#clexa prompt

[asleepingtiger]

@dreamsaremywords thanks for the prompt. Literally just wrote this quickly. Ignore any mistakes.

Prompt: clexa arguing over the best ways to butter toast

Clarke hummed to herself as she buttered her toast sticking the butter knife into the block on the butter dish and forcing it to spread on the freshly toasted toast. The bread was ripping apart from the force.

Lexa stood next to her in horror.

“Love, Clarke, erm. Why are you buttering your toast that way?”

Clarke raised her brow in question, “Lex, this is the only way to make butter on toast.”

Lexa stared at the butchered toast.

“Clarke, no there’s other ways.” She said holding in a smirk.

Clarke folded her arms facing Lexa, “go on then, show me how you butter your toast with that rock.”

Lexa smirk broke as she took the butter knife from Clarke, “while the toast is fresh, you want to scrape some butter, let it curl on the knife and spread it lightly so it just soaks in.”

She turns to Clarke who was still looking at her with her brow still raised.

“I know how to butter toast, Lexa.”

“Clearly not, you’ve butchered yours!” Lexa pointed to the holes in the now soggy toast.

“But it’s my toast, you might be perfect in everything you do, even if it is toast!” Clarke was taking this a little too seriously.

Lexa was only winding her up and it was working.

“I’m perfect in everything I do, huh?” Lexa put the butter knife down, forgetting her nicely spread toast as she moved closer to Clarke.

“Oh you know you are, being a lawyer, an aunty to Raven’s and Anya’s child, the way you hold yourself and the way you make me orgasm, everything you do is perfect even buttering the pathetic bread!” Clarke was irate.

Lexa pulled Clarke’s folded arms free and held her waist, “love, I’m winding you up.”

“Well it worked.” Clarke relaxed in Lexa’s hold, she couldn’t never be annoyed in Lexa’s arms.

“I did like the sound of what you said about when you orgasm.” Lexa lowered her gaze to Clarke’s lip seductively.

“I thought you’d perk your ears up at that.” Clarke scoffed, she now had her arms around Lexa’s slender neck bring her closer.

Lexa leaned into Clarke, pressing into the right places, “Want me to make it up to you?”

Clarke brushed her fingers down the back of Lexa’s neck where her hair was loose from her messy bun.

“Lexa, you’re going to crumple your outfit.” Clarke pulled away slightly checking her wife out.

Lexa wore a causal white v-neck top, light grey tailored slacks and black patent brogues finishing it off with her glasses.

She looked damn hot.

“It’d be worth it,” Lexa kissed Clarke and lingered.

Clarke bit her bottom lip and looked up at Lexa’s growing darker ones then leaned in.

“I just got my period this morning.” Clarke stated as she just kissed the side of Clarke’s cheek and walked away satisfied with herself.

“That explains a lot,” Lexa muttered.

[owl127]

I had this vision of Clarke and Lexa (omega verse) inviting Abby and her boyfriend to a 1 week trip in the forest of at the beach, and they’re in this cute cute cabin together, it’s really nice, and their bedroom is close to one another, however Clarke and Lexa discreetly asked if the walls were thick which the owner said yes, so one night Clarke and Lexa get in ON like for easily 1 hour right, several times, and the next morning Abby and her boyfriend look at them like 👁️👄👁️, they could hear even what was softly said, so the FILTHY things they said did not fall in deaf ears.

Lexa could be quite uptight with Abby as she’s intimidated by her, like Clarke is her only child and all, so Lexas always very proper with minimal pda you Know…

If you still take promps, could you maybe do this one ?

The insistent call of early birds is what brings Lexa back from a dreamless sleep. She blinks awake in the unfamiliar room, the low wooden ceiling welcoming her morning. She stretches like a lazy cat, and the source of warmth on her back hums at her ear.

"Good morning," Clarke whispers hoarsely, their naked legs intertwining under the fur blanket. Lexa turns and kisses Clarke good morning, teasing sleep away with another kiss on her neck. "For the love of god, I can’t go again," Clarke protests as Lexa continues to kiss her collarbone. "I’m ridiculously sore, babe."

"You okay?" Lexa asks behind the curtain of wild curls, and Clarke nods.

"Yeah, but give me a break, okay? Last night was..." She bites her lips, and Lexa follows the movement with a bite of her own.

"Good?" Lexa grunts on a marked neck.

"Very good." They meet for another kiss.

The sound of pans and cutlery cuts through their quiet room. "I think my mom and Kane are already up." Clarke bumps their noses and leans down for a long, sleepy yawn. "I could go for eggs."

"Or bacon," Lexa agrees, and they make their slow way to the bathroom.

Eggs are sizzling in the kitchen by the time the couple trots down the stairs in search of breakfast.

"Smells good!" Clarke sits by the kitchen island as Lexa sets the table. Marcus, one hand working on pancake batter and the other on the eggs, turns to offer them a smile.

"Good morning, ladies!" His teeth shine between a trimmed beard.

"Where’s mom?" Clarke asks with a grape in her mouth, eyeing the pancake toppings on the island.

Marcus turns back to the stove. "She went for a run."

"This early? That’s not like her."

"She didn’t sleep very well," Marcus says, mostly to the stove, and checks through the cabin window. "Okay, let me just get it out of the way before she’s back." He makes a 180 with his pink apron in place and joins his hands over his chest. "Let’s just say," Marcus starts, his beard not being enough to cover his blush, "the walls in this cabin are thin."

The sound of porcelain shattering on wood breaks the silence that followed Marcus’ statement. Clarke looks back to see Lexa, so red she’s purple, shocked still as the plate she was holding is now in pieces on the floor.

"We know you’re adults," Marcus continues, "but you’re her only child, Clarke, and her little omega girl."

Lexa sits heavily on the table, her once-red face now turning pale.

Clarke moves into damage control mode.

"Babe." She sits in the chair next to Lexa, who keeps staring at nothing, unresponsive. "Babe, it’s okay. We’re married. My mom knows—"

"Your mother heard us," Lexa whispers almost to herself.

"We don’t know how much she heard."

"Very much," Marcus adds unhelpfully. "By the way, kudos."

"Marcus, please," Clarke shoots back at her mother’s boyfriend, eyeing her PTSD-wife, and Marcus shrugs.

"Lexa," Clarke says, touching her wife’s hand, and it’s cold. "That won’t change how my mom sees you. Okay, she heard a couple things—"

"Lots of things."

"Kane, you’re not helping!" Clarke shouts, and it is at that moment that the cabin’s door opens to reveal Abby Griffin, dressed in winter sports gear, sweat evaporating from her temples. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and she mumbles good morning without meeting Clarke’s eyes.

"I’ll help with food," Abby adds, and she kisses Marcus’ cheek as she heaps eggs onto plates.

By the time the four of them sit at the table, the silence is unbearable. Lexa can barely move, her eyes cast down; Clarke tries to find her mother’s eyes, but the older alpha avoids them every time. Kane seems to be the only one immune to the tension, happily flooding his plate with syrup.

"All right," Kane declares, feeling pitiful at Lexa’s almost catatonic state. "Let’s address this as adults; otherwise, we won’t survive the rest of the weekend."

"Marcus, no," Abby says, still avoiding her daughter and daughter-in-law. Lexa whimpers.

"Abby"—Marcus takes a bite of his pancake—"Clarke is 28. She’s married. We all know they have sex."

Lexa chokes on nothing while Abby growls softly at the back of her throat. Clarke blushes furiously but nods.

"Maybe before last night, we didn’t know for how long or the details—"

"Marcus!" Abby hits her glass on the table, and OJ flies everywhere.

"What I mean," Marcus continues, licking a drop of orange juice from his beard, "is that we are all adults and we can recover from this. Right, Clarke?"

"We didn’t know we were being loud," Clarke justifies, reaching for coffee. "We never meant to make you uncomfortable, mom."

"We still have a couple nights here, so just... please keep it down. You’re my pup." Abby finally meets her daughter’s eyes. Marcus nudges his girlfriend, and Abby apologizes, "I’m sorry for overreacting."

"It’s alright. I’m more worried about Lexa." Clarke points at her wife with her chin. "I think she’s still in shock."

Abby eyes Lexa up and down, and Lexa melts down in her chair a little bit.

"Mom, stop."

"I didn’t do anything."

"She can’t even touch me right now."

"Good."

"Abby, let the kids be kids."

"If your father were here...

"He would have laughed about it."

"I don’t know, Abby. Clarke didn’t sound like she needed a new daddy last night."

Lexa continued to melt down her chair, and Abby choked on juice.

"Too soon?" Kane places another forkful of pancakes in his mouth. "At least you know grandpups will be coming soon," he adds through a mouthful.

"Oh, god," Lexa whispers before passing out.

[anonfanfic]

30 - "i am sorry that you found out this way."

For Clexa 🙏

Hope this is okay...I took some liberties with the context of the prompt.

Clarke and Lexa had been through so much together, yet they still managed to find comfort in each other's arms. Their love was both pure and powerful, and nothing could ever come between them. Clarke knew that she could always count on Lexa, no matter what.

One day, Clarke decided to surprise Lexa with a romantic picnic in the woods. Raven and Octavia jumped at the chance to help. They spent all morning preparing Lexa's favorite foods, packing a cozy blanket, and picking out the perfect spot for them to relax and enjoy each other's company. 

As they sat under the shade of a tall oak tree, Clarke couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the love she had for Lexa.

Lexa noticed the look in Clarke's eyes and leaned in to kiss her softly. "What are you thinking about?" she asked, running her fingers through Clarke's hair.

