#clexa week

[alphacommander]

Commission for @neyantkomskaikru based off a text meme! 😄♥

[doortotomorrow]

SHIPS IN THE SPOTLIGHT : clexa edition

[butmakeitgayblog]

Hi )

I read your takes on Clexa and I am fangirling at how accurate I think they are. So I would really like to hear your thoughts on something, if you don't mins.

Imagine if accursed 307 went a little bit different at the end and Titus' aim was a bit surer and he got his target. So Lexa heard a commotion and went to investigate, she opens doors only to see Clarke's shocked face. Followed by Clarke's limp body fall into her arms. There is a lot of blood, Clarke is unresponsive and there is Titus, 10 feet away with a smoking gun.

What would be Lexa thoughts, emotions?

What will she do next, considering current political situation?

What do you think she will be doing if the wound is fatal?

Oof

Well 1. Thank you 🥹

And 2.

I think Lexa's initial reaction would've been complete shock and terror. That's what it was when she heard the shots from her room and you know that because rather than reaching for a weapon or armor or calling for her guard, she disregarded all of her training and all of her knowledge of power, and simply had to get to Clarke as fast as possible.

Heart pounding, terror stricken, she just had to get to Clarke.

And I don't think her initial reaction would've been any different if she had stumbled upon a wounded Clarke in thah room.

But that only would've been an instantaneous response that was then shed away, because she is so used to reacting on her feet. The gunshots posed an unknown threat, so admittedly it got the best of her (actually shitty writing got the best of her because she absolutely would not have done that but hahahhaha anyway 😒). But blood? Pain? She knows those intimately. She knows what to do with that. She's been in innumerable battles and delt with injuries and gore and so on from such a young age, and everything we ever saw of her showed that even when she was startled, her brain was always going at the speed of lightning. While everyone around her is still accessing a situation, she's already taken it all in and is mentally 10 miles down the road in terms of what she's going to do.

With that in mind, I think Lexa's next reaction would be to tend to Clarke, plain and simple. It would've been the instinctual thing she did - reach for her, run to her, scoop her up and be there to comfort just as she always did whenever she felt Clarke needed her. She would've shouted not only for Titus to get a healer, but also she probably would've bellowed for anyone within earshot to find a healer while she herself administered first aid (ya know more than just pouring water on it dO YOU HEAR ME TALKING CLARKE DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME)

*deep breath*

..... Anyway....

Emotionally speaking?

I think it would've probably been the most terror stricken she's ever felt in her life.

Because she can accept her own death. In fact has accepted the reality of it since she was first called. She has overcome the loss of her people, the potential loss of her power. Lost her own innocence and her first love. Has overcome the pain of having to take the life of her most trusted ally by her own hand and pretend it didn't bother her at all.

But I think the chaos of that moment would've kind of snapped everything into focus. Because while it's one thing to accept the danger in the abstract idea of sending Clarke back to Arkadia with a sweet kiss on her lips and a prayer that she'll be ok so that one day they'll meet again, it's another horror entirely feeling the warm finality of her death seeping out of a bullet wound and onto her hands.

Losing another lover? One she loves deeper than she ever thought possible? Her equal in every regard?

I just think she would have felt the most scared she'd ever been in her life. The most desperate. The most powerless...

As for what she'd do next, I don't think whether Clarke lived or died would've changed anything in respect to Titus.

I think she would've killed him.

Whether in that room or in a public execution, either way he would've died by her hand for personal reasons and political reasons, and I think rightfully so on both accounts, because consider how it would make her look in the eyes of her people.

He not only directly disobeyed her orders and went rogue with his own plans, he made an attempt on a clan ambassador's life without order or tangible justification. Lexa had not only publicly vowed that Clarke would be under her protection while in Polis, but she gave orders that they had until sundown to be back at Arkadia.

And he just said fuck it, fuck you, Imma do what I want.

In him doing that, he would've made Lexa not only look weak, but also look as though she wasn't even in control of her own direct subordinates. If someone as heralded and protected and trusted by the throne as the Fleimkepa can get away with subverting Lexa's rule... why should anyone else bother listening to her? Why shouldn't anyone else make attempts on any life they so wish? He would have effectively undermined every single thing she and her unified rule over the coalition stood for.

And on top of everything, Clarke is not just anyone.

She is Wanheda.

If Clarke died and Lexa didn't kill Titus, then that would indicate that Titus now has power over death. That coupled with him blatantly usurping Lexa's command? Uhhhhh. No. Can't let that stand. Not for a single second.

If Clarke lived and she didn't kill Titus, then that would indicate that anything Lexa says is free for challenge because she obviously does not follow through with consequences for direct crimes. Clarke's life is now even more free for the taking to any who should be so bold. The kongeda means nothing because Lexa's power is no longer absolute. Obviously, she can't let that stand either.

So really that bald bitch signed his own death warrant the second he picked up that gun, no matter the outcome. But also, no matter the outcome, for every bit he spewed his bullshit about Clarke weakening Heda, those actions alone would've severely hurt her image on the political stage regardless of the fine details.

Because now she's open to even more murmurings of deferential treatment to Clarke, specifically, but also to the Skaikru as a whole by sheer association. Her allegiance to the coalition vs Clarke and Co. would be questioned and antagonized and tested at every turn (more than it already was.)

Inevitably it all would've been a clusterfuck, and civil war on Lexa and the coalition would've become inevitable I think.

And frankly????

That would've been A Lot more interesting to watch than the slop that they gave us 🙄

[afriendshapedseal]

I've never done a Clexa Week before, but in honor of the ten year anniversary of the kiss I thought I'd share the first Clexa kiss I wrote. I was very late to the party as I didn't write it until 2020, but it was from my very first finished long fic, a Mamma Mia AU of all things, Lay All Your Love on Me

“Mom, I’m just getting married, not leaving the country,” Clarke says, moving to stand next to her mom.

“Well when I was young people didn’t get married at 20.” Abby responds.

Callie cuts in with, “When we were young people didn’t get married at all.”

“I don’t know where she gets this idea, a white wedding.”

“It wasn’t from me,” Lexa says as she walks up. She pulls Clarke into her side as she kisses her. Abby introduces Lexa to Raven and Callie, reminding Lexa of her past music experience. “I’ve heard a lot about the two of you,” Lexa says.

