#clextober19

[femininenachos]

Clextober 2019 - Day 8: Vampires/Werewolves

Yours for the (s)taking

In the passing of two millennia Lexa bore witness to mortals in all their frailties and tyrannies and glories, their capacity for greatness and predisposition to selfishness and greed.

Their great beauty, too.

And in this moment, there are none lovelier than the woman in salmon pink scrubs currently blocking the exit to the refrigerated storage room and threatening to summon hospital security if Lexa doesn’t relinquish those two bags of O Negative.

Coming soon...

[sabrinushka]

Clextober 2019 - Day 11: Flannel

[thecrimsonknight]

Clextober Day 8: Vampires/ Werewolves

[hushthots]

Clextober Day 8: Vampires/Werewolves

“I know what you are.”

“Say it. Out loud.” 

pose - @effiethejay

[cantgetoutofmyheda]

Can you write modern au clexa at a Halloween party. So our costumes match and my friend keeps telling me to come take a photo but oh shit you're hot

To say Clarke was pissed would be an understatement. Fall was her favorite season for so many reasons—being able to layer with cute sweaters, pumpkin spiced lattes, apple picking, and Halloween. She was pissed because for the first time, Raven actually beat her at beer pong. It was a weekly ritual in their apartment—everyone came over on Saturday nights and they’d play, watch movies, and just hang out.

Knowing that they were scoring an invite to Octavia’s new boyfriend’s Halloween party, Raven decided to up the ante and forced Clarke into a bet: winner got to choose the loser’s costume. The blonde, however, felt confident. She already had her costume all planned out: Stevie Nicks; she had gone to every vintage store in the city to find every piece she needed to complete her look. Raven’s never beat her, not once in the five years they had known each other, so she had nothing to worry about.

Or so she thought.

---

“You know what,” Clarke groaned as she buttoned her top button, “I don’t think I’m going to come anymore.”

“A bet’s a bet, Griff,” Raven laughed, “And if memory serves me correct, your costume will be fully complete once you have the accent.”

“I’m not doing the accent, Rae,” the blonde whined, “I’m not coming.”

“You’re definitely coming, we told O we’d go for moral support. Plus, if Lincoln’s friends are as hot as he is, maybe we’ll both score tonight,” Raven shrugged, finishing the final touches for her own costume.

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Well of course you’re going to meet someone, you’re dressed like a slutty Lara Croft.”

“It’s not slutty, Griff,” the brunette began to defend herself, “This is literally what she wore.”

“I look like I’m about to wrestle an alligator,” Clarke huffed, “no one’s even going to know who I am.” 

Raven turned to smirk at her friend, “That’s what the accent’s for, babe. And the name tag.”

“Name tag?” Clarke turned around to face Raven but was met with the girl slapping a sticker across the front of her khaki jumpsuit: Bindi Irwin.

---

“I didn’t realize Clarke could do an Australian accent,” Octavia observed, as the blonde went over to get herself another drink.

“Me neither,” Raven laughed, “Honestly, I thought it would be embarrassing for her, but homegirl’s making it work in her favor.”

“Honestly,” Lincoln chimed into the conversation, “if I hadn’t met her before this, I would have thought she was actually from there.”

“I wonder if Griff would take me up on another game of beer pong, I have another bet in mind,” Raven said, eyes on the game set up across the room.

Octavia smacked her on the back of her head, “She’s already pissed about this bet, you idiot. Don’t make her more mad than she already is, I don’t want her leaving here.”

Lincoln laughed at his girlfriend, “Yeah, and the party’s just getting started. Don’t want her storming out just yet.”

---

“I can’t believe I’m wearing this,” Lexa murmured as they approached Lincoln’s front door.

Her older sister rolled her eyes, “It’s a Halloween party, Lex. You needed a costume. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“You want me to thank you for giving me your pajamas?” Lexa cocked a brow.

