#clexa winter au

[clexmas24]

Hey everyone! Clexmas is right around the corner and will begin on the 16th of December this year, hope you’re ready! 

Clexmas is all about having all things Clexa that jingle with the holiday spirit. Reblog or send this post out to anyone you think will enjoy it! As a reminder here is how you can participate below. And our theme list for this year. 

How To Participate: Fanart, fanvids, fanfics, moodboards, photo manipulations, fic recs, anything that jingles Clexa with a Christmas/Holiday theme - let’s see it!

7 Days of Clexa: This will be 7 days of Holiday/Christmas themed posts. Reblog Share Repeat!

Send out ideas/prompts to your favorite writers and artists! Don’t forget to tag! 

#Clexmas24  #7DaysofClexa

Dec. 16 - Day 1: Home for the Holidays

Dec. 17 - Day 2: Naughty or Nice List

Dec. 18 - Day 3: Under the Mistletoe

Dec. 19 - Day 4: Snowed In

Dec. 20 - Day 5: Holiday Traditions

Dec. 21 - Day 6: Secret Santa

Dec. 22 - Day 7:  Free Day

[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.”

[alexkomnerdkru]

So I had a random dream this week that inspired a third installment of the #StayGold series. I thought I was done with this verse but I guess it wasn't done with me.

[syngularitysyn]

I have set my fics to be visible for registered users only because of AI scraping. Here is a list of my Clexa fics:

It Starts With a Chip - Complete

Lone survivor Lexa attempts to fix a broken android in the hopes of gaining a companion. Tags: Android Clarke, dystopian/post-apocalyptic, solarpunk, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst.

Ceasefire - Complete

When Clarke goes to a sex shop in town to find a hideous gag gift for her friend, the last person she wants to bump into is her nemesis Lexa Woods. Things only heat up from there. Tags: Enemies to lovers, smut, a/b/o dynamics.

the composition of me (through your eyes) - Complete

Music student Lexa meets art student Clarke. Sparks fly, but Lexa's journey to self-acceptance still has a way to go before she's ready to let her guard down. Tags: Slow burn, fluff and angst, mutual pining, hurt/comfort.

At The Heart of Winter - Complete

Clarke gets captured by the Ice Queen before Roan can take her to Polis. Tags: Canon divergent, angst + fluff and smut, there was only 1 cave.

Tensile - Complete

Three different flavors of Lexa strapping. Tags: PWP, smut, genderqueer Lexa.

Hardwired - In progress...

Bodyguard Lexa gets assigned as movie star Clarke Griffin’s personal security detail. The one time they met when she was in college they agreed to steer clear of each other despite sharing a best friend in Raven. Now she’s going to be stuck with the other alpha for weeks while her demanding father breathes down her neck after settings an ultimatum; take over the family company and mate the omega he has selected for her like she was always supposed to before she rebelled, or be disowned. Tags: Bodyguard AU, alpha/alpha, a/b/o dynamics, enemies to lovers.

***

I also made a Clexa supercut - all Clexa scenes in HD!

[unchartedcloud]

Chapter 1: It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Lexa Woods - divorcée, parent, and owner and proprietor of the Polaris Inn - has her hands full trying to manage her small, ski-side inn as the winter holidays descend on her equally small town. Amidst the craziness, she certainly doesn't anticipate finding an unconscious blond out on the back trails, who later wakes with no memory of who she is. Unwilling to condemn her to a hospital bed for the holidays, Lexa offers the mystery woman a room at her inn until she recovers her memory - and recovers her sense of romance along the way. In other words: a Clexa AU loosely based on the Lindsay Lohan Netflix movie. Also known as the Hallmark AU.

Read on Ao3.

[shortkingvi]

📖✨Shortkingvi's Fic Hall of Fame✨📖

Since I’ve been a regular fic reader since ~2011, I figure a list like this is long overdue. This is a (semi) comprehensive list of every fic that has irrevocably changed who I am as a person forever. Some of these may not be the most world-altering fic's you've ever read, but for some reason they have wormed their way into my heart and stuck with me since the first time I read them. So, in no particular order and across many fandoms, here are my all time top-10:

1. tin soldiers - idrilka (Marvel Cinematic Universe, rated T, Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes)

Do you need to know the source material? Yes.

this fic... what do i truly say about this one. i am a stucky bitch first and foremost and this is the absolute best of them. a direct companion to captain america: the winter soldier, this fic covers what the public opinion of cap, the plot of the movie, and his relationship with bucky was/is/might be. written as a collection of academic papers, social media posts, and book excerpts, this fic takes unique and unforgettable to a new level. 10/10 would recommend!

2. maybe it's just me - bleedtoloveher (The Hunger Games, rated M, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark)

Do you need to know the source material? Yes, although you could get by knowing the general premise.

this is the first fic i ever remember reading (at like 13 or 14) and boy oh boy did it stick with me. i regularly go back to read this one because it's just... so pure and sweet. an AU where katniss and peeta have been best friends for years and peeta is the only one reaped. upon returning after winning the games, he and katniss must pretend to be in a relationship so that he can protect her from president snow, who is unhappy with peeta. i adore this fic, it's just so lovely.