"Just how lucky I am to have you," Clarke replied, resting her head on Lexa's shoulder.

Lexa smiled, "I am the lucky one." Lexa leaned over and kissed the top of Clarke’s head.

As they finished their meal, Clarke reached into her backpack and pulled out a small handmade wooden box. She handed it to Lexa, who opened it to reveal a beautiful necklace.

"It's the Infinity necklace," Clarke explained. "It represents our love and how it will last forever."

Clarke had worked for weeks on perfecting the necklace with the help of some of the friends she had made in Polis since calling it her second home. It wasn’t perfect, but Clarke felt her chest radiate warmth as she looked at the smile on Lexa’s face.

Lexa was touched by the gesture and placed the necklace around her neck. "I will wear this always," she said, kissing Clarke's cheek.

As they packed up their things and headed back to camp, they were both filled with a sense of happiness and contentment. But when they arrived, they found the camp in chaos. People were running around, shouting and crying.

Clarke and Lexa made their way to the center of the commotion, where they discovered that one of the neighboring tribes had attacked their camp, killing many of their people. Clarke was devastated, and she felt a pang of guilt for leaving the camp when it needed her the most.

Lexa put her hand on Clarke's shoulder, "We will get through this together," she said, her voice calm and steady.

They helped to clean up the camp and tend to the wounded.

As the sun began to set, Clarke and Lexa found themselves alone, standing by the edge of the training grounds high above the city. They watched as the sky turned a deep shade of orange, and the stars began to twinkle in the distance.

"I am so sorry you found out this way," Clarke said, turning to face Lexa.

Lexa looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I wanted today to be perfect. I wanted to show you how much I love you, and instead, we came back to all of this."

Lexa put her arm around Clarke's waist, "Clarke, what happened today was not your fault.” Lexa turned so she was facing Clarke and locked eyes with her. “Life is about more than just surviving.” Lexa wrapped her other arm around Clarke and pulled her in.

Clarke leaned into Lexa's embrace, feeling her warmth and strength. She knew that no matter what happened, they would always have each other.

As the night fell around them, Clarke and Lexa stood there, holding each other and looking out into the vast wilderness. Tomorrow the sun would rise and they would start to rebuild with their people. Most importantly, they would do it side-by-side forever.

[tiny-pun]

Regrets

B: Just tell me: Do you have regrets? About that night ? A: Yes. A: I have many regrets. For not holding you closer. For not cupping your face more gently, like you wanted me to. For asking but not responding. For not making sure, you knew how good you were to me. For making it about me, when i should have made it about us. But most of all I regret not telling you how glad I am that it was you. That it is you.

[blu3haw4]

Hi, hello, remember when i posted a little fic two years ago called 'loved your parting gift (dead people are my favorite)' and then last year i talked about how that world lives in my mind rent free and how I've imagine that very cathartic scene of Lexa bleeding at Clarke's place and her calling Anya to watch Lexa while she feeds from countless people because the sent of Lexa's blood makes her incredibly thirsty? Do you remember?

Well i didn't write that scene (actually i did but it's not edited and I'm not sure i want it to be precisely like that so) instead I wrote a little night months after, a little look into their abettor-ship.

I feel like in the first installment it looks a little like these two are pretty serious, but in my head this fic is a little cracky. Like sure Lexa is Commander of the 12 clans full of werewolf packs (this isn't abo btw) sure she's the most powerful alpha of her people, sure she can control other alphas as though they were her beta's. But also she's just a girl. She's practically 21yo (210 in reality (215 actually, which makes Clarke want to celebrate her sweet (2)16's) but she's a wolf so its the same) and she just really likes this very pretty girl, mysterious and possibly incredibly dangerous but also just a girl who with all her power (and years on earth) is actually just chilling.

So here's that little night

For Clextober 2024, Idea 16 (already on ao3)

The Halloween Party

“A Halloween party? Seriously?” Lexa deadpanned.

“A custom party” Clarke clarified, covered excitement in her voice.

“Yeah, I got that part”

“Don’t sound so excited” She rolled her eyes.

“Of course I’m not excited Clarke, I’ve seen enough terrible representation of my kind? Don’t you hate those of yours?”

“Why would I?” Clarke laughed “few are exaggerated versions the fictional character created about us, and most are pretty simple and very accurate representation of how we really look like... humans with fangs and blood dripping down our mouths. And, by the way, I think the latest tv shows have done a pretty good job at representing your kind”

“When was the last time you saw a werewolf?” Lexa narrowed her eyes, she can’t remember the last time she saw a werewolf custom or tv show, but they were never flattering, and the few movies she knew about weren’t great either.

“I’m standing right in front of one!”

“Before that” Lexa rolled her eyes.

“Irrelevant, trirku, I’ve seen you fully and partially wolfed out as well as human size, you’ve got to admit they’re getting it right -finally”

“Trikru is not-“

“Your last name, I know, but you don’t have one, so suck it up” Clarke interrupts, with that sweet, little flirty tone she used to mock her -and to calm the bad guys she dried to feed- “You’re the one who rejected Woods”

“Because that’s just stupid-” before Clarke could jump with some retort again, she railed the conversation back “Why is it necessary? To go to this party?”

“Because!” Clarke rolled her eyes sighing, it had been an intense few months since they met, what started as just tense avoidance quickly turned into a series of unfortunate events that landed them on a weird abettor-ship. The vampire had to get used to sharing a city with a huge clan of werewolves’ packs, all the while making sure they weren’t sniffing around where they shouldn’t, whatever that’d be other super-natural creatures’ business or outright hunter houses. She hadn’t done the best job at it from afar, hence their fragile alliance.

“You said you wanted in on the majority of non-humans around here, this is your way of mingling”

“But why a Halloween party?”

“Because it’s fun! Because we hide every day, most have a lot more covering up to do than you and I. Halloween is the perfect opportunity to hide in plain sight, is the one occasion they get to be themselves around those they call friends without any judgment”

‘Do you have friends?’ Was the question in Lexa’s mind, but she kept it there, the line between professionalism and friendship or whatever with Clarke were blurry enough already. She’s made enough mistakes the past six months that led her down dangerous paths, she owed it to her clan to stay focused, to mend those mistakes, no matter how much she just wanted to get to know Clarke.

“You sure it’s a good idea?”

“Yes! For one you’ll get to do something fun, and two, how else will you know who’s pissed that you and your clan are here and who doesn’t give a shit?”

“Isn’t that the point of our agreement?”

“I agreed to help you, not do you binding” Clarke deadpanned “Look as far as I’m aware there hasn't been a pack around for about fifty years, most witches I know don’t care about you, but there’s plenty of vampires around who love to feed into our animosity. This party is your chance to check the field, some ghouls hide perfectly and won’t care that you pissed off hunters, there’s fairies though I’m sure would love to help them, there’s a variety of chimeras that-”

“Okay. I get it. Plenty of creature, perfect night, perfect chance”

“Exactly. Efficiency” Clarke winked at her.

With a sigh Lexa stood up “Fine, I’ll be here at seven”

“You better be in a nice custom!” Clarke called after her “You don’t want people to think you’re a boring ass human!” Lexa rolled her eyes yet started to plan her outfit for the following night.

She showed up at seven sharp, in simple black jeans and a white shirt, cut and styled to look worn, her hair braided and held by a bandanna at the top of her head, her make-up was exaggerated, all meat to portray a pirate. She thought she complied to Clarke’s petition, yet her hopes for a compliment fell when the Vampire opened the door.

“You didn’t come as a were?!”

“No! I am one!” She huffed.

“That’s the point!” Clarke chuckles turning around, in her plain fitting black dress, black high heels and… a cape. Because of course she was a vampire. “Such a wasted opportunity” she rolled her eyes, cheeky grin fangs out and all, clearly pleased with her own ‘custom’. Lexa felt a little silly, knowing she spent all day crafting hers.

“I mean don’t get me wrong-” Clarke cut her train of thought, looking her up and down, still grinning, licking her left fang -it was always the left one, same side where that beauty mark sat atop her lip- not that Lexa paid attention or anything. “This fit is… damn, hot as fuck, Trikru, you really leaned into it” And okay, Lexa wasn’t expecting that, so who could blame her if she blushed a little.

“Well, you… said to make it nice”

“It is nice… very nice” Clarke nodded, looking her up and down again as she kept licking that damn fang, how was Lexa supposed to focus on the mission. And okay, it wasn’t really a mission, but she was still supposed to focus on making connections not on… well. Clarke.

They left shortly after, and Lexa was informed on the way that this Halloween party was, actually, several parties. A few different parties they would go to through the night.

And so, they spend about an hour -and a half sometimes- at each party, Lexa meets all of Clarke’s contacts -all witches- and learns to recognize the faces of few vampires who don’t seem to like her. She asks how come they don’t approach them and seem to back away from Clarke, but she deflects, says she’s not sure and bets they’re just smart enough to not mess with Lexa. But she knows it can’t be just that, she doesn’t push it though, just hopes Clarke will trust her enough one day to tell her, after all their relationship at the moment pretty much consisted of exchanging information.

By midnight Lexa had a pretty clear idea of how most creatures felt about her and her clan, she met a few chimeras that lived with packs and seemed to hope that they’d protect them from the hunters, while lone ones kept their distance from her. Ghouls and fairies alike seem all over the place, some wanted to meet her, some seem scared of her, others just outright grossed by her presence. It gave her a good feeling of what she would be dealing with for the next few years of their stay.