[hedalexa]

Dec 2, 2014: Carmilla and Laura first kiss

Dec 10, 2014: Clarke and Lexa first meet

Dec 19, 2014: Korra and Asami canon endgame

No wonder I have this constant ache for “the golden days.” Because 2014 was actually such a good fucking year to be sapphic. We got all of these at once. We were feasting.

[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.

[thecrimsonknight]

One Halloween a young Clarke stumbled upon Lexa while walking in the woods. After playing all day they said goodbye. Many years later she questions whether the girl was real or just a lonely ghost.

[fratboykate]

Papi, are you alive? Thunderbolts trailer leaked and we got Hailee back from the dead (and there's the movie with Andrew and Florence and its KYAU coded as fuck) Kate and Yelena content galor this week. PLEASE COME BACK. We've been deprived for a year. It's been jail for too long. Grace us with Kate x Yelena content again. Pretty please.

*taps mic* Is this thing on?

[dontcha-wanheda]

Day 1 - Spirit Week

Nerd/Jock day for spirit week

[bottom-lexa]

Ten years of first kisses:

Day #1168 (CH 5)

May 29 2017 - Dec 1 2017

“I don’t want to think about what we lost.” She explained, “What we didn’t get to have.” She added. “There is no point in living in the past.” Lexa told her with a sigh, “I just…” She trailed, “I want to have everything with you that I couldn’t then,” She told her honestly, “That’s why I don’t want to think about it, we can’t go back. So I just want to live in the present, make the most of it.”

“You know I love you right?” Clarke asked in response, “I would give anything to get back the time we lost.”

Lexa only closed her eyes, giving her a small nod in agreement, “Maybe it’s better this way.” She offered instead, looking at Clarke. “No more responsibilities, no one expecting anything from us,” She let out a small sigh, “We can just…be.”

“You’re not wrong.” Clarke smiled at her, “The three of us, you, me, and Madi.” She added, “We can maybe make up for all time we lost.”

Lexa didn’t find the need to reply, only brought herself closer and pressed her lips against Clarke’s. She kissed her slowly and it felt almost like the first time they had, slow and purposeful, trying to convey all her feeling to Clarke in just this one action. “We can.” She answered once they’d pulled away. “We will.”

“You don’t know how much I’ve thought about that the last few years.” Clarke confessed, finally telling her what was on her mind. “All that could’ve been, all that we could’ve been.” She continued, “What we might have been like when actually together in a relationship.” Clarke let out a small sigh, “The hour or so I got to spend with you like that…it wasn’t nearly enough Lexa.”

Lexa gave her a nod, it really wasn’t, but at the same time, she didn’t have to live through the last few years thinking about that – maybe that was a relief really. “Like you said,” She added, “We have all the time in the world now.” They had talked about everyone that had left, everyone that was down in the bunker since the Praimfaya, Lexa knew the people who had left Earth were meant to return in about two years time from now. “No one is going to expect anyone from us even after they come back, it’ll be just us now.”

“Do you know what I’ve thought about the most the last three years?” Clarke asked her and Lexa only shook her head, waiting for Clarke to continue. “You.” She stated simply. “And us.” She added. “All the what if’s…” Clarke trailed off, “What if I didn’t have to leave Polis, what if you weren’t shot, what if I could’ve saved you, what if we could’ve made it till there was peace.” Her voice trembled, cracking a little by the end of that sentence, “I realized I loved you too late,” Clarke told her after a small pause, bringing her composure back. “And I thought I would never get to make up for it.” She shook her head slightly, not really knowing how she finally got lucky and something happened to her benefit. “I thought I would never get to make up for my mistake.”

“You didn’t make a mistake.” Lexa told her, “Clarke, after everything that had happened, with you and me, our people…you made no mistake.” She gave Clarke a small smile, trying to reassure her. “You had every reason to not trust me, to be angry at me-”

“I wanted to kill you at one point.” Clarke admitted, that was probably the last thing she actually wanted to do though. It was just…overwhelming then, everything was chaotic and Clarke was just trying to cope really.

Lexa thought for a moment, she didn’t for a moment actually think she would have done it. Even when Clarke had felt a knife to her throat, Lexa didn’t fight back, she didn’t disarm her, because Lexa was certain Clarke wouldn’t do it. “I knew you wouldn’t.” She muttered quietly. “I thought I was delusional to think that you could ever even…not hate me after Mt. Weather.” Lexa admitted for the first time. “Do you remember when you held a knife to my throat?” She asked and Clarke nodding hesitantly. “That’s when I knew.” Lexa smiled at her, “That’s when I knew you wouldn’t hurt me let alone kill me.”

“Was I that easy?” Clarke couldn’t help but ask, was she really that easy to read?

Lexa’s expression changed, looking more confused right now, “Easy?” She questioned, “I don’t understand…” She didn’t know what that meant, not in this context.

“Am I that easy to figure out?” Clarke rephrased. “Like, is it that easy for you to know what’s going through my mind?”

Lexa nodded seriously, “It was.” She told her honestly, “I can’t explain why, but…it was.” She added. “But I didn’t know you were going to kiss me.” Lexa confessed, “That was…unexpected.” Thinking back to that day, she shook her head, “The whole day was unexpected.”

[reallygroovyninja]

Indra stood at the head of the long library table, her gaze sweeping across the faces of her faculty, each seated in the historic wooden chairs that had been part of Arkadia High's library for decades. The overhead lights illuminated the rich mahogany of the shelves, filled with books that silently bore witness to countless staff meetings.

Clearing her throat, she began, “I understand Spirit Week might seem like it's primarily for the students, but I'd like to emphasize the importance of faculty participation. Our students look up to you all. Your enthusiasm—or lack thereof—sets a tone for the entire school. I urge each of you, from the PE department to the sciences, from math to art, to dive in wholeheartedly. Let's show the students that school spirit isn't bound by age or subject. Let's make this Spirit Week memorable, not just for them, but for us as well." Indra's voice, authoritative yet warm, resonated with an unmistakable passion, compelling even the most reticent teachers to consider embracing the week's festivities.

Indra adjusted her glasses and glanced at the list in front of her. "Alright, everyone, the student council has made their decisions for this year's Spirit Week themes," she began, trying to infuse her voice with a hint of excitement.