“Don’t be a little shit,” Anya nudged her, “You don’t have to stay long, Linc just wanted us to meet his girl, then you can take the damn thing off and go out to whatever thing it was you had tonight.”

“It wasn’t a thing,” Lexa rolled her eyes, “the bartender from the other week is working again and she was hot. You ruined it by getting too drunk because I had to take you home. I’m just working on my second shot.”

“Okay,” Anya said, finally opening the door, “so stay for an hour and then you can go and try to get laid.”

---

“Holy shit, who is that?” Raven asked, mouth agape as she stared at a female Indiana Jones talking to Lincoln and Octavia.

Clarke looked where Raven’s eyes were already drawn to, “I dunno, mate, but she looks like Indiana Jones.”

“Clarke,” Raven smiled, turning her attention to her friend and putting her hand on her shoulder, “I am so glad you’re finally embracing the awesomeness of your costume.”

The blonde took a sip of her drink, “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

“Would it be rude if I interrupted their conversation right now?” Raven asked, looking back in the direction of the other group, “I feel like I can get a proper intro this way.”

“Shoot your shot, Lara,” Clarke laughed.

Raven grabbed her arm, “Okay, well you’re coming with me.”

They made their way to the trio and Lincoln introduced them all. As soon as Anya took notice of Clarke’s nametag, she couldn’t help but laugh, “This is amazing. This is fucking amazing.”

Clarke arched a brow, “Oh?”

“Have you seen my sister around here?” Anya asked, trying to calm herself down.

“Ahn,” Lincoln started, “they just met you. How would they know who Lexa is?”

“Figured they would have recognized her, considering she’s matching Bindi over here,” Anya gestured towards the blonde.

Raven directed her attention to Anya, “Please tell me she’s dressed as Steve Irwin.”

“Nope,” the girl shook her head, “but you’ll know her when you see her. I’m going to go get a drink, anyone need anything?”

Raven looked at Clarke and mouthed, “This is it,” before telling Anya she’d accompany her.

As the two made their way to the bar cart, Anya was the one that broke the silence, “Lara Croft, huh?”

Raven looked the girl up and down, “Indiana Jones, huh?”

“A very bad joke could be made about our costumes right now,” Anya smirked as she poured herself a drink.

“Or a very good pick up line,” Raven offered.

“Try me.”

Raven was never one to back down from a challenge, “I know you raided the lost ark, but I’d raid your tomb any day.”

Without saying a word, Anya stepped out of the way so the other girl could make her drink of choice.

“So?” Raven asked, mixing her cocktail.

Anya raised a brow, “So what?”

“Did it work?” Raven asked, sipping her whiskey and soda.

“Hmm,” Anya brought her finger to her chin, “Yeah, I think it did. Find me for a dance later,” she winked then walked away.

Raven rushed to find Clarke—in her haste, she ran into what seemed to be a big green blanket, “Shit, sorry.”

The figure turned to face Raven, but their face was hidden in the depths of the overly large onesie, “No worries, though it’s kind of hard to miss me.”

“You must be Anya’s sister,” Raven pointed out, “the crocodile.”

“That I am,” the voice said, “on both accounts, I guess.”

“You should meet my friend,” Raven laughed, “your costumes go together weirdly well.”

“I’m heading out soon, but maybe I’ll catch them around,” the voice offered before walking away.

---

“Clarke,” Raven grabbed the blonde who was in the middle of a conversation with what seemed to be someone dressed up as Han Solo, “come with me.”

Clarke excused herself before turning her attention to Raven, “What the fuck, Rae?”

“I ran into Anya’s sister��Anya totally wants me, by the way, but that’s besides the point,” she let out in one breath, “You need to see her costume, I need a picture of you guys together.”

“What’s she dressed as?” Clarke asked, still unamused by the interruption.

“You’ll know when you see her,” Raven laughed, “I have an idea for a bet.”