3. meet me halfway to your heart - ariadnerue (Carmilla, rated T, Carmilla Karnstein/ Laura Hollis)

Do you need to know the source material? No.

i may or may not have a thing for the fake/pretend relationship trope. this one is a fic where carmilla and laura are best friends and the children of two A-list actors. after a pushy dude in a bar won't leave laura alone, she and carm pretend to be in a relationship. of course, the media catches wind of their supposed love and has a field day with it, forcing them to have to pretend they're in love to avoid ruining the release of their parents' new film. this one is so CUTE and a one-shot (albeit 22k words), so it's an easy, sweet read!

4. human interest - mad_lori (Brokeback Mountain, rated E, Ennis Del Mar/Jack Twist)

Do you need to know the source material? Yes, but techincally only the first hour or so, though i think you'd miss out on the catharsis of this by doing so.

no movie truly sticks with me and breaks my heart quite like brokeback, and after a particularly depressing rewatch last year, i stumbled upon this. originally written in 2006, this fic is an AU that imagines what might've happened if ennis had said yes to jack's proposition after ennis' divorce. they open up a cattle operation up in vermont and get their happily ever after. it's slice of life, it's real, it's sweet and cathartic. if you too have been personally victimized by this film, i recommend this more than anything else on this list. it's wonderful. there's a sequel fic that is technically unfinished, but it's 40 chapters and ends on a decent stopping point, so i think that's more than fine.

5. been lovin' you for quite some time - onemilliongoldstars (The 100, rated E, Clarke Griffin/Lexa)

Do you need to know the source material? No.

for some reason i am physically unable to read in canon clexa shit because it hurts too much, so this is an AU. FWB clarke and lexa find themselves spending christmas together and have to pretend they're strangers. it goes about as well as you'd think. read this as a wee baby gay and it means so much to me because of that. clexa truly is my greatest ship of all time, so you can imagine how much this one has stuck with me. an easy, quick, fun read with almost no angst.

6. United States v. Barnes, 617 F. Supp. 2d 143 (D.D.C. 2015) - fallingvoices, radialarch (Marvel Cinematic Universe, rated T, Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes)

Do you need to know the source material? Yes.

i didn't want to double dip on this list, but when they're this good, you have no choice. this fic is SO creative. similar to tin soldiers, this fic is formatted in an incredibly creative way! telling the story of bucky's hypothetical trial post winter soldier, this fic is a compilation of court transcripts, news articles, and social media posts. it's stucky at its core, but can also just be enjoyed as a bucky fic. it does an incredible job of holding your attention and truly making you feel like you're a part of this trial. this is the character work we should've gotten for bucky post winter soldier/civil war/endgame/ANYTHING.

7. i-80 west - socallmedaisy (Glee, rated M, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce)

Do you need to know the source material? Yes.

read this one right around the time i was graduating high school and boy oh boy was that the perfect time to read it. brittana roadtrip fic/ last summer in lima fic where they just... go through everything that people go through at that time. i know this one is special to me because of when i read it and what it meant to me, but GOD this one burrowed into the depths of my baby gay trauma brain and has lived there ever since. if you have time, this is a great one. just... yeah.

8. strawberry ice cream (revamped!!!) - banneancroft69 (Ocean's 8, rated E, Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean)

Do you need to know the source material? Yes.

we do ocean's 8 here sir. this one is just truly lovely. unfinished, so be warned, but it doesn't really matter, because it's mostly a timeline of Lou and Debbie's relationship, starting way back at their first meeting. i'm one of the many who believes that lou and debbie canonically had a on again, off again love affair but are ultimately each other's soulmates, and i think this fic does well to kind of tie all that complexity together in a very fresh way. i think about this one a LOT.

9. roll with the punches - greatestchange (Avatar: Legend of Korra, rated M, Korra/Asami Sato)

Do you need to know the source material? No.

godddddd this fic. this SERIES. korra and asami are estranged high school best friends. when asami learns korra's back in town and fighting in an underground fight club, she goes to seek her out and figure out why she left and what she's been up to since. this series is HEAVY, let me preface, and deals with drug abuse, self-destructive tendencies, and overall complicated humans. it will likely be the most difficult read on this list because of this, but it also is one of the most important for me. i related BIG TIME to this version of korra, and it just really is a masterfully crafted series that i cannot say enough about. please give this a read if it sounds like your thing.

10. see your world in traces - spibsy (Professional Wrestling, rated E, Seth Rollins/Dean Ambrose)

Do you need to know the source material? Yes, but a general understanding of wrestling would probably suffice.

burrowing this down at number 10 so no one notices it. seriously though, i find it hard to ever read anything wrestling related because it often veers way too far into RPF territory for me and those lines are muddy enough as is. this one though... this one is fully within kayfabe and just like.. has stuck with me since i was 16 for some reason. it's FCW era ambrollins aka PEAK twunk rollins era, and it's just such a perfect kayfabe explanation for the funky little feud they had at the time. it's genuine and messy and heartfelt and weird and i HAD to include it here if i truly wanted this list to be as honest and correct as i want it to be. if you're at all into wrestling, this is a lovely one that i should probably read again soon.

[owl127]

Just wanted to check on fire forest clexa and their little babies. Is Halloween a thing in this au ? If so, how do they celebrate ?