So, with her mission accomplished, she finally listened to Clarke and agreed to have fun. With the elixirs provided by Clarke’s witches friends, the pair was able to enjoy the nice numbing of their drinks -not that Clarke wasn’t already a little drunk and high from the few humans she fed from.

Lexa learned over the course of the first two months after her arrival that Clarke had a method of feeding that didn’t involve drinking them dry, and didn’t even leave a mark. The watching had begun with Lexa following her after their first face-to-face encounter, feeling the need to check that Clarke’s victims were in fact the predators she claimed them to be.

That’s how she found her flirting with people at bars and promising a good time, offering them a vape and saying it had weed to cover up the later dizziness, taking them a out to a more private corner and making out with them, Clarke would kiss their necks, nibbling and licking to activate the sedative from her saliva and then biting them to drink from them, they would think she was leaving a hickey when in reality she was only drinking a little of their blood -the equivalent of two exam doses, she would later learn- before licking the wound to heal it close. She’d take them back inside and leave after a while.

Lexa had memorized the pattern, Clarke would drink from four different people per night, and she would skip three nights if she drank someone dry. She wasn’t sure if Clarke was aware of it, she had an idea that Clarke could scent her every time, but she had stopped following her after the first time they spoke. Falling to the conclusion -and promptly ignoring it- that her obsession with the habit had come from wanting to be a part of the rotation of… donors.

-It meant she didn’t realize when the pattern changed, after the night she bled at Clarke’s place, the vampire started to feed every night even if she dried someone, the number of doses per night increased and even some were taken during the day. Clarke didn’t tell her, afraid to accept the reason of her newfound insatiable thirst-

And so, she found herself at the last party mildly drunk, doing everything in her power to keep Clarke’s focus on her, because her inhibition was low and her instincts her directing her more than her conscious, and Clarke kept looking for humans to woo and drink from, not because she need it -or so Lexa thought- just because she wanted to, because she was having fun and she wasn’t -technically- hurting anybody. And Lexa didn’t really want to stop her, she just… wanted her to not kiss other people.

And Clarke kept telling her that she was no fun, that she should let loose and enjoy the night, and Lexa was really trying, but she didn’t know how to without completely exposing herself. Because even her wolf wanted Clarke to bite her, her big bad alpha soul wanted to be bitten, and how was Lexa really supposed to deny that.

So, she showed her she could be fun, she drank and danced with Clarke, and she did her best at flirting, and she noticed when Clarke noticed. She noticed when Clarke stopped looking around for humans, she noticed her flirting turning up from her natural, and she noticed how she danced differently with her. She noticed the way she wouldn’t stop licking her fangs and biting her lips.

She noticed she was breathing heavily “Why are you breathing?” Lexa asked.

Clarke giggled, tilting her head to rest their foreheads together “What?” she sighed with a drunken laugh.

“You don’t need to breath” Lexa hushed, giggling a little too as they stumbled more than danced “Why are you doing it?”

“Oh… well-” and again with the fang-licking, Lexa was sure that a few more time and she wouldn’t be able to hold back the need to capture that tongue “The feeding, y’know how I get drunk because they’re drunk?” she asks, motioning vaguely with her hands and chuckling when Lexa pulls her back to her after she stumbled back.

“It happens because… I kinda… absorb a little of their life. Not like… take from… their time, just-” She tasked, and Lexa couldn’t decide if she should fixate of her mouth or her eyes, bluer than she’d ever seen them “like the blood makes me… alive, for however long it takes my body to… fully…” another giggle, another misstep “absorb it”

“Oh yeah?” Lexa nodded, unable to contain the smile on her face, she bumped her nose with Clarke “Sounds fun” she hushes, because if they stop talking, she might end up kissing her.

And okay, it was what she wanted, but she knew it was a bad idea, and she didn’t want to initiate it anyways.

“It is” Clarke nods, grinning widely “It’s why my eyes are lighter… or bluer… I guess”

“Really?” Lexa leans back, wanting to get a better look, and Clarke unconsciously leans forward, almost chasing her.

“Yep” she sighs this time when their foreheads press together again, there a slumber looks in her eyes now “You know how they’re… black, before I feed?” Lexa only hums her agreement “That’s the… monster”

“Hey, no, don’t call it that. That’s the hunger” Lexa says, and she’s had both arms around Clarke’s waits this whole time, so she lifts one up to cares the side of her neck. “You’re not -We’re not monsters” Clarke eyes her, not buying it.

And Lexa knows, she knows that this is not a worry Clarke carries every day, she knows the vampire is self-aware and has probably lived longer than Lexa is capable of wrapping her head around. She knows these are drunk insecurities that won’t be there in the morning- or in a few hours- but she needs to calm them, because she also knows that is a worry that comes from deep, deep down in her core.

“You are cable of feeding without killing. And even if you had to kill to do it, you wouldn’t be different than an animal. You wouldn’t be different than a werewolf. We’re not that much different than humans”

Clarke’s hands have moved from Lexa’s shoulder to her arms, up her neck and into her hair in a sequence since they started dancing. In the breath after Lexa finishes speaking, one hand moves back into her hair and the other stays holding her arm, a subtle tilt of her head it’s all that’s needed for the lips to connect as she pulls Lexa closer in every way.

Lexa’s breath catches in her throat as her arms instinctively wrap around Clarke and she answers the kiss eagerly. It’s slow for a second, they adjust to the press of Clarke’s fangs in a tight press of lips. Then it intensifies, there’s a brief separation before they both lean in again, stronger, deeper. They pull each other close and sigh into each other’s mouth, Lexa gasps and Clarke smirks every time her fang nibs Lexa’s tongue or lips, and they absently move out of the makeshift dance floor.

They don’t bump into anyone, their super senses kick in and helping them navigate the crowded room without even looking. Clarke sucks on Lexa’s lower lip with a softness that makes Lexa forget there’s sharp fangs behind those lips. She licks into Clarke’s mouth anyways, learning each time where to go and how to enjoy it, Clarke’s tongue guides her too, she absolutely enjoys that part the most.

Lexa is leaned against the hallway wall, the window beside them is open and the breeze is a nice contrast to the warm of their bodies pressed against each other, hands pulling and wandering as they exchange heated kisses.

Lexa gaps and turns her head away from the kiss suddenly, her reflexes kick in when Clarke leans for -a kiss to- her neck and her arm goes up to grab Clarke by the throat. She pauses, confused, still holding Lexa close, and then she hears it too, the faith distinguished howl of a wolf; Clarke can tell is a werewolf, Lexa understands the entire message.

“I need to go” she says, still looking out, eyes red now, fangs out.

“Do you need help?” Clarke sobers up, she doesn’t move though, neither of them do.

“No. You shouldn’t come” and finally Lexa pulls away, Clarke takes a step back with her and their arms drop when Lexa moves to go back into the main room “Clarke. I mean it. Don’t follow” she says, and she tries to ignore the looks on her face, tries not to read too much into the flash of darkening eyes, and leaves without looking back.

[max-hubris]

@dreamsaremywords posted a dope prompt for a Clexa Mandalorian AU a while ago, and I own enough Star Wars RPG books for it to be embarrassing, so of course I had to write something. Please enjoy this meet-ugly between a moody bounty hunter and a reckless idiot. Title from a Perturbator-song that I was listening to on repeat when writing this.

She Moves Like a Knife

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Clarke thinks as she blinks furiously to clear the blood from her vision. Her helmet took the brunt of it, but there’s definitely a cut on her forehead, sending rivulets of crimson streaming down and directly into her left eye.

She hadn’t seen the shock baton coming before it literally hit her over the head, and though her armor ensured the electricity coursing through it wouldn’t send her into a spasming pile on the ground, the impact still fucking hurt.

“Fucking Cartel dicks,” Clarke mutters, readjusting the grip on her blaster. She’s a long way from Nal Hutta and Nar Shaddaa both, but the Hutt Cartel’s slimy tendrils are longer. And though she doesn’t speak much Dosh, in-between the harsh hissing syllables from the Trandoshans, she hears the name ‘Cholta’ repeated a few times.

She’s not going to let these amateurs take her anywhere, and especially not to some Hutt Cartel Lord who decided to put a bounty on her for no other reason than, in Clarke’s opinion, to be a real fucking asshole. Can’t even let her subtly loiter at a cantina in peace.

Another volley of blaster fire chips away at the makeshift cover, and she knows the durasteel crate she threw herself behind after kicking her initial assailant in the face isn’t gonna hold much longer. She chances a quick peek out of cover, managing to get eyes on all three of them. They’re all holed up behind the half-oval that makes up the cantina’s bar, a far more fortified position than what Clarke is working with. But… These older cantinas have their quirks, and her helmet’s HUD is still doing its job despite the impact, indicating the small fuel tank hooked up to the drink dispensing system. Clarke grins, happy to have her hunch confirmed.

Thankfully, everyone else had fled once the shooting started, so there’s no collateral other than structural to worry about.

Probably.

It’s gonna take a couple of shots to break through the plating, and Clarke is once again immensely grateful she managed to ditch the E-11 and its shitty accuracy as soon as she hit Elrood. As a manufacturing planet, it had a thriving black market filled with various things that went ‘missing’ from its gargantuan factories, and it hadn’t been hard to talk her way in, though she had obviously opted to forego her armor for that particular excursion. The Rodian manufactured heavy carbine she’d traded for had cost her both the E-11 and two thermal detonators, plus a couple of credits on top, but it was more than worth it for the upgraded precision, plus the extremely satisfying thump-noise it made when fired. Clarke has never been much for subtlety anyway.