"Monday will be Pajama Day, followed by 60's Day on Tuesday. Wednesday will be College or Pro Sports T-shirt Jersey Day. Thursday is designated for Movie Character Day, and we'll wrap up the week with School Colors Day on Friday." She paused, waiting for the reaction she knew was coming.

A collective groan echoed through the library. Ms. McIntyre, the history teacher, sighed dramatically, "Every year, it's the same thing. You'd think they'd get creative for once." Mr. Pike, from the PE department, chimed in, "I've lost track of how many jerseys I've worn on Wednesdays." Indra chuckled, understanding their sentiments, "We might know what to expect, but remember, for some of our students, this is their first Spirit Week. Let's make it count for them."

Indra saw the palpable sense of deja vu among the teachers and decided to introduce a twist. "However," she began, drawing the room's attention with the slight rise in her voice, "the student council introduced an incentive this year. The student displaying the most spirit throughout the week will be awarded a $500 gift certificate. But, they didn’t forget about you all." She smiled wryly, catching the twinkle in a few teachers' eyes.

"The teacher who goes above and beyond, showcasing the most spirit, will receive a $250 gift certificate. So, let’s see which one of us can give our students a run for their money!" The atmosphere in the room shifted from mild dread to competitive enthusiasm as murmurs of challenge buzzed between colleagues.

As the room settled into a hive of chatter, teachers contemplating how to win the coveted gift certificate, Clarke turned to Lexa, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of a new challenge. "So, are you up for a little competition this year?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement. "I have to say, a $250 gift certificate could buy a lot of art supplies—or in your case, possibly the fanciest graphing calculator ever made." Clarke's teasing smile met Lexa's composed but amused gaze.

For a moment, the world beyond the two of them seemed to fade into a mere backdrop, the other teachers' voices a distant murmur. In that instant, it wasn't just about the gift certificate or even Spirit Week; it was an unspoken acknowledgment of the camaraderie and gentle rivalry that had always danced between them. Lexa's eyes twinkled as she leaned in, whispering, "Challenge accepted, Clarke. May the most spirited teacher win."

Indra noticed the competitive sparkle that had ignited in her teachers' eyes, satisfied that her announcement had sparked more enthusiasm than she'd first sensed. "Alright, if there are no further questions, let's call it a day and gear up for a memorable Spirit Week next week. Meeting adjourned."

The faculty began to rise, chairs scraping against the wooden floor, but the atmosphere had shifted from routine resignation to spirited speculation. As the teachers filed out of the library, each wore a thoughtful expression, already lost in strategic calculations.

Ms. McIntyre was heard mumbling about recreating a '60s protest sign that would blend history with spirit. Mr. Pike flexed his arms, contemplating how many sports jerseys he could layer on without causing heatstroke. Clarke and Lexa exchanged one last look, their smiles a mutual promise of the spirited battle to come.

There was a newfound spring in everyone's step; if Spirit Week was a game, then this year, it had suddenly become a high-stakes tournament, and each teacher left plotting their moves to outwit, outplay, and outlast.

The evening air was cool when Lexa arrived at Clarke's inviting house, a place soon to be their shared home. Clarke greeted her with a smile, the comfort of their time together contrasting the semi-chaos of the house. Amidst the boxes labeled 'Lexa's Books' and 'Clarke's Art Supplies,' it was clear they were gearing up for a new chapter together.

"So, I've been thinking," Lexa began cautiously, setting down her overnight bag by the entryway, "For Spirit Week, what if I stay at my own apartment? That way, our outfits can be a surprise for each other every day."

Clarke chuckled, her eyes twinkling with both amusement and affection. "You really are taking this challenge seriously, aren't you?"

Lexa nodded, her face a playful blend of seriousness and excitement. "Absolutely. Do we have a deal?" Clarke grinned, captivated by Lexa's enthusiasm. "Deal," she agreed. With a knowing smile, they leaned in and shared a lingering kiss, sealing their playful pact for the week ahead.

The first rays of Monday morning painted the Arkadia High courtyard in a soft, golden light. Students, still groggy from the weekend, shuffled in, casting curious glances around to see which of their peers and teachers had embraced Pajama Day.

Among them, Lexa made her entrance, capturing more than a few amused stares and chuckles. Clad in a cozy, dark-hued pajama set, she confidently strode in, the words "Come to the dark side, we have π" boldly printed across her top.

Her choice of sleepwear, a playful nod to her math specialization, was as much a statement of her personality as it was her commitment to Spirit Week. As students whispered and pointed, it was clear that Lexa had set a spirited tone for the week, and many wondered how the other teachers, especially Clarke, would rise to the challenge.

Just as the school was buzzing over Lexa's clever pajama set, Clarke pulled into the parking lot, igniting a fresh wave of chatter among the students.

She stepped out of her car wearing a rainbow unicorn onesie, complete with a horn on the hood and a colorful tail. Across the chest, in bold, glittering letters, read the phrase "I Don't Believe in Humans." As she walked through the courtyard toward the school building, students couldn't help but stop and stare, their eyes widening in both amusement and admiration.

Clarke's artful approach to Spirit Week was unmistakable, and her whimsical onesie instantly became the talk of the school. She wore the outfit with an air of casual confidence, as if unicorn attire was just another artistic medium for her.

When Clarke and Lexa finally crossed paths, their eyes met, and for a moment, their playful outfits said more than words ever could—each had brought their A-game to Spirit Week, and the competition was on.

During their brief encounter in the teachers' lounge, amidst a sea of equally spirited but far less creative pajamas, Lexa leaned in close to Clarke and spoke softly. "Alright, I'll admit, you may have outdone me for Pajama Day. That unicorn onesie is a work of art—literally."

Clarke grinned triumphantly, enjoying her moment of glory. Lexa's eyes, however, twinkled with a sense of impending triumph. "But just wait until 60's Day. That's where I'll claim victory. I've got something special planned, something that even your artistic mind couldn't conjure."

Clarke looked at Lexa with a mix of curiosity and excitement, wondering just what the math teacher had up her sleeve. "Challenge accepted," Clarke said, her voice tinged with anticipation. "May the best outfit win." And with that, they shared a smile that carried the weight of a friendly rivalry and the deep affection that underlay it all.

On Tuesday's 60's Day, the Arkadia High courtyard came alive with the echoes of a bygone era. Among the students sporting flower crowns and band tees, Clarke's entrance became one of the day's spectacles.