I'm wrapping up my submission to the bumbleby big bang (my posting date it Dec 4th! But we had to finish everything this week), and then I'm back with full time work for prompts and AUs (besides my actual full time job. You know how it is).

Fire forest is on the list, of course, though it's hard to keep motivated with this story sometimes. Maybe I didn't present it well when I first published it, or it wasn't what I expected, but I try to focus on the readers that still want to see it!

Winter Bloom is also high on my list of WIP I want to finish, and the arc there is more straight forward.

Most clans don't celebrate Halloween since it's a human tradition and they have their own holidays! HOWEVER! Ark Clan does, and Clarke convinces Lexa to let her dress up the twins and go trick or treating 🍬

When the pups get home with tummy aches, Lexa blames Clarke and she is not wrong  ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯ 

[birgittesilverbae]

Hi there! So... 5, 7, 17 and 30

Thanks in advance for this :D

5. have you ever made a playlist about something you were writing as an elaborate means to procrastinate when you could have been actually writing and if yes drop a link, son

I have, I had a whole set of playlists for my Clexa Winter Soldier AU that I definitely will not be dropping a link to

7. tell us about the plot of the first fanfic you ever wrote

bold of you to assume I remember (bold of you to assume I plot) the furthest one back I can remember that actually had a coherent plot was an Olympic figure skater/hockey player Rizzles AU that was about learning and growing together

17. what is your favorite line you’ve ever written?

I honestly can't think of one that stands out for me? (I typically immediately forget whatever I've written; the other day I skimmed through a 50K I finished publishing at the end of 2021 and lemme tell you it felt new to me)

30. most inspirational quote you’ve ever read or heard that’s still important to you.

I'm partial to Samuel Beckett's discussions of failure. The classics "I can't go on. I'll go on." and "Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better." of course

but the one that sticks with me the most is "How first it lay. Then somehow knelt. Bit by bit. Then on from there. Bit by bit. Till up at last."

[ao3feed-clexafic]

Clexa AU

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/60114940 by PrettyGirlsLover In the aftermath of the brutal conflict of Mount Weather, Clarke Griffin returns to the Skaikru camp, struggling to find her place in a community still grappling with loss and betrayal. As she reunites with her friends, Clarke is haunted by guilt over her absence and the decisions that led her there. Tensions are high as Clarke faces those she left behind. Meanwhile, Clarke’s mother, Abby, has taken on the role of Chancellor, navigating the difficult political landscape and the looming threat of starvation as winter approaches. As the community prepares to negotiate with the Commander for much-needed supplies, Clarke finds herself torn between the necessity of survival and her deep-seated distrust and hatred of those who have wronged her. Will Clarke and the Commander find there way back to each other after everything that has happened? This takes place after season 2. Words: 2537, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: The 100 (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/F Characters: Clarke Griffin, Lexa (The 100), Bellamy Blake, Octavia Blake, Lincoln (The 100), Raven Reyes (The 100), Abby Griffin, Marcus Kane (The 100), Niylah (The 100), Indra (The 100), Titus (The 100), Aden (The 100), Madi (The 100), Monty Green, Jasper Jordan, Nia | Ice Queen Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Costia/Lexa (The 100), Clarke Griffin/Niylah, Clarke Griffin/Lexa/Niylah Additional Tags: The 100 (TV) Season 1, The 100 (TV) Season 2, Alternate Universe - The 100 (TV) Fusion, Clexa Week, POV Clarke Griffin, Endgame Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Slow Burn Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Soulmates Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Lexa Lives (The 100), Heda Lexa (The 100), Commander Lexa (The 100), Cute Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Minor Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Alternate Universe Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/60114940

[saturneves]

oh wow sweden is Cold and Stormy today

[clexmas24]

Hey Everyone! Here is the theme/idea list for Clexmas! Remember, you can pick any topic and post at any point in December. I'll still post after Christmas so we have the full month! Can't wait to see what you all got! Merry Clexmas!

[clarketomylexa]

we were just kids when we fell in love pt. 2

The ski trip couldn’t have come at a better time. Lexa was facing the sad prospect of staying at Berkeley alone over Christmas until Anya pulled through with a chalet in the Swiss alps that a contact through her firm was giving her the keys to.

The only hitch is Clarke.

Who perhaps is less of a ‘hitch’ and more of a ‘girl she hasn’t seen in six months since she went to grad school on the East Coast leaving Lexa and the feelings she waited too long to realise behind.’

The ski trip au based on the video for Ed Sheeran’s Perfect 

read on ao3

Clarke has Lexa skiing confidently again by noon. 

Similarly to when she invited her to Aspen two winters ago, Lexa falls the first time she attempts the slope and Clarke laughs at the powdered snow heaping up on the shelf of her goggles, shuffling over to brush it off with a gloved hand. 

She’s running out of excuses to find herself in the brunette’s personal space but Lexa doesn’t seem to need excuses now and Clarke wishes she would just come out and say it.

Clarke’s decided Lexa will never be Octavia — who careens over the jumps on her snowboard at a rate of knots, leaving a trail of powder as the goes — but by late afternoon she is evidently hot enough to strip off her jacket and double-knot it around her waist, leaving her in her tight thermals and overalls. Clarke unzips her own windbreaker when she hands Lexa’s things back and lets it hang loose off her frame. 