To drive that point home, Clarke takes a deep breath, holds it, and pops out from behind her cover. Ignoring the shot that whizzes a little bit too close to her head, she follows the tracking on her HUD and finds the most vulnerable part of the tank easily. She exhales and pulls the trigger once, twice, keeping her wrists tense and elbows locked to manage the stronger recoil. Both shots are good, hitting in almost exactly the same place, and the three mercenaries have no time to react as the tank ignites and a fireball engulfs them.

The ensuing blast is probably the final nail in the coffin for the already beat-down cantina, and Clarke dives for a nearby window as the force of the explosion starts making the walls around her creak ominously. There’s screams from her would-be captors as they’re caught in the flames, but Clarke spares them no sympathy as she tucks and rolls, kicking up sand as she leaps to her feet and starts sprinting.

The air is scorching hot at this time of day, with Elrood’s arid climate and two suns quickly making Clarke’s armor feel like a sweltering cage, its bright white color not doing much to alleviate it. The commotion and ensuing explosion has drawn a crowd, even here in the slummier part of the planet. Clarke grits her teeth and pulls the long, raggedy cloak tighter around her, despite the heat.

It’s really no place for a lone figure clad in Stormtrooper armor to be seen.

She knows she needs to find her way off-planet soon, because even though Elrood isn’t under Imperial control, she’s seen a few of their ships coming and going from the modest spaceport lately, and though it’s unlikely that they’re here specifically for her, it’s still getting a little too concerning to ignore.

She makes it back to the little abandoned hovel she’d found on the outskirts of the slums, and as soon as she slams the door behind her, she wrenches the helmet from her head, wincing a little bit as the coagulated blood makes it stick to her skin for a moment.

“Eugh,” she grimaces as she sees the mess inside the helmet. She’s gonna need to clean that out somehow. Not to mention she has to take care of the cut on her forehead. She heaves a sigh and drags her feet through the little two-room building, throwing the helmet and her carbine onto the bed as she passes it.

Despite its state of disrepair, the house is very much livable. It stands in the middle of a little cluster of three other houses of similar shape and size, and Clarke’s assumption is that it housed factory workers, once upon a time, based on the logo still emblazoned on the doors. When she’d tried to look up the name of the company, however, she’d found nothing. Most likely, the company had been bankrupted, and its houses left behind. The other three houses were stripped bare, and it’s anyone’s guess why one of them still held its furniture, but Clarke isn’t complaining. The bed, though obviously cheap, is miles better than anything she’s ever slept on. Certainly much better than the shitty beds back at the Imperial barracks. There’s even a little table, and a chair, and a washroom with a sink, hooked up to a water tank outside. It had been dry when Clarke first got there, but figuring out how it worked hadn’t been hard, and she’d bartered two barrels of water from the nearby cantina to fill it up.

Unfortunately, that cantina is the same one she blew up today.

“Nothing good lasts forever…” Clarke mutters to herself in the cloudy mirror. She turns the sink on and leans down, cupping her hands under the faucet to gather water before splashing it against her face to get rid of the blood. She does this twice and tries to move quickly; she can’t afford to waste water now that she doesn’t know when she’ll get more, and—

Something cold presses against the back of her neck. Clarke’s hands immediately shoot out to the sides and stay there.

“Up. Slowly,” a voice says, distorted as if filtering through the voice-box on a helmet much like her own. Clarke curses inwardly, realizing this is it, they’ve found her. “Keep your arms just like that.”

As the voice commands, Clarke slowly comes back up, straightening at the waist first, then her neck. She mournfully glances down at the water that’s disappearing into the sink from the still open faucet, then looks up into the mirror.

And realizes that the person who has the muzzle of a blaster pressed against her neck isn’t who she thinks at all; because it’s not the Imperials come to haul her ass back to the nearest base to beat the shit out of her and put her right back into a squadron.

It’s worse.

“Mandalorian,” she hisses, lips pulling back into a snarl as she sees the all-too recognizable helmet shape, and the silver gleam of beskar plating.

The helmeted head tilts, and Clarke swears she can read amusement despite the lack of facial features. “Stormtrooper,” the voice retorts calmly.

“I’m not a fucking Stormtrooper,” Clarke bites out.

“That’s funny.” The hand not holding the blaster raises and a padded knuckle raps against her shoulder guard once, mockingly. “Because I think you might be.”

Clarke tips her chin up and stares down her foe, hoping her glare is hitting wherever the eyes might be. “I found this. Took it off some idiot I killed.”

“Being an idiot must be contagious, then, because only an idiot would voluntarily run around in that if they are, indeed, not a fucking Stormtrooper.”

Clarke opens her mouth, but whatever she’s about to say is drowned out by a rapid burst of blaster fire, and both of them immediately whirl away from each other, pressing flat against the wall by the door, each on either side of the opening.

“Oh come on!” Clarke shouts as she spots the very thing she was expecting when she was first accosted in her bathroom; that all to familiar white armor, as well as a gray uniform.

“Of course you have backup,” the Mandalorian grumbles, stowing the sidearm blaster and trading it for a much more formidable rifle hanging from their back, something surprisingly sleek though altogether vicious looking. 

“Surround the house! We’ve found the deserter!”

Clarke can’t help but feel a surge of vindication as the Mandalorian’s helmet snaps to look at her, and she grins, despite herself. “Fucking told you.”

“Great. Just an idiot.”

Deciding that doesn’t really qualify for a response, Clarke sets her eyes on the carbine still leaning against her bed. “Cover me,” she says, and absolutely does not wait for any kind of confirmation before she dives through the doorway, towards the bed and her carbine. 

Perhaps unsurprisingly, no covering fire is provided, though Clarke manages to snatch the carbine from the bed and drop into a low crouch behind the bed frame in spite of the uselessness of her new not-quite companion. 

Undeterred, Clarke blindly fires a few shots over her shoulder, ignoring the painful jolt of the carbine’s kickback from firing one-handed as she glares back at the faceless figure. "Some help you are! I thought Mandalorians were good at fighting!" Clarke complains, and squeezes the trigger a few more times for good measure. A yelp of pain tells her she might have gotten in a lucky hit, and there's more shouting from outside as the sound of the small unit regrouping can be heard. It buys her enough time to scramble back to her original position, next to the Mandalorian that seems perfectly content to let Clarke do all the hard work around here.

Fuck, and the fucking sink is still running.

Having grown up around faceless comrades, heads encased in white plastoid for the majority of their time spent together, Clarke is plenty used to relying on body language to discern emotion. Which is why it's so frustrating that she can't quite seem to get a read on this person, no, this woman, Clarke is pretty sure. Normally, she's not so bothered by not being able to see someone's eyes, hell, she prefers it most of the time. But now, she is irked by the fact that she has no idea where this annoyingly cocky bounty hunter is looking.

"And why would I help you, exactly?" The Mandalorian drawls. "You're clearly more trouble than you're worth."

Clarke grits her teeth at the unexpected ice-cold rush that courses through her chest and down into her stomach at the words. It's certainly not the first time she's heard almost this exact phrase, and while there's absolutely no reason it should hit her so hard, coming from a perfect stranger that had a blaster to her head a few minutes ago and knows absolutely nothing about her, it triggers painful memories, starkly reminding her of just why she's even on the run in the first place. All the things she's done that still weren't enough.

She fights down the unease and fixes the Mandalorian with an unimpressed look. "That officer out there has already reported back that a Mandalorian has been seen with me. Even if you leave me to get captured, you'll be a loose end, and the Empire does not leave loose ends. They'll start flagging ships in the spaceport looking for yours, and haul you in without a second thought. You're not getting off this planet now."

There is a subtle flex in the gloved hands where they wrap around the blaster rifle. The tiniest crack in the wall. Clarke is almost certain that they are now staring each other down, heedless of the smattering of blaster fire and shouting from outside.

"This isn't making me less tempted to shoot you," the Mandalorian says finally, and Clarke tips her chin up defiantly, feeling victory within her grasp.

"That'd make you the idiot then, because you need me. If you want to get past their sensors, you need someone who knows how to fool them. I do."

There's a beat of silence. Then two. Then, without any warning, the Mandalorian surges out of cover and has kicked open the front door and is in the middle of the fray faster than Clarke can blink. Clarke watches, jaw slack, as she moves forward, completely ignoring the hail of blaster fire that goes completely wide. With a powerful roll of one shoulder, the carbine in her hands is hefted and then three precise shots ring out, ventilating three Stormtrooper helmets in short order.

Without a second's hesitation, the Mandalorian strides towards the last man standing; the officer who is now fumbling for the small blaster sidearm he has forgone from drawing in favor of yelling orders instead. He stumbles backwards just as the Mandalorian raises her arm, and two wires shoot out from the grappling device strapped to her wrist.

With a sharp yank of her arm and a show of strength that Clarke was wholly unprepared for, the officer is pulled through the air and collides with an awaiting fist. The crack of a beskar reinforced gauntlet against his jaw echoes off the walls, and he slumps like a bag of space debris.

A high-pitched whistling noise, the wires retract back into the wrist grapple, and the helmeted head turns to look directly at Clarke as the carbine is smoothly exchanged for the sidearm again, and Clarke feels the eyes on her as two shots are fired directly into the unconscious officer's chest.

There is absolute silence for several moments as they stare at each other. Clarke has no idea what the face underneath that helmet is doing, and she honestly isn’t sure what expression her own face is wearing at the moment. There’s a non-zero chance it’s some form of wide-eyed awe.

Still. They can’t stand here staring at each other.

“Where’s your ship?” Clarke asks, with more courage than she’s feeling.

