

The following day proceeded much the same. Nothing of note happened, and that night they set up the same way. Clarke grew more comfortable around the grounders, though she still didn’t trust any of them, and her thighs weren’t as sore as they were yesterday, much to her relief.

On the fourth day, they reached their destination. The first thing Clarke saw was a large tower sticking out of the trees, towering above them higher than anything she’d seen. As they grew closer, she could see that the tower stood in the center of a city, a city that stretched wide on all sides. The wall surrounding it was at least twice the size of Arkadia’s, perhaps more.

The people in the city were the most diverse she’d ever seen. People of all colors walked the streets, many waving politely to their small party. She saw people covered in tattoos like Trikru, people with scarred faces and pale skin, people with dark skin and braided hair, and many more. She couldn’t see into the stalls from where she was, but she couldn’t imagine what sorts of things they sold.

The tower, at the foot of it, reminded her of an old-world skyscraper. From the bottom, it was impossible to see the top, the many windows blurring together into fuzzy shapes.

Anya spoke softly yet harshly to her in the elevator, which Clarke was startled to discover worked. “The commander is not someone to take lightly. You will show Heda proper respect, and if you do not there will be severe punishment. Do not speak unless spoken to, but do not bow to Heda. This one, in particular, is not fond of the gesture.”

 Clarke fidgeted nervously as they stepped out of the elevator, staring at the large set of doors at the end of the hall. Four guards were positioned in front of it, large men with menacing spears obviously meant to intimidate. It worked.

 Their eyes fixed on her as she walked behind Anya, eyes on the ground. She heard the men knock twice on the doors before pushing them open. Anya walked in confidently with Clarke straggling behind her.

 She felt a new gaze on her, one much less harsh and more curious than the guards. “Heda, this skai girl invaded our territory just a few days earlier. She claims to have not known where the borders were.”

 “Is this true, Skai girl?” Clarke felt a jolt of surprise at the voice. She had expected a hard, masculine tone, harsh and rough, not this smooth yet demanding feminine one. She looked up for the first time since entering the room and laid her eyes upon the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen.

 The commander lounged lazily on her throne, a knife spinning between her fingers. Her hair was a dark chocolate, slightly wavy and entwined with intricate braids. Her outfit was black leather, all padded and protected, with a large pauldron on her shoulder sporting a red sash. Her face was smooth and soft, her skin tanned nicely, yet her eyes were hard and serious. 

 Clarke dipped her head politely. “Yes, commander.”

 “Why were you unaware of the border? You should have known not to come close.”

 Clarke nodded. “Apologies, commander, but the Skaikru forbid anyone except the hunting parties and field tenders to leave the camp. That was the first day I’d been outside the walls since they were built. I hadn’t been aware I’d walked a full five miles.”

 A man was standing to the right of the commander, just behind the throne. His face was adorned with a permanent scowl. He scoffed. “These Skaikru are problematic, Heda, just like I told you they were. They are so inordinate they don’t even bother showing their people the rules. I say we drive them out.”

 “Shof op, Titus. If I want your opinion I will ask for it.” The commander looked back to Clarke, who suddenly felt so insignificant under her gaze. “So you went against your people’s laws to leave camp?”

 Clarke flushed red. “Yes,” she said sheepishly. “After being stuck in the Ark, and then Arkadia, we wanted to explore what was out there.”

 The commander raised an eyebrow. “We?”

 “Ah-yes,” she stuttered. “Two friends left with me. I separated from them and I expect they turned around before reaching the border if you haven’t seen them, or maybe were caught by our guards.”

 “I see.” The commander turned to Anya. “And why couldn’t you figure this out yourself?”

 “I was unsure of a fit punishment for the girl,” she replied. “Her crime is not her own fault but that of her people, though the only option is to punish her in some way to show that we will not tolerate trespassers.”

 The commander nodded. “You are right. Join me and my advisors for dinner tonight. We will discuss the matter then. For now, give this girl arrangements in a guest room. She is not a prisoner and I will not treat her as such, at least not until an outcome has been decided.” She signaled to the guards, who gestured for Clarke to go with them, though before she could, the bald man spoke up.

 “Wait.” All three hesitated, and the commander turned to him. He looked at her pleadingly. “Heda, she is a trespasser. We do not accommodate trespassers.”

 “And whose fault is it that she trespassed?”

 “It is her own, Heda! I beg of you, please consider the fact that she may be lying to gain information.”

 “I don’t believe she is,” Anya said. “I saw her when she crossed the border. She was not looking for any guards, much less expecting an attack. She truly did not know she crossed the border.”

 “You cannot be sure!” The man insisted. “For all we know, she is a spy! A deceiving woman feigning innocence to keep her in good favor!”

 “Titus, she is not-”

 “Enough!” The commander rose from her chair, throwing her arms out to the side. The braziers caught fire, the flames roaring up until they brushed the ceiling. Titus and Anya both froze. “We will settle this matter over dinner instead of arguing about it like children. Guards, take the girl to her rooms. Titus, Anya, remain.” Clarke looked at the commander fearfully, her piercing eyes boring right through her before the guards led her out of the throne room, the doors shutting behind them.

 -

 Clarke’s rooms were large, thrice the size of her old one on the Ark, even with her parent’s status on the council. She had an incredible view from the balcony, a comfortable fur bed instead of a hard cot, and, to her surprise, the drawers of the desk contained items in them. Most were simple, everyday things, nothing you would think twice about, but Clarke was surprised and delighted to find out they had paper and charcoal. They had practically none at Arkadia, and the resources on the Ark were scarce. She wondered how plentiful paper was to the grounders. They must have a lot if they would leave it laying in a guest room like this.

 And so Clarke drew. The first thing she drew was Polis. It was grander than any city she’d seen, with the tower looming in the middle, a flame perched precariously atop it. She sketched it out and shaded it enough to form shape and distinction before she itched to move to something else. There were so many things to draw, she was impatient to get them all out. She’d finish that one later.

 To her surprise, time passed quickly. By the time the guards brought in her dinner, she’d sketched out a picture of the forest, of a horse, and was in the middle of sketching the intricate throne she’d seen the commander sitting upon. The meal smelled heavenly, and she wolfed down the smoked meat and deliciously seasoned corn. If this was what she got to eat here, she’d happily stay a while.

 After her meal, she finished her sketch of the throne and was trying to decide on what to draw next when the doors opened. She looked up from where she sat at the table to see the commander walking in. Her pauldron was gone, but the red ribbons twined into her hair still marked her as the commander. 

 Clarke stood up, brushing her drawings to the side. “Commander,” she said, inclining her head politely.

 “We have come to a decision about your fate,” she said, skipping over pleasantries. “You are allowed to leave whenever you wish to return to your people with no punishment. However,” she paused, “you will deliver the message that any skaikru caught beyond the border, accidental or not, will be punished accordingly by my people.”

 Clarke tilted her head. “Punished accordingly?”

 “If it was a misunderstanding or curious children, the worst they would face might be captivity for some time or maybe working as an indentured servant, if the crime was so bad. If we have reason to believe they had malicious intent, they will be killed.”

 Clarke was a bit startled by her casual stance on such a thing but nodded. “Of course. I will tell our leaders when I return.”

 “And when will you return?”

 Clarke was surprised. “I get a choice?”

 “Yes. You are my guest for the time you remain at Polis. You may leave whenever you wish.”

 She blinked, staying silent for a minute. “Can I stay a few more days?”

 “If that is what you wish.” The commander walked over to her, looking down at her drawings before nodding to the couch. “May I?”

 Clarke shifted over, allowing the Commander to sit with a few feet of space between them. The commander dragged one of her drawings over to look at, speaking without looking up. “Can I ask why you wish to stay instead of return to your people?”

 She had to take a moment to process the question. “Um, yeah. I guess I just want to be somewhere new. As I told you, I’ve never left Arkadia since we came to Earth.”

 The commander looked disturbed by that. “Not even once? You never explored the trees around your home?”

 “Never. Unless you were hunting or gathering materials or some other task, you were forbidden from going past the treeline.”

 The commander pursed her lips thoughtfully. “You were forbidden to explore the trees despite that you had grown up in a metal box your entire life.”

 “Yeah.”

 “Well, I cannot say I pity you at all,” she replied. “I would much despair at such a life. It’s a wonder no one else has wandered out of your camp.”

 “Security’s tight. It’s hard to leave without getting noticed.”

 “Then how did you?”

 Clarke shrugged. “One of my friends helped design the fence around Arkadia. She knew all the loopholes.”

 The commander still looked a bit confused. “I’ve been told your fence is nothing more than wires. I do not understand how hard it could be to leave.”

 Clarke hesitated at this. If she told the commander the strength of their fences, it was possible she’d use that against them. Then again, from what Clarke had seen, the commander had no intention of attacking. Even so, the grounders were likely strong enough to bring down the fence anyway. “The fence is electric. If you touch the wires, you’ll get shocked with a hundred volts at about a fifteen hundred milliamps.”

 The commander looked even more confused. “I do not know what any of that means.”

 “Oh. Right. If you touched it, it would hurt. A lot.”

 She raised an eyebrow. “Would it?”

 “Yeah. I know your warriors are tough and all, but trust me, they would definitely feel it.”

 “If you say so.” The commander had tugged a couple more of Clarke’s sketches over to look at. “Would you mind if I asked about your life on your ‘Ark’? I find such a life hard to understand.”

 “Uh, sure.” Clarke fidgeted in place. Though this woman couldn’t be much older than herself, she radiated an aura of power that made Clarke want to bend to her every command. It was no wonder she was the leader around here.

 “Your ‘ship’ was in the sky for over a hundred years. How did it stay afloat?”

 “Oh, um, well, up in space, there isn’t any gravity, which basically means there’s nothing pulling you toward the ground. The problem with space is that there isn’t any oxygen, so if you leave the ship without a suit, you’d die.”

 “Like the maunon,” the commander muttered. 

 “The mountain men? Exactly like that.” Clarke leaned back against the cushions and sighed, memories flashing through her mind. “We had no dirt to grow our food in and no animals to get meat from, so everything was artificial. It all tasted bland. Even the water felt impure.”

 “How do you get meat without animals?”

 Clarke shrugged. “I have no idea how they did it, but they used the plants that they grew in this odd kind-of-dirt material to make it into something like meat. It was terrible, but it worked.” Memories of her first taste of real meat came back to her. “The half-raw rabbit we ate our first day was the best thing I’d ever had.”

 The commander had a look of disgust on her face, and Clarke couldn’t blame her. The food an average grounder ate was a million times better than what the Ark had made. “What made your people come to the ground if you were surviving in ‘space’?”

 “We were running out of air. When the Ark first launched from Earth, it was packed with a ton of oxygen, enough to last for centuries, but after living in it for two hundred years it began to run out, and so we had to leave. We didn’t even know if we’d survive on the ground, but likely death is better than certain death.” Clarke remembered feeling terrified as the Exodus ships launched, blasting them to the ground with no assurance of even making it down alive. She shuddered at the thought.

 The commander hummed and was about to ask another question before there was a knock at the door. “Heda?”

 She looked up sharply. “Chit ste em yu gaf (what is it you need)?”

` “Bandrona kom yujleda gada don kom op. Em seiso hit kom yu taim na kom au (An ambassador from Yujleda has arrived. She asked to meet with you as soon as possible).” 

 The commander nodded, standing from the couch. “I appreciate the knowledge you’ve given me and hope you will feel welcome for the next couple of days. Have a good night, skai girl.”

 “Clarke.”

 She turned back around, her eyebrows furrowing, and Clarke noticed just how bright of green her eyes were. “What?”

 “You keep calling me sky girl,” she said. “My name’s Clarke.”

 The commander nodded. “And I am Leksa kom Trikru, though, as is protocol, you must call me commander, or simply Heda.” She went to leave but paused a moment. “Would you mind if I came back around this time tomorrow?”

 That wasn’t something Clarke was expecting. “Uh, sure, if you want.”

 “Good. You’re a very interesting person, Klark kom Skaikru. I do hope you realize that.” With that final statement, she pulled open a door and left.

 Clarke was left wondering if a person could be any more confusing.

 -

 Despite being alone in her room the entire next day, Clarke enjoyed her day. She cleaned up her drawings from the night before and began new ones, sitting on the balcony outside and drawing Polis from an above angle. She’d snagged some books from a dusty shelf in the corner, most in the grounder language but a couple of old-world books tucked in among them. She’d picked out something that was described as a ‘sci-fi thriller’ and began to read that.

 The food was even better than she’d had previously. A steak of meat, wheat biscuit, a collection of fruits, and a goblet of light wine with her dinner. She’d never had alcohol, wasn’t allowed to at Arkadia, but it was slight enough that she wasn’t bothered.

 True to her word, Lexa knocked on her doors about an hour after dinner. Clarke let her in and they sat down as they had the night before.

 “Klark. How was your day?” Lexa began, stretching her arms over the top of the couch. Clarke ignored the fact that her hand was close enough to brush her shoulder.

 “It was good. Not much to do in a single room, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. We don’t have actual paper at Arkadia, so I’m grateful for that.”

 “I’m glad,” Lexa said. “If you’d like tomorrow, you may explore the city. The guards will accompany you, assist you if necessary, but they will not bother you. Do not feel as if you must remain in your room your entire stay. If you ever need anything, do not hesitate to ask.”

 Clarke blinked. “I appreciate your kindness, Commander.”

 “You are my guest. I will not have you restricted like a prisoner.”

 Clarke didn’t know what to say to that, so she said nothing.

 Lexa nodded toward her papers. “You said you had no paper at Arkadia. If you did not have any, how do you draw so well?”

 “We had chalk up on the Ark, and my dad, being an engineer, had charcoal that he used to teach me. I learned from him. Down here, we don’t have anything. I haven’t been able to really draw in months.” She fingered the charcoal, rolling it until a fine black coat covered her fingertips. “It’s refreshing to be able to draw again.”

 “If you’d like, I can have some of our watercolors brought here for you.”

 “Watercolors? You mean colors I can draw with?” Clarke had seen such pictures in books, paintings done in all shades of the rainbow, colors she wished she could replicate. “You have those?”

 “Yes. They are a form of dye mixed with water. Fairly easy to make, if you know what types of plants produce what color.” The corners of Lexa’s lips twitched up as she watched Clarke’s face morph into a mixture of awe and excitement. “I shall have them brought to you tomorrow.”

 “I- would love that. Thank you,” Clarke breathed, unable to keep the smile off of her face.

 Lexa scanned over the room. “I see you found the books.”

 “Yeah. Most are in- whatever language you speak, but a couple are in English.”

 “I have not practiced my Gonasleng reading in a while,” Lexa mused, tugging the book Clarke had been reading to her and flipping it open to a random page. The sun was setting beneath the horizon and darkening the corners of the room enough that reading the words on the page was impossible. With a flick of her wrist, Lexa had all the candles in the room alight with their tiny flames.

 Clarke yelped at the sudden burst of light and Lexa gave her an odd look. “Are you alright?”

 “What-how-” she took a moment, breathing in deeply. “How the hell did you just do that?”

 “You mean light the candles, yes?” She nodded. Lexa seemed just as confused as she was. “I summoned the flames. Do you not have fayahakas (fire-makers) in Arkadia?”

 “You summoned them?” Clarke had to stop a minute, reining in her mind. “You can summon fire?”

 “Yes.”

 “Can everyone summon fire?”

 “Of course not,” Lexa said, her eyebrows furrowed inquisitively. “Only the strongest control fire. The others control weaker elements.”

 “Hold on, let me get this straight,” Clarke said. “Your people can control elements.”

 “Yes. Yours cannot?”

 “No! I’ve never even heard of such a thing!” She exhaled heavily. “What about your general? Anya? What does she control?”

 “Anya is a graunhaka. She controls the earth beneath our feet.” Lexa tilted her head. “You have no keryonakas? None at all?”

 “If you mean people that can control stuff like earth and fire, no, we don’t. Everyone can control elements?”

 “Yes. It is something you are born with. Children are taught to harness their powers at a young age.”

 “Harness their powers,” Clarke muttered. “Do you think we would be able to if we were taught how?”

 “It is possible,” Lexa said. “Do you wish to try?”

 “I- yes, I would. Hell yes.”

 Lexa looked her up and down, taking her in, and nodded. “Okay. We begin tomorrow.”

 “Wait, really? What’s going to happen?”

 “I will complete my duties as Heda and collect you after I have finished training with the natblidas, likely mid-afternoon. I will by then have chosen a place to go.” Lexa twitched her wrist, the flames from a single candle flowing to her and twirling around her finger. “Keryonak is not something to be treated lightly. A single mistake can be lethal to the controller or those around them. You must enter this seriously. Do you swear to do so?”

 Clarke wasn’t sure she could say no even if she tried, with those eyes boring down on her. “I swear.”

 “Good. Be ready tomorrow.” Lexa stood, her fingers brushing lightly over Clarke’s shoulder as she retracted her arms. “I will have the colors delivered to your room tomorrow morning, as promised.”

 The watercolors. Clarke had forgotten about those. The excitement over such a thing was overshadowed by the idea of the grounders being some sort of magic. She dipped her head politely. “Good night, Heda.”

 “Reshop, Klark.” 

 -

 Lexa knocked on her door exactly when she’d promised she would.

 “I will be taking you to a remote location just outside of Polis,” Lexa said as she led Clarke to the elevator at the end of the hallway. “There are still many who are opposed to keeping Skaikru alive and would not appreciate me revealing our powers of keryonak. We will be taking one of the lesser-traveled roads to one of the side gates. Try not to draw attention to yourself.”