It gets dark early here. Where this morning had consisted of four straight hours of perfect sunshine, now the clouds dull the white glare and it snows. 

“You want to go again?” 

Lexa nods and pulls her goggles off, setting them on her forehead so that Clarke can see how she smiles, regardless of how badly her cheeks are chapped from the snow spray. They find the chair lift and hook their skis into the bottom, sitting and pulling the bar down into their laps. The metal is freezing against her and Clarke tucks her fingers into her sleeves to save off the chill, squinting against the snow as it buffets them in their perch halfway up the mountain. 

“My Dad used to dare me to lick the pole when I was younger,” Clarke grins, blowing on her wind-chapped fingers to stave off the frost-bite. The fresh powder has worked its way beneath the elasticated hem of her gloves to melt in the tips of her fingers and she eventually decides to forgo them completely, tucking her hands under her armpits as she empties her mittens out into her lap. 

“Let me guess,” Lexa drawls. “You had to be unstuck by search and rescue?” 

Clarke sticks her tongue out at the memory. She doesn’t think Jake actually expected her to do it but she was even more stubborn at eight-years-old as she is now — she’s nothing if not his daughter — and the result was the chairlift being stopped for a full half-hour while red-suited men carefully pried her tongue free form the frozen metal and her mother watched on in slack-jawed horror. 

They didn’t go back to Aspen the winter after that. 

“You’re too smart for your own good,” Clarke accuses, giving Lexa the satisfaction of seeing her pout. It’s a strange thing to say because all she really wants to tell her is that she’s the dumbest law student in the world if she thinks she’s anywhere near as subtle as she thinks she is. “Just remember who has the power here. I could just as easily tell Octavia you wiped out the moment she set foot on the slope.” 

She watches Lexa go red beneath her goggles, ducking her head in concession. 

//

They take the slope again, slower this time because the visibility has taken a rapid downward spiral and by the time Lexa meets her at the bottom, she’s shivering to her bones. The big floodlights are on but the sun is nearly gone now. When the others join them, they make a unanimous decision to head back. 

They hang their skis up outside the first place that looks warm and sells alcohol, peeling off their heavy jackets and unzipping their fleeces as they slide into a booth in the very back corner, far away from the karaoke machine and the already drunk group of girls pouring over the laminated book of songs. 

Octavia has that eager glint in her eye that Clarke doesn’t like when she sees it — the one the says they aren’t leaving until they’ve covered every song in Destiny’s Child’s repertoire — but it reminds Clarke enough of undergrad that she doesn’t say anything. 

Instead, she orders a beer, then another, then pitches in a couple of Francs when Raven declares she’s ordering a ShotSki from the bartender.

“This doesn’t look like a good idea,” Lexa whispers into the shell of her ear as a cheer goes up. She’s pressed so close to Clarke in the booth that Clarke can feel every bit of contact even through her fleece, like a set of little shocks that surge through her every time Lexa moves, making her heart beat fast and her adrenaline skyrocket. 

“Anything is a good idea if you’re brave enough,” she fires back, watching Lexa’s brows shoot up. 

From what, she doesn’t know, but it’s the sweetest thing she’s seen. She leans back a little bit against the back of the booth like she’s impressed at Clarke’s bravado and it’s the kind of posture that is dangerous. 

There’s enough alcohol in her system now that, if they weren’t in a bar full of strangers, Clarke might just be brave enough to kiss her. She even imagines it as a single ski, the length of the table is placed down in front of them, five, little shot glasses lined up along it. 

She would slide a hand under Lexa’s jaw first — the lightest touch, just a couple of fingers until she can see Lexa properly and steel herself enough to reach up to stroke a thumb over her bottom lip. Then she’d kiss her. She’d find the little bits of her hair that are damp from the melted snow and wind them through her fingertips and feel Lexa’s heartbeat flutter, warm and safe under her palm. 

An elbow digs itself into her rib and her fantasy disappears from her so fast she can almost hear it leave — this harsh, fast woosh that echoes through her head and in her ears and she has to look over at Lexa — who stares at her, a little perturbed — to make sure she’s still there. 

(She is. She always is). 

“You helping?” Raven calls next to her, shooting her a confused look and Clarke nods, leaning forward to slide her fingers underneath the smooth shape of the ski. Whatever German beer they’ve been adding to her tab in the meantime is dangerously lowering her inhibitions. 

It takes a bit of maneuvering and some counting from Anya and the bartender to get them all lined up but eventually, they just have to go for it. Raven bails halfway through her own countdown. So does Octavia on the other end so that the whole thing lurches towards Clarke and Clarke has to lunge forward to meet her shot of tequila. Most of it ends up down the front of her fleece. 

What does go in her mouth goes in the wrong way. It burns on the way down. Her eyes smart at the shock. She coughs and hacks at the feeling, coming back to herself as Lexa’s fingers work their way beneath the lip of her top to rub her back, sending sharp, hard shocks of warmth across her skin. She blinks. 

She feels dangerously close now to how she felt in bed with Lexa last night — this warm, fuzzy feeling that had been because of the eggnog then but probably the fault of something a little bit stronger now. Her cheeks feel hot. Lexa stares at her in the low, shifting light of the bar — there are fairy lights somewhere, and spotlights across the room near the karaoke stage, all red and green and purple, like a twisting kaleidoscope — and Clarke wonders if they’re about to have another moment. 