“No. No way, Rae,” Clarke stepped back, “I’m not doing that with you again, look at where it got me.”

Raven grabbed her by the arms, “If she’s as hot as Anya, you’d totally thank me for this little get up of yours.”

“If?” Clarke questioned, “I thought you said you met her?”

“Well,” Raven shrugged, “I did, but I couldn’t see her face because of her-”

“Oh my God,” Clarke interrupted her, “is that a crocodile? Is that Anya’s sister?”

“Griff,” Raven pulled her attention back, “I will give you $50 if you jump on top of her and pretend to wrangle her.”

Clarke’s felt like her eyes were about to launch out of their sockets, “That’s assault, you psycho. I don’t even know her, I’m not doing that.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Anya’s voice entered, “but my sister basically made a comment about wanting to be under a hot girl tonight. You can make her dreams come true.”

“I’m not doing this,” Clarke shook her head.

Raven reached into her pocket and pulled out cash, “C’mon, Griff. Pretty please. It’ll be the best Halloween memory we’ll ever have.”

“Yeah, until she realizes a strange is jumping her and punches me in the face,” Clarke quipped back.

Anya laughed, “She wouldn’t. I know her better than anyone, she’ll get a good laugh out of it once she sees your costume.”

The blonde looked between the two, before gulping down her drink, followed by Raven’s. She grabbed the cash her friend was dangling, “I’m probably going to regret this.”

Before she knew it, she was right behind the crocodile. She quietly crept closer, to be at a more favorable distance to make her $50 entrance. From her vantage point, the girl wasn’t holding anything that she would spill, and there wasn’t anyone directly in front of her that would get trampled on in case they fell. Clarke took a deep breath—it was now or never.

---

Lexa stood there checking her phone, she had almost been there for forty-five minutes, and wondered if that was an acceptable amount of time before she dashed out. As she began to walk forward, she heard a rather loud Australian voice call out from behind her.

“G’day, little croc!”

Before she knew it, she was face down on the ground with the weight of a body sitting on top of her. “Oof,” and a loud groan was all she could muster out.

The voice spoke up again, “Didn’t know I’d get me a live one today, mate.”

The weight finally lifted off of her and a set of arms pulled her back to her feet. She took the hood of the onesie off her head to get a better look at the situation, but saw that it was her sister that pulled her up, “What the fuck was that, Ahn?”

Anya couldn’t control her laughter, as she pointed behind where Lexa was standing. She took the cue to turn around and was met with Clarke’s bashful grin.

“They made me do it,” was all the blonde could get out. Raven was right, and Clarke made a mental note to thank her friend for forcing her into the outfit because this girl was the most attractive crocodile she had ever seen, “I’m Clarke, but you can call me ‘Bindi.’”

“Ah,” Lexa said, examining the girl, “I see how this makes sense, now. I’m Lexa, by the way, but I guess you can call me ‘crocodile.’”

Raven looked between the two who seemed to be staring at each other, “Just to be clear, no one made her do anything. I bet her $50 and she took it fair and square.”

“$50, huh?” Lexa asked, eyes still locked on the blonde’s.

Clarke smirked, “Want to split the winnings for your troubles?”

“Or we can get out of here and you can buy me a drink?”

“Deal,” Clarke put out her hand.

Lexa took her hand to shake it, “One question, though. Is the accent real?”

Clarke shrugged, “It can be if you want it to be.”

[onemilliongoldstars]

a little piece of magic

For as long as she can remember, Clarke has used her magic to keep others away, but when her pretty neighbour comes knocking looking for a rare potion ingredient she can’t help herself.

Read on ao3

-

Clarke has always had exceptional wards. Ever since she was a teenager, and would use them to keep her mother from her room while she blasted witch pop from her speakers and skulked about in long black skirts – such a cliché – she has been able to easily keep people at a distance.

(Her therapist would say this is indicative of a deeper issue, but that’s by the by.)