Heaving a full-body sigh, the Mandalorian steps over the dead officer. “C’mon. But if you bleed all over my seats we’re gonna have a problem.”

[butmakeitgayblog]

for the reverse trope writing: divorce of convenience (something new or an au of your choice, both sound fun!)

Her eyes watch as the ink bleeds slowly into the paper. They watch neat, slanted script combine in the fragmented loops and dashes that make up that achingly familiar signature. X marks the spot. On the dotted line. Not a single scribble out of place; right where the lawyer had highlighted it in garish neon yellow.

Forever and ever.

They were eleven, and it's promising to always be best friends. The kind that stick together through thick and thin. Like white on rice, as their teacher  often said. 

Forever and ever.

They were fifteen, and it's smiling with the awkwardness of young love. The kind that sets fire to racing hearts from a first kiss stolen behind their school's abandoned gymnasium. 

Forever and ever.

They were seventeen, and it's shaking hands that still can't believe they get to touch their best friends that way. The kind of way that makes them both let out hungry sounds and pretty moans in the backseat of her dad's station wagon.

Forever and ever.

They were nineteen, and it's stiff-jawed goodbyes through desperate kisses. The kind rotten with promises that this isn't the end. That it's just a ‘see you later’, but never goodbye. Not for them.

Forever and ever.

They were twenty-eight, and it's handwritten vows and white satin gowns with matching bridal bouquets. The kind that they picked out together to remind them that all this was worth it, that it's finally the day they'd been planning for since their junior year in college. The culmination of sleepless nights and teary phone calls from three states away.

Forever and ever.

They were thirty, and it's whispering in the nursery  of their freshly furnished house, standing wrapped in each other's arms at the edge of an adorably small bassinet. The kind decked out in purple frills with sunshine yellow along the trim, because they'd agreed from the first plus sign to not know the sex. It's fingers running through brown curls carefully enough not to wake their baby up, while watching lashes twitch in dreaming that hide those baby blue eyes. The exact shape and shade that'd had them both wrapped around a tiny pinky from the start. 

Forever and ever.

They are fifty-four, and it's an empty nest that's too quiet in the house that sometimes feels too big. The kind they'd joked about missing for years, but now that it's here, they don't entirely know what to do with it. 

It's medical bills, and denied claims for benefits, and meetings with stuffy lawyers who explain the finer points of income brackets. It's physical therapy visits and losing her job at the hospital and endless prescriptions that never seem to be covered by their insurance. It's everything, and all the time, because life refuses to slow down for even one damn second, despite a hip that simply will not work anymore. 

They are fifty-four, and Clarke never thought she'd be here. That they'd make this kind of choice. Never thought she'd feel quite this stuck. Quite this useless. Never thought she'd be in this situation at all.

But it's clean and it's neat, just the way they like it. A mutual agreement for them both. A fresh start after the accident, one that'll let them move on with their lives, instead of trying to hang on to this thing that only leaves them drowning. 

At least that's what they'd agreed. 

She watches her wife— her ex-wife, dot the i's of her name with an overly dramatic flourish. Watches her click the pen with her thumb and toss it aside with a sigh from deep in her bones.

She smiles and feels her chest squeeze with that familiar pang of deep friendship and love.

“Cheers,” Clarke says, holding up her flute of champagne. 

She'd had to hobble through four different specialty liquor stores just to find it, but it'd felt fitting to toast the signing of their divorce papers with the same bubbly they'd shared on their wedding day.

Lexa picks up her glass and clinks it soundly against hers, only managing the barest sip around a smile of her own. “Cheers, single lady.”

“Mm. This is good.”

“Even better than I remember from the first time,” Lexa agrees as her gaze makes a lazy rake over Clarke's body.

It's not lost on Clarke how ridiculous it is to be blushing over the signed stack of her divorce papers, but something about the way Lexa looks at her has always set her on fire. 

“So,” she tries, casually, setting aside her cane and leaning heavier against the kitchen table, “what are you going to do next?”

Lexa takes another sip of her champagne, watching her closely over the rim. She swallows with a flex of that elegant throat and shuffles closer, sets her glass down on Clarke's other side, effectively boxing her in. 

“Go to Disneyland.”

The sound of Clarke's snort rings through the kitchen. “Smartass.”

“What about you?” Lexa asks with a bite to her lips, hands still bracketing the sides of Clarke's waist and eyes twinkling with mischief. “Any big plans for the future, newly divorced Ms. Griffin?”

Clarke scoffs. “Nice try. But it's still ‘Ms. Griffin-Woods’ to you.”

“Oh? Is that right?”

“Uhuh,” Clarke nods and loops her arms around Lexa's shoulders. “Sorry not sorry, but I'm never giving that one back.”

Lexa hums and presses closer. Paints her body to Clarke's curves and breathes her in the same way she has for forty years. 

“Greedy, but I think I can live with that.”

“Such a hardship. I seem to remember you loving that about me.”

“Among so many things.”

Clarke moans when Lexa's lips find the hollow dip of her neck, relaxing into the wet warmth of a plump, suckling kiss. Champagne has always made Lexa brazenly affectionate. She tips head back to grant more room and sucks in a gasp at the nibble of teeth. Tangles her fingers in greying, brunette hair that only serves to make her bombshell of a wife look that much more distinguished. 

Well. Her ex-wife, that is…

Hands trail down Clarke's hips and wrap tight around her thighs and before she can yelp a single word she's lifted onto the table. 

Lexa lets out a half-laughed grunt when she gets Clarke settled in place, looking equally as amused as she does grateful that the little maneuver actually still worked after so many years.

“You good, baby?” Clarke chuckles along with her, mindlessly going to rub the shoulder that had started being a pain around birthday forty-seven. “Didn't pop anything, did you?”

“No, I'm good, I'm good,” Lexa says, smiling and shaking off her ill-coordinated prowess like the champ that she is. “That just used to be easier.”

“Is that a crack about my weight?”

“More like a crack about me being old.”

“Oh. Well then yeah.”

“Rude,” Lexa gasps, taking the hips in her hands and pulling them closer. Pressing Clarke firmly against her stomach. “There's still giddy up in this old girl, I'll have you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“My, my, Ms. Woods—”

“Griffin-Woods,” Lexa's quick to correct. Suddenly serious in how intensely she stares Clarke in the eyes. “You're not getting that back either.”

They share a look because things like this have never required words. Not for them. But with everything and all of it, with the ink still drying on the paper beside them, Clarke gives in to her last bit of worry. 

“You're still my girl,” she whispers. Swallows. Feels a stinging prickle along her eyes at the sudden need to feel this connection with her favorite person in the world. “Even with me, and having to do all this… You know we're still us, right? You're still my girl?”

Clarke melts into the kiss she knows is coming because she knows this woman better than anybody, and it feels more like a promise that nothing could ever break them than any piece of paper ever could. She wraps her good leg around Lexa's hip and deepens it, kisses back with every ounce of love her heart has to offer. Cherishes each massage of tongue and slide of lips that have met thousands of times before. 

Lexa kisses her once, twice more, and pulls back with a soothing smile.

“Always, love… Forever and ever.”

[cascowriteswords]

how do you expect me to sleep next to you at night knowing what you did? for the dialogue prompts please!

this maaaaaaaaay have taken me a little longer than expected to get to.

................................................................................

Lexa had just been falling asleep, finally. She was having one of those nights where she was dog tired but also wired, sleep an elusive and abstract concept she could feel like a fuzzy presence a the edge of her consciousness. She’d finally nuzzled into her pillow at just the right angle and pulled the sheets up to her chin with her leg sticking out and hooked over the top of the duvet to stay a comfortable temperature and she could nearly taste the sweet sweet relief of sleep.  

So when Clarke hmphed and turned over dramatically beside her, shaking the entire bed and yanking far more than 50% of the covers over to her side, Lexa’s eyes snapped open. And twitched. 

She took a deep breath - she was tired and didn’t want to snap at her girlfriend but at the same time, what the fuck? “Clarke?” Silence. Another deep breath and Lexa rolled over, blinking in surprise when she found Clarke only a few inches from her face. It was dark but Lexa could make out a grumpy pout, furrowed brows and lips set in a frown. “Babe, what are you doing?”

There was a brief silence that made Lexa think she might have to put in some more effort to draw whatever it was out of Clarke - although she already had an inkling what this was about. 

“How do you expect me to sleep next to you at night, knowing what you did?”

Yep, Clarke was still on about that. Apparently sleep depravation was Lexa’s penance.

“Clarke, it was a long time ago. Before I even met you! Or knew you existed.” She reached out and ran the back of her knuckles lovingly across Clarke’s cheek, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice. 

Clarke turned her head away indignantly, turning onto her back to cross her arms over her chest and stare at the ceiling. “Did you touch Costia - Professor Costia - like that?”

Clarke and Lexa had signed up for pottery classes together at the local community college, and tonight had been their first session. Turns out their instructor was someone Lexa had had a brief fling with years and years ago, Costia. Not wanting to seem shady or potentially put Clarke in an awkward situation, Lexa had told her about it casually after class. She and Clarke were both adults and while neither of them loved hearing about the other’s past sexual or romantic encounters, they acknowledged and respected that they’d both had lives before meeting each other.

That didn’t stop Clarke from sometimes feigning betrayal in a dramatic way when she felt jealous. Tonight it was just unfortunately was occurring when Lexa desperately wanted to sleep. “It’s just Costia, Clarke, she isn’t a professor,” Lexa laughed. “But of course not,” Lexa answered. “It wasn’t like that at all. It was more -” 

“La la la la la!” Clarke exclaimed, sticking her fingers in her ears. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to know anything else.”