She emerged from her car in a vibrant tie-dye shirt that danced with swirls of purples, blues, and greens, making it look as though a rainbow had melted upon her. Paired with her top were high-waisted flare jeans that accentuated her stature, giving off a carefree yet confident aura. She wore a pair of round, oversized sunglasses, their tinted lenses reflecting the morning sunlight.

Around her neck, she had a peace-sign pendant, and her feet were adorned with brown, fringed sandals. To complete the look, a simple braided headband held back her loose, wavy hair, emphasizing her dedication to the day's theme. As Clarke stepped onto the school grounds, she personified the very spirit of the 60s, her outfit a testament to her innate ability to merge creativity with authenticity.

Not long after Clarke's entrance, another car rolled into the Arkadia High parking lot, and out stepped Lexa, providing the next big reveal of 60's Day.

She was a vision of mod fashion, challenging the bohemian vibes set by her counterpart. Wearing a mini skirt that featured a bold geometric pattern, Lexa paired it with a form-fitting sweater in a contrasting color, amplifying her look's retro edge.

But what really turned heads were her knee-high leather boots, polished to a shine and perfectly complementing her ensemble. As Lexa walked through the school, her boots clicked with each step, emanating an aura of absolute confidence. The math teacher had indeed made good on her promise: her 60's Day outfit was a masterstroke of style and strategy, one that captivated students and faculty alike.

When Clarke caught sight of Lexa in the hallway, clad in her 60's-inspired mini skirt and knee-high boots, her heart skipped more than a beat. Lexa exuded a kind of effortless sensuality that caught Clarke utterly off guard, making it almost impossible to focus on the friendly competition at hand.

While the whole point of this week was to surprise each other with their Spirit Week outfits, for a fleeting moment Clarke regretted their decision to keep their living arrangements separate for the duration.

The thought of not being able to see Lexa first thing in the morning and last thing at night, especially when she looked this captivating, left her with a sense of longing she couldn't easily shake.

The playful rivalry was still there, but it had taken on a new, electric charge that neither of them could ignore. Clarke took a deep breath, steadying her racing heart, knowing that the week had just become more intriguing in ways she hadn't anticipated.

Clarke and Lexa bumped into each other in the deserted hallway, their eyes meeting over the vivid splashes of 60's fashion they each wore. "You look like a real-life Woodstock poster," Lexa commented, visibly impressed.

Clarke chuckled, her eyes drifting over Lexa's form-fitting ensemble. "And you're channeling the Swinging Sixties in London so well, it's hard to remember we're in a high school in 2023." The tension between them was palpable, charged with something more than their usual friendly competitiveness.

Seizing the moment, Clarke glanced around and noticed her art classroom door was ajar, the room empty. "Come here," she said softly, grabbing Lexa's hand and pulling her into the empty space.

As the door closed behind them, Clarke looked into Lexa's eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. "I can't help it; you look amazing," she confessed, before pressing her lips to Lexa's.

For a few suspended seconds, the world outside—the students, Spirit Week, the competition—faded away, leaving only the two of them lost in a kiss that seemed to say what words could not.

When they finally pulled apart, both were slightly breathless but smiling, knowing that regardless of who won Spirit Week, they had something infinitely more valuable.

Clarke felt a magnetic pull towards Lexa that she couldn't resist. Her hand gently touched Lexa's cheek, her eyes meeting those striking green orbs for a moment before leaning in for another kiss.

This time, the kiss was deeper, more intentional, as if they were sealing an unspoken pact between them. However, just as their lips met and they began to lose themselves in the moment, the harsh sound of the school bell rang out, shattering the intimate bubble they had created.

They pulled away, their eyes meeting in a mix of frustration and amusement. "Well, duty calls," Clarke said, her voice tinged with a regretful smile. Lexa nodded, her eyes still locked onto Clarke's. "Yes, it does, but this is far from over." They shared a knowing glance before reluctantly heading out of the classroom, each lost in thought.

Throughout the bustling day at Arkadia High, the school's empty spaces bore silent witness to a series of clandestine moments. At every opportune moment, Clarke, driven by a potent mixture of affection, playful mischief, and perhaps even a dash of Spirit Week fervor, found a way to steer Lexa into a momentarily deserted classroom or a conveniently shadowed supply closet.

The door would barely have time to click shut before Clarke would close the distance between them, capturing Lexa's lips in soft, lingering kisses. These weren't just displays of affection; they were little stolen moments of connection amidst the chaos of the school day.

Every time they emerged, there was a slight flush to their cheeks, their smiles barely suppressed, as if they were privy to a secret the rest of the school could only guess at. Lexa began to anticipate these spontaneous rendezvous, the unpredictability adding a layer of excitement to the rhythm of their day. The spirit of competition and the gentle tug of romance had them both ensnared in a dance only they understood.

Wednesday dawned, bringing with it the anticipated College/Pro sports t-shirt jersey day. Most of the Arkadia High staff approached the theme with predictable choices, donning jerseys and shirts of well-known teams.

However, Clarke wasn't one to be outdone, especially with what many deemed a rather straightforward theme. She arrived donning an ink-splashed jersey that immediately drew attention. The vibrant, artistic streaks on the fabric clashed with the neat logo of the Polis University Commanders, her cherished alma mater.

The jersey was a work of art, turning the concept of a mere sports jersey into a canvas of memories, creativity, and loyalty. It wasn't just a nod to her college days; it was a beautiful blend of her past and present, her love for art merging seamlessly with the pride of her university years.

Whispers filled the hallways as both students and faculty members paused to appreciate her ingenious take on the day's theme. Clarke had once again redefined the norms, making a simple jersey day into a statement of her unique identity.

As the morning bell neared, Lexa made her entrance, and it was nothing short of dramatic. Instead of opting for a traditional jersey or t-shirt, she arrived clad in her Arkadia College fencing outfit, a crisp white ensemble that hugged her form, perfectly tailored to every curve and muscle.

The mesh mask dangled casually from her hand, and her foil was secured in a sleek case strapped to her back. The Arkadia College emblem proudly adorned her chest, reflecting her dedication to the sport during her collegiate years.

The sight was both surprising and mesmerizing, drawing a mix of admiring and puzzled glances from students and colleagues alike. It wasn't just a nod to her alma mater, but also a bold statement about her passion and expertise in a sport that demanded precision, discipline, and elegance.