She remembers Malibu with crystal clarity; the heat of the night and the sand under the straps of Lexa’s bikini as they spoke. She can see Lexa’s wet, salt-brushed hair and taste the prosecco and feel Lexa’s breath on her cheek when they kiss and —  

She closes her eyes against the memory. Dizzy. 

She’s waited nine months for another night like that but it hasn’t come. 

(Now, she thinks she’d do just about anything to know what Lexa tastes like again). 

//

Lexa is ninety percent alcohol by the time they stand up for karaoke. 

She can feel it rattling around inside her every time she moves to let someone out of the booth. 

Clarke asked her three times to come up and sing with them. “C’mon Lexy,” she’d said, tugging forlornly at the straps of Lexa’s overalls, “like old times”. 

(Lexa hadn’t had the heart to tell her old times is exactly what she’s afraid of). 

Instead, she sits in the booth, a few tables back from the stage, and nurses the remainder of Clarke’s beer, twisting the neck between her fingers while Clarke and Octavia flip noisily through the plastic folder of songs, slinging themselves over each other like Lexa remembers them doing in college. 

It makes her nostalgic. 

She hasn’t felt this spectacularly fuzzy and out of control as she does now since April and it scares her as she watches Clarke step up on stage, stripped down to her t-shirt. Her sleeves are rolled up, the hem of her shirt riding low across her stomach where the weight of her overall straps hang down and, at the sight of it, Lexa feels herself unravelling. 

The thread snapped, the entire stupid, web she’s created for herself — all of the she’s my best friend's and Maryland isn’t that far away’s — coming apart strand by strand until she’s bare and shivering and more confused than she thinks she’s ever been.

//

By the time she makes it outside, jacket wound tight around her, she thinks she might be able to breathe again. 

The snow is falling lighter now than it was when they arrived; softer, more powdery flurry than the sharp, dark flakes they fled from earlier. It coats everything — the cobblestones, benches, lit Christmas trees on the corner of each block — in this thin, opaque blanket and Lexa stands under the eaves of the bar’s roof for a moment, appreciating the silence it lends. If she stands here long enough it might be able to quiet the drumbeat of her heart. 

Snow dulls everything. 

(Or it does, at least, in her limited experience of it. California born and raised the only time she’s ever seen it is with Clarke, as a tag-along on Griffin-family ski trips or through their friends’ contacts. It’s become so interwoven with her now that Lexa doesn’t know if it’s the snow that makes places like this feel like a fairytale or Clarke herself and trying to separate the two now just makes her feel dizzy). 

She’s hungry now. There’s a blinking, neon sign advertising pizza — at least she thinks it’s pizza — across the street and she walks toward it like a mirage in a desert. If she can just get something into her empty stomach, maybe she’ll be able to think straight. Her thoughts will stop coming to her in metaphor and verse. 

(She might even be able to pick herself up by the bootstraps and be brave). 

The snowball hits her squarely in the back of the head before she even has the chance to breathe. 

It shatters against her beanie, loose powder spilling under the collar of her jacket and she spins in alarm, arms held out in defence, to see Clarke standing on the ramp outside of the bar, the door swinging a little in her wake. Her jacket is slung on haphazardly, hanging open at the front and spilling off at her shoulders so that Lexa can see her candy-striped thermal underneath and the way the straps of her overalls have been tied at her waist and her cheeks are Starburst red, eyes smarting in the stinging cold. 

More than that though, there’s something — mischief or wanting or something else entirely — tucked into the upward curve of her lips as she smiles; big and wide, her arms hanging limply at her sides. 

“Clarke…” Lexa tries over the quiet hush of falling snow but she doesn’t know what she’s trying to say. She doesn’t even recognise her own voice as she speaks but Clarke must because she shakes her head and shrugs; this big up down of her shoulders as her smile plateaus that makes Lexa nervous. 

“When are you going to kiss me!” 

Lexa frowns. “What?” 

“My god, you’re clueless,” Clarke laughs, moving toward her in three quick strides. Her fingers sting when they slide under Lexa’s jaw, tipping her chin up to meet her mouth and the kiss — sweet and purposeful and commanded squarely by Clarke — steals the air from her faster than the snowball did. 

(For a moment, it feels like Lexa will never take another breath in her life). 

It takes a moment to understand what’s happening. 

Clarke tastes warm; like whiskey and German beer. Her nose is cold but her breath is hot and it takes seconds for Lexa’s brain to start firing again once she pulls back, rocking on the heels of her heavy boots so that the snow crunches beneath her feet. 

“But that morning…” Lexa whispers, blinking slowly at the stripes on Clarke’s thermal. The blond’s fingers stay cradling her jaw; a quiet, little pressure that keeps her mind from straying but, if she’s been interpreting this — them — wrong all this time, keeping her trait on thought is going to be the least of her worries. “You didn’t say anything.” 

“I didn’t think I needed to,” Clarke says, head tipping forward in exasperation when Lexa doesn’t reply. “I thought we were already dating you weirdo! I thought you’d invited me to Malibu as…you know…” she leans in, ducking her head comically like she’s afraid of being overheard, “more than a friend.” Lexa’s stomach drops at that; she can feel her chest heaving under the breath she can’t let out. “But then you were all hot and cold the next morning and I didn’t know what to do.”