 Lexa turned out to be a hypocrite. She drew enough attention for both of them. 

 Clarke was in awe at how much the people revered her. Many came up to them offering Lexa their praises, gifts, or asking for a blessing. At one point, a small child of no more than five ran up to them and tugged on the side of Lexa’s coat. “Yu krei meizen, Heda. En yuj. Ai gaf  ge belaik yu (You’re very pretty, Commander. And strong. I want to be strong like you)!” Lexa chuckled, ruffling his hair and whispering promises in his ear before sending him away. Her tenderness with the child did nothing but boost Clarke’s respect for her.

 Their guards stopped at the side gates, joining the other gatekeepers as Lexa continued into the forest. She took the time to admire the scenery around them, not much different from the woods they’d traveled through to get to Polis, but still breathtakingly beautiful nonetheless. She noted the small smile on Lexa’s face when she looked back at her. “The trees amaze you.”

 “Yeah, they do.” Clarke did not need to explain why. Lexa already knew.

 “You will have time to admire them later. We are here.” They had only walked for maybe five minutes and now emerged into a small clearing, looking as if it had been created by man rather than naturally. There were racks of wooden swords to the side and thick lines traced in the dirt, forming a small arena.

 “Working with the spirit powers is a delicate task. If you waver even slightly, you may lose your grasp, something which can be deadly when working with something such as fire,” Lexa said, drawing a line of fire out of thin air. “We will start small. Anything larger than the size of your palm is generally hard for anyone inexperienced to keep control of.”

 Clarke shifted, unable to keep still. “How do I know what I am?”

 “That is what we will figure out. All elements are usually an indicator of personality. Water is calm and soft but can turn deadly in an instant. Earth is a realist, someone who is firm in their beliefs and stubborn to the core. Storm is anger, people who are often unable to contain themselves. Fire is power, strength, a sign of great leadership. There has never been a commander who did not harness flames.” Lexa masterfully weaved tendrils of fire in and out, creating an intricate dance in the air. The sparks that came from then had Clarke taking a step back.

 Lexa pulled the flames back into her. “We will try each element until we find which one you are. Water, fire, and storm can all be summoned using the same basic method, so we shall begin there. Are you ready?” Clarke took a deep breath and nodded. As exciting as this was, it scared her. She didn’t let that put her down.

 Lexa began her instructions. “Draw the energy from the air. Feel the power around you, the spirit that chose you, and summon its power to you.  Imagine it clustering above your palm, hovering there, still and unmoving.” Lexa demonstrated, a small ball of fire forming above her open hand.

 Clarke did so and realized that she could feel something. The air around her seemed to hum, calling softly to her. “I can feel it.”

 “Good. Draw it to you.”

 Clarke tried to reach out, grasping for something she couldn’t reach. She tried tugging it closer, but it didn’t budge. “It isn’t coming. I can’t reach it.”

 “Don’t reach for it. Ask for it. Call it to you. Be gentle with it. Show it the respect it deserves.”

 She opened herself to the power, asking for it to come to her, treating it like she was coaxing a shy child. It edged closer to her, relenting to her requests and surrounding her in comfortable warmth. She urged it to gather in front of her, to form something solid.

 It all moved forward and drew itself together into a ball of power that the moment it formed exploded into a blast of searing light. She yelped, blinking quickly to regain her sight after the sudden blinding light. Lexa was a bit disoriented, staring in disbelief at her. 

 Clarke let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Did I… did I do it?”

 Lexa was silent for a moment, composing herself before answering. “You did… something.”

 “What do you mean? Did I do it wrong?”

 “No, no, you did everything right. It was perfect. It’s just-” Lexa took a deep breath, closing her eyes and rubbing at her temples as if she had a headache. “What you summoned was not as I expected. Not water, storm, fire, or earth.”

 Clarke couldn’t seem to grasp what that meant. “Them what did I summon?”

 “I believe,” Lexa said slowly, “that you have just unearthed an entirely new element.”

 -

 Clarke was hyperventilating. Lexa barely seemed able to contain her emotions.

 “What the hell do I do?” Clarke asked, her voice quiet. “This changes things, doesn’t it?”

 “Yes,” Lexa admitted. “Such a discovery has not been made since Bekka Pramheda. This is groundbreaking.”

 “Are you still going to let me go?”

 “I will not have you kept prisoner here,” Lexa insisted. “You have done nothing wrong. Though, I would ask of you to stay a bit longer after this.”

 “Why? What’s going to happen to me?”

 “I will have to inform my people. There are many who would want to harness your power themselves, to take you and claim you as their own. But we will not tell them yet.” Clarke stood straighter at that. “We do not even know exactly what this is. With your permission, I would like to start active lessons between you and me, working with your spirit. Discovering what it is and what it holds. I will not have them informed until after you are back within the safety of your own people.”

 Clarke felt a rush of sudden emotions toward the young commander, understanding just how much she had risked for her already. To house her even with the threat of others trying to kill her, to show her their secret powers, to train her in such powers, and now she was putting her life on the life to make sure she remained safe. “I cannot express how grateful I am to you for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you.”

 Lexa seemed a bit miffed at the sudden announcement but smiled back. “Of course, Clarke. The lessons?”

 “Oh!” As she could see it, Clarke had two options: accept the commander’s offer of teaching her more about her mysterious powers, or going home. The choice seemed obvious. “Of course. I’ll work with you.”

 “Good. Could you find your way back to the gates we exited through tomorrow without my guidance?” Clarke nodded. “Then I shall meet you there two candlemarks after noon.”

 “Candlemarks?”

 “Yes. I believe you call them ‘hours.’ Have you noticed the candles the handmaiden brings in when she delivers your food?”

 “You mean the ones with the nails in them? Yeah.”

 “When a nail falls, it strikes the hour. The maid arrives at eight, so the sixth nail would be two after noon. Do you think you can be here by then?”

 “I think so.”

 Lexa nodded. “Very well. We must return. I have a few more duties to attend to before dinner.”

 “Yeah, okay.” Clarke didn’t move to follow her, though, and Lexa turned to give her a confused look. Clarke focused around her, feeling the hum that somehow already felt familiar. This time she drew only a small bit, condensing it above her hand and forming a small glowing ball.

 Lexa rushed back toward her, stopping a foot away. She hesitantly reached forward, her hand going right through the ball. “Light,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “You are a sonchaka.”

 “Light,” she repeated, trying to move the ball as Lexa had with her flame only for it to dissipate back into the air. The two women stood in silence for a moment, taking it all in.

 Lexa gripped Clarke’s shoulders roughly. “Tell no one. Not a soul. This cannot get out, do you understand?”

 “Yes, commander.”

 “Good.” Lexa let go, sighing heavily. “And please, call me Leksa.”

 Clarke froze mid-step. “But protocol-”

 “Is not necessary when the only one I am around is you. Please, Klark. I would like to consider you a friend, especially if we are to continue meeting day after day.”

 She nodded. “Okay. Lexa.”

 They exchanged small smiles before finally beginning their return to Polis.

 -

 To Clarke’s surprise, Lexa visited her again that night, same time as she always did. She carried books in her hands.

 “I had my fleimkepa scan our records on elementals,” she began once they were seated, placing the books on the table. “He found books on the discovery of the elements when the first people began to believe in the spirits from over a century ago. It was so long ago that many were written in English.” Lexa patted the books. “These are a few of them.”

 Clarke took the top one. The cover said The Science of the Spirits, written in intricate cursive. Flipping to a random page, she saw that the entire thing was in English, more like a notebook than a novel. Sketches and graphs were scattered in among the words. She smiled at Lexa. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to look through them.”

 Lexa dipped her head. “Have you worked any more on your soncha?”

 “A bit.” She pulled up an orb of light, something she’d done so many times in the past couple of hours it came easily. “I can’t do much with it, though.”

 “That’s to be expected. We will work on that more tomorrow.”

 “Tomorrow. Okay.” The light dissipated, leaving the room in shadows. 

 They sat in silence for a minute, neither knowing what to say. “If you’d like, I can give you a tour of the city after tomorrow’s lesson.”

 Clarke sat up. “I thought you had duties.” 

 Lexa shrugged. “I always have duties. They can be put off. I’d be glad to take a break from them for a little while, though I will be pressed on time. Unless you’d rather have one of your guards give you the tour?”

 The thought of one of the large, quiet men who stood outside her room day and night giving her a tour was not very appealing. “No, no. I’d love if you would give me a tour of the city.”

 “Very well.” She stood. “If there is nothing else to say, then I’ll be leaving. I shall do my own research on your soncha and inform you if there is anything you need to know.”

 “Okay. Thanks.” Lexa nodded stiffly and left the room. Clarke sighed, adjusting to lean against the arm of the couch and tugging one of the books into her lap.

 Her life had just become a hell of a lot more interesting.

 -

 Clarke and Lexa met at the gates and carried on to the arena. At first, their interactions were stiff and polite, nothing more than formal. Clarke managed to break that in a less than conventional way.

 She held a ball of light in her hands, carefully increasing its size until it was twice the size of her fist. She added another pulse of energy and it exploded in her face.

 Lexa snorted, barely able to contain her laughter as Clarke fell flat on her ass in surprise. She stood up, brushing the dirt off and looking at Lexa, who now had a playful smirk on her face. “Are you alright, Klark?”

 “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” she said, and Lexa exhaled sharply to keep from bursting out laughing. Clarke glared at her and Lexa’s grin only widened.

 “Shall we try again?”

 Clarke tossed a ball of light at Lexa’s face. It did nothing but amuse her more. Clarke buried her face in her hands and a soft glow began to waft off her body. Lexa informed her of such.

 “Great, now I’m a fucking lightbulb.” Clarke stared at her arms with as much intensity as she could until the light flickered away. She grumbled about it under her breath and turned back to Lexa. “So, the tour?”

 Lexa had gotten ahold of her expression, but her eyes still glinted with laughter. “Of course, Klark. Come.”

 The guards followed behind at a distance as they stepped off the side streets and into the main market. It was filled to the brim, people from all tribes bustling around. Clarke stared slack-jawed at everything around her. Peering into one of the stalls, she saw someone drop a little bone necklace into the shopkeeper’s hand in return for a small carved figurine of a deer. 

 She felt Lexa brush up beside her. “Come, Klark. There is one place I think you will enjoy.”

 -

 Lexa led her into an art shop.

 The walls were lined with pictures, done in charcoal, watercolor, paints, so vibrant and smooth that they looked unreal. Clarke gaped at them, reaching up to trace her fingers along a painted river flowing across. The texture was rough and layered, the foam sticking off the page just a bit more than the rest of it. She heard Lexa talking to the shopkeeper behind her but didn’t pay any attention to what they were saying. Walking through the racks of paintings, they were all she could focus on.

 She paused at one. This was of Lexa. She was covered in thick armor, her red sash flowing out behind her, flames lighting it up. Lexa held balls of flame in her hand, the background being a reddish-brown background that looked more volcanic than anything she’d ever seen. Lexa’s face was covered in black warpaint, making her look terrifyingly striking. 

 She heard a laugh from behind her. “You will find multiple paintings of myself, I am sure. The commanders are viewed more like gods than humans, even myself. Some even say the commanders are the fire spirit itself.”

 “Do you believe that?”

 “No. I am Heda because I killed children, not because I’m a goddess.” Lexa’s lip curled. “I would much rather have ascended that way.”

 “You did what you had to do.” Clarke sighed. “Why were you chosen to be commander?”

 “I am a natblida. All natblidas are trained from a young age until the commander dies, in which they will fight to the death. The winner ascends to be commander and the hunt for a new generation of natblidas begins.”

 Clarke winced. “Are all the natblidas fayahakas?”

 “There are only two fayahakas in this generation, but there has never been a commander who was not one. The most promising of the natblidas is one.” Lexa’s lips twitched up into a grin. “You will have to meet them sometime. You will adore them.”

 “How young are they?”

 “The oldest is thirteen. The youngest is ten.”

 Clarke felt a pang in her heart. “And they have to kill each other.”

 “When I die, yes. I wish it did not have to be that way.” Lexa sighed. “I have suggested changing the tradition multiple times, but no one else agrees with me. It is a show of strength, they say.” She exhaled, reaching to the back of her neck. 

 Clarke rested a hand on Lexa’s bicep. “I’m sorry you had to do that, but you had no choice.”

 “I did.” Lexa’s eyes unfocused as she thought back. “There were eight other natblidas in my generation, and contrary to belief, I was not the top of my class. There was another girl who could beat everyone she fought, including myself. I looked up to her as an older sister. When the conclave came, each fought our way through the other children. When it came time to fight each other, she fled. Disappeared from Polis. She didn’t resurface until two years ago as the leader of the floudonkru.”

 “Two years ago? How long have you been Heda for?”

 “I have been Heda for eight years. I ascended when I was twelve summers.”

 “Twelve years,” Clarke murmured. She squeezed Lexa’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

 “You have nothing to apologize for. It is something I regret, but to be stuck on their death would be to dishonor them. I can only be the best I can be.”

 Clarke smiled softly at her. “And you are. You’re possibly the only person who actually treats me like a human here. Even at Arkadia, I was treated like a child, scolded for trying to be my own person. So thank you, Lexa. I’m sure the other novitiates are proud of what you’ve done with their sacrifice.”

 Lexa chuckled quietly, her eyes glistening. She had a sad smile on her face that made Clarke’s bones ache. Lexa made her feel in a way no one ever had.

 It was addictive.

 -

 They continued to meet outside every day. When Lexa started to get behind on her duties, they resigned to meeting after dinner in Clarke’s rooms like they had the first couple days.

 Clarke couldn’t get enough of her. Lexa’s nightly visits were the highlight of her day. When they were alone, Lexa could strip off parts of her mask, and Clarke was slowly getting her to remove more and more. Beneath it all, Lexa was just a young girl who wanted to enjoy her life. 

 Clarke had basically mastered her powers. Drawing from her energy reserve took barely even a thought now and manipulating the light took just a twitch of her finger. Clarke was obsessed with it, and Lexa was too, though she didn’t let it stop her from lighting all the candles in the room whenever she came in.

 They had draped themselves across the couch in Clarke’s solar, Lexa complaining about her work and Clarke listening intently. “The ambassadors refuse to see sense,” she groaned, making abstract shapes in the air with her fire. “Louwoda Kliron is complaining that they are outgrowing their land and is demanding that Yujleda surrender a portion of theirs. They are demanding too much for too little a price and refuse to negotiate past that.”

 “Did they decide that?”

 “No. I ended the meeting before it could escalate.” She dropped her head onto the back of the couch, sighing heavily. “The ambassadors will be returning to their clans in three days' time to make their seasonal report, thank the spirits. I will have almost a fortnight without them.”

 “Why so long?” At Lexa’s scalding look, Clarke corrected herself. “Not that I’m complaining, but why would they be gone for so long?”

 “Because the Ingranrona Kru are almost a week’s ride away from Polis. It is a break I have been looking forward to since the last one ended.” 

 Clarke snorted, leaning close enough that their shoulders brushed and adding a strand of light to Lexa’s dance. Lexa gave her an amused look, twirling her fire around the white ribbon. Clarke condensed it into a thicker glow and escaped from its fiery cage, brushing the edge of the flames. 

 Lexa paused. “Wait. Do that again.”

 “Do what again?”

 “Just keep still,” she commanded. Clarke balled up her light and held it in place. Lexa prodded at the light with her fire. Nothing happened. Lexa sighed.

 “What are you trying to do?” Clarke asked softly.

 “I just… thought I saw something. It was probably nothing.” She shook her head.

 Clarke looked up at the disappearing stroke of fire. “Wait.”

 Lexa looked up. “What?”

 “Put the fire back.”

 Lexa frowned but did as she asked. Clarke took her little globe of light and it flowed right into the core of the fire. It glowed white, the fire softening into a warm gold.

 Clarke hummed. “That’s pretty cool.”

 Lexa’s brows furrowed. “Cool? It is fire. Fire is not cold.”

 Clarke chuckled. “No, no, not like that. It’s Skaikru slang. It means ‘amazing’ or ‘interesting.’”

 “Then yes, I suppose it is ‘cool.’” Clarke grinned. Hearing Lexa say something like that wasn’t something she’d ever expected to hear.

 A loud clang alerted them that the twenty-first candlemark had hit. Lexa sighed. “I must go.”

 “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Clarke said, standing up and offering Lexa a hand. She took it. Instead of releasing immediately after, Lexa tightened her hold and, after a moment of hesitation, leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on Clarke’s cheek. She left with a small smile gracing her face.

 Clarke stood in place for a couple minutes after Lexa was gone. She reached up and touched the spot Lexa had kissed, staring at the door, stunned into silence. The commander of the twelve clans just kissed her. Lexa just kissed her.

 She couldn’t think of a better way to end her evening.

 -

 Lexa came an hour later than usual the next day. She refused to meet Clarke’s eyes when she let her in.

 “I’ve arranged for you to meet the natblidas,” Lexa said, standing by the couch awkwardly. “You had said you’d like to meet them, so I had it arranged. I hope you don’t mind.”

 “Of course not,” Clarke said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. 

 Lexa fidgeted, her gaze down at the floor. Clarke took note of her flushed cheeks. “Wonderful. I, um, will retrieve you tomorrow at the fourteenth candlemark. If that’s okay.”

 “It’s perfect.” Clarke shifted closer, reaching out to skim her fingers over Lexa’s wrist. She flinched. “Lexa, look at me. Please. You’re acting odd.”