While Clarke had turned the theme into a canvas of creativity, Lexa showcased the art of mastery and skill, reminding everyone that there was more to her than met the eye. The dynamic duo had once again turned an ordinary theme day into a memorable spectacle.

The moment Clarke caught sight of Lexa in her fencing ensemble, her breath hitched. Even though they'd been together for over a year, Lexa's ability to leave her awestruck never waned. The Arkadia College fencing attire suited her perfectly tailored in a way that accentuated her athletic build, making her appear both elegant and formidable.

Clarke was reminded once again just how multifaceted Lexa was; a mathematician, a fencer, a strategic mind, and an incredibly attractive woman. The sleek lines of the white outfit seemed to make Lexa glow, highlighting her already striking features.

Clarke felt a familiar warmth spreading through her, part pride and part desire, as she realized just how fortunate she was to be in a relationship with someone as amazing as Lexa. In a sea of standard jerseys and college t-shirts, Lexa was a vision, taking Clarke's breath away just as easily as she had the very first time they met.

Finding themselves alone in the break room during a brief lull in the school day, Clarke seized the opportunity to comment on Lexa's striking outfit. Her eyes swept appreciatively over Lexa's fencing attire, finally meeting Lexa's gaze with a look that was equal parts admiration and desire.

"You know, I've seen you in various outfits, but this fencing gear is something else," Clarke murmured, her voice tinged with a sense of awe that went beyond the fabric and embroidery. Lexa caught the look and felt a flutter of warmth, fully aware of the magnetic pull she was exerting at that moment. "I aim to keep you on your toes, Clarke. Besides, this uniform has always made me feel powerful," Lexa replied, locking eyes with Clarke as if challenging her to look away.

Clarke took a step closer, her voice lowering to a whisper, "Well, mission accomplished. You look as powerful as you are captivating." The electricity in the room felt palpable, the air thick with the unspoken yet deeply felt connection between them.

Reading the unspoken invitation in Clarke's eyes, Lexa took a decisive step closer, closing the small distance that separated them in the break room. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this today," Lexa murmured softly, her voice tinged with a blend of anticipation and assurance.

Before Clarke could reply, Lexa leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that spoke volumes. It was a kiss that melded tenderness with passion, a perfect encapsulation of the intricate dance they'd been performing all week—sometimes playful, sometimes intense, but always filled with unspoken emotion.

The world seemed to narrow down to the space they occupied, the electric charge that had built up between them finding its release. When they finally pulled apart, Lexa looked into Clarke's eyes, both women understanding that no matter the playful competition or the chaos of Spirit Week, their connection remained the most captivating game of all.

On Thursday, the halls of Arkadia High were abuzz with excitement as students and teachers alike showcased their favorite movie characters. But the highlight of the morning was when Lexa walked in, embodying the iconic Princess Leia.

She had opted for Leia's classic white dress, the high-necked, flowing garment accentuating her figure while maintaining an aura of royalty. Her hair was meticulously styled in Leia's signature twin buns on either side of her head, and around her neck hung the silver necklace Leia wore.

The ensemble was completed with knee-high white boots. Students and teachers alike stopped to admire and compliment her choice, recognizing the strong, independent character she represented—a fitting choice for someone like Lexa, who embodied those same qualities in real life.

Clarke, especially, couldn't help but beam with pride and adoration, the sight of Lexa paying homage to one of cinema's most enduring heroines touching a special chord in her heart. The choice was perfect, blending Lexa's grace with the character's iconic strength.

In stark contrast but equally impactful, Clarke showed up as Sarah Connor from the "Terminator" movies. She was dressed in tactical cargo pants, a fitted tank top, and a faux-leather jacket, her look completed with combat boots and a pair of aviator sunglasses perched atop her head.

A toy gun was tucked into a belt holster, adding an extra layer of authenticity to her portrayal. Her biceps, normally hidden under her art-teacher attire, were on full display, and she even managed to rough up her usually clean-cut appearance with a smear of charcoal for makeshift battle grime.

Students and faculty were captivated by her transformation into the relentless, resourceful character, remarking how brilliantly she pulled it off. When Lexa saw her, she was visibly impressed, her eyes scanning Clarke from top to bottom.

Transformed into Sarah Connor, Clarke stood out not just because of her impeccable costume but also because of the raw power she exuded. Her normally gentle blue eyes were steely and determined, her posture radiated strength, and there was a swagger in her step that hinted at a newfound confidence.

Lexa, usually composed and eloquent, found herself without words. The transformation was more than just aesthetic; Clarke embodied the spirit of the fearless warrior she portrayed. Lexa had always known Clarke was strong, both in spirit and character, but seeing her like this — it was as if she was witnessing a side of Clarke she had always known existed but had never seen in full force. It was awe-inspiring, leaving Lexa spellbound and a little breathless, and it took her a few seconds to remember how to speak.

Regaining her composure, Lexa stepped closer to Clarke, her gaze unwavering as she took in every detail of the Sarah Connor ensemble.

"Clarke," Lexa started, her voice low and filled with genuine admiration, "I've always known you to be strong and capable, but this outfit—it amplifies everything about you. It's not just the strength of Sarah Connor that I see, but an undeniable allure. You've managed to embody both power and an alluring charm that's hard to ignore."

Clarke raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips as she caught the hint of desire in Lexa's eyes. "You think I'm sexy, huh?" she teased.

Lexa chuckled, her eyes dancing with unmistakable affection and a hint of desire. "Think? No, Clarke, I don't 'think' you're sexy. I know you're sexy in that outfit," she asserted, letting each word sink in.

"You've captured Sarah Connor's essence so perfectly that it amplifies your own innate strength and allure. It's not just attractive; it's magnetic." Lexa allowed her gaze to drift briefly over Clarke's form once more before locking eyes with her again. "Today, you're not just the art teacher or my incredible girlfriend; you're a force to be reckoned with. And yes, that is incredibly, undeniably sexy."

Clarke's eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and pleasure, her grin stretching wider as she soaked in Lexa's words. It was a moment that encapsulated the balance of their relationship—both strong, both intense, and each finding the other irresistibly captivating.