“So…” Lexa frowns, fingers finding the lapels of Clarke’s coat if only to give them something to do, trying to process Clarke’s words. She knows she isn’t exactly the brightest when it comes to her love life — she probably wouldn’t know flirting if it slapped her in the face, but then again, who does? — but is she really that stupid? 

“Yeah,” Clarke laughs, her brow unfurling and it sounds like a relief. 

Snatches of conversation floated out from the bar but out here it’s perfectly quiet as they search each other’s faces, reaching for what to do next; as if they’re standing in a shaken-up snow globe trying to catch the flakes with their tongues. Lexa can feel every single brush of skin against hers, every heartbeat and breath. 

Her world is turning upside down but she thinks it’s the steadiest she’s felt on her feet in a long time. 

(Sometimes, it feels like Clarke’s entire presence is enough to loosen reality’s hold).

//

Clarke giggles when Lexa kisses her again. 

Her fingers slide from Lexa’s jaw to the zipper of her jacket where it nudges her chin, winding around the cold, metal tab. 

They left their skis back at the bar, along with a text on Octavia and Raven’s phones telling them they were going back to the chalet and Clarke is already steeling herself for the teasing she knows she’s going to endure. Their friends have the emotional maturity of seven-year-olds but that’s OK, Clarke’s resigned herself to it. 

What she hasn’t resigned herself to though, is this. The after part. Despite all of her bravado, all of her fantasizing and how sure she was of Lexa’s undeniable feelings, she hadn’t thought about what she would do after she kissed Lexa, even in all of her months of pining and now that it’s here, she’s nervous. 

They stand in their bedroom under the eaves, staring dumbly, high on the thrill of it all, and it makes Clarke feel jittery — like she’s in the eleventh grade again and standing in Mike Mirovski’s bedroom in her underwear after the Spring Formal. 

(The least satisfying night of her life, if she’s being honest). 

She hasn’t been that nervous high schooler in a long time but, but every minute with Lexa makes her feel eighteen-years-old again and walking into her room assignment on move-in day to find a serious girl with tortoiseshell glasses tucking her fitted sheet around the mattress on the far bed. 

The same girl is standing in front of her now too. A little older maybe, a little taller, sporting a bachelor's degree and a pretty gnarly scar above her lip from where she slipped and fell on the edge of her desk after a night out during Freshman orientation — Clarke thinks the ensuing emergency room visit and eight hours of holding an ice-pack to her new roommates face is what sealed the deal between them — but the same nonetheless. 

Clarke thinks she’s the same too, in all the ways that matter at least. 

When she thinks about it that way it feels silly to be scared. 

(No sillier than spending almost a year as just friends because they were too dysfunctional to talk to each other, though. That takes the whole damn idiot cake).

They make it down to their thermals before Clarke feels her hands shaking. 

She curls her fingers into the shoulders of Lexa’s thermal. It’s the only layer left between her and bare skin and she watches her fingertips whiten against the dark fabric, the collar pulling away from her neck enough for Clarke to see the cheap, silver necklace she’d bought her for Christmas their first year of college. 

“You kept it,” Clarke tugs a little on the chain. The tarnished infinity charm swings free of the thermal and Lexa looks down smiling — 

A bang echoes through the empty house. Fireworks being let off, maybe, or a car exhaust backfiring. 

They spring away from each other like kids being caught, fingers untangling themselves from thermals. A moment later, the lights go out. 

“Shit,” Clarke hisses, heart hammering against her chest in fright. “What was that?” She reaches out to Lexa through the darkness, relieved when her hand hits warm skin. It slides down, fastening itself to Lexa’s, fingers entwined. 

“Where’s the light switch?” Lexa asks, her frown almost invisible. Without the ambient light, she’s just a collection of shapes and shadows but Clarke clings to her, half-blind as her eyes adjust. 

She moves when she can feel Lexa moving and listens to the light switch being flipped once, twice, three times. 

Nothing.

“Power’s out,” Lexa deduces finally. 

Clarke snorts. “No kidding.” Forced into darkness, she feels even more on edge than she did in the light. Sure neither of them can see the way her hands are shaking now, or how her lips bunch together in apprehension but, now, she can’t see Lexa either; can’t tell what she’s thinking or if she’s scared too without reaching out to map the contours of her face under her fingertips. 

Not to mention that, without the steady thrum of the radiator pumping out hot air, the temperature is dropping. 

She shivers involuntary and Lexa frowns. “Are you cold?” she curls her arms around Clarke’s middle and Clarke nods, resting her chin on Lexa’s shoulder. 

It’s nice. Nicer than sharing a bed at college ever was; even with all that bare skin pressed up against hers in the hotter months thanks to the teeny, tiny tank top and sleep shorts Lexa called pyjamas. Nicer now because it’s real. Not the kind of real she takes for granted until she wakes up one day — the day after she thought they made it official — to find it being taken away from her; a proper kind of real. A mutual kind of real that was just about to lead to some amazing sex if the hot feeling slung in her belly at the thought of Lexa’s hands on her is any indication. 