 “I’m probably just tired.” Lexa backed away from the couch. “I should retire. Goodnight, Klark.”

 “Lexa, wait.” Clarke stood, walking over to her. “Look at me. Beja, Lexa. You don’t need to hide from me.”

 Lexa took a shuddering breath, angling her face away. Clarke rested a hand on the small of her back, feeling her stiffen under her touch. “Lexa.”

 Lexa spun around suddenly, making Clarke stumble back. “What?” She demanded, her eyes red, lips trembling. “What do you want?”

 “I want to help you.” Clarke stepped closer, carefully taking one of Lexa’s hands in hers. She shook and Clarke wrapped both hands around it. She sought out her eyes, forest green, which were looking everywhere but Clarke. “Tell me what’s wrong, love.”

 Lexa’s eyes flickered up to her face, widening in surprise. Clarke understood then. Understood what Lexa wanted but was too afraid to ask for. What she was afraid of facing. Something Clarke was afraid of, too. But she would take the plunge. For both of them.

 Clarke reached up and rested a hand lightly on Lexa’s cheek. She brushed her thumb over the corner of her lips, watching Lexa’s eyes dart between her face and the floor. Clarke slipped the hand beneath her chin, tilting her head up, angling her head slightly. Leaning in, she brushed their lips lightly. It was light, barely felt, but she tilted forward again, the feather of a touch merging into a kiss.

 Lexa didn’t move for a moment, her body stock still, until with a single breath she practically melted. Their bodies melded together, sliding into place like two pieces of a puzzle. Clarke released Lexa’s hand, wrapping her arm around her waist and tugging her closer, the other hand massaging her jaw. Lexa’s hands wandered up, hesitantly brushing over Clarke’s shoulders, but Clarke squeezed Lexa closer and she relented, wrapping her arms around her neck.

 They broke apart, panting, Lexa with tears dripping down her face. Clarke brushed them away, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Are you alright, love?”

 Lexa closed her eyes at the pet name, leaning into Clarke’s hand. She hummed. “Mhm.” 

 Clarke felt her heart racing, threatening to beat out of her chest. She’d just kissed Lexa. God, she couldn’t process it. She hadn’t even been here a fortnight and she’d just kissed the commander. The fucking commander. Though at the moment, it wasn’t the commander she held in her arms, soft, warm, heavy.

 Clarke led her back over to the couch, sitting down and pulling Lexa down on top of her. Lexa pressed a messy kiss to her cheek, arms tightening around her neck. Clarke brushed her lips over Lexa’s jawline, mouthing at the sharp jut that made her look so damn tough. Lexa groaned, dropping her head onto Clarke’s shoulder.

 Clarke tore herself away from her neck, sitting back against the couch, keeping her arms loosely wrapped around Lexa’s waist. Lexa sat back as well, fingers twirling the baby hairs on the back of her neck. On her face was a wide grin. Sparks flew off of her, a section of her hair catching aflame. Clarke chuckled, patting it out. “You’re sparking, love.”

 Lexa bit her lip. “And you’re glowing, hodnes.” Clarke scowled and Lexa dug her teeth into her lip to keep herself from giggling. She was the commander. She did not giggle.

 Clarke leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her nose. “You like me?”

 “Is it not obvious?”

 “You’re right,” she agreed. “Then it’s obvious that I like you?”

 “Mm, I should hope so.” Lexa brought a hand around to stroke down her face. “You’re stunning, ai soncha. It was hard to keep my hands off you.”

 Clarke exhaled with a small puff. “If I’d known you wouldn’t kill me for it I would have had my hands on you a long time ago.” She laughed quietly. “And to think that only two weeks ago I thought the commander was some giant, rough scar-faced man who would kill me on sight.” The absurdity of it all only made her laugh harder. “And now I have the commander sitting in my lap, a beautiful, terrifying woman who I can’t fucking resist.”

 Lexa sighed, nuzzling her nose into Clarke’s cheek. “Flatterer.”

 “It’s true. You’re lovely.” Lexa purred, kissing her neck. Clarke groaned as she started nipping at her skin. “Lexa, we should talk about this-”

 “Later.” She lapped at the red skin she left after a particularly harsh bite. “Let us enjoy this. Just this moment.”

 And how could she resist?

 -

 Lexa left a half hour later. Clarke’s mind was blurry and dizzy and she swore she couldn’t see straight.

 They hadn’t had sex or anything; Clarke wasn’t at all prepared for that. It was all touches and kisses and caresses and the affection that they both had been denied for too long.

 They hadn’t talked. About what this meant. About what it would do to them. About how it would work with them being who they were - an intruder skai girl and the grounder commander. An odd couple, to be sure.

 Lexa came by at the fourteenth candlemark the following day, just as she had promised. The smiles they shared were different. More open and affectionate. Happier.

 “The natblidas come up here to train every day,” Lexa told Clarke as they stood hundreds of feet above the city, the view even more impressive with the addition of the commander tower. “Usually Titus trains them, as I normally have duties to attend to, but the ambassadors departed today, so I offered to take over.” A smile graced her face. “The natblidas hold a place close to me.”

 Clarke reached over and took her hand. “I’m excited to meet them.”

 Lexa squeezed her hand. “You’ll love them. They’ll love you, too. Children are much more open-minded than adults. They won’t let your clan get in the way of who you are.”

 Clarke huffed. “That’d be a first.” She raised an eyebrow at Lexa’s look. “You can’t deny that it doesn’t matter to you. It does. It matters to us.”

 “I wish it didn’t,” she sighed. “For me to take you would make me look weak because you are an outsider. And I doubt your people would appreciate it either.”

 “Fuck what my people have to say. They aren’t here right now.” She leaned closer. “And yours aren’t here right now, either.”

 Lexa gave her an amused glance. “As much as I want to, the natblidas are here. We will have time later.”

 “You’d better keep that promise.” The greenery behind them rustled and the two separated. The first to walk into the clearing was a boy, only a couple of inches shorter than Clarke, with tousled blonde-red hair and pale skin. He had slim muscle packed into his arms and legs, a show of strength despite his skinniness. He grinned. “Heda! You have not visited in a while!”

 “I know. I apologize. I’ve been busy,” Lexa said, stepping forward to hug him. Six other kids crowded around her, the youngest clinging to her arm. Clarke almost cooed. 

 “Heda, who’s she?” All eyes turned to Clarke. She shifted her weight, smiling nervously. 

 Lexa ruffled the young girl’s hair. “This is Klark. You may have heard of her. She is Skaikru.”

 Aden was the first to step forward. “Pleasure to meet you, Klark kom Skaikru. I am Aden kom Podakru.”

 Clarke relaxed. “The pleasure’s all mine, Aden.”

 He smiled at her. The other six natblidas introduced themselves, no two being from the same clan. Clarke was particularly drawn to a young brunette girl of eleven from the Sankru named Kalya. The young girl seemed genuinely happy to meet her, offering her arm in greeting, a sign of respect among their culture. 

 Lexa herded them away to train them and Clarke watched from the sides. First, Lexa fought each of them individually. Aden was the only one who got a hit on her; likely why Lexa claimed he was the most likely successor. It was incredible to see how they fought with their powers. Water, electricity, earth, fire, each of them had a beauty to them. Electricity was like a bullet; if you didn't know it was coming you couldn’t dodge it. Water was smooth and flowing; not solid but a good way to disorient. Earth made the entire arena a tricky place to maneuver. The ground would jut out or retract in, not something that happened quick but deadly if you didn’t avoid it. Fire was a whole different story.

 Lexa and Aden fought with fire. It was a deadly dance, both fighting for control. Aden would lash out and Lexa would snap it away, sending her own projectile. Fire couldn’t hurt either of them but it could burn through armor, melt weapons if hot enough and could act as a blindfold. By the time Aden was down, the entire clearing was filled with smoke.

 After that, they paired up to fight, Lexa working with one herself. She was harsh in her teachings but always kept her students safety in mind. 

 When it was all over, most of them collapsed to the ground to rest. Lexa walked back to her, slick with sweat that made Clarke’s core pulse. She leaned over, muttering in her ear. “You’re hot when you’re all sweaty.”

 Lexa furrowed her brows. “Hot? Of course. Exercise always warms the body.”

 Clarke snuffed a laugh. “That’s not what I meant.” She leaned back in. “In our culture, ‘hot�� means attractive.”

 Lexa flushed. “Oh.”

 Clarke snorted, shifting slightly away to a more respectable distance. One of the natblidas came over to them. “Heda, why did you bring the skaigada?” The other nightbloods crowded closer to hear her answer. 

 Lexa rested a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “I wanted you to meet her. Klark has become a friend of mine. I thought you would like her.”

 The youngest, a boy of Asian descent from the plain riders, tugged on her sleeve. “Can you tell us about Skaikru?”

 Clarke smiled. “Of course. What do you wish to know?”

 Clarke spent a good part of the next half-hour talking to them about Arkadia and the Ark. They seemed horrified at her life. “You don’t have keryonakas?”

 She shook her head. “No. I didn’t even know such a thing existed until I came here.”

 “So you don’t have a spirit?”

 Clarke sent Lexa a questioning glance. Lexa’s eyes flickered to the nightbloods and she nodded.

 “I do,” Clarke said. “Lexa taught me how to find it.”

 “What are you?” The young boy was bouncing on his heels. “I bet you’re a wodahaka.”

 “I think she’s a graunhaka!”

 They turned eagerly back to her. “Which one are you?”

 She chuckled. “Neither. Nor am I a fayahaka or a strakahaka.” She pulled out of the air a globe of white light, like a mini star held in her palm. “I am what you might call a sonchaka.”

 “A light-maker.” Aden stepped forward, eyes wide. He reached forward. “Can I?” Clarke pushed the globe to him.

 His fingers slipped right through it without any resistance. His face filled with wonder as the light trailed after his fingertips when he retreated. The other children pushed closer to get a better view.

 Clarke pulled out a ribbon of light, twirling it around Kalya and making her look like some sort of ethereal goddess. She laughed, reaching up to touch the swirling glow. It recoiled from her touch, forming into a little fox and nuzzling her palm before dissipating. 

 She released more ribbons, the light spiraling around the clearing, dipping up and down and in and out. Lexa held up a hand, tendrils of flame joining in with the light show. Her fire sparked into a golden hue. The natblidas gaped at the impressive display of power.

 Clarke pulled back, feeling the use of so much power take its toll on her. Lexa drew hers back as well, stepping up beside her. “Listen to me. You cannot tell anyone about this. I trust all of you to understand the importance of keeping this hidden.” The natblidas nodded along with Lexa’s words. “Good. Now, I believe you are late to Titus’s lessons. Tell him if he has a problem to take it up with me.”

 The children rushed off, hastily saying their goodbyes to Clarke. Silence fell quickly.

 Lexa reached out to grab her hand, not saying anything. Clarke turned to her. “You really want to deal with Titus?”

 Lexa laughed at that, a sound that made Clarke smile widely. “Nobody wants to deal with Titus, but if anyone is to do it I might as well be it.”

 “You shouldn’t have to be.” Clarke tugged her closer, planting a messy kiss on her cheek. “You’re young. You should live your life, not be weighed down by the needs of the people.”

 “And yet that is the life that was chosen for me the moment I was born.” She wiped a drop of black blood off of her face, where a small cut sat on her cheek just beneath her eye. “I was cursed with nightblood. It was my destiny to ascend or die.”

 “Has a commander ever retired?”

 “Retired? No. They die before they can.” She sighed. “I imagine it would be impossible to retire anyway. If I did somehow manage to grow old, I would be assassinated for being weak. If I tried to retire, I would be assassinated for being weak.”

 Clarke hooked their arms together. “Maybe once you get your peace you can work toward fixing that. Fixing your stupid weakness rule.”

 “It is not stupid, Klark,” Lexa complained. “It keeps us strong. The weak die, the strong live on.”

 “What do you consider weak? Sickness? Injury? Wanting to relax for a single fucking minute?”

 “You’re right,” she admitted. “It is flawed in that sense. But we’ll deal with that when we get there.”

 Clarke smiled. “I like the sound of that. We.”

 Lexa turned to her. “Does that mean you wish to stay here?”

 It was something she’d had on her mind for a while now. When she’d have to return. “I wish I could. I hope I can. But I can’t just leave my family and friends behind.”

 Lexa’s happy expression dropped a bit. “I understand.”

 “Hey, love, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. I want to. But I have an obligation to my people, just as you do to yours.”

 Lexa smiled shyly. “Perhaps we can incorporate Skaikru into our peace. From what you have told me of their capabilities, they would be valuable trade partners, and your fayagons would be a useful long-range weapon of war if one were to come about.”

 Clarke grinned and leaned over to press a kiss onto her lips. “I would love that. I’m sure my people would, too.”

 Lexa’s smile widened and she surged forward, catching her lips once more. 

 It would be some time before they returned to the city.

 -

 Lexa visited her that night as usual. Her dress was different.

 She wasn’t in her usual commander coat and armor, instead dressed in a thin nightgown with a long slit in the leg. Clarke let her in, eyes wandering, but Lexa didn’t care. Almost as if she’d done it on purpose. She probably had.

 The first thing Clarke did was pull her down onto her lap, pulling her in for a proper kiss. Lexa grunted, mouth parting slightly, and kissed back, shifting to straddle her hips. Clarke rested a hand on Lexa’s leg, feeling the bare skin that radiated warmth on the cool evening. The other hand slipped into Lexa’s hair, scratching at her scalp. Lexa purred, smiling into the kiss.

 Lexa pulled away first, hands resting on either side of Clarke’s neck. “Klark, how can we do this?”

 “Hmm?” Clarke hummed, her mind still slightly disoriented from the sudden rush of attraction.

 “Our relationship. How can we manage it?” Lexa rested her cheek against Clarke’s temple. “Our people will both despise it, and they already hate each other. Along with the fact that you cannot stay here forever and it will be hard for you to come back.”

 Clarke sighed. “I know. This can’t end well, not as it is now. I’ll have to leave soon, and you’ll be alone here again, and I’ll be locked up in Arkadia again. So let’s just enjoy this while it lasts.”

 “Enjoy it while it lasts,” Lexa said sadly. “It will have to be enough, won’t it?”

 Clarke didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.

 Lexa pulled away, their lips meeting ever so gently. With such thoughts at the front of their minds, they remained gentle and light, but it became a mere afterthought within the throngs of their affection.

 Lexa wasn’t a very touchy-feely person, but Clarke was completely hands-on. She traced muscles through the gown, slipped a hand to her arm to feel the raised flesh of the tattoo, of which Clarke had never seen. She’d have to ask Lexa about her tattoos later. 

 Clarke prodded at Lexa’s lower lip with her tongue, skimming over it with her teeth. Lexa obediently parted her lips, allowing Clarke to feel her out. She bit down lightly on her tongue and Clarke dug her nails into Lexa’s arm. She let out a low moan, sinking down into her.

 Clarke pulled back, eyes dark with lust. Evaluating Lexa’s behavior, she hoped she was reading this right. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against her ear. “I want you to sit still like a good girl and take what I give.”

 Lexa shivered, a gasp escaping her mouth. She nodded quickly, arms tightening around Clarke’s neck. Clarke kissed her on the lips and snagged her fingers in Lexa’s hair, tilting her head to the side. She began planting kisses up and down her jawline, sucking on her pulse point enough to leave the faintest of marks. It wouldn’t do to ruin the commander’s reputation.

 Clarke kissed up and down her neck, nipping and sucking on the soft, delicate skin of her throat. Her free hand went to Lexa’s back, splaying across the bare skin to hold her tight. This was the first time she’d ever been in a relationship even remotely sexual, and she was surprised at how naturally her dominance came through.

 Who would’ve thought the commander would be a damn sub.

 -

 Someone knocked on the door to Clarke’s room an hour after breakfast.

 A handmaiden was standing at the door. “Klark kom Skaikru,” she began, dipping her head. “I come with a message from the commander.”

 “What is it?”

 “You must collect your things,” she said. “Heda has gifted you this sak to carry anything you wish to take with you. She says you will be departing in a candlemark.”

 Clarke furrowed her eyebrows. “Did she say where I am going?”

 “She gave no hint of the destination or purpose.”

 Clarke nodded stiffly. “Thank you.” The handmaiden bowed slightly and turned to leave. Clarke closed the door, leaning her forehead against the thick, rich wood. 

 She was leaving Polis. Likely being delivered back to her people. Why? She doubted Lexa would make this decision without consulting her first unless there was something else playing into it. Had something happened?

 She had no way to get her answers. She grabbed a change of clothes, her drawings, and, as a last minute thought, grabbed Lexa’s other gifts. The watercolors and the keryon books. She hoped she was allowed to take those.

 The better part of the hour was spent pacing her room in silence. Her steps weighed heavy on the floor, her face scrunched up in thought as she went over the various scenarios of what could be happening. Did it have to with Skaikru? With Polis? The Kongeda? The questions rang in her mind with no way of answering them.

 Another handmaiden came to fetch her, leading her outside of the tower and to a building at the edge of the city. It was a stable, filled with the smells and sounds of horses.

 There were a dozen horses outside, all tacked up and ready to depart. All of the riders were warriors except one.

 Clarke strode over. “Lexa,” she said quietly. The girl looked up from where she had been securing the horse’s girth. “What is going on?”

 “I’ll tell you on the way. We have to arrive as soon as possible.” Lexa handed her the reins to a sturdy chestnut mare and turned to address the entire party. “Mount up.”