Lexa bit back an endeared, amused grin. “Okay. You’re the only one for me, Clarke. My whole heart. Can we please go to sleep now?”

A few seconds passed without response. Then Clarke turned over abruptly again, towards Lexa, and slotted their legs together as she slung an arm over her waist. Lexa heard her breathing even out and deepen within seconds and rolled her eyes affectionately. 

She fell asleep shortly after, finding it much easier to do so with Clarke tucked up in her arms. 

[reallygroovyninja]

#135 for the smut prompt 😊

135 - “I’ll be honest: I get off to the thought of you.”

Lexa was sitting at her desk, her fingers idly tracing the edge of a legal pad while she stared out the window of her office. Her phone buzzed on the desk, and she glanced at the screen. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips when she saw Clarke’s name. 

She picked up the call, her voice softening as she answered, “Hey, Clarke.” 

“Hey yourself,” Clarke’s voice came through, a playful lilt to it. Lexa could almost picture the smirk on her face. “Busy day at the office, Counselor?” 

Lexa chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “Always. But I can spare a few minutes for you.” 

“Mmm, just a few minutes?” Clarke teased. “That doesn’t sound like nearly enough time.” 

“I think you’ll find I can be very efficient when I need to be,” Lexa shot back, her tone low and suggestive. 

There was a pause on the other end, and Lexa could hear the faint rustling of sheets. Clarke must have been lounging in bed, and the thought of her there, relaxed and likely wearing nothing but a grin, made Lexa’s pulse quicken. 

“Maybe,” Clarke replied, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “But I prefer when you take your time.” 

Lexa bit her lip, trying to keep her composure. “Is that right? You know I’m not one to rush things.” 

“I remember,” Clarke purred. “You always know how to make things last… how to build up to that perfect moment.” 

Lexa’s breath hitched at the memory Clarke’s words invoked. “And you… always know how to push me right to the edge,” she murmured. 

Clarke’s laughter was soft, almost a hum. “I do enjoy seeing just how far I can push you.” 

Lexa could hear the challenge in her voice, and it sent a shiver down her spine. “You’re dangerous, Clarke Griffin.” 

“Only for you,” Clarke whispered back, her tone taking on a more serious edge. There was a beat of silence before she added, “I’ll be honest: I get off to the thought of you.” 

The confession hung in the air, heavy and charged. Lexa’s heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. She swallowed, trying to find the right words, but all she could manage was a soft, “Clarke…” 

“Yeah?” Clarke’s voice was gentle now, the teasing edge gone. 

Lexa shifted in her chair, the playful smile still on her lips as the conversation settled into a comfortable rhythm. After a brief lull, Lexa’s curiosity got the better of her. 

“So, what are you up to right now?” Lexa asked, her tone light but tinged with a hint of anticipation. 

There was a pause on the other end, and then Clarke’s voice came through, lower and sultry. “I might be… stroking my cock.” 

Lexa’s breath caught in her throat, her grip on the phone tightening. Her voice dropped, the playful edge replaced with something deeper, more primal. “Really now?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Clarke hummed, the sound vibrating through the phone. “Been thinking about you all day, Lexa. Figured I’d do something about it.” 

Lexa could practically hear the smirk in Clarke’s voice, and the mental image of Clarke lying there, touching herself, sent a surge of heat through her body. She struggled to keep her voice steady. “And how’s that going for you?” 

Clarke’s breath hitched, and there was a faint, barely audible sound that made Lexa’s pulse quicken. “Good… but it’d be better if you were here.” 

Lexa closed her eyes, letting the image of Clarke’s hand moving over her length fill her mind. “Tell me what you’re doing,” she commanded softly, her voice husky. 

Clarke didn’t hesitate. “I’m gripping myself, just the way I like it… thinking about how good it feels when you touch me. How your hand feels wrapped around me, so tight, so perfect.” 

Lexa’s breath came faster, her body reacting to Clarke’s words. “Keep going,” she urged, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Clarke’s breathing grew heavier, and Lexa could hear the faint sounds of her hand moving, the wet slide of her stroking herself. “I’m thinking about your mouth, Lexa… how you tease me with your tongue. How you always know exactly what I need.” 

Lexa bit her lip, her own arousal spiking as she listened. “You like that, don’t you? The way I make you come undone?” 

“So much,” Clarke moaned, her voice thick with desire. “I’m so close, Lexa. I wish you were here to see what you do to me.” 

Lexa’s heart raced, her voice dropping to a throaty whisper. “I want to hear you when you come, Clarke. Let me hear you.” 

Clarke’s breathing quickened, the sounds growing more urgent, more desperate. “I’m right there, Lexa… fuck, I’m right there.” 

Lexa’s voice was a low growl now, filled with need. “Come for me, Clarke. Let me hear how good it feels.” 

Clarke’s breath caught, and a deep, throaty moan filled the line as she tumbled over the edge. Lexa could hear every gasp, every shuddering breath as Clarke rode out her climax, her name falling from Clarke’s lips like a prayer. 

Lexa’s own body thrummed with the intensity of the moment, her pulse pounding in her ears. She listened as Clarke’s breathing slowly returned to normal, a satisfied sigh escaping her. 

“God, Lexa,” Clarke finally said, her voice soft and sated. “You always know how to get me there.” 

Lexa smiled, her own desire still simmering just beneath the surface. “I’m glad I could help,” she murmured, her tone filled with warmth and just a hint of mischief. “Though next time, I’d prefer to be there in person.” 

Clarke chuckled, the sound filled with promise. “Next time, you will be.” 

[nironlex]

nfwmb (fuel the pyre)

Years running an (alleged) hitman organization, Clarke has had plenty of instances with the law to last her a lifetime. What she hasn’t tired of yet, though, is seeing Lexa on top of the world, defending her in court and under her, everywhere else.

[dysco-lymonade]

#6 for kissing prompt using any clexa you want 😊

You’re now entering an unknown Clexa AU set some time during college.

Maybe it’ll develop into something? Send me your thoughts and questions.

-

The bass is pounding so hard that Clarke can see the sound waves in her cup of lukewarm beer. Her mind wanders to Jurassic Park and she wonders if she wouldn’t enjoy being hunted by a T-Rex more than being at this party.

Beside her, Finn Collins is apologizing profusely.

Again.

She knows he is speaking, but she’s not listening. She honestly doesn’t really care that he missed the opening of the art show. It wasn’t like she’d sent him an invitation. It was a small college-wide display that would be going on for weeks.

She sees a hand come in to her line of sight. When her eyes focus, she sees fingers snapping in front of her face. “Yo, Earth to Clarke.” Finn has successfully grabbed her attention, and her murderous gaze.

“Did you seriously just snap at me?” She furrows her eyebrows.

He doesn’t even flinch at her tone.

“Yeah I was seeing if I couldn’t make it up to you.” He shoots her what she’s sure is supposed to be a cute crooked smile. It really just makes her want to rearrange his face.

She sighs, trying to make it clear that she’s not interested, without having to actually say it. “Finn, look. I’m not sure what—“

He cuts her off with a hand on her forearm. “I know you’re upset, princess. But it won’t happen again. I promise.”

“What won’t?” Clarke shrugs her arm away from his touch just as his eyes wander to something behind her.

“Oh hey, Lexa. Can you give us a minute?” Finn asks.

Clarke doesn’t hear a response. Instead, she feels herself being turned around with a gentle grasp to her shoulder. It’s like she’s moving in slow-motion.

Clarke’s eyes briefly land on the determined face of one Lexa Woods before she’s suddenly too close to focus on.

Two soft palms cup Clarke’s jaw as slender fingers grasp around the back of her neck.

Then Lexa’s lips are on hers.

It’s so unexpected that Clarke hadn’t had a moment to ready herself. Lexa comes in too quickly, damn near chipping Clarke’s tooth.

Clarke can’t find it in herself to mind. Instead, she sinks in to the feeling of Lexa’s hands cradling her face.

Clarke wraps her hands around Lexa’s waist to pull her in tighter, just as she starts to feel Lexa pulling away.

Clarke can hear Finn muttering curse words under his breath as he wanders off.

“Jesus, Lex. What was that?!” Clarke all but squeaks. Now looking Lexa directly in the eyes.

Panic is the only word that could possibly describe the look on Lexa’s face.

“Shit. I just saw him over here bothering you again and I thought— I don’t know what I thought. I didn’t think.” Lexa’s rambling and Clarke can’t help but find it endearing. Leave it to Lexa to step in and save Clarke from unwanted advances. She’s just never been quite so bold about it.

“Lex.” Clarke tries to get her attention to calm her down.

“That was bad, wasn’t it?” Lexa winces.

“Absolutely terrible.” Clarke teases back with a grin. “You should do it again.”

[kpforpresident]

Prompt idea! The first 300 words of an AU you've never written for before 👀

Lexa’s left eye twitches irritability as she once again feels fat water droplets spray against her feet, interrupting the entirely pleasant nap she’d been having, where she and Ali Krieger had been having a tasteful yet romantic dinner somewhere in the French countryside. Sitting up and shoving her large sunglasses off her eyes with one annoyed swoop, she blinks against the suddenly bright rays of sun that crowd her vision.

It was the perfect pool day at  Polis’s community pool- bright, cerulean sky, a soft, warm breeze, and the temperatures teetering just under 90 degrees. Lexa had seized the chance to sunbathe and read for a few hours on her day off work, shut off her pager, and practically skipped down the street to get settled on a lounger, ready to sip ice water and read sapphic smut until her eyes crossed, all while solidifying her tan in the teeniest bikini she owned.