Reading the mutual admiration in each other's eyes, the electric charge between them reached its natural crescendo. Lexa stepped closer, closing the gap that had felt too wide despite being only a few inches. The air grew thick with anticipation. "May I?" Lexa whispered, almost rhetorically, as Clarke's eyes answered before her lips could.

With that unspoken consent, Lexa gently cradled Clarke's face in her hands, her thumbs caressing her cheeks. Clarke's eyes fluttered closed as Lexa leaned in, both of them feeling as if they were the only people in the world at that moment.

When their lips finally met, it was as if a current ran through them — a tender, yet potent connection that conveyed more than words ever could. The kiss was soft, lingering, a delicate expression of love and a potent reminder of the electric chemistry that they shared. They parted slowly, both slightly breathless, and Clarke couldn't help but think that if this was the power of Spirit Week, then let every week be so spirited.

When Clarke walked through the doors of Arkadia High on Friday morning, she felt the full weight of school spirit envelop her. The hallways were awash in the school's colors, but Clarke had decided to make her own unique statement for School Colors Day.

She wore a tasteful, tailored black pencil skirt that stopped just above the knees, paired with a crimson blouse that seemed to shimmer in the morning light. To complete her outfit, she donned a pair of stylish black ankle boots and a red and black scarf that perfectly captured the day's theme.

As she carried her art supplies to her classroom, she couldn't help but notice the approving glances from both students and faculty. It was clear that she'd nailed the spirit of the day, blending her own artistic flair with Arkadia High's iconic red and black. And as she spotted Lexa down the hall, her heart leapt with excitement, not just for the day ahead but for the simple joy of sharing this spirited week with the woman she loved.

Lexa, always one for understated elegance, chose to embody the spirit of the day in a way that reflected both her professional demeanor and her personal style. She wore a well-tailored black pantsuit that fit her like a glove, accentuating her lean frame.

Underneath the blazer, she opted for a deep red silk blouse that added a splash of vibrant color, contrasting strikingly with her dark attire. To complete the look, she added a narrow red tie, giving her outfit a final touch of school pride without compromising her inherent sophistication. On her feet, she wore black leather loafers that provided both style and comfort. As she made her way through the hallways of Arkadia High, she felt not just the school spirit but also her own unique contribution to it. When her eyes met Clarke's from across the corridor, she knew instantly that they had both succeeded in not just honoring their school's tradition, but in adding a bit of themselves into the mix.

Throughout the day, it seemed as though fate conspired to keep Lexa and Clarke apart. Whether it was meetings, classroom sessions running overtime, students needing additional attention, or even a misplaced set of keys, the pair could never quite find the elusive moment to connect.

Both were keenly aware of the other's presence in the building, feeling it like a magnetic pull, yet every time they seemed poised to intersect, something would come in the way. It was almost comical, and by lunchtime, the shared, almost telepathic glances they shot each other across the courtyard were ones of amused frustration.

The day's bustling activities culminated in the much-awaited pep rally for homecoming, and it was amidst the loud cheers, music, and colorful banners that Lexa and Clarke finally found themselves side by side. Their hands brushed against each other, a shared smile passed between them, and in the midst of the roaring school spirit, they found a quiet, intimate moment, understanding that sometimes, anticipation only sweetened the eventual reunion.

In the school's bustling gymnasium, anticipation hung thick in the air as the student council prepared to announce the Spirit Week winners. When the student winner's name was called out, a burst of cheers erupted from a corner of the gym, accompanied by the jubilant cries of the victor's friends.

However, it was the announcement of the teacher winner that caught most by surprise. The name "Ms. Reyes" echoed through the gym's speakers, causing many students to exchange shocked looks. The computer science teacher, always ensconced in her tech-laden classroom and generally perceived as reserved, was the last person most had expected to win.

As Ms. Reyes rose from her seat, a modest smile on her face, applause filled the gym. Clarke and Lexa glanced at each other in mild surprise, realizing that in their playful competition and mutual admiration, they hadn't noticed Ms. Reyes's quiet participation in Spirit Week. Yet, as they clapped along with the rest, both felt genuine happiness for their colleague, reminding them that sometimes, the quietest participants make the loudest impact.

As the announcement settled in and the applause for Ms. Reyes continued to resonate through the gymnasium, Lexa and Clarke simultaneously turned towards each other, a mixture of disbelief and amusement evident in their eyes.

Clarke, always the more expressive of the two, let out a light chuckle. "Raven Reyes, huh? Should've seen that coming," she remarked with a playful grin.

Lexa shook her head, her lips curving into a smirk. "Of all the people to be outdone by… Raven," she responded, her tone light and teasing.

They both knew Raven was a formidable force in her own right, always surprising everyone with her hidden talents and unwavering spirit. Their eyes locked in mutual mirth, and they both burst into soft laughter.

Neither had anticipated being bested by the computer science teacher, but the revelation only added to the fond memories of Spirit Week.

As the week's events concluded and the halls began to empty, the competition that had once seemed all-consuming was now just a fond memory. Clarke leaned against a locker, her gaze finding Lexa's across the corridor. "I've got to admit," Clarke began with a chuckle, "this was one of the most memorable Spirit Weeks I've ever experienced."

Lexa grinned, walking closer, "Agreed. And as much as I loved our little rivalry," she playfully nudged Clarke, "it's the shared moments and memories that matter the most."

Clarke nodded, "It's not about winning, but about the journey and the fun we had along the way."

The two exchanged a knowing smile, understanding that the true reward wasn't a title or prize, but the strengthened bond they'd forged amidst the playful challenges.

With the week behind them, they looked forward to many more shared experiences, knowing that every moment, competition or not, was an opportunity to grow closer together.

[alannacouture]

💖💜💙

Clarke Griffin Appreciation Week Day 5: Bi Pride

[butmakeitgayblog]

Teach Me

Ch. 7

Test days

///////////////

God, she hated test days.

The mind-numbing minutiae of it.

The waste of time that could be better spent actually learning. 

The way she had to show up to do… absolutely nothing. 

Pacing an ambling line from one end of the lecture platform to the other, her eyes swept the darkened room before checking her watch again.

“You have thirty seconds left to finish your thoughts for this piece, and then we're moving on to the final slide,” Lexa called out, remembering to soften her tone so as to not make the more consumed writers of the class jump nearly a foot out of their desks.

Again.

The screen overhead flipped from ‘ The Column of Trajan’ to ‘ The Arch of Constantine’, and the clock on the wall ticked on.