 Clarke had to hold the stirrup in place with her hands to be able to get her foot in and swing herself over. Luckily, the mare was small, just short enough that she could do it herself, which saved her a bit of dignity. Lexa sat tall on her dark stallion, nodding for Clarke to flank her. 

 They rode out of Polis, pushing the pace to a slow lope. Lexa fell back to ride beside Clarke. “A messenger just arrived from Onya this morning. The Skaikru have been searching for you, and have begun to extend their search outside of their territory. Patrols on the border have turned them back, but they grow persistent. We fear they will turn to violence if you are not returned to them.”

 It wasn’t until then that Clarke understood what she had been doing to them, staying in Polis. She’d known it wouldn’t do to live away from her family and friends, but she hadn’t considered the immediate consequences. They’d assume the worst. Most of them already hated the tribes, and if they thought the Trikru had kidnapped her… 

 Okay, technically, they had kidnapped her. But no one needed to know that.

 The message had been vague, so Lexa couldn’t tell her much more than that. They rode side by side, occasionally picking up small talk but keeping a comfortable silence for the majority of the ride. They stopped every hour or so to rest the horses, slowing to a trot as the sun began to dip closer to the horizon. 

 They camped for the night by the riverside, the ground flattened by two graunhaka warriors in a way that she recognized had been done by Anya on their journey to Polis. She hadn’t realized how much the grounders depended on their powers to get things done more efficiently. Lexa sparked up an easy flame, adjusting it as needed to cook the deer meat to perfection. The water was purified by one of the wodahakas and the horses were given fresh patches of some of the best foods just grown from the ground.

 Clarke discreetly lit up the tips of her fingers, letting the glow dance over her hand. She wondered about what it would mean for her back home.

 She and Lexa didn’t have a single moment alone the entire four days it took to travel to TonDC. By the time they arrived, Clarke was aching for her in a way that seemed impossible.

 They arrived back at dusk, setting up tents just beside the village walls. Most people gave them warm greetings, but Anya was less than pleased to see Clarke. “It is her fault we are in this situation in the first place,” she argued. 

 Clarke snorted. Anya scowled at her. “Have something to say, skaigada?”

 “I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t forced me into custody.”

 They could have gone back and forth for hours. Lexa knew that. She stopped it before it could even begin.

 When they returned to their tents, Lexa tapped her wrist lightly and hooked their pinkies together, drawing her towards the commander’s tent.

 Lexa sat down on the fur-covered cot and looked at Clarke. Clarke looked back. They both knew what this was.

 This was goodbye.

 Clarke walked toward her and removed her pauldron, setting it on a table behind her. Lexa stayed silent, hands ghosting over Clarke’s arms as she undid the many buckles of the commander’s coat, laying the heavy fabric on the table as well. She turned back, watching Lexa. Her eyes glistened and Clarke could feel tears pricking at the edges of hers as well. She leaned down, pressing her lips to Lexa’s forehead, hands coming up to cradle her face. 

 Lexa seemed to choke on her words. “Klark, I-”

 “Shhhh,” Clarke mumbled, lips still against Lexa’s face. “No words. Not tonight. Nothing that will remind us of what is to come.”

 Lexa wrapped her hands around Clarke’s wrists and squeezed lightly. Clarke sat down beside her and pulled her into a soft kiss, hands gentle and caring. Nothing of the hot passion they’d shared previous nights, and yet it was all the more powerful.

 They fell asleep together in Lexa’s bed, shoes still on their feet, hair still braided tightly to the back of their heads, armor still strapped to their chests. When they woke once more come morning, neither moved, only soaking in the closeness of the other. Silently dreading what was to come.

 Someone knocked on one of the poles of Lexa’s tent.

 Clarke clutched Lexa tighter.

 -

 Their goodbyes outside are nothing short of formal protocol.

 Lexa keeps her face schooled, chin raised high, though Clarke can see how her lower lip trembles, how her hands shake, how her eyes shine. She imagined she was much the same. Neither said more than was expected and Clarke was thankful. If Lexa had tried to say anything more, she wouldn’t have been able to keep her facade.

 She was escorted to the border of Arkadia. Anya was thankful to be rid of her.

 She walked alone back to the fallen Ark, feeling her heart close in on itself as the walls came into view. She pushed Lexa to the back of her mind. She knew she’d break down later when she was alone. 

 Someone called her name and people began to gather at the fences, looking out at her with surprise, relief, awe.

 Her mother rushed up to the gates, standing just over the threshold. Raven and Octavia were there as well. 

 She was happy to see them. She would be, at least.

 The flicker of the torchlight against their face only served to remind her of the red flames that spiraled from Lexa’s hands.

[geralehane]

Hiii. So these two songs called “false god” and “so it goes” by taylor swift really remind me of your writing. Do you think you can write some clexa on any one of those or both together or anyway you like??? Thankyou!

thank you for the prompt yay! i listened to false god (which i love btw) while writing this and... this may or may not be based on some real-life scenarios and wistful thinking but... yeah. idk. here it is. it’s a little confusing but i hope you like it. ***

Once again, they find themselves back here – a dark bedroom bathed in purple hues from the sign across the street, and bodies scattered with marks of pretend belonging.

Lexa’s always the first to lean in and she’s always the first to get up. Always patient, always wordless. Clarke only watches her from the bed, careful not to let her fingers curl around the sheets still carrying Lexa’s warmth, careful not to let her eyes linger on hers for too long.

“It’s late,” Lexa murmurs if Clarke takes too long to leave while she’s in the bathroom. She’s only done it once before, and she’s learned her lesson since. It’s late echoed in her ears the entire ride home, followed her up to her own empty apartment and her empty bed, silently trickled down her cheeks once she allowed herself to succumb to its real meaning.

It’s late – and I don’t want you anymore.

So she sighs, and rolls over, and quietly slips away, and every night is supposed to be the same – but hearts can only take this much pain. Even the broken ones.

Lexa’s green eyes are guarded when they find her still in the room as she emerges from the bathroom. “It’s late.”

“I know.” She stands up. Careful, always careful, because she’s been careless with Lexa’s heart more than once and this is where it got her. “Tomorrow’s Sunday.” When Lexa doesn’t reply, she tries again. “Pancakes every Sunday, remember?” she doesn’t mean to sound like a poorly written romance novel, but then again, she’s never meant for so many things to happen, either.

Lexa’s gaze hardens, and just like that, she shuts down. “I’m not doing this.”

“I’m not asking to do anything,” Clarke replies quickly. She’s acutely aware of her own nakedness, but she thinks wrapping a sheet around herself now would be worse. “I just want to talk.”

“And I don’t.” Lexa rubs her face, and suddenly she looks tired to the point of exhaustion, and – I made her like this. “This… doesn’t mean anything.”

She closes her eyes, swallowing the bitter lump in her throat. Thinks back to almost a year ago. To Lexa’s eyes, earnest and kind, and then glistening and desperate, to her hands grasping her own, begging for answers she couldn’t give her back then. “Tell me I mean something. Tell me I mean… anything.”

“It’s late,” Lexa says in the present, and they both know she’s not talking about the time. And Clarke knows she should leave it alone and leave Lexa in peace, but truth is she’s always been selfish, and peace was out of the question the second they started this.

“Pancakes every Sunday and avocado toast every Wednesday,” she whispers, forcing herself to watch Lexa as her usually stoic façade cracks. “That’s what you told me.”

“I did,” Lexa seemingly accepted she’s not getting out of this without at least some words exchanged, and Clarke knows it’s not going to be pretty. She wonders if she’s ready for this. Ready for Lexa’s hurt already bleeding through her words. “I did, and then you broke my heart, and I can’t trust you with it again.”

Or ever, Clarke thinks what Lexa still can’t bring herself to say. “I know. And now it’s late.”

Lexa doesn’t answer. Only nods, and Clarke wants to scream, because this is so, so unfair, and all she wants is to crumble in her arms and that’s the only thing she can’t do. So she does the only thing she’s got left. She talks. “Do you know why I agreed to this?”

“We don’t need to do this,” Lexa murmurs, and Clarke only lets out a broken please, and tries to tell herself she shouldn’t hope when Lexa gives in with another tiny nod. “I – fine.” She crosses the room and sits on the corner of her bed, not looking at Clarke. “Actually, let me guess. You’d rather have me like this than not have me at all?”

She scoffs. “I know, entirely too terrible and entirely too cliché.” Lexa doesn’t flinch when she sits next to her. “Still true. I know you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you’re lonely,” Lexa tells her. “And I believe you need me, but Clarke – you don’t want me. Don’t confuse yourself. It only ends in heartache, and we both had enough.”

She’s thought that’s what she’d hear, but she doesn’t expect the actual physical pain imploding in her chest, and she barely manages not to gasp. “No, Lexa…”

Of course, she springs to her feet at that. “It’s late,” she repeats herself, and she’s still not looking at her. “You should go home, Clarke. Please.” And she knows – she knows nothing will come of it tonight. Lexa won’t listen to her. Not right now. Not for many days. But she’s ready for this. She’s finally ready for this.

And she gets up, and gathers her things, and leaves – but not before lingering, and gently brushing her fingers against Lexa’s cheek so she just looks at her; and not before leaning into her for the first real hug they’ve had in a goddamn year. “I just need one chance,” she whispers as she clings to her, and damn near cries when Lexa’s arms wrap around her, hesitant and clumsy. “One talk, one shot at this, whatever you might want this to be. That’s all I ask. Can I… Can I see you tomorrow?”

And in that moment, Lexa’s quiet okay has got to be the best thing she’s ever heard.

[osleyakomwonkru]

hi, for the salty ask list: 1, 5, 10 and 19

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get? /  5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?

I’m answering these two questions together, because they very much go together for me, and the answer is: Clexa.

As I’ve mentioned before, I started watching the show between S4 and S5. And before I’d met my infection vector (Ilian and then by extension Octavia), the only thing I’d ever heard about the show was that there was this badass lesbian called Lexa who had this epic romance with an equally badass bisexual Clarke, until Lexa was killed in a particularly tragic case of the Bury Your Gays trope. 

That had been enough to put me off the show initially, since LGBTQ representation and portrayals in media are very important to me. But Octavia’s storyline intrigued me enough that I was like, okay, I’ll give it a shot anyway, and then I went into it all ready to be righteously angry when Lexa died. 

Only... that didn’t happen. I watched the first three seasons, and couldn’t see any sign of that epic romance that fandom had told me about. Clarke and Lexa were actively hostile with each other (well, the hostility was mostly on Clarke’s part) for much of their screentime together. Then things began to soften, and then they slept together, and then Lexa died. This last sentence all happened within the space of three episodes - not a lot of time at all.

Was it a bad case of the Bury Your Gays trope? Oh, for sure. There are a hundred better ways Lexa could have died. But she was always going to. This isn’t a romance tale of happily ever after, and people in her position live dangerous lives, and once she’d been brought into focus she wasn’t a character that could be put Out of Focus again. She wasn’t ever going to survive the plot. Not in this sort of ‘verse.

But fandom had built them up to be this huge epic sweeping romance, when in reality they had very little time together under very trying circumstances. The epic wasn’t there. It was the start of something, which may have turned epic had Lexa lived. But she didn’t and it didn’t, so the idea that it was this grand love that Clarke still mourns intensely years later just doesn’t sit right with me.

I think had fandom been honest about what their relationship was - the start of something then cut tragically short - then I wouldn’t have gone into the show with the expectations I did, and I could have appreciated the relationship for what it was rather than what fandom told me it was. So yeah, fandom ruined Clexa for me.

10.  Most disliked arc? Why?

Bellamy taking Clarkephine on their forest walkabout in S6. And if we want to expand that a bit further, Bellamy’s entire arc with Clarke since the beginning of S5, where he’ll throw everyone else under the bus and even ignore her own wishes to save her from either a perceived or actual threat.

If there *hadn’t* been a six year separation where they each lived very different lives, maybe I could buy it. Maybe. But as it is, especially given that she hasn’t done the same for him? No. The only conceivable explanation - where he’s willing to throw both his blood family and his found family under the bus on a consistent basis for her benefit - is that he’s in love with her. Yet we’re supposed to believe their relationship is platonic, but he does things for her that he won’t do for any other platonic friend - so why is this girl who he’s known personally for mere weeks the one he chooses, especially given he’s repeatedly chosen her over his sister who was the centre of his world for seventeen years, as well as over Spacekru who he lived and formed bonds with for six years? I’m not a Bellarke shipper, but if they’re not supposed to be endgame, I don’t know what the hell they’re doing here. It doesn’t make any sense at all.

Then there’s the overt hypocrisy where he’s ready and willing and wanting to know about and accept what Clarke went through during those six years, but won’t do the same for Octavia. Where he’ll forgive Clarke for what he did to her (no, that’s not a typo, he somehow thinks that he’s the aggrieved party when he’s quite the opposite), but not do the same for Octavia. Where he’ll prioritize Clarke over everyone else, even her own daughter that she’ll risk everything for.

I hate it. Hate hate hate.

19. What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?

I have to pick just one? Haha. Well, there are many different ways that I could answer this question, depending on what precisely is meant by “fandom” - does that mean in this context the canon source material, does it mean the fans of the show? Because other questions in this quiz make it sound like it could go either way.

I’m going to go on the “fans of the show” aspect here, since the canon would make me rant for days in many different ways, so let’s stick to fan behaviours.

At which point, I have to go with the rabid shipper behaviour - you know the type, where their every response to JRoth’s Twitter posts is something about their ship, even when the post has nothing to do with any of that. Where they threaten X, Y and Z if their ship doesn’t happen. Where they hate on actors whose characters are standing in the way of their ships.

This is not a romance show. Who is fucking who is not the be-all end-all of the universe. If you’re still reading this post after I’ve already ranted about both Clexa and Bellarke, then I’ll assume you’re probably not one of those rabid shippers. I mean, obviously, love and relationships are a part of life, but the most compelling storylines and story arcs are not about romance. They’re often about how far people are willing to go to save the people they love, but what type of love that is can vary drastically, and more often than not, isn’t based on romance.

[w0rld0fmy0wn]

Clexa + 16.

16. things you said with no space between us

(Whew boy, this one ran away with me too. I really can’t do short drabbles.)

Outside the rain beats against the top of the tent, creating a relentless patter that fills Clarke’s ears. Even after more than a year on the ground, she still sometimes gets lost in it, in that wild tempo of pit pit pit pat-pat pit pit pich-ch-ch-ch of heavy raindrops connecting with a hard surface. Unrelenting but soothing, so much more so than the mechanical whirs of the Ark she grew up with. Even with damp socks and the grit of mud between her teeth from a long march, she would choose the rain over space every second of every day. 

There’s grunting along with the rain, and shouting. The kinds of noises that go hand-in-hand with any large group of people trying to set up a make-shift camp, even a group as efficient as the Commander’s army. The rain - and the tent - nearly drown all the other noises out, enough that Clarke could forget there was anyone else around. 

Except for one person, of course. 

She and Lexa are alone in the tent. They weren’t, up until a mere few minutes ago. The war table was one of the first things set up when the army stopped, right in the middle of the tent, and Lexa and her generals had gathered around it, spinning out their strategy for the battle to come. Azgeda - Nia - began acting up again a month ago, and when a traveling ambassador for the Louwoda was reported as missing and then kidnapped and murdered by the Ice Nation warriors, the Commander had finally had enough. Nia had been granted enough lenience - too much, according to every general around the Commander’s table - and Lexa finally declared war on the nation who simply refused to bend to her word and its queen who refused to bow before her rule. 

Clarke knows this is a fight that is long overdue but was always going to happen, but knowing that doesn’t quiet the flutter in her chest or dismiss that tiny chill of fear she can feel creeping down her spine. She’s pretending to stare down at the map still rolled out across the table, acting as though she’s familiarizing herself with this strange piece of land she’s found herself in, but in reality she’s watching the Commander through her eyelashes. 

She isn’t in her war gear. Not yet. Her pauldron and sash are hanging neatly on hooks secured to one of the posts holding the tent up. There’s a knife strapped to her side, just as there’s one strapped to Clarke’s, but the Commander’s sword is sheathed, leaning against the big chair one of her warriors set up on the other side of the table. It isn’t the same throne the brunette was sitting in the first time the two young leaders laid eyes on each other, but it’s nearly as formidable. The war paint hasn’t been spread around her eyes yet, but in the flickering candlelight Clarke thinks she doesn’t need it; Lexa’s eyes themselves are dark, dangerous even, and another shiver shoots down Clarke’s spine. 

There are many sides to the woman in front of her, and right now she’s pretending not to stare at the calculating warrior intent on destroying her enemies. And Clarke knows. 

She will. Within days, the Ice Nation will fall. Nia will fall. 

It won’t be easy; the Ice Nation is a fearless, ruthless opponent, and each and every warrior on that battlefield will understand that there will be no mercy. No surrender, no laying down their swords and spears and begging for their lives. The Commander will not grant them such liberties after their queen’s defiance. So they will fight, each one of them, until the blood seeps from their bodies and stains the mud they fall in. And they will fall, no matter how hard they fight - that much Clarke knows, with every fiber of her being.

Some of the Commander’s generals insist on more than just the warriors’ deaths, insist on the annihilation of the entire Azgeda population after all Nia has done. Clarke has tried - delicately - to steer everyone away from that. Tried to remind them all that there are people under Nia’s rule who are in fact innocent, who have no part in their queen’s defiance against the Commander and want nothing more than to live peacefully under Lexa’s coalition. She remembers all too well the heart-stopping fear of standing and facing the Commander’s army with the knowledge they have no hope of winning, that good, innocent people are about to die if she doesn’t do something to stop it. The people are different this time, not the ones she should feel any responsibility for, but still she has spent the past couple of weeks fighting for them. Not the warriors or their queen, but the innocents, the common people, children and mothers and fathers who have never even touched a weapon. She has insisted that the generals think of them, remember them while they’re getting their Commander’s justice. They’ve listened, she thinks, and though they aren’t happy about it, so far it seems like everyone will be content with just the fall of the Ice Queen and her army. 