(Damn Anya’s client and their faulty chalet. Can’t a girl get a little action without the universe conspiring against her?) 

Now, instead, the house is dark and still. Even the fairy lights on the bannister in the hall are off and if it wasn’t for the white glare of the snow outside, Clarke wouldn’t be able to see anything. She closes her eyes and rests her cheek against Lexa’s, staying there for a moment. 

“Come on,” Lexa says finally when Clarke is sure the mood is all but gone. She lets go of Clarke for long enough to strip their bed of its pillows and quilt before taking Clarke’s hand again and leading her downstairs, steps careful and tentative. 

Once they get downstairs, Lexa leaves the bedding on the sofa, pressing her weight against the love-seat so that it slides backwards. She moves the coffee table next, motioning for Clarke to take the other end and they walk it sideways until it sits against the windows, leaving them with a flat, clear space in front of the fireplace.

“It’s warmer down here,” Lexa explains, nodding to the still smouldering fire as she shakes their quilt out onto the rug on the hardwood floor. “I thought we could camp out down here until the power comes back on — could you get that?” Clarke dutifully fetches the blanket from the back of the sofa and hands it to Lexa who layers it on top, then steps back to assess.

“Or not,” she says quickly when Clarke doesn’t reply — she’s watching her against the wide, dark frame of the windows instead. “We could just go back to bed if you want…not like that, just…” she shrugs. “Whatever you want.”   

“Relax,” Clarke grins, leaning forward to press a pillow from their bed into Lexa’s chest before kissing her. “It’s sexy when you take charge. Like a sexy…” she pinches her lip in thought, “girl scout.” 

“That’s not sexy in the slightest,” Lexa deadpans, nose cold against Clarke’s and Clarke shrugs, tucking her lip against her teeth. 

“Tell me that next Halloween,” she promises and Lexa’s eyes go wide. Clarke files that away for future reference; if they’re going to do the girlfriend thing — the proper girlfriend thing, not the I thought we were already girlfriends girlfriend thing — they’re going to do it well. 

She thinks it’s what Lexa wants too. No, she’s sure it’s what she wants, has known for months, just left it up to Lexa to realise it. 

(Well, she’s never doing that again). 

“Did you see a lighter anywhere or a box of matches?” Lexa asks, extracting the squat candles from the decorate vases lining the dining room table. She has another couple tucked under her arm too, long thing ones — emergency candles by the look of it — that she wedges into a few mugs as makeshift holders. 

Picking her way across the dark living room, Clarke goes in search. She finds both in a drawer by the oven, as well as a corkscrew, which leads her over to the rack in the corner, each slot filled with a different bottle. She picks one at random and picks her way back to the living room with two, tall glasses in tow. 

“Matches, lighter,” she recounts, “and something to keep us warm,” she shakes the bottle suggestively. Standing outside the bar in the cold was sobering and the buzz she had has fast worn off. It’s not that she necessarily wants to be drunk for this — she doesn’t, in fact, she wants to remember every second of this night forever; every expression Lexa’s face makes and every way her touch feels different on her skin — but the courage she’s used for the past nine months to wish Lexa would pull her head out of the clouds and look has been found wanting. 

“Not sure that’s in the Official Scout’s handbook,” Lexa purses her lips, taking the bottle and the glasses anyway as she sits down. 

“Har-har,” Clarke eases herself to the blanket beside her, setting one glass in the circle of her legs as she motions for the bottle back and pushes the corkscrew into the top. After some tugging, it comes free with a pop and she grins, pouring a liberal dose into both glasses and handing one over before leaning back on one hand. 

They sit in silence for a long moment. The fire — down to its last logs — spits and crackles but with it, along with the candles set up around them in a little semicircle it’s easier to see and Lexa looks prettier now, stripped down to her thermals, socked feet and sweatpants than she had in the snow. She looks perfectly cozy — comfortable even. 

Clarke watches her bring her glass to her lips and swallow a long sip, head tilted just-so so that her hair is out of her face and Clarke can see the firelight in her eyes. 

“I suppose that cookie money has to go somewhere,” she whispers after a long while, so quiet that Clarke isn’t sure she’s supposed to hear. It’s too serious to ignore though — this pensive, still little voice from her left — and Clarke laughs. 

It starts off quiet at first, concealed beneath a tiny shake of her shoulders but soon she’s almost crying with the force of it and she can’t seem to stop. Lexa looks over, dazed as if shaken out of a trance and starts laughing too, loud and hard so that wine sloshes out of her cup and splashes on the white rug. It makes them laugh more. 

By the time they are done Clarke doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to breathe again except for in tiny, snatched breaths. Lexa stares at her from across the blanket, wild-eyed and red-cheeked and Clarke doesn’t think she’s ever felt happier in her life. 

She puts her cup down and crawls over, easing a leg over Lexa’s waist until she’s straddling her, back to the fire, and tucks a kinky lock of hair behind Lexa’s ears, pressing her lips carefully — gently — to hers in a sweet, soft exhale.

It’s been so long since Malibu — so, so long — that she almost forgot what this feels like and she hates that because this is easily what heaven feels like. This, right here, with Lexa’s hands under the thin fabric of her top, fingers pressing softly against the valley of her spine and lips against hers. She’s so sure of it in fact that she’d happily damn herself for eternity, safe in the knowledge she’s already experienced all there is to experience. 