A few more minutes passed in relatively dull silence as Lexa mentally flowed through the lesson plans she had presented thus far, combing the downturned sea of faces and mentally shouting what she hoped the students had taken from them. 

Because she wanted them to do well.

Because she measured her own success as an educator by her student's every success.

Because if she had to read one more essay this semester that contained the words “lit” or “potato quality” in reference to ancient carvings, she just might tear her own hair out.

She really hated test days. 

Mind buzzing with thoughts of stylistic contrasts between High Empire versus Late, and wondering who among her pupils would draw the correct conclusions for why each piece represented on the test was chosen, Lexa felt her pocket vibrate as she settled down on the edge of the table at the head of the room.

Fishing her phone out, she glanced down and froze at the preview that flashed bright across the screen.

“That is a very tight vest you have on Professor”

Schooling her face despite the heat that bloomed bright hot in her cheeks, Lexa checked the timer she had set and barely hesitated before opening the message.

“Shouldn't you be focusing on your test?”

“Just finished a minute ago. Now I'm wasting time until class is over.”

“Shouldn't you want to leave then?” she thumbed out. As if on cue, she pressed her phone to her chest and nodded as a student traipsed up to the front and deposited their test booklet on the table before slipping out of the lecture hall without a sound. “It's a beautiful day. Go enjoy it instead of pretending to look busy.”

“But the view's so good right here…”

Straightening up from her slouched position, it felt like a herculean task to keep her eyes from beelining to the front row and exactly two seats to the left. 

Instead she made another lazy loop around the dais, scanning the crowd for moving pencils (and any obvious signs of someone having fallen asleep.) 

The dull squeak of graphite on paper had her winding back around to stand behind the safety of her podium.

“That's highly inappropriate. Remind me why I let you sit in the front row?” she typed back the second her hands were out of sight. 

She snuck another glance out into the dimmed lecture hall and waited.

“Because I'm your very favoritest student Professor Woods,” she read when another message popped up right below it. “And because when I wear this outfit you can almost see up my dress.”

/////////////

Read on AO3

[ovrgrwn]

Commander Lexa is the uhauliest of the uhaul lesbians and you can’t convince me otherwise

[owl127]

Alpha alpha clexa for the win 🥵 I need to see clexa tear each other's clothes off and sin in their locker room. Can Lexa bottom for Clarke this first round 👉👈

THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN!

(Ao3) (Previous)

Clarke had hated every single move Lexa had played that entire day.

Except now. As Lexa’s hand sneaked into her shorts, Clarke very much encouraged her by moaning into curls freed from a tight ponytail. The motion sensor light hadn’t turned on as they continued to make out in the dark storage room, their hands wandering. One of Lexa’s legs made its way around Clarke’s hips, and the hand that wasn’t busy inside Clarke’s shorts kept Clarke’s head buried in her neck.

Clarke was curious and confused, but she was also horny, and decided that questions could come later. She sucked hard enough to bruise Lexa’s skin and shivered at the responding moan.

This was insane. A small and receding logic part of Clarke’s brain protested under the onslaught of Lexa’s mouth with valid questions like “Lexa’s a bitch”, “Isn’t she straight?”, but those questions were slowly consumed by “She’s good at a hand job. Also, boobs.”

Clarke grabbed Lexa’s ass and pulled her closer, noticing the lack of the rough material of Lexa’s shorts. Her fingers found soft underwear instead, taut from the erection rubbing at Clarke’s belly. Lexa growled and pulled blonde hair tight for a kiss, swallowing the responding gasp.

“Lexa,” Clarke said when they broke for air, feeling a hand pull down her shorts and underwear down her thighs. She shivered at the exposure, but fingers quickly enveloped her to pump into full hardness. Clarke blinked as she adapted to the low light, but all she could see was a strip of white as Lexa gritted her teeth and continued to touch her mercilessly.

This wasn’t going to last. If Clarke wanted any say on how this would go, she’d have to act fast.

Teeth sank into the pulsing flesh of Lexa’s neck and she yelped in surprise, faltering enough that Clarke pinned her hand to her side.

“What are you doing?” A glint in gray eyes as Lexa spat the question.

“Do you want this or not?” Clarke growled back, not holding the moan as she pushed against the wet patch on Lexa’s underwear.

Lexa huffed, and short nails bit the back of Clarke’s neck, tangling into the small, shaved hairs there. The harsh touch felt marvelous on her sensitive skin, and she pushed into Lexa with more purpose. Lexa wanted it, but it was always this dominance dance with other alphas.

Clarke fucking loved it.

Her teeth found the soft pulp of Lexa’s earlobe, and she thrusted a couple times to make her point across. “What?” Clarke whispered into fresh sweat. “Big, bad captain Lexa doesn’t like to admit she enjoys getting dicked down?”

Clarke grinned for no one to see as Lexa growled at that, fighting the grip she had on her. But Clarke was heavier and had both legs on the ground for support, so she kept Lexa in place, never missing a chance to rub their hardening cocks together as Lexa tried to escape.

“I can feel you getting harder,” Clarke said, going for a kiss that turned into a bite. She moaned at the peak of pain and the taste of blood. “God, Lexa, if you really want to me stop, I will, but—”

The trashing animal that was Lexa went still, and instead she used both legs to keep Clarke in place, a small whine escaping her throat.

Clarke understood and held back a chuckle, holding Lexa up. “It’s okay,” she whispered, the moment suddenly heavy and vulnerable. “I got you.”

That seemed the wrong thing to say as Lexa pulled on Clarke’s hair. “Do you always talk so fucking much?” The heat of Lexa’s breath on Clarke’s quickening pulse made her legs tremble, and she pressed harder into the other alpha.

“Most of the time, yes,” Clarke said, but didn’t stop the slow grind between them. “If you want it hard and dirty, I’m down for that.”

For a moment, Lexa stopped moving her hips, and Clarke was disappointed at the prospect that this would end up in a frustrated jerk off in the shower. But a small lick on her throat made her chuckle. “You’re weird, Woods.” She kissed to ease the sting and completed, “but I’m game. I bet you’re tight as fuck.”

“Can you shut up and get on with it?”

Clarke read the softness behind the words and wiggled a little to get her shorts lower to her knees. She’d need space if she wanted to do this right. And fuck, she wanted to do this right.