Or so Clarke hopes, at least. 

“You must have that memorized by now.”

Lexa’s voice - quiet beneath the patter of the rain - breaks through the blonde’s thoughts and Clarke nearly jumps. She’s still watching the Commander through her eyelashes and sees the other woman shift, her head tilting up as she flashes Clarke a small smile. It’s just a twitch of her lips really, barely noticeable, but it’s enough to make it clear to Clarke that she’s been caught, that the Commander is fully aware at what she’s actually looking at. 

Her cheeks heat up, but she’s pretty sure they at least don’t flush, or that if they do it isn’t visible in the dim lighting. 

“Well there’s a lot to memorize,” she replies simply, one shoulder shrugging, and otherwise doesn’t move. 

Because it’s true. There is a lot to memorize. Like the way Lexa’s hands are resting against the table, holding her own map out in front of her so that the corners don’t curl in. How even though she’s leaning a little over the table, somehow her posture is still perfect, spine almost perfectly straight. As always her hair is pulled back in little braids, but a bit has managed to find its way over her shoulder, as though it’s trying to hide Lexa’s jawline from Clarke’s sight. Even with an army just outside and a battle looming on the horizon, her shoulders are relaxed in that way the blonde only sees when they are alone. Every detail stores itself away in her mind and in her chest, and Clarke has to bite the inside of her cheek as she silently files it all away. 

Because even though she knows in a way she can’t explain that they are going to win, there’s always the possibility that they won’t. Or that they will win, but will also lose the Commander along the way. After all, unlike Clarke Lexa is going to be right at the front line, charging into battle with the rest of the warriors. The Commander does not wait out a battle or let others fight it for her; the Commander leads the charge, her sword in hand and a war cry on her lips. So it is entirely possible that this will be the last time Clarke will ever see this hurricane of a woman, and just that thought makes it difficult for her to catch her breath. 

Maybe Lexa notices - Clarke’s pretty sure after a year of knowing her that she somehow manages to notice everything - because she looks up more fully from her own map, staring at the blonde straight on. Her expression softens, the darkness that had been pooling in her eyes only moments ago fazing away until Clarke’s staring into a green deeper than the deepest part of the forest. There’s an openness now in her expression, the same one Clarke has been afraid of for months now, and it tugs at something in the blonde’s chest. 

“We have a plan, Clarke, a good one. In two days we will meet Nia’s army on the battlefield and we will be ready.” One corner of her mouth tugs up just a hair, and she nods toward the map in front of the younger leader. “You have a gift for strategy, as you must know by now.”

She knows. It is, after all, why she is here. She may not be a warrior, will never be a great fighter like Lexa or Octavia or Lincoln, but she quickly learned how to plan and strategize after the delinquents’ crash landing on the ground. Not that she could take all of the credit for their plan to take down the Ice Queen, but she likes to think that even the most stubborn of Lexa’s generals now has at least a grudging respect for the Skaikru ambassador. 

She doesn’t say as much though. 

“I know I’m just…” She stares back down at the map in front of her and rubs at her forehead. She can feel a tension headache coming on, and knows it probably won’t go away until the fight is over and their war is won. “Just trying to make sure we’ve planned for everything.”

There’s a smaller table at the side of the tent, and Lexa moves over to it now, shaking her head. There she grabs the pitcher that is set out on it, as well as two of the cups. 

“You can never prepare for everything in battle, Clarke,” she informs her, setting one cup down on the war table and then pouring some watered down wine into the second. She hands it to Clarke who accepts it with a nod of thanks. “All you can do is prepare for what you know, what you suspect, and steal yourself for the inevitable surprises.”

“I don’t like surprises,” Clarke mutters, glancing back down at the map before taking a sip of the wine. From the corner of her vision she sees Lexa’s lips twitch even as she pours her own cup. 

“No, you do not. I know, and neither do I, but they are part of life and a part of battle.”

It’s said so matter-of-factly, so simply, that it makes Clarke pause and her eyes flicker up again. She finds Lexa staring down at her map now, the coming battle likely playing out in her mind, even as she takes a slow sip from her own cup. Clarke knows that only part of her is here now, in this room and part of this conversation. Another part of her is split, thinking of the war to come and the surprises they’ve already faced. 

It’s been almost a year since they were in a tent so much like this one. Almost a year since that one kiss that still sends a rush of confusion and heat through Clarke’s chest every time she thinks about it. A year since the mountain, and Lexa walking away. It’s been a painful journey every day since to get them to this place, this spot where Clarke can actually stand to be in the same room with the brunette again, alone or otherwise. Where instead of betrayal and anguish, of fury and hatred, instead she feels understanding, acceptance, even peace. And something more, something she hasn’t wanted to think about, hasn’t let herself think about except for those quiet moments in the middle of the night, surrounded by darkness with Lexa’s image dancing behind Clarke’s eyelids. 

Now there is light that washes out the darkness, even though it is dim. Lexa’s image is not hidden behind her eyelids but painted out in the vivid detail of reality in front of her, and though a part of her wants to push it back again, those thoughts squirm to the forefront of Clarke’s mind and she lets them. Her heart - which was already beating more rapidly than normal - quickens further, and Clarke feels a tingling in her fingertips. Her mouth feels dry even after another gulp of the wine, and then she’s tipping her head back and emptying the rest of the cup, hoping for just a hint of relief. She looks back at Lexa and gets none; she catches Lexa looking at her again, those green eyes soft in a way Clarke’s sure she isn’t aware of, and in that moment she makes a decision. 

Clarke closes her eyes for a split second, needing to steal herself, and then places the cup on the table. Before it’s even settled she’s moving, the voice in her head silently encouraging her even as her heart feels like it’s about to explode from her chest. 

You want this. You want her. You’ve wanted her almost as long as you’ve known her. Tell her, while you still have the chance.

“I don’t,” she begins, stumbling a little as she tries to figure out what to say. “I don’t like them. Surprises, I mean. And yeah, I know you don’t either. But… Sometimes. Sometimes surprises are good. Sometimes something you didn’t expect can be… what you need. Want. What makes you…”

She trails off, because honestly she doesn’t know how to say all of the hundreds of things she’s feeling, that she’s been feeling ever since she met the woman in front of her. It’s as though the storm outside their tent is only half as wild as the storm whirling in her chest, and Clarke just doesn’t know how to take a hold of it and root through it to find the words that can describe this maddening ache in her chest. 

A flash of panic sparks in Lexa’s eyes, and honestly Clarke finds it a little comforting. At least she isn’t the only one searching here. At least she isn’t the only one feeling like she’s standing in a boat getting rocked by this storm. Because alongside that panic she can see in Lexa’s eyes is a little catch of breath. She hears it, sees it in the way Lexa’s lips part, and when her eyes trail back up to the other woman’s she realizes that the brunette is staring at her lips too. They’re close now, nearly chest-to-chest, and Clarke hadn’t realized she’d moved this close to Lexa but she’s glad of it. Because now, in this suspended moment, she can scan Lexa’s face, read everything that flashes across that usually closed off expression. Hope. Fear. Longing. Pain. 

“Clarke…”

It comes out as a whisper. A warning. A plea. 

Don’t do this. 

Please do this. 

I’ve hurt you. 

You’ve hurt me. You can hurt me. 

Please. Please don’t hurt me. Don’t let me hurt you.

“Lexa,” Clarke whispers back. There’s more she wants to say. More she can feel bubbling up, racing to the tip of her tongue. It’s there, there in the way she reaches out, brushes a finger against the brunette’s cheek. There’s a response in the way Lexa nearly flinches but sinks into the touch at the same time. A whole litany of words dances between them but aren’t said, aren’t even muttered, because neither of them know how to make their mouths work around them. Clarke wants to say it all, wants to express it all so completely and fully that there can’t be any questions left between them, but instead only a single word comes out. 

“Now.”

Again Lexa tries to catch her breath, but this time Clarke doesn’t let her. The words won’t form but her body is more than willing to fill in the spaces, and without hesitation the blonde leans forward. Her fingers gently cup Lexa’s cheek and then her lips slide against the brunette’s, and now it’s her that can’t breathe. 

Because Lexa doesn’t hesitate either. The moment their lips touch her hand comes up, lightly grasping the back of Clarke’s head and pulling her closer, closer, as close as she possibly can and Clarke allows herself to be moved. There’s a dull thud that barely registers in the blonde’s mind, and if she were paying attention to anything but the feeling of Lexa’s body pressed against hers she’d realize the brunette dropped her cup, just let it fall to the ground before pulling her close. 

It’s a kiss that begins with one meaning, the simple indication that they are each ready, each willing to bare their souls to the other and to trust the other, and then it turns into a kiss of something else. Of a promise. Of apologies and forgiveness. Of “You’re you and I’m me, and I never thought we’d actually make it to this.” Of I’m sorry, and thank you, and I love you, have loved you, will love you, words that they may not know how to articulate yet but each can so easily and completely feel that it doesn’t even begin to matter. 

Outside warriors shout and the rain falls. In two days the Commander will lead her army against her greatest enemy and fight until Nia is defeated, and then Commander and Ambassador will return to Polis, to the lives and daily struggles that won’t change solely because of this stolen moment alone in the Commander’s tent. 

But right now. 

Right now the moment is here, and it is enough. Enough for them to let go of their fears. To accept that this is who they are. They are Ambassador and Commander, but they are also Clarke and Lexa. 

And even though the word has yet to be spoken, they love each other. 

Now. And forever.  

[adistantstarblog]

The Extra (Few Thousand) Miles

(Based in the Phone Fic AU. Click here for the original ficlet, and here for part 2)

Notes: A special announcement follows the ficlet! Enjoy!

Clarke’s bag was thrown over her shoulder. Knowing it was going to be a six hour flight she had comfortable clothes on. Standing in the middle of the busy airport terminal, her heart was hammering so fast that she felt like her legs, and her courage, would give out any minute. But she scanned the crowds coming and going, and stayed glued where she was.

It was just a second later she saw Lexa moving toward her through the people, her brown hair back in a long braid as she looked around trying not to jostle anyone, glasses cutely sliding down her face. Clarke could tell she hadn’t noticed her yet and suddenly she felt that much braver and shouted her name, “Lexa!” Clarke raised a hand in the air to get her attention, and started running toward her. She wasn’t as careful about not jostling people. And Lexa stopped where she was when she heard her, looked up and saw her and grinned so wide,

“Clarke!” she shouted back, and then she was running through people too, “excuse me…” she said as she worked her way through them. From a much shorter distance of ten feet away rather than half a country, Clarke could hear her.

She broke out laughing and dropped her bag as they met in the middle and flung her arms around her friend and held on tight. Lexa’s bag dropped too. Then she was wrapping her arms around her body and holding onto her tight and burying her face in her hair. 

Time might have stood still, standing there. And for a second she might forget she was about to do one of the things she considered scariest in her life. Her pulse was racing like wild and she was shaking just from meeting Lexa. Her throat felt dry as she said into Lexa’s hair, “I’m glad you made it.”

Lexa laughed against the side of her face, “me too.” she said. Then she finally pulled back, but kept her hands in Clarke’s and looked her up and down, “ready to go?” 

“No,” Clarke laughed softly, “but I’m going…” the terminal they would need to get on their plane was on the other side of the airport. People pushed by them. But Clarke hardly noticed. A thought hit her and she looked Lexa up and down, “don’t you need to eat?”

“We ate on the plane,” Lexa shrugged, “it was a six hour flight.”

“I can’t believe you flew all the way down here to come get me, and just fly eight hours back.” Clarke laughed, but she was so thankful Lexa had. Her friend knew she had a near-crippling fear of flying, that many things had been a show-stopper. But she was going to go through with this. Lexa was worth it.

“Of course I did,” Lexa smiled at her and reached up and caressed her face, “did you think I’d let you get on the plane alone?”

Clarke laughed, “I think you might have been afraid I wouldn’t have gotten on at all.”

Lexa smirked, “well...that may have been a tiny part of it. But you need to do something fun, Clarke, and to promote your writing. I know that book is burning holes in your head.” 

“I know..I know..I just…” Clarke trailed off and heaved out a heavy breath and tried to find words to say, “I mean...it means a lot. You doing this.” There was an amazing destination and a fun few days at the end of the flights. Just thinking of spending those days with Lexa brought a tiny smile to her face. 

“Well,” Lexa said, “if we don’t hurry, we’re not going to. Our next flight leaves in about twenty minutes.” she sounded like it wasn’t a big deal. But Clarke knew it was. Lexa tried staying calm on the outside but Clarke knew her enough to know that inside she was probably panicking.

“Okay..” Clarke said, but couldn’t say anything else. Within an hour, she would be high up in the air and not safe on the ground. The crippling fear came back as she reached down for her bag. Lexa was picking hers up too. But then warm fingers found her cold ones,

“Ready?” Lexa asked.

Clarke nodded, “as I’m going to be.”

“Good, cause we have to hurry,” then Lexa took off at a run, pulling her along. It was good they were already through security. Or they would never make it, “run, Clarke!” Lexa called back to her. Clarke did, the airport whipping past her. They did jostle through people now. But at least all her attention was focused on trying to keep up…

..a few minutes later, and out of breath, they arrived at the gate. As Lexa pulled out their tickets it kicked in for Clarke that this was it. Lexa was speaking. She was showing the tickets to the ladies behind the desk, “these our our tickets.”

“Did you have your passports?” the question was directed at both of them. Lexa already had hers ready. And to Clarke it felt like she wasn’t even there while she pulled out her id and showed it to the lady.

The lady inspected both and seemed to consider a few minutes. Finally she said, “okay, the plane is boarding. You can go ahead.” she nodded to the tunnel past the gate.

With those words, Clarke looked at it  too. She knew she was staring. But she couldn’t move.

“Clarke.” 

She didn’t answer. 

Lexa tried again, “Clarke?”

She whipped her eyes over to Lexa, “yeah?”

Lexa looked concerned, “are you sure you want to do this?”

Clarke nodded quickly, “I do.” she said, “on the other end of this…” she took a deep breath and said, “we’re going to have so much fun.” she offered Lexa a brave smile, “I can’t wait for that.”

“Okay,” Lexa said, her fingers tangling with Clarke’s, “lets go.”

“Okay.” Clarke answered. 

She walked with Lexa through the boarding tunnel, trying not to listen to the hollow sound it made that meant she was officially off the ground. A few minutes later they were finding their seats and Lexa allowed her to slide in first while she put the bags in the overhead compartment. Clarke, who had been looking out the window spoke up, “oh..I can help.”

“I got it.” Lexa said, and put Clarke’s back into the compartment too. Then she plopped down in her seat next to Clarke’s. Her hand found Clarke’s again, “I’m glad you’re doing this with me.”

Clarke smiled at her, excitement starting to tangle with and take over the nerves, “I am too.”

“I can’t believe it's finally here.”

“Me either,” Clarke said. They had been planning it for over half a year. The final boarding call was made, and the doors were closed up. As the flight attendants went through checking the tray tables and seatbelts, Clarke tried taking deep breaths. Especially when the plane started taxing out to the runway. 

“Here we go…” Lexa grinned over at her as the plane sped up, faster and faster, her hand found Clarke’s as gforce took over and pushed them both against the backs of their chairs. 

Clarke felt the minute the plane left the ground, the slight bump it made, and she felt it climbing higher and higher into the sky. But for some reason, her nerves were gone. All she could do was sit and look at the green eyes studying her. Taking a deep breath, knowing they had four hours and another plane to board ahead of them and then another four hours before landing in Florida seemed less important now. Using her hand that wasn’t holding Lexa’s in a death grip as the only remaining thing that kept her grounded Clarke stroked back strands of brown hair that had fallen out of Lexa’s braid, “I’m fine.”

Lexa kissed the back of her hand, “really?” she asked softly.

Clarke nodded, “yeah.”

“Good,” Lexa grinned wide and settled back in her seat, hand still holding Lexa’s, “QFX...” she began to say.

“Here we come!” Clarke finished for her. Excitement took over as she thought of the fun they would have. Especially with Lexa there.

She couldn’t wait. 

-=Special Announcement!=-

Hi Guys! I hoped you like the ficlet.  So, I have a huge announcement to make. Each year, there is a music festival I’ve attended for at least the last twenty years, which has become something of a tradition. And Clexa-Con is always scheduled on the exact same days as this festival. So I never get to go. Including 2020.

However!  This year there is news!  I am going to QFX East in Florida with @cynic-and-a-saint in May!  I’m so excited, looking forward to talking to peers, readers and other writers! So I was wondering who else is going? I’d love to meet up if we can.

Also, on a side note, the fear of flying in the ficlet may be based on a real fear. Soooo...if anyone has any advice on how to deal with the planes...that would be great. :D

Have fun!

-DistantStar

[lexa-griffins]

for your clexa headcanons i don’t know if you mean something from your fics or just in general but one i have is that in canon lexa is afraid of the dark (which she’s annoyed by) but on days where it’s really windy clarke Always makes sure to have something ready to relight all the candles or have some maybe covered (?) safely in a way where it’s hard to put it out with just wind

No you're so right because, when is Lexa ever in complete darkness? Never. There are always candles be it in her room or her tent and total darkness would definitely freak Lexa out. As a small nightblood getting separated from the others at night in a nighttime exercise and curling into a ball until Anya found her and carried her back to camp. How she sees the demons that haunt her when the room is to dark and how she'll rush to light three more candles to try and brighten the room. Its a weakness, this irrational fear of the dark. Anxiety inducing. One of the few things that coulf send her into a full blown panic attack.