However, for the past thirty minutes, some little snotty-nosed kid (probably un-supervised and just itching to cause mischief), had been sporadically sending showers of water arching through the air to mist Lexa as she sat innocently in her perfectly positioned chair, placed specifically to get the maximum amount of afternoon sunshine possible. It’s not that Lexa didn’t like kids- she adored Raven and Anya’s adopted son, Aden, with every fiber of her being. However, random children in the general public? Lexa generally avoided them, finding them sticky, whiny, and rude.

Another scattered shower of chlorinated water doused her feet as she felt her patience waning rapidly. Standing up, she felt her eyebrows slide into a glower as she searched for the culprit. Seeing a dark-haired little girl pop up like a seal from the bottom of the pool, a bright smile stretching across her face as she triumphantly popped up, water frisbee in hand, Lexa leveled a finger at the kid, whose smile quickly vanished as she took in Lexa, towering over her on the pool deck, clad in a black swimsuit.

“It’s rude to splash strangers, you know-“ Lexa had begun to grumble indignantly to the little kid, eyes searching for the parent of this clear mischief maker, when the most beautiful woman Lexa had even laid eyes upon swam up beside the little girl, hosting her onto her hip and lovingly smoothing the wet hair out of her eyes before leveling a glare packed with the heat of a thousand suns onto a suddenly stunned Lexa-

“You scold my kid again, you’re going to get a lot more than a little bit of pool water on you, lady.”

[owl127]

So I was at this women’s basketball game—it being March Madness and all—and this player that I find really really cute (she actually kinda looks like Lexa), wasn’t warming up. When the game started she went through the tunnel and back into the locker room which is kinda weird because even if you’re injured normally you still sit on the bench. But at halftime she came out and I noticed she had earplugs in and after a little Google I found out she has a concussion so she was probably in the locker room because it was too loud on the court. The rest of the game I was thinking about how someone could totally write a fanfic where Lexa is on a sports team, gets hurt, is sad she has to sit out, but has a little mid game locker room rendezvous to cheer her up and give her a thrill. Would you please please pleaseee be that someone?

(Ao3)

Lexa’s ears itched to remove her headphones, but the shadow of a headache had started behind her eyes, so she let the noise canceling headphones do its magic. She walked behind the starting team and watched with a frown the pile of windbreakers grow at her feet on the bench while she remained covered. She fiddled with the dark red zipper, the squeaking of rubber against shiny vinyl grounding her while the visiting team entered the arena. Lexa looked away, her eyes darting at the faceless crowd of silver and maroon. The muffled noise of the fans, something she looked forward to at each game, mounted on the pain growing between her eyes. The blinking lights of the stadium did not help with the building dizziness, but she forced a smile as she waved back at a bundle of little girls with signs with her name shining in bright silver glitter.

Lexa Woods.

She bit her lips at the thought of disappointing little girls.

On the other side of the court, the away team warmed up. Lexa looked for a familiar blonde braid, but they were in a huddle, and the amount of blonde heads was borderline offensive for basketball.

“Oi!” A ball came in her direction and Lexa held the pass in pure reflex, but that didn’t stop her frowning at Anya. “You look miserable. Smile for the cameras. It’s the fucking final fours, Lex.”

Their team captain’s shouted words were not as encouraging as Anya thought, and Lexa threw the ball back on the court.

“I’ll be out of here in a minute,” Lexa said and pointed to her headphones. “These are not working as expected.”

A rare sight of kindness flashed over Anya’s face, but it was gone just as fast. She sat next to Lexa, her mouth close to Lexa’s covered ears. “We’re here because of you. No one doubts that. We’ll win this so you can crush it at the final.”

Lexa bit her lip. They needed to win, and her concussion needed to be fully recovered for that to happen, and none of that was a guarantee. She nodded, and the movement didn’t help with her growing headache.

“I’m going back in,” she excused herself, standing up. Anya’s face softened, nodding.

“Your head okay?” Anya asked at the same time a wave of nausea hit Lexa.

Lexa moved her palm in a so-so pattern, and before their couch yelled at her, she backtracked her steps into their home locker room. She didn’t look up at the calls for her name while ducking into the tunnel, focused on escaping the noise.

The locker room was messy, with open bags and unfolded clothes littering the floor. The smell of bleach and foot powder was familiar, with a hint of synthetic eucalyptus from the shower row. Lexa finally took off the headphones, her ears popping in relief. Layers of concrete and tile protected her from the loud crowd, and Lexa closed her eyes. 

She could have made history tonight. Instead, because of a single nasty call at her last game, she cannot even watch from the bench.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, her lips trembling in frustration. She wanted to punch something.

“I know, right?”

Lexa’s neck turned at the voice, her vision blurring for a second as she focused.

She must be hallucinating, because in front of her was Clarke Griffin, point guard of the Arkadia Comets, and the usual pain in Lexa’s ass whenever they played. But why was she here and not on court? Her brain finally caught up with the full image and she noticed the clutches under Clarke’s arms and how her left foot didn’t touch the floor.

“I watched your last game.” Clarke’s dimples showed at a half smile. “I’m surprised you made it to the game tonight,” Clarke said as she sat heavily next to Lexa with a long sigh and the clacks of her crutches against the wooden bench. Her hands immediately massaged her injured thigh.

“What are you doing here?”

“There are stairs to the visitors’ locker room, and I really needed to pee. Can you believe they built this building for like, healthy people? There are stairs everywhere.” 

“I meant…” Lexa pointed at Clarke’s whole deal, and differently from Lexa, the other player didn’t wear a uniform or a windbreaker, just a hoodie with her university’s colors.

“Pulled muscle. Bad enough to knock me out. I didn’t want the sponsors to see me with the crutches.” Clarke nodded in the direction of the plastic supports. Lexa noticed a bright blue athletic tape poking out from Clarke’s joggers all the way to her lower abs visible under the hoodie. Her cheeks flushed, and when she looked up, Clarke smirked at her.

“How did it happen?” Lexa cleared her throat, ignoring the way blue eyes went up and down her body.

“Not as hilariously as the block that took you down,” Clarke said with a shit-eating grin that Lexa wanted to wipe off.

“That was a fault!”

“Sure, babe.” Clarke adjusted in her seat, massaging her thigh again. “I’m sorry you can’t play tonight. I was looking forward to destroying you.”

That made Lexa smile. “In your dreams, Griffin.”

“Oh, but my dreams about you are quite different, Lex.”

And there she was. Griffin always played the mind game to destabilize Lexa. Whispers on the court, faces from the bench; Lexa hated it. She also felt a little joy in it, but ultimately, Clarke Griffin was a distraction.

“I’m sorry you’re missing the game, too,” Lexa said, unsure if her face showed her reaction to Clarke’s comment. By the way Clarke lounged on the bench and shifted closer, Lexa must have blushed.

“It was a good run,” Clarke said.

“You don’t think you can win?” 

Clarke snorted. “Do you?”

“I trust my teammates,” Lexa said and crossed her arms. If Griffin didn’t have any loyalty to her team, that was her problem.

“Don’t get me wrong, darling—” the thin hairs on Lexa’s neck bristled at the pet name — “I love those bitches. But I dragged a bunch of future dentists and teachers to two final fours. You have other girls making draft picks in your team while I average astonishing zero bench points every game.”

“But you’ll be the first draft pick.” The truth rolled out easily on Lexa’s tongue, and she suppressed the bite of jealousy at the thought. 

“And you’ll be second, unless they go insane.”

And here they were, top two draft picks dusting in the locker room while the semi-final roared above them.

Lexa shrugged, running a hand over her loose hair. Her usual braid or ponytail was a no-go with her headache, and her hair kept falling into her eyes. “If I get top four, I’ll be happy.”

“You will.” There was certainty in Clarke’s voice. “We are one of the lucky ones.”

“I know.” There was no hiding the struggle of women’s basketball. Sure, the league had promise and potential, but it was a shadow of the sponsorship and compensation of the men’s league. With limited teams, getting a spot as a professional was already an achievement.

“So, can you help me back to my locker room, princess?” Clarke asked, pointing to her crutches. Heat rose to Lexa’s cheeks, and she crossed her arms.

“Why are you always like this?”

Clarke, halfway to standing, sat back down on the bench. “Like what?”

“Why are you so, so…” Lexa searched for a word, but unwelcomed suggestions jumped to the front of her mind like “hot” and “sexy”, and she ended up going with, “infuriating! Why do you flirt with other players only to mess with their game?”

Clarke huffed, an unusual pink dusting her cheeks. “I don’t flirt with other players.”

“You’ve been pretending to flirt with me in every game for a year!” Lexa didn’t know she needed to vent about something tonight, but Clarke gave her the opening she needed.

“Wait, wait,” Clarke said, raising her hands in surrender. “One, I don’t do that to other players. Two, I mostly do it with you because I know it won’t affect your game. I need to have something against your resolve, and flirting with a straight girl is harmless enough. Besides, you’re hot, Lex. Wow, why don’t you react like this on the court?”

Lexa’s cheeks burned, and she rolled her eyes. Once she stepped on the court, nothing else mattered and Lexa would be hyper-focused on the game. But tonight, not being under the spotlight and off her game, Lexa was not immune to Griffin’s tongue. Compliments—Griffin’s compliments! She needed to change this line of thought.

“What on earth have I done for you to think I’m straight?” Maybe that wasn’t the correct shift in the conversation. Clarke lit up like a Christmas tree, her mouth opening for a second, then closing again, settling on a half smile.