Lexa sighs against her, her pendant swinging free again at the movement of her chest and Clarke lets her fingers tangle in the chain, nail smoothing over the little symbol, over and over in an infinite loop. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything,” she says, resting her forehead against Lexa’s. She can feel her eyes pull closed. “That morning, I mean,” her finger keeps tracing — over and over. Infinite. “I should have and I didn’t. “

“It’s not your fault,” Lexa whispers, her hands retreating until they rest at the small of Clarke’s back, just above the waistband of her pants. With her shirt ridden up, Clarke can feel the heart of the fire and the warmth of her hands. 

“I just don’t want you to think I didn’t want you,” Clarke reiterates, leaning back enough to look into Lexa's eyes. They’re hazy and hooded and, clearly, it was cruel of Clarke to stop in the middle of…whatever was about to happen but she needed to. She needs to say this. “Because I did. I do.”  

“I know,” Lexa nods. 

“Good. Now you apologize.” 

“For what?” Lexa frowns. 

“For being an idiot.” 

She can feel Lexa’s lips curl lazily into a smile. 

“I’m sorry.”

[kpforpresident]

so.....a clexa astronaut au, anyone??

[thefutureunseen]

The 100 - Princess Switch AU

“And then you just add the flour slowly, bit by—” 

Clarke bites off the rest of her instructions as Lexa tilts the bowl and the entirety of the dry ingredients falls into the creamed butter. A large white cloud sprays back into the queen’s face and she coughs, stepping away from the long kitchen island.  

Clarke laughs and dusts the powder off of the queen’s nose with her index finger. “I did say ‘slowly.’”

Chapter 6 of Just a Wish is now online. Read it on AO3.

@clexmas18 @the-art-of-simply-living @100bellarkefeels @shadowheron2013 @savisdone @laura-c1990 @bae-in-maine @tornadotxri @and-im-mildly-enjoying-it @177-8 @heyitsiqraa

[syngularitysyn]

Meanwhile, at the Olympics, biathlon champion Clarke Griffin shooting her bisexual unicorn rifle.

[barbieliberationarmy]

Skin to Win

chapter 5

Lexa woke by degrees to a satisfied, languid heaviness in her limbs, a powerfully itchy nose, and an uncomfortable fullness in her bladder. She was disoriented at first, not from waking in a strange bed—she traveled often enough that she’d grown accustomed to sleeping in unfamiliar surroundings—but from the solid, warm weight on her chest and belly.  She cracked an eye to a field of tangled blonde hair across her face that obscured her vision.  That explains the itch, she thought, twitching her nose to ward off a sneeze.  

Clarke.

Lexa gently lifted the fall of hair away with her free hand—her left arm was still twined around Clarke, holding her close—and tucked it behind Clarke’s ear.  Her lips curved in an involuntary smile at the sight of her.  Clarke’s head was pillowed on Lexa’s bare chest, just above her left breast.  Over my heart.  One arm was slung possessively across Lexa’s middle.  The sheets had drifted down to their waists in the night; beneath the covers, Clarke’s left leg hiked up and hooked over Lexa’s own.  She was clearly still sound asleep.  Lexa had no way of knowing whether Clarke always slept this deeply, or if last night’s exertions—Lexa warmed at the recollection���wore her out, but oh, how she wanted to find out.  

Lexa lifted her head slightly to get a better angle of Clarke’s face.  Not too much, she didn’t want to wake her.  Her smile softened.  Clarke’s lips were parted and a tiny strand of drool dribbled onto Lexa’s body.  As Lexa’s own body came awake, she felt cool air waft over the damp patch of skin with each of Clarke’s steady, even breaths. Her pulse thumped heavily when she noted that Clarke’s mouth lay just scant inches from her own breast.  Lexa’s nipple perked eagerly as her body came to the same realization, fondly recalling Clarke dragging and swirling her tongue across the tight buds before engulfing them in the wet heat of her mouth. Lexa shifted at the warmth the thought roused in her lower belly and was reminded of the discomfort that had woken her in the first place.        

Lexa hated to disturb Clarke, but she really needed the bathroom. She tried to ease out from under Clarke without waking her, but the movement caused her to stir.  Clarke’s nose wrinkled.  She grumbled incoherently into Lexa’s shoulder and burrowed even closer. Lexa would have found it adorable under other circumstances, but the pressure was exacerbating her situation. She sighed regretfully and nudged Clarke more strongly, dropping a light kiss on the crown of Clarke’s head.  “Sorry, baby, but I’ve gotta pee,” she murmured. Clarke whined, but Lexa could no longer postpone the inevitable.  She rolled awkwardly from beneath Clarke and shuffled, naked and yawning, to the suite’s shared bathroom.  

Physical urges seen to, Lexa returned to the bedroom and paused in the doorway.  She leaned against the door frame and stood quietly, drinking in the riotous golden wave now strewn across the pillows.  The late morning sun filtered through the blinds and dappled the creamy expanse of Clarke’s back with a buttery glow.  The sheets slipped low enough to expose the smudge of dimples at the swell of her ass.  

How did I get so lucky?

Read the rest on AO3