And even with Clarke here, she can't fully let herself be in the dark. She can too easily see Costia's headless body in the lump that is Clarke beside her, see the spirits of the commanders around her shaming her for living in weakness like this. So she keeps the candles. And Clarke doesnt argue.

And when the first storm since they got together arrives the wind feels like it could shake the entire tower, and it blows through Lexa's window and although her and Clarke are save and warm, cuddled underneath the piles of fur in the bed, Lexa is shaking as the wind blows off another couple of candles, the only three surviving sitting by the door, somehow protected, making the room darker and darker.

"Are you cold? Do you want me to ask for more furs?" Clarke asks with worry in her voice, holding Lexa closer to her and she trembles. Lexa dhakes her head no, trying to hide herself from the growing darkness in Clarke's chest. She falls asleep right before the wind blows out the remaining candles, holding on to Clarke for dear life.

The next night, the storm continues. Milder, but with winds still strong enough to blow how half of Lexa's candles. She's under the furs, alone now as Clarke said she'd be back a little later. As another blow whistles through the window and blows a few more flames, Lexa can feels the panic settle. Even more so without Clarke beaide her. She's shaking, her breathing heavy and eyes burning with tears she does not want to let shed. She tried to lighten the candles the window blew out, but they do not last long.

The first tears as dropped when Clarke stumbles through the door, the clicking of glass accompanying her.

Lexa stares in shock as Clarke makes her way inside with what seems to be a basket full of cups and vases, relics from the old world that survived, given how glass isnt fabricated much by the grounders.

"You have no idea how many doors I knocked on to get all of this." Clarke comments, quickly removing the glassware from the box and moving around the room.

Her shock seems stronger than her panic as Lexa manages a "what are those for?"

Clarke shrugs, moving around the room with quickness, dropping smaller candles inside the cups and the bigger ones inside the vases before lighting them up. Immediately, Lexa feels herself become calmer, and the room lightens up and warms with the flames, only for another gust of wind to come through and blow out the few candles without glass around it. The rest shakes but stays bright.

"That should do the job until I can ask Raven for something that works better." Clarke announces, clearly proud of herself and her solution. As she turns she finds Lexa staring at her from the bed, mouth slightly agape, that "i am so in love with you" look Clarke knows so well on her face, "its really nothing. You spent the entire night shaking and whimpering last night Lexa. I get. Darkness cant be... terrifying. I hadn't experienced true darkness until i got to the ground. We always had some light on the ark." By now she has made her way to the bed, laying down next to Lexa who quickly snuggles up to jer side, happy with the way she can clearly see Clarke.

"I feel... very panicked when I can't see. I always feel like there might be something in the shadows that might get me. Be it a real person, a-a monster or-"

"A ghost." Clarke finishes for her, knowingly

Lexa nods, "yes."

Clarke pulls the cover above both of their bodies and the wind continues to make the trees shake and sing.

"As long as I'm here, I'll make sure there is no darkness in this room. Even if I have to blow my own glass."

Lexa tilts her head woth a smile, "Can you do that?"

Clarke chuckles, "Probably not." And Lexa joins in, pecking her lips and hididng her face underneath Clarke's chin, "But I'd learn. For you."

Lexa let's out a shaky, happy sigh. The room is already warmer, and despite the wind, it continues bright, "As long as you're here, I'll never be without light"

[brokendevilwrites]

How would Nerd/Popular clexa parent's and friend's react If they just up and eloped at say 20, after they get back together?

NOTE: This doesn’t really fit anywhere in their timeline I have but I wanted to write it anyway. Just take it with a pinch of salt.

===

They tell Lexa’s mother first and it goes about as well as expected. For long moments--moments that drag into minutes that feel like eons--Lexa’s mom just looks at them, an eyebrow arched highly that matches Lexa’s when she hears something ridiculous, and she sips at her coffee like she’s waiting for the punchline for a terrible joke.

The kitchen is warm and filled with the scent of home cooked meals that Lexa misses. Two vases of flowers sit on the window and Lexa knows they’re from patients, always grateful for the dedication her mother gives to them, and she feels at home again even though her life is being built in brand new ways in a brand new city.

“Married.”

It’s all she says and Lexa nods and nods and nods. Clarke notes, with a smile, that Lexa hasn’t shut up once about them being officially married since the second they slid rings onto one another fingers but all words seem to have left her the second they stepped into her mother's kitchen.

“Married,” Lexa finally parrots back and Clarke flexes her fingers under the table against her wife’s. Her wife. She’s married. She married the most popular girl in school and they’re in love and happy and full of future promises. It’s so much, almost too much, and Clarke wants to scream and sing and laugh at how happy she is. “We...I mean, we were always going to get married so I don’t really see why us eloping is such a big deal really.”

The cup makes a dull noise as her mom places it back on the counter and her fingers rub at her eyes, a long shift at work starting to wear on her. “You’re twenty years old.”

“I’m glad you remembered.”

“Lexa,” her mom scolds and Clarke has to hold back from apologising too. “If I needed some witty commentary in my life then I’d turn on the television. I don’t particularly need it from my daughter when she wants me to take the fact she’s married her high school sweetheart seriously.”

“But you like Clarke.”

“I don’t recall saying I didn’t like Clarke,” she snaps back and for the first time Clarke and Lexa notice what ripple effects their decisions have on other people. “I just don’t understand why you thought I’d be supportive of something that you clearly didn’t want me to be involved in.”

And just like that all of the fake bravado leaves Lexa. Her shoulders slump a little and she shrugs, looking a lot like a little girl and needing her mom to say something nice about her.

“That’s not --”

“I didn’t even know you two  were back together, Lexa. A few weeks ago you were telling me you weren’t sure if you would be friends again.”

“I mean, no. But nobody did and this just...It happened and we’re happy. Please don’t be mad, we’re happy.”

There’s a little part of Clarke that wonders if she should leave the room but she sits firm, showing support for her wife as they try to explain to her mom that them getting married so quickly wasn’t anything to do with anyone else. It was for them.

“I’m not angry, baby. I’m not even disappointed,” she finally sighs but Lexa doesn’t look convinced and her eyebrows narrow together slightly, a confused pout on her pretty lips. “I just wish I could have been there on the happiest day of your life. You were there on mine. I wanted to share that with you but it’s okay, I’m sure we can recreate it with a party or something.”

Lexa opens her mouth to speak but her mom stands and the couple watch as she walks over to them, placing a gentle kiss on both of their browlines, before whispering a congratulations.

When she leaves the room Clarke can see the seriousness of the situation in Lexa’s eyes.

===

“Well I’m not surprised.”

“I am.”

“That’s because you don’t pay attention to anything other than your reflection, Bell,” Octavia chuckles and Bellamy looks like he wants to argue before he realises it’s an argument that is a) pointless and b) one he’s going to lose. The siblings glare playfully at one another for a few seconds before they turn their attention back to the couple. “What did your parents say?”

“My mom is kind of pissed she wasn’t included in the wedding,” Lexa starts and rolls her eyes when Octavia makes a noise of agreement and she looks at Clarke who busies herself with stirring her hot chocolate. “We haven’t told Abby yet.”

“Why? Do you think she’s going to freak out?”

“It’s Abby Griffin,” Lexa says, her fingers fiddling with sugar packets, and she ignores the amused look that Octavia and Bellamy give the both of them. While she’s still definitely not the greatest fan of Clarke’s best friend, he isn’t that bad. After high school the ‘leader of the pack’ idiocy left him and he grew some. She doesn’t love the guy but she’s happy Clarke has him, he understands her in ways Lexa is still learning sometimes. And she likes Clarke has people who can provide her with different things. “She’s kind of a force of nature.”

Bellamy shrugs a little and sits back in the plastic chair, his large frame swallowing it. “She’s nice.”

“She nice to you because she wants you to marry Clarke,” Lexa retorts and it just makes the boy laugh.

“She likes you too,” Clarke whispers and presses a kiss to Lexa’s cheek like the girl doesn’t already know. “Although, she definitely doesn’t know we’re even back together. I didn’t tell her that part yet. You know when you tell you mom bad things about your ex and you can’t really take it back?”

She looks adorable even as she teases and Lexa laughs, her eyes rolling. She knows Clarke wouldn’t have said anything about her but Clarke’s eyes are gleaming with laughter and her lips are wide in a smile and she’s just beautiful.

Even now she take’s Lexa’s breath away.

“Great. Now I have to win her over even as I explain that I married her daughter while we went away on a vacation that nobody knew about before doing terrible things to her in a hotel room.”

“I don’t remember them being terrible,” Clarke shrugs and the table erupts into giggles and flying sugar packets.

===

Anya stares at them through the computer, her make-up and her hair clearly professionally done, and there are several people in the background who look like they’re probably waiting for her.

Lexa knows they’re going to wait a lot longer now.

“You got married while I’m in Europe?”

“In our defence, we never know where in the world you are,” Lexa says through a grin and Anya rolls her eyes so slowly that the only way Clarke knows the connection hasn’t frozen is because of the people hurrying around the set. “It just sort of escalated from me saying I wanted to marry Clarke to actually, you know, marrying Clarke.”

“Romantic.”

Clarke smiles and Lexa looks away from the image of her friend to the image of her wife on the computer screen and sighs. She’s incredible. “It really was.”

“Well congratulations,” Anya shrugs but there’s a look behind her eyes that Lexa has seen before. The image of disappointment on her moms face is still fresh. “Don’t think this gives you a pass to be more disgusting with one another.”

“No promises.”

“I want the full story when I’m back from Milan,” she says and before they can reply the screen goes black and Anya leaves.

Lexa blinks a few times and tries to smile. “That was better than I thought.”

“I think we’ve underestimated how much people actually love us,” Clarke says and Lexa hasn’t heard a more truer word spoken. She looks a little nervous and Lexa kisses her like she did when they were announced as wife and wife in front of a group of strangers. “I love you.”

“I love you, Clarke,” she reminds her and kisses her again, because she can. “Are you ready to tell your mom?”

“Nope.”

===

Clarke’s childhood home hasn’t changed from her first memories. The walls have had a new lick of paint and floorboards have been replaced, but the vibrancy is still the same and the love still holds strong in the foundations. On the stairs is a little chart telling of the growth of Clarke. It stops suddenly when she’s ten and Lexa knows why; they don’t talk about it, but she knows the handwriting next to the age and year is Jake Griffin’s.

Clarke went ahead to the snug first; it’s Abby’s favourite room, covered in books and movies and pictures of happier times. Slowly she’s filling spaces next to old memories with new ones and Lexa stands at the door while Abby and Clarke catch up, not unaware of the look she received when Abby opened the door to see the couple standing there.

Briefly she wonders what Abby thinks of her in those months Clarke and her broke one anothers hearts.

“Mom, I have something to tell you,” Clarke says and Lexa takes that as her cue to walk into the room, her hand going to rest on Clarke’s thigh as she sits next to her. She isn’t ignorant to the look she gets for it. “Me and Lexa. Lexa and I. We’re --”

“I know you’re married, Clarke. Lexa’s mom told me.”  The couple freeze and Lexa glares, hoping a psychic connection before her and her mother works and she feels the intensity of it. “Oh, you didn’t think we didn’t keep each other up to date on your lives? Of course we do. You weren’t speaking to one another and you had us worried for a while.”

“You’re not mad?”

Abby sighs and for a second Lexa worries she is. “I’m never mad at your decisions, Clarke. You’re incredibly smart and I know your mind works differently sometimes so I know you’ve made this decision because it’s the best one for you,” she says softly but there is that underlying tone that they’ve become accustomed to hearing. “But why did you feel you had to do this without your family or friends?”

Clarke looks at Lexa and Lexa looks at Clarke and they, in that moment, realise they don’t actually have an answer. “I just wanted to marry her and I needed to do it then,” Lexa says but she’s looking at Clarke and Abby smiles. “I couldn’t wait, Mrs. Griffin. Abby. I didn’t want to wait. I asked her to marry me because I needed her to be my wife and I had to be her wife, and we made it happen because we’ve always made it happen.”

“I see,” Abby says with a nod and she captures their attention again. “Well perhaps we can have a celebration? I’d like to congratulate the two of you without you running off somewhere and celebrating without us.”

And it isn’t about the marriage or the wedding or the secrecy, they realise. They’re surrounded by support and love and acceptance and they should have shared their love back; that’s the disappointment their friends and family have, that they couldn’t be included.

Clarke kisses Lexa again and tastes promise on her lips.

How many times can they get married before it becomes obnoxious?

[orangeyouglad8]

While waiting for the Clexa xmas manips to appear, do you have headcanons how your thirsty lawyers spend their holiday together? Do they get a tree? Does one of them go overboard with the decorating? What gifts do they get each other? - Secret Citrus

Well, well, well, it’s your lucky day my dear Secret Citrus Santa! As a present to you, and all of my lovely followers (including my assigned SS), I’ve worked out a few words for you. Guess I’m feeling the holiday spirit! Enjoy.

Another Christmas arrives the same way it always does. Her old bed creaks with her movements and the room is frigid around her because the window is drafty. Her parents are already up and chatting downstairs, the smell of coffee and breakfast making its way up to her bedroom.

And it's the same as it always is. There's nothing particularly special about it. Not even the stellar bloody marys her father makes every year. The ones she always gets a little drunk on before crashing onto the couch. Not here. At home. Alone. There's nothing special about being back home. It's routine and familiar and the same.

Except there is something so very special about this year. And this day. And the warmth that ignites Lexa from inside and oozes from her. Everything softer and merrier than ever. Even here, even miles away from the source of that warmth. There's a smile that seems permanent. There's a giddiness that sits on her skin. A wonder and a pleasantness she hasn't felt in years. Even if she pouts just a little bit at being away from Clarke on a holiday that is meant to be shared with loved ones. It doesn't take away from the happiness that lives within at just the thought of her and that one certain smile she always has for Lexa.

Lexa stifles a yawn and debates a nap. She hasn't been sleeping well alone in her old bed. In a different city. In a different life. It just doesn't feel right.

Her father is droning on about something or other when the phone on the table in front of her flashes with a name that makes her own heart thud wildly in her chest.

Griffin

She stands and grabs it off the table, disappearing back into her old bedroom. Ghosts of her youth still littered everywhere.

It's always odd being here. Especially now.

She shuts the door and slides the call open with a smile. "Hey."

"Hi." Clarke's voice is quiet and soft and sounds so achingly warm.

"Merry Christmas." Lexa doesn't let herself say anything else. Bursting with the need to say this. She knows it's still early, knows that they've only just gotten on the same page with each other, but she hates being away.

Hates being here.

Doesn't feel whole.

"Merry Christmas," Clarke answers and Lexa can hear the smile that plays on her lips through the phone connection. "You've already said that at least once on text."

"Yeah, but, now you're on the phone."

"How many drinks have you had, Woods?"

"Oh… um…" She blushes, entirely caught.

"Hmm, that's what I thought. Too bad you're not here right now. Tipsy you is so very fun."

She groans. "Don't remind me."

Clarke just laughs. A cackle that's loud and lively and warms Lexa from the inside out. "My mom just left for the airport…" Lexa can practically hear the way her eyes darken as she teases.

"Clarke," she warns.

"So, tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow. Late morning."

"Yes, I remember."

They both lapse into silence for a moment, enjoying the quiet.

"Why did your mom leave so early?" Lexa flops back on the bed, hand resting on her stomach and staring at the tiny, almost barely there patch of her ceiling that they forgot to paint over when they did this room. It hides away normally, but she knows just where to find it.

"Surgery early tomorrow. She's probably elbow deep in her files on the plane. I actually can't believe she flew out for the holiday."

"Hmm."

"Plus, she didn't even stay with me. You really missed out, Woods."

"You have such a one-track mind, Griff."

"Usually that works out for you."

The teasing is nice, welcome even. But, but.

"How was your visit?" Lexa hedges. Pokes.

Clarke hesitates. There it is.

"It was like it always is now."

Her voice is so small, so full of nostalgia and grief. It feels heavy even from thousands of miles away. Lexa can't bear it. Not when she is too far away to do anything about it.

"What will you do for the rest of the day?"

"I'm going to Raven's in a little bit. Her family is here and they do a whole thing… poker, food, coquito."

"Sounds festive."

"Festive is one word for it. And you?"

"Well, my dad is glued to the basketball and my mom is fluttering around the kitchen. Aden is supposed to be calling soon. I'll probably go across the street at some point to visit the neighbors."

Clarke hums, yawns. Lexa wants to kiss her. She loves Clarke like this. Open and soft. Vulnerable with her. For her. "Oh, I'm glad he can call."

"We are, too."

She remembers when she first told Clarke about her brother. Overseas. Following the family footsteps so well. Unlike her.

They hadn't been sleeping together long when it popped out. A missed call and a frown led to the questioning. She'd never been able to hide anything from Clarke, for as much as the other woman could be blind to it all.

Clarke was soft and gentle.

Flipping Lexa inside and out with her quiet questions and her steady smile.

She yawns again now through the phone.

"Are you in bed?"

"You don't think I'd be calling with all these suggestions if I wasn't, do you?" Clarke tries to purr but she's too mumbly.