“You never reacted to me before.” Clarke’s voice was a full octave lower, and Lexa might be in trouble. Lexa swallowed and fidgeted with her jacket zipper. “And maybe, yeah, I’ve been flirting with you not only because of the games,” Clarke confessed, the heat in her cheeks darkening.

Was Clarke flirting with her again?

“I was kind of hoping you’d be able to play tonight,” Clarke continued, “so I could watch you all night instead.”

Yes, that was flirting, Lexa’s concussed brain detected. She didn’t move as Clarke shuffled closer, their thighs touching.

“I tried to find you early on, but all your teammates were wearing braids,” Lexa said. At 21, Lexa should have a better control of her mouth, but alas, there she was confessing her charms to her rival.

“They wanted to show me support.” Clarke’s voice was close, and closer still as she said, “So you were looking for me?” But the expected grin or tease was not behind her words. Lexa gathered the rest of her courage and chanced a glance at the fellow point guard, finding nothing but… admiration?

Kiss her, Lexa’s obviously concussed brain offered, and Lexa’s heart race in adrenaline as she ignored the thought.

“You’re the best player,” Lexa reasoned, swallowing as Clarke invaded her personal space. “Of course I look for you on the court.”

“Well,” Clarke said, and her hand, a tad larger than Lexa’s, reached for Lexa’s own. “I look for you outside of the court, too. I watched the video on your channel about your work against bullying in your town’s high school. That was inspiring.”

Lexa’s heart swelled with something akin to fondness, but she blamed that on the concussion. “Thank you.” Lexa whispered, the moment asking for softness.

“You, Lexa Woods”—Clarke’s large hand closed around Lexa’s, warm and steady—“You are inspiring.”

It wasn’t every day that the league MVP said she was inspiring.

Kiss, kiss, her brain supplied.

Lexa didn’t have to wait for her body to listen to her brain. Clarke was MVP for many reasons, and not hesitating was one of them.

The kiss was soft and warm, and Clarke’s hand tugged lightly at Lexa’s neck. For the first time that day, Lexa breathed easily. It lasted a moment, as Clarke showed to be dexterous with her tongue, and then Lexa was breathless.

“My team will be here at half-time,” Lexa whispered when Clarke finally, reluctantly, pulled away.

“Is that your way of saying you don’t want to kiss me again?”

Lexa wished she could say no to that smile, but she was learning that denying that smile was harder than to block Clarke’s 3 pointers.

“It means we can’t do it here,” Lexa said.

“I’m staying in town for an orthopedic appointment tomorrow morning. You could always stop by my hotel later tonight.” Clarke reached for her clutches and stood. 

“My team will want me around after the game.”

Clarke smiled, one eyebrow raised. “Would you rather be in a noisy bar with your team celebrating, or watching the British Bake Off with me while making out on a king bed?”

Lexa’s cheeks warmed. “The British Bake Off?”

Clarke made her way out of the locker room, slow and steady. “We can watch it on mute, which helps with your headache, and watching it always makes me… hungry.” Clarke delivered the last word over her shoulders, licking her lips for extra dramatic effect. Lexa felt her face heating as Clarke limped out of the room.

Hours later, Lexa’s team had gained their place at the final. Her headache was under control, and her utmost satisfaction had nothing to do with the chocolate cake they ordered from the 24h hotel service.

[anonfanfic]

Clexa parents at parent teacher night

Or clexa at someone else’s wedding

Or clexa in a gorcery store

Or dealing with a karen

So many choices!!

Clarke and Lexa had been dating for a few months now and they couldn't get enough of each other. They were living in the heart of the city, with busy schedules and demanding jobs. But they always made time for each other, and their favorite thing to do together was grocery shopping.

On this particular day, they were strolling through the aisles of their favorite supermarket, hand in hand. 

As they walked past the produce section, Clarke picked up a ripe mango and held it up to Lexa's nose. "Smell this," she said, grinning. "It smells like sunshine."

Lexa took a deep breath and pretended to swoon. "Oh, I'm in love with you all over again," she said, winking.

Clarke giggled and put the mango in their cart. "Just wait until you taste it," she said, squeezing Lexa's hand.

“That’s not really what I want to taste right now,” Lexa muttered, just loud enough for Clarke to hear. Lexa walked by Clarke and grabbed her ass, giving it a firm squeeze before walking past her.

They continued down the aisle, picking up items they needed for their dinner that night. As they reached the pasta section, Lexa grabbed a box of spaghetti and held it up to Clarke. "Hey, did you hear about the Italian chef who died? He pasta way," she said, trying to stifle a laugh.

Clarke groaned and rolled her eyes. "That was terrible," she said, but she couldn't help but smile.

Lexa grinned. "I know, but you love my cheesy jokes."

Clarke leaned in and kissed Lexa's cheek. "That's because I love you," she said, her voice soft.

Lexa's heart skipped a beat. "I love you too," she said, her eyes sparkling.

They continued down the aisles, teasing each other and making silly jokes. When they got to the ice cream section, Clarke reached for a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough and held it up. "This is my favorite flavor," she said, grinning.

Lexa smirked. "Oh really? I thought I was your favorite flavor," she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Clarke blushed and playfully swatted Lexa's arm. "Stop it," she said, but she couldn't hide her smile.

As they approached the checkout line, Lexa picked up a tabloid magazine and held it up to Clarke's face. "Hey, look at this," she said, pointing to the cover. "It says here that we're secretly married."

Clarke laughed. "That's ridiculous," she said, shaking her head.

Lexa shrugged. "I don't know, maybe we should consider it. I hear married couples get discounts on groceries."

Clarke rolled her eyes and leaned in for a kiss. "You're such a dork.”

“Yes, but I’m your dork,” Lexa wrinkled her nose and gave Clarke a quick kiss, before turning to the employee to pay for their groceries. 

“Always,” Clarke whispered under her breath. Forever grateful for these moments with the love of her life.

[incorrect-clexa]

Hey guys

Lexa: Just try to be nice, Anya. Clarke's not like us...She has feelings.

Anya: Hmm, are you sure this is the person for you?

Lexa: That is exactly the type of thing I don't want you to say in front of her.

[blu3haw4]

Teaser

Second and original on the list of commemoratory posts for the anniversary of the 100 finale, a teaser of a very late future shot for Wanheda’s dagger week. (born from a prompt sento to me along long time ago)

Highly recommend reading it as a movie trailer with “This is how we do” by Katty Perry playing on the background

“I just-” Lexa groaned  “I was-”

“Thinking with you pussy, clearly”

“Raven!”

“How could you be so stupid?! Okay. Whatever!” Raven rolls her eyes “Now…” She leans forward conspiratorially with a smirk “Details!”

She forgot anything she thought as an answer when she turned to look at the absolute goddess standing now next to her.

//

The Night Before

//

//

Raven took her shot clean before turning to the blonde “Thank you for that. I’m Raven, and this-” She grabbed Lexa’s arm and swiftly moved out of her stool and placed Lexa on it “Is my bff Lexa. Have fun!” she shouted before scurrying away.

//

Chasing her lips as they both smirked. “I’m Clarke. By the way”

//

“Here it goes” Clarke lets out

“What does?”

//

“You have no idea how hot your response was” Clarke whispers directly into her ear, they’re engrossed in this push and pull of moving to initiate a kiss and withdrawing a second after, chasing and dodging a kiss that they both so desperately want but neither is willing to give into… yet.

//

There isn’t any cathartic moment before they decide to leave, it’s really just them dancing and kissing one moment and the next Lexa is leading Clarke out of the dance floor to where she last saw Raven.

//

Even without music they slide right back into their chase, kissing shoulders and necks, sucking on earlobes and biting jaws.

//

When Lexa expected a quick foreplay before hurrying to bed, Clarke took her time kissing all over Lexa’s neck and shoulder, biting her earlobe collarbones and jaw, always going back to her lips for a heated kiss

//

“Put me down” Lexa sighed into Clarke’s mouth, needing to have a little control over the situation.

//

With one boob in her mouth and the other in her hand, Lexa’s free hand moved to single-handedly unbutton and unzip Clarke’s trousers

“Clarke, look at me” she ordered

Raven whistles, cheering her on “That’s what I’m talking about! This is why we’re friends”

//

Present time

//

//

“Okay, what’s next? Are we about to make me really fucking angry?”

Chuckling, Lexa bites her lip “Almost” she smirks…

//

“How though? For her to have f- Oh! … Oh” Raven smirks devilishly at her

//

“well she reached out…” she continued quickly “and I… well, I wasn’t gonna complain” she finally looked at her best friends smirking conspiratorially.

“Nah-ah!” Raven shakes her head, giggling

//

“Damn!” Raven nods approvingly “Told ya… kinky”

//

Lexa sighed daydreaming a little, caught in the memory of just how much fun she had with Clarke. “I just had to kiss her”

 //

“Wait- Hold on” Raven raises her hands, frowning so deep that her eyes close for a moment. “You noticed?”

“We talked about it. Actually”

//

“Oh yeah! Because that fixes everything!” Raven glared at her pointedly, sarcasm loud and clear. “God!” Raven covered her eyes leaning her elbow on the table “I’m terrified at the thought that half the shit that comes out of your mouth is my doing”

Lexa giggled triumphant “Thank you”

//

“this is literally the only thing that might actually save you from my rage so don’t lie to me!” Raven points angrily.

“I’m not! I’m serious!” Raven narrows her eyes still.

“For real?”

“Fuck yes”

Coming soon...

//

The Night Before

Clarke’s bedroom

//