It was dark, hot, and Clarke was about to fuck the one teammate she should never touch, but there they were.

After a wet kiss, she spit on what she hoped was her own erection and felt Lexa’s hand guiding her.

“Should I use my fingers first?” Clarke asked, nervousness creeping in as she realized this was indeed about to happen.

“Touch me while I use my fingers,” Lexa said and moaned when Clarke let her other hand go to cup her for the first time. Lexa moaned an octave higher and Clarke just knew she had a finger inside herself.

“Getting ready for me, Woods?” she teased, getting Lexa’s cock out. It felt longer than hers, but Clarke did not dwell on that streak of competitiveness.

“How can you be this insufferable?”

“Fuck, I felt you leaking just now. You like when I talk, don’t you?”

“Oh my god, shut—shut up!”

Clarke laughed and picked up her pace, her hand gliding on Lexa’s pre cum. “Let me know when you’re ready for me.”

“You’re so full of yourself.” Lexa’s threatening effect was subdued by the way she gasped when Clarke used her thumb to play with her head.

“No, you are about to get full of myself.”

“If you keep this up, I’m calling it off!”

“Sorry,” Clarke said and meant it, leaning to kiss Lexa’s lips in apology. “I’m a little nervous.” Clarke hoped the honesty would calm Lexa down, and not being able to see her reaction, this was the peace offering she could do. Clarke cleared her throat. “You good?”

Lexa nodded, her forehead moving against Clarke’s damp cheek. Clarke held on thin hips and felt herself being guided into warm, welcoming heat. She moaned as she sank in, her hands trembling as she pushed inside.

“Holy shit, you’re tight,” Clarke gasped, her hips already starting a rhythm. Lexa’s moan was a mix of a growl and a gasp, but Clarke swallowed it nonetheless with a messy kiss. “Fuck, fuck, I’m close,” Clarke admitted as she picked up the pace, the shelf behind them banging with their thrusts.

Lexa bit Clarke’s shoulder, all of her holding onto the other alpha for dear life. “So much for your talking.”

Clarke groaned at that, speeding up. If she was going to embarrass herself and come in a minute like a pup, she’d at least make Lexa remember it. Lexa gasped as Clarke pulled her an inch higher, thrusting deeper.

Clarke felt the telltale signs of her impending orgasm, the tingling in her groins, the clenching of her own entrance. “Lexa, Lexa,” she said between forceful thrusts, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. “I’m gonna cum. Can I cum?”

The nails were back at Clarke’s nape, leaving marks all the way to her back. The idea of Lexa marking her almost pushed her to the edge. Lexa’s skin was so warm against her, and she felt tight and inviting. Their breaths mingled as their kisses lost track, reduced to a single need to meet again and again. The last bit that pushed Clarke to an orgasm so intense it was almost painful was a silky voice in her ear. “Come inside me, Clarke.”

Clarke fell forward, her legs holding to dear life as she came inside the other alpha in one, two, three long thrusts, and when she thought she had emptied herself, Lexa grabbed her chin for a bruising kiss that milked another shot out of her.

They stood in silence, one of Lexa’s legs on the ground, Clarke’s knees trembling. A single moan filled the room as Clarke pulled out, her dick still hard but oh so spent. She rested her forehead on Lexa’s shoulder, breathing in their mixed scents and smiling, completely satiated.

Clarke’s bubble of pure bliss popped as she felt Lexa’s moving shoulder, realizing she was jerking herself off.

“Wait, wait.” Clarke batted her hand away, and Lexa whined.

“Clarke,” Lexa pleaded, and she wasn’t a woman who pleaded. “You came too soon,” she added as a jab, and Clarke was too blissed to feel shame.

“I know.” In one move, Clarke kneeled in front of Lexa, finding her straining cock leaking. She leaned for a lick of their combined fluids seeping down Lexa’s thigh and guided the other woman into her mouth.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Lexa cursed as Clarke sucked on her, and Clarke realized immediately that Lexa was big. But okay, she could deal with that. Her hand pumped what she couldn’t take, and she teased the leaking slit with her tongue before licking the throbbing length up and down. “Clarke,” Lexa warned, and Clarke moaned around her, taking her a tad deeper. “I’m, I’m—” Lexa’s moan was loud as she thrusted into Clarke’s mouth with abandon. At the first jet of come hitting her throat, Clarke tried to pull away, but the same hand that had scratched her back held her firm in place. “Take it, take it, please,” Lexa begged, and Clarke breathed deep through her nose and let the other alpha fuck her mouth as she came in slowly, de-escalating whimpers.

Clarke swallowed what she could, but felt it spilling down her chin as Lexa pulled back. Clarke leaned on her haunches and it kicked in the light motion, and a harsh, white light shove from above.

Lexa’s curls were spread on her face, her eyes blown. She had her jersey, but her shorts were dangling by one foot, her boxer shorts in a shade darker under her softening cock. Her abs shivered, and her eyes closed as a last spurt of come leaked from her cock.

Clarke wondered how she looked like to have that effect on the usually stoic alpha.

With the light, reality set in. Clarke coughed a little, standing on shaking legs. She pulled up her shorts with a hiss, one hand threading through her destroyed braid.

“Lexa,” she started, but she didn’t know what to say. Thank you for the fuck?

“You can go. I’ll clean up.” Lexa pulled her own shorts up with trembling hands. Clarke bit her lips while watching Lexa tuck herself inside her underwear, the taste of her come still vivid in her tongue.

Clarke looked back at the door, at the gear littering the floor, then again at Lexa. God, she was marvelous with that freshly fucked glow.

“Should we… talk?” Clarke said, wincing at the stare Lexa threw back at her.

“You and your talking.” Lexa redid her ponytail with cold efficiency. Clarke watched those fingers work and felt herself respond at the thought of how they would feel inside her.

“I really liked that. Fuck, Lexa, I’m getting hard again just looking at you.”

That caught Lexa’s attention. She swallowed, dark eyes staring down at Clarke’s crotch, and truth be told, Clarke felt herself harden under that stare.

“You’re not half bad.”

“I’d say you enjoyed it quite a lot.”

“Yeah, all 30 seconds of it.”

“Don’t tease me, Woods.”

“I can do better than that.”

Clarke groaned and went for a bruising kiss.

This time, the light didn’t turn off.