"Well, yeah, you're you."

"Touche, counselor."

"What did you do with her today before she left?"

"She stayed at the hotel but came over early. We did a whole thing. Breakfast and presents."

"Good thing we got you that tree then, huh?" Lexa smiles. It had been a point of contention that she'd won with a wiggle of her eyebrows and a few deep kisses. Clarke folded without much fight after that.

"Mhm." It's content. "She pestered me with questions about you, was mad I didn't let her meet you."

Again, Lexa flutters. "Oh?"

"Yeah…" Clarke's voice trails off, almost gone.

"Take your nap, Clarke. We'll talk later." She wants nothing more than to get the story out of Clarke, but she knows it's a lost cause right now.

"Okay…" It's barely a word. Lexa finds herself more amused than anything. Completely endeared to Clarke and her see-through motives. "Love you."

It still makes her heart stop beating in her chest for a full breath before it kick starts and runs away with her.

Those words.

From that girl.

"Love you, now sleep." She barely gets it out, her smile so wide.

Xx

Lexa is antsy.

Has been since the night before when she packed up her bag.

Since a quick shower and breakfast with her parents and a short ride to the airport.

Since sitting down on the plane and buckling her seat belt.

She is antsy and she is beyond caring at this point. All she can think about is Clarke.

And how the holiday apart was weirder than it had any right to be, but she's not willing to talk herself out of it anymore. There's a tiny wrapped gift in her bag. Small and not even a thing, but something.

Because, really, what do you get the girl you've been in love with for ages, sleeping with for months and only just now finally starting a relationship with?

There was hemming and hawing over it for weeks. Internal debate. A quick pass by Anya that was regretted as soon as it was said.

In the end, it felt right.

Because it's Clarke.

And she is in love.

And now she sits in a car on the way to Clarke's loft, antsy and bouncing her knees. Checking her phone and firing off texts. Flirting her way through traffic and ready to walk in and scoop up her girl.

She arrives at Clarke's building still a mess of excitement and a slight bit of anxiety.

Nervous excitement.

Like she feels before a big case.

Her hands tingle and her smile is already embedded in her cheeks. She waves to the doorman and gets on the groaning elevator and tries to breathe.

She gets two soft raps on the door before it's opening. Clarke is there with bright, shining eyes and a ridiculous Christmas sweater on her frame. Her smile, though. Lexa can't look away from her smile.

Even more astounding than usual.

Lexa will claim that smile. It's hers. It belongs to them in this moment more than anything else. She burns it into her memory.

"Hi," she breathes out. Breathless just from Clarke opening her door.

"Hey, stranger." Clarke reaches out and grabs her wrist, tugging her inside. "I'm glad you're back."

The door shuts behind them and Lexa's bag goes on the floor, where her work bag usually rests. Her boots slide off and her coat works its way off her shoulders with Clarke's help. Lexa stands and watches it happen.

Watches Clarke move around her. Get her comfortable again.

Hang the coat over the back of the couch and run her hands up Lexa's arms.

The seeing and the feeling overwhelms her.

They've spent longer time apart. Busy schedules and the ambiguity of their relationship had led to stretches apart at times.

But it's different now.

Now that they're… them.

Clarke runs her hands up Lexa's arms and wraps around her shoulders, pulling their bodies closer. Her eyes are dark and her smile is wicked and Lexa wants nothing more than to lean down and take it from her. Swallow it whole.

But she can't move. Not yet.

Frozen with the way Clarke studies her. Feels her.

Her own hands rest on Clarke's hips, slide around to the small of her back and lessen the space even more.

"Miss me?" She means it to sound teasing and light. And it does, but there's an undercurrent. It draws Clarke's eyes to hers.

"As much as I don't want to deal with your monster of an ego, I will admit that I did."

A buzzing starts then. In her heart and works out from her insides. Reaches out for Clarke.

"I missed you, too."

Clarke perks up at that and Lexa can't wait any longer. Finally kissing her. Claiming those lips again in a kiss that's so gentle it almost kills her.

It's all she's wanted for the barely three, more like two and change, days that they were apart.

This moment.

She is not too big to admit it.

She finally has all of Clarke now. Leaving when it's still delicate, still new and not quite balanced, was harder than she ever thought it could be.

Clarke is the one who pulls away. Who leans her forehead against Lexa and breathes her in. Who scratches the back of her neck in that way she always does when she's feeling too much to vocalize.

They stay there for a moment. Readjusting. Getting their bearings. Sharing quiet intimacy.

"I brought you something," Lexa breaks the comfortable silence. Remembering the small gift that sits wrapped in her bag. "It's… not a lot, but, I saw it and…"

"Lex-" Clarke stops her flustered speech with a soft kiss. A barely there brush of lips that sends a jolt throughout her body.

"Okay, it's in my bag." She doesn't move to grab it though. Pulls Clarke back in instead for another kiss. Deeper and fuller than their last. Her hands slide up under Clarke's sweater in search of skin. She's rewarded with a light nip. "I like this, by the way."

"My horrendous sweater?"

"Mhm," she hums, leaning back in for yet another kiss. Not wholly satisfied in her reacquaintance with Clarke's mouth. "It suits you."

"It suits me?" Clarke moves her head and ducks Lexa's next attempt.

Lexa laughs, "What?"

"You're just… weird sometimes."

"You like it."

"I do," she purrs and closes the gap, running her nose up Lexa's neck and dropping a few pecks there. "Mom got me this, it's a thing she has- she used to get them for my dad and now she gives them to me. One a year. Plus I have a few of his old ones."

"You mean to tell me you've been holding out on me, Griff? A secret Christmas sweater collection has been here this whole time?"

"Oh? I've been holding out on you?" She raises an eyebrow and cocks her head and heat pools in Lexa's belly.

"You're gonna have to show me the rest now," she says. Low and close to Clarke's ear. Enjoying this little game they've stumbled into. "This one might be my favorite though, just because it was the first."

"Yeah? It's also itchy as fuck."

"Well, I might be able to help you out with that…"

"Hope so, Woods." Her eyes are dark but there's a cheeky look on her face. Her hands move and shove Lexa away. "I want my present first though."

Lexa rolls her eyes and steps out of Clarke's hold. "Why am I not surprised?" She leans down and rummages through the bag, pulling the small box out, suddenly nervous again.

"Don't get all weird, Lex. I got you something, too." Clarke kisses her cheek and accepts her gift. Scratching at the plaid wrapping paper carefully and pulling the box out. She opens it and her eyes widen and soften and Lexa releases a breath.

It's a small sliver business card holder. Lexa spotted it when she was at the mall with her dad trying to help him find something to give her mother. Last minute and frantic as always.

Clarke tilts it in her hands and the etching catches on the light that filters into the large windows from the sunny winter day outside.

Clarke Griffin, Esq.

"Lexa…"

Lexa shrugs. "I figured you're starting your new position soon and you'll have some new cards now. You've gotta make all these new contacts."

"It's perfect." She looks up and the smile lives in her eyes and on her cheeks. "I love it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Clarke kisses her, quick but full of meaning. "This is great! Plus I didn't have one before."

"I know, I've seen you dig around in your bag to hand out cards and... really, Clarke? Come on."

Clarke giggles and Lexa feels that burst of pride she has grown accustomed to.

"I just never got around to it, okay?" She whines but pulls Lexa in for a hug. Drops another kiss on her cheek.

"Mhm, sure, Griff."

"Do you want your present or not, Woods? Because teasing me is not the way to get it."

"Oh? You think that's true? I have a few tricks up my sleeve…" She grabs Clarke and pulls them close, growling playfully into her neck and enjoying the squeal she earns. Clarke just laughs louder and Lexa's heart swells and swells.

"Alright, alright…" Clarke is breathless and shining. She steps back out of Lexa's grasp, but tangles their fingers together and tugs towards the bed. "Come on, then."

"To bed? Is my present dirty?" Lexa smirks, Clarke rolls her eyes.

"Three days away has you thirsty."

"Absolutely parched."

Clarke pulls them to the closet and opens the door wider, gesturing inside. It takes Lexa a moment to catch up. To see the message that is now there, clear as day.

Space.

Clarke made her some space.

"Griff," she whispers, too scared to look at the skittish creature she has attached herself to.

"You also have two official drawers in the dresser, a shelf in the shower and some more space in the bathroom for your stuff."

"Yeah?" She does look then. When Clarke's fingers tighten around her own and she inches closer to Lexa. Needing the steadiness.

"It took a while, but I finally figured you should have some actual room…" She looks down for a second before back up, eyes searching Lexa's face.

"I'm happy to have it." Lexa's free hand finds Clarke's face. Fingertips dusting along her cheek, tucking hair behind her ear. The kiss is sweet. Sweeter than anything yet. Stretching inside and pulling Lexa apart seam by seam only to be remade on Clarke's lips.

"There's one more thing, though." Clarke's breath is warm on her lips. They're still so close. She reaches back behind her to the dresser and grabs the tiny box that rests on top. It's glittery, with a little white bow. She blushes madly as she holds it out for Lexa.

And Lexa's hearing fades out, heartbeat thrumming wildly. Her hands feel shaky as she opens it, unsure of what could possibly be inside.

Clarke doesn't look away, and Lexa's breath catches when she finds a key nestled inside the box.

"I wanted you to have one, so you don't always have to knock or wait for me to get home. I know you've charmed the doormen downstairs but… you should have a key."

Lexa's mouth goes dry.

"Clarke," she starts, then stops. Clarke's hand tilts her chin up from where her eyes are still locked on the key to her own.

"I'm serious about this, about us. I wanted to show you that I mean it."

"I know-" she stops and swallows, tries to wet her tongue. "I know you are, that you do."

"Good. But that doesn't mean I won't stop showing you."

Lexa nods. Overwhelmed by Clarke and the strength with which she loves.

The key goes back on the dresser and Lexa's hands wrap around Clarke, pulling her in for a greedy, needy, kiss. And Clarke meets her beat for beat, hands twisting in her hair, gripping and possessive. It's always been the easiest way for them to speak. Like this. With mouths and hands and bodies.

They break apart, breathless. Eyes wild and lips red and bruised.

"Can I take you to bed now?" Lexa gets it out, miraculously.

Clarke nods. Bites her lip and smirks deviously. "You better." Her voice is tinged with lust, vowels huskier than normal. It sends a shock straight to Lexa's core.

A hand moves to her chest, followed by gentle pressure. She lets Clarke push her back against the bed. Falls against it as Clarke leans over her, moves against her with unbridled hunger. It's deep and real and courses through Lexa's veins, sinking in through skin as they touch.

The wool sweater lands on the floor with a soft thud and Clarke's bra follows quickly and Lexa's mouth works over every inch of skin that it can. Soon she's being stripped of her own clothes and flung up higher on the bed.

And she follows Clarke.

Her lead. Her tone. Her mouth, her hands.

Comes quick and hard around Clarke's fingers and doesn't bother trying to catch her breath before she's working her hand between them and dipping inside Clarke. Clarke undulates against her, moves with ease, with need. Dips down and hides her face in Lexa's neck, her hips never slowing. Never stopping.

She only lifts her head up when she's on the edge of it. Lexa can feel it begin, can feel the end getting closer and closer. Clarke looks up and finds her waiting. It's a look that levels Lexa. Completely shakes her off balance. And then Clarke is breaking, Lexa's name said in a rush of heat.

Xx

Lexa dozes. Sweaty and almost too hot, but not willing to move an inch with Clarke on top of her. Tucked into her. Hand softly grazing her ribs. She sighs and Clarke's lips drop a soft kiss against her collarbone. Another on her jaw. She hums happily and Clarke props herself up with a smile.

"Have I mentioned that I'm glad you're back?"

"And you're the one who called me thirsty. Imagine that."

Clarke laughs and drops down to kiss Lexa. Her laughter tastes bright and real.

"So you liked the present, then?"

Lexa studies her girlfriend, trying to determine if this is merely Clarke posturing. And she is. Mostly. But there's a genuine curiosity to her features.

"I loved it." She squeezes Clarke's hip and holds her eyes, waiting for Clarke to hear it.

"Good, yeah." She nods and readjusts herself, pulling her body more directly over Lexa's. Not even bothering to try to hide her intent.

"What's good is that your ego matches mine." She rolls her eyes and accepts the playful nip that Clarke leaves on the hinge of her jaw.

"Yeah, yeah, Woods." She works her mouth along Lexa's neck. A knee slides between her legs and hips start a slow grind.

"Did you just yeah yeah me?" Lexa gasps, opening her legs wider for Clarke.

"I did."

"Wow. Very romantic, Griff."

"I gave you a key. And closet space. And some drawers. I'm very romantic." Her mouth moves slowly to Lexa's collarbones.

"You did, you are."

"And a few orgasms." Lips brush up against a nipple.

"Probably some more soon, too."

"If you play your cards right." The other one gets attention now. Pulled between teeth.

"I can play nice," she husks out. Hands twisting in Clarke's already messy hair.

"Oh, I know you can, Lex" She moves further down and purrs. Lexa's stomach flips and plummets with that purr. Clarke moves lower and lower. Looking up one last time from between Lexa's legs. "Merry Christmas," she says with a smirk.

And it's the last coherent thing that's said for a while.

Xx

It's not until later, much later, that Lexa feels it. That feeling she was chasing all day yesterday.

It finally feels like Christmas.

Sitting on the couch in one of Clarke's itchy Christmas sweaters, long legs settled over Clarke's lap as they sip spiked cocoa and watch lame, cheesy movies. The lights on the tree in the corner twinkle in the evening light. Clarke's little laughs and whispered asides sink inside. Her soft, small, absent-minded touches have Lexa practically purring with contentment.

She wants to live in this moment for as long as she can. Stretch it as far as it will go and then some.

And she never wants to have another Christmas without Clarke by her side.

Everything is so much better with her.

"What?" Clarke notices she's being studied. Her eyebrow quirks up and her eyes sparkle even more with the Christmas lights. She smiles, knowing the answer.

"Nothing," Lexa shrugs. Blushes fiercely. "Just… I like this Christmas."

"Who knew the holidays got you so sentimental?"

Lexa scoffs and playfully kicks at Clarke's stomach. Clarke rolls her eyes but leans across their bodies anyway. Dropping a soft kiss on Lexa's lips.

"I love you, you absolute goon."

[puthyflapps]

Money Honey

@marcingestesmemes sent me this prompt today: “You asked for a prompt, so here’s my idea. In most of the fanfics, clexa is always on a superior social status. Whether in terms of money or power. Some of them have Clarke, but not enough. For this prompt, they are on equal footing. Clarke is new money rich, dad is a successful engineer/entrepreneur, mom runs a hospital. Lexa is old money rich, I’m talking Rockefeller type. Finger in a lot of pies type of wealth. The rest is up to you.”

Hope you enjoy

Send me more prompts and headcanons

Boring. That’s how these events usually were. Every year was the same. All of D.C.’s wealthiest families gathered together in the same posh building to spend one night together bragging about just how wealthy they were. The whole night was full of nothing but entitled, ultra-wealthy people, bosting about how much money they made that year or which ivy league school they bought their child’s way into. Old money or new money, it didn’t matter as long as you had it. And Clarke Griffin had it.

The 22-year-old was the sole heiress to her parent’s fortune. Jacob Griffin had made his money in engineering. The MIT Alum had formed his own company with close friends shortly after graduating from the prestigious university. In no time, the business had exploded. Griffin Tech Co. was now one of the largest engineering companies in the world. From cars to gadgets, to buildings, they were the go-to party. In fact, Griffin Tech Co. had constructed this very hotel that hosted these annual galas; a tragically ironic fact.

But, it is to be said that Clarke’s father isn’t the only breadwinner in the family. Her mother, Abigail, graduated at the top of her class from Johns Hopkins and is now the Chief of Surgery at one of D.C.’s most renowned hospitals – Griffin Memorial. Abby practically lived at the hospital. She lived and breathed surgeries. Clarke had spent so much of her childhood in the halls of that hospital that for the longest time she thought her name was code blue. Clarke had always admired her mother’s commitment to the job. To feel so inspired to do the very best every single day, to save lives and give the unfortunate a second chance was extremely admirable. Her mom was a hero to many including Clarke.

But Clarke, unlike her parents, saw herself as nothing more than average. She didn’t attend an ivy league school like her parents did. She attended a liberal arts school and she got average grades and had average friends and an average social life. That was the way she liked living. Although she had been groomed from the time she was a baby up until she sent off her last college application to be a doctor, that wasn’t what she wanted. When she had told her parents she wanted to be an artist they were less than enthused. Both STEM majors had taken their time explaining why they thought Clarke should reconsider. A combination of you’ll never be able to use that degree and honey, don’t you know that artists don’t make any money these days, had been tossed her way on more than one occasion. But, it had been her dream from the time she was a little girl drawing, pictures for the patients on her mom’s floor, to be an artist.

Perhaps, that’s why her parents dragged her to this ungodly event. To show her what she’s missing out on – which was nothing more than watching Chad from Kappa Delta talk about how many beers he could chug before puking while Amber from her old high school raves about how she and Gregory are expecting yet another baby and what a gift from God that is. If it wasn’t obnoxious, privileged young adults from the suburbs of D.C. spewing their ill-informed political views then it was creepy old men harassing her all night in hopes of somehow luring her to their bed. How on earth did her parents find these types of events fun? Maybe she would have fun at these events if her parents bragged about her the way the Donohouges bragged about how their son, Collin, would soon be taking over the family business. Maybe she’d enjoy herself a tad bit more if her mother went on about all her accomplishments nonstop like Mrs. Schultz did about her daughter. Maybe she would have the tiniest bit of a good time if her parents would just say they’re proud of her.

God, she needed a drink.

The only thing that made it worth stuffing herself into an uncomfortable cocktail dress that irritated her porcelain skin and designer heels that made the arches of her feet ache was the booze at these types of affairs. Rich people had good booze and this celebration was no exception. The ever-flowing champagne flutes and open bar set in the corner of the large ballroom was her only saving grace this evening. Now, to navigate her way through the crowd without getting trapped into a conversation with the Cohens about how Duke would love to have her in their medical program or how Mr. Turner would love to introduce her to his eldest son. Bracing herself, Clarke adjusts the straps of her black dress and turns swiftly on her heels in the direction of the bar. She marches quickly and precisely through the crowd, dodging questions thrown at her from her parent’s nosy coworkers and blocking any wandering hands and ignoring all lust-filled glances from strangers that would love to say they slept with the Griffin’s only daughter.

Nearing her destination, she can see the bar and the myriad of glasses littering its top. She’s so close she can almost taste the alcohol on her lips and feel the familiar burn in her throat from the delicious liquid. She has almost found her way into one of the several stools sat around the bar when something – or rather, someone – catches her eye.

She’s tall with broad shoulders highlighted by the expensive white material of her dress shirt. The fitted material of her black pants hug her hips and give Clarke a lovely view of her toned backside. Her chestnut hair cascades down her back in intricate braids as she stands behind the bar, back turned to the blonde as her gaze flows over the vast amount of alcohol available for tonight’s event. Clarke slides into a stool as she watches one of the brunette’s strong forearms rise up to the top shelf. Long, sinewy fingers wrap around the neck of one of the many bottles. A soft aha slips past the brunette’s lips as she brings the bottle closer for inspection before turning around.

Cerulean blue eyes meet startled verdant.

If Clarke thought the woman was attractive from behind, she certainly wasn’t prepared for how gorgeous she was face to face. The brunette had strong cheekbones and a razor-sharp jawline. Perchance, Clarke’s favorite feature of the woman’s face so far was her pillowy lips that if you looked close enough, had a small singular freckle adorning the top lip. She was absolutely stunning and Clarke now needed that drink more than ever.

The taller of the two women cleared her throat; placing the bottle of what appeared to be cognac on the table before breaking the silence between them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you there. What can I get you?”

Lightly shaking her head to clear her mind of her less than proper thoughts about the bartender Clarke responds, “I uh, I guess I’ll have what you’re having.” The blonde notices the slight twinge of the brunette’s lip as she tries to hide her smirk. She watches patiently as the woman nervously prepares the drinks. The timid shaking in her hands as she filled the crystal glasses pulled at the blonde’s heartstrings.  

“So, what brings you here?” the woman behind the bar asks as she slides the freshly made beverage carefully across the bar top into the seated woman’s hand. At this moment Clarke truly wishes she would’ve taken more time getting ready this evening seeing as though there was still remnants of paint underneath her fingernails from today’s earlier activities.

“To the gala or to the bar?” Clarke asks around the rim of her glass before taking a long drawl of the drink.

“Hmmm, both?” the tan woman asks tipping her drink in the blonde’s direction before taking a swig of the dark brew.

“Well, as for the gala, my parents dragged me here. But, the bar, that was all my own doing. I don’t know if I can listen to another person brag about the size of their yacht one more time without being shit faced.”

“I take it, this isn’t your kind of crowd.”

“No, not at all” the blonde chuckles; her words laced with bitterness.

“Are you telling me that pissing competitions don’t excite you?” the brunette asks jokingly. Her smile growing wider when the woman in front of her rolls her eyes and lets out an exaggerated scoff. The taller woman moves to rest her arms on the bar top as the shorter woman takes another sip of her beverage and tries to ignore the fluttering in her chest. The bartender drags her jade eyes up and down the blonde’s body admiring the generous amount of skin shown by the lowcut dress. The brunette had encountered many types of women this evening but none as intriguing as the one sat before her with beautiful golden locks, ocean blue eyes, and paint-stained hands.

“Well, if you don’t mind me asking, what does excite you?” the double meaning of the question is not missed by Clarke who is trying her hardest not to blush at the forwardness of the golden skinned woman. When her mother and father told her about this event tonight it was the absolute last thing she wanted to deal with. She had no desire to attend an event where she was looked down upon and shopped around to all the single bachelors. But now, sitting here, drink in hand, gazing into the warm emerald eyes across from her, she’s starting to not regret making an appearance at this event.

Clarke downs the rest of her drink loving the way it burns her throat in that familiar way before leaning her torso against the bar and muttering, “mmm, why don’t you come out from behind this bar and find out.”

She watches the wheels turn in the nameless woman’s head; contemplating whether or not to take Clarke up on her offer. Undoubtedly trying to decide whether or not she wanted to involve herself in the mess that is the young heiress. But, Clarke is a little tipsy thanks to the free-flowing alcohol at the party and now she’s horny so waiting isn’t an option for the young woman.

“I mean if you’re not up to it I’m sure one of these former frat boys will do.”

The statement flips a switch in the brunette. Whatever reservations she had about hooking up with a stranger at this gala are thrown to the wind. She licks her plump lips in anticipation of what’s to come once she rounds the bar. Thoughts of what she is planning to do to the blonde flood her head causing heat to pool in her stomach. Would she take her in the bathroom or a nearby closet? Maybe they could score a room somewhere in the extravagant hotel. Who knows but, if she doesn’t figure it out soon she might just take her on this very bartop, in front of the ballroom full of guests with prying eyes. Just when she’s about given up on thinking anything out fully she hears the last thing she was expecting.

“Alexandria! What are you doing behind there?” asks the recognizable voice of her mother. The sudden addition of third voice startles the blonde. She turns in the direction of the voice and feels her heart drop to her stomach.

There in all her pristine glory stands Indra Woods. Indra Woods who is the CEO of Woods Inc., the largest company in North America and soon to be the largest company in the world. Indra Woods, whose family has made their money in the oil business and technology and everything else in between. The Woods family is worth billions. The Woods net-worth makes Clarke’s family look penniless – a task most might believe to be impossible.

“Mother, what a surprise seeing you here,” the young brunette, now known as Alexandria, states with a cheeky smile. Her mother didn’t seem to find the scenario as amusing as her daughter.  

“Why are you playing bartender and more importantly why are you bothering this nice young woman?” asks the older ebony skinned woman with a warm smile on her face as she subtly addresses the blonde.

“Oh, no. She wasn’t bothering me, Ms. Woods. We were just chatting about the gala.”

“Please, call me Indra. I was speaking with your parents earlier and they said that you’re an artist, is that correct?” the older woman inquires while Clarke attempts to pay no mind to the green gaze currently pointed in her direction.

“That’s correct ma'am”

“That’s wonderful. We’re thinking of expanding the digital division of the company and we’re looking into recruiting some graphic designers. I’d love to see some of your work and perhaps offer you a job at the company.”

“Oh wow, wow. Um, yes! Yes, I’d love that. Thank you so much.” To say Clarke was shocked would be an understatement. She couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her face as she thought about the business woman’s proposition.

“How should I contact you?” asks the excited artist. The Woods matriarch smiles coyly before replying, “I’m sure Lexa can help you with that.” Casting a warning but, all together motherly glance at her daughter as a reminder to behave, Indra politely leaves the two women to continue on with their night.

“When were you gonna tell me you’re an artist?” Lexa asks when the blonde turns back to her. Clarke can’t help the laugh that escapes her lips at the absurdity of the question.

“Excuse me, when were you going to tell me that you’re a Woods? No, actually, when were you going to tell me you don’t work here?” the blonde asks feeling the weight of embarrassment settle on her shoulders as she thinks about how she just assumed the Woods heiress was a part of the waitstaff.

The brunette shrugs her shoulders as she smirks at the flustered woman before her. “I thought we were having fun.”

“I think you have a skewed view of what ‘fun’ is,” the blonde jokes.

“You might be right but, if you’re still looking for some excitement tonight,” Lexa replies, reaching into her pocket and producing a room key to one of the many lavish rooms in the 5-star hotel, “we could have some real fun.”

Clarke stares at the matte black key card perched between two tan fingers contemplating the offer before plucking the small object out of Lexa’s hand and whispering into her ear to grab the bottle of cognac they had previously been indulging in. They were gonna have some fun tonight.      

[anonfanfic]

If you want a prompt for small town AU, what about clexa getting out of town for a day and either taking a road trip or heading to a city close by? That way they can have some time to themselves

Clarke woke up to a beam of warm golden sun hitting her face. She closed her eyes tightly and stretched her stiff muscles. She breathed a deep sigh of relief out of her nose as her fuzzy mind remembered it was Saturday and she didn’t have to rush off to school. 

She rolled over and grabbed her phone from her nightstand, unplugging the charging cord and trying to get her bleary eyes to focus on the much too bright screen. 

Lexa’s name appeared in a text notification and Clarke sat up in bed, a rush of adrenaline coursing to each of her limbs as she unlocked her phone and read the waiting message.

‘I need to drive into the city to pick up a part for my truck. Can you come???’

Clarke felt an extra surge of energy pulse in the pit of her stomach as she thought about a full day away from everyone, but Lexa. She pulled back her blankets and nearly toppled out of her bed as she started getting ready for the day. She threw her pajamas somewhere near her hamper as she thought of what lies to tell her mom to let her go into the city for the day.

She finished dressing and looked at herself in the mirror. Clarke wanted to look cute, but not like she was trying too hard just for a trip into the city.

Clarke ran down the stairs two at a time and had to slow herself before she walked into the kitchen. She worked hard to keep her face neutral as she did a quick scan of the room, but only saw her dad sitting at the table sipping a cup of coffee and looking over some sort of playbook. No doubt trying to plan some sort of offense for the big football game the coming Sunday.

“Where’s-uh-where’s mom?” Clarke tried to sound as casual as possible while she walked over and grabbed a glass from the cupboard next to the fridge. 

“She’s in appointments all day today. She mentioned us ordering pizza, so you know it’ll be a long day.” Jake Griffin didn’t really look up from the page he was taking in. So he missed the grin that pulled at Clarke’s lips hearing that her mother would be gone for the entire day. 

“Do you think you’d be okay on your own?” Clarke opened the fridge and grabbed the orange juice, turning around to see Jake was no longer looking at the papers in front of him. He only had eyes for his daughter.

“Why? What do you have planned?” Jake reached down without looking and grabbed his coffee cup to take a sip without breaking eye contact. 

“A couple friends were talking about going into the city. I was going to see if I could go with them.” Clarke poured the orange juice and gave a shrug of indifference as she finished speaking. She didn’t want her dad to know she was dying to go. She hoped he would think she didn’t mind either way. 

Clarke put the jug of juice back in the fridge and turned to see that her dad was once again looking down at his papers.

“Will you be back before curfew?” He asked, reaching over and taking a long sip of coffee.

Clarke almost choked on the mouthful of orange juice she had just taken in with her excitement to respond.

“Yeah-yes. I’ll be back way before curfew. I swear.” Clarke tried to cover her sputtering cough with her sleeve. 

“Fine, leave me by my lonesome.” Jake joked, waving his daughter off to go have fun.

Clarke downed the rest of her juice and laughed. “Yeah, like you won’t be locked in your study going over game tape for tomorrow.” Clarke felt like she was floating as she walked back toward the stairs to go tell Lexa she could go out.

“Hey!” Jake called, right as she got to the doorway. Clarke’s heart stopped and she turned to look at her dad who was looking at her with disappointment. “Who raised you?” He asked, pointing to the glass Clarke had left on the counter.

“Oh, sorry dad.” Clarke felt a rush of relief wash over her as she walked over to grab her glass and rinse it in the sink.

“Have fun, see you later tonight,” Jake smiled, as Clarke walked by and out of the kitchen.

Less than 20 minutes later and Clarke was driving down the main freeway out of their town and to the city. It was like Clarke could finally breathe once they left the town’s limits. 

Clarke felt pressure on her thigh and looked down to see Lexa’s hand resting there. She smiled, looking out the window at the long stretch of nothing that was between them and the city. It was the most peaceful she had felt in months. The town had become so suffocating and home was no different. There was no escape from the walls as they kept closing in on her.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Lexa asked, giving Clarke’s leg a squeeze.

“How damn good it feels to be out of that fucking town.” Clarke moved her hand on top of Lexa’s and laced their fingers together.

Lexa smiled and picked up their intertwined hands and brought them to her lips, placing a kiss on Clarke’s hand. 

“I’m glad you came.” 

Clarke moved over as far as her seatbelt would allow and rested her head on Lexa’s shoulder. She closed her eyes and listened to the soft sounds coming from the radio and Lexa’s rhythmic breathing just above her. If she could bottle this moment and live it whenever she wanted to, she’d do it in a second.

“You gonna fall asleep on me?” Lexa chuckled, moving her shoulder to make Clarke’s head bop a bit.

“No, no.” Clarke opened her eyes and smiled moving back to her seat and squeezing Lexa’s hand. “We just don’t get many moments like this. When we can feel…”

“Normal?” Lexa finished Clarke’s sentence. 

Clarke hadn’t really let it hit her until she heard Lexa say it. They weren’t allowed to be themselves in their town. They were always hiding and forced to be ashamed of loving each other. Clarke didn’t want to feel that way, it wasn’t fair to not feel comfortable in your home. 

“Yeah...it sucks.” Clarke’s mood shifted and she felt like she was being dragged down a mountain hitting trees and rocks all the way down.

“Hey, don’t let those fuckers get in your head today.” Lexa reached over and grabbed Clarke’s thigh again. “They don’t get to have today, it’s ours.” 

Clarke gave her head a shake and tried to push those thoughts out of her head. Lexa was right, they didn’t get to ruin their day. 

“I’m back. Let’s have a good day.” Clarke looked over and smiled at her girlfriend.

They drove for a little while in peaceful silence. Clarke played with the fingers on Lexa’s free hand as the city came into view on the horizon.

Lexa parked the car on a side street just off the main drag of the city.

“I need coffee before we do anything else.” Lexa hopped out of the car and reached for Clarke’s hand. She instinctively pulled back, looking around to see that no one around them was even paying attention. 

“Sorry,” Clarke looked back to Lexa who still had her hand outstretched. “Force of habit.” 

Clarke reached out and took Lexa’s hand, feeling her heart flutter as they started toward the coffee shop. It was a freeing feeling to walk down the street, their hands intertwined swinging between them and no one giving them a second look. They could be invisible here, just blend in with the crowd. 

They grabbed coffee and sipped it as they walked around on the beautiful, sunny Saturday.

Lexa found a park a few blocks away from the coffee shop and they decided to spend some time together out in the warm sun. It was just on the verge of fall so the air had just a little bite to it. Clarke loved this type of weather.

Clarke leaned over and pressed a kiss to Lexa’s cheek. “Can we just stay here?” 

Lexa reached over and put her arm around Clarke’s waist, moving her closer as they sat on the grass. 

“You mean live here...in this park?” Lexa laughed. “I mean it may not be great once winter hits, but if you’re here then I’m here.” Lexa kissed Clarke’s lips, lingering for a long moment before pulling away.

“Listen, I’ve wanted to ask you something for a while now. I’m just not sure how you’ll feel about it.” Lexa adjusted her position so she was looking directly at Clarke.

For some reason, Clarke felt her heartbeat start to pick up. She had no idea what Lexa was about to ask her, but her brain was thinking of all the worst case scenarios.

“O-Okay.” Clarke’s voice caught in her throat. Her mouth was suddenly painfully dry.

“I know it’s a long way off,” Lexa started, reaching down and starting to pull out blades of grass. “But with it being so close to the end of the school year....and we were already both accepted to college...I was thinking maybe we could go to prom together.” 

Clarke’s jaw went slack as Lexa finished speaking. She hadn’t even thought about prom. There was still nearly a full school year to get through before prom. 

Clarke let herself imagine getting to go to prom with Lexa. Picking out their outfits, taking pictures out by the lake, dancing together in the gym with stupid decorations hanging around them. It would be amazing, but not possible. It would be too easy for people to talk and if word got back to her parents, they’d find a way to keep her out of college. They’d find a way to lock her in her room and away from Lexa forever. 

“I don’t know…” Clarke pursed her lips together, trying to push the happy images from her mind. Her only goal was getting out of their town so she could finally be with Lexa and her parents wouldn’t be able to stop her. 

“Nevermind..” Lexa cleared her throat and tossed the clump of grass she had pulled out next to her. “It was a stupid idea, forget I mentioned it.”

Clarke saw a few red splotches appear on Lexa’s cheeks. It had been hard for Lexa to ask her about prom. She knew the risks just like Clarke did. Maybe it wouldn’t matter once it was time for prom. 

“No, no. Don’t say that. It’s not stupid.” Clarke took both of Lexa’s hands and waited until her girlfriend looked up and locked eyes with her. “I want to go to prom with you. I just don’t want to risk our future for one night. You know what my mom is capable of and I don’t want her fucking this up for us.” 

Lexa relaxed a little as Clarke spoke. She wasn’t shooting down Lexa’s idea, she just wanted to be safe about what they did while they were still in town.

“Let’s say if we think it seems like a good idea at the time we do it. If not, we have our own afterparty on prom night.” Clarke wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

Lexa laughed and Clarke watched the rest of her hesitation melt away. 

“Deal.” Lexa reached over and kissed Clarke. “But I’m getting you flowers either way.” 

Clarke smiled against Lexa’s lips. “Deal.”