When she moved into her new apartment she set up her standard wards by the door, along the windows, and across the corridor, and when her neighbours cross through their shared hallway at all times of the night she can usually ignore the slight tremors of sensation she feels. So when a knock comes to her door without any warning, she almost falls from her armchair, where’s she curled reading an old book of her father’s. Albus, her tetchy familiar, jumps from her lap and throws her an infuriated glance at being disturbed from his nap, his tabby fur bristling.

The knocking comes again, more impatiently, and Clarke stares at the door in amazement. She feels for her wards, but there is no disturbance, and a shiver runs through her as she realises that the person behind the door must have magic. The third bout of knocking is enough to rouse her from her chair and send Albus skittering across the floor into the bedroom.

Clarke braces herself and uncurls her fingers to reveal the blue magic of mage fire in the palm of her hand. She was never the best at defensive magic, but if the person on the other side of the door means her harm this will at least give her a fighting chance.

“Hello?” Comes a voice from behind the door, as she ducks under the herbs drying above the doorway. “I really need your help!”

It’s enough to give her pause, and her mouth drops open when she peers through her peephole to see her neighbour stood outside – her very pretty neighbour, who always seems to be bringing girls home who Clarke has to resist the urge to curse with boils - wringing her hands together anxiously.

She opens the door just a crack and demands, “You have magic?” Her neighbour startles at the sight of her,

“Oh! Hi, yes, yes I do.” Her eyes flicker nervously to the mage fire, “Um, I come in peace.”

“Oh, sorry,” Clarke closes her hand around the fire, extinguishing it with a puff of purple smoke. She opens the door, but doesn’t step back to welcome her neighbour inside. No matter how pretty the girl is, even now with her dark hair falling from her braid and a manic expression in her eyes, she knows not to welcome strangers over her threshold without good reason. “Are you alright?”

“Not really,” The girl cringes, “I really need some scorpion venom, have you got any?”

“Scorpion venom?” Clarke stares at her, eyes wide with disbelief. “Well yeah, I have a few vials, but-”

“Please, please could I borrow some?” Her neighbour cuts through her, eyes impeaching. “It’s an emergency.”

“Yeah, fine, I guess.” Clarke backs away over the threshold. “Come in, let me find it for you.”

“Thank you,” Her neighbours steps hesitantly inside, and stands politely in the hallway as Clarke crosses the room to dig through her cupboards. Albus appears from the bedroom to give her neighbour a suspicious glance and trots across the living room to curl up on his favourite chair, as if worried she’ll steal it.

“Don’t mind him,” Clarke says over her shoulder, “He was a warlock in a past life, so he thinks he knows best about everything.”

Albus gives a haughty sniff and her neighbour smiles.

“Your place is amazing,” She offers, and Clarke follows her gaze through the apartment.

The high, domed ceilings and roomy living room, with an open fire, fit impossibly into the studio apartment. Plants grow from every corner and when she peers into the ceiling above, the evening sky is just beginning to be filled with streaks of pink.

“Oh thanks,” She offers a shy smile, gathering a few bottles of venom into her arms. “My friend Raven is amazing at spatial enchantments, she helped me.”

“Do you know a lot about potions?” Her neighbour casts a glance at the rows of ingredients in her kitchen, and the cauldrons lining the china cabinet.

“I dabble,” She answers, modestly, “Will this be enough?”  

“More than enough, thank you.” The girl accepts the vials gratefully, but hesitates,

“Actually, would you be able to help me? I could really use the help of an expert.”

“Oh, I’m no expert,” Clarke hastens to correct her.

“You’re much better than I am though,” Her neighbour pleads. “Just five minutes or so?”

She is helpless to the pleading in the girl’s pretty eyes, and gives in far more quickly than she would like to admit. “Fine.”

With one final glance at Albus, she summons her keys into her hands and follows her neighbour across the hallway and into her apartment.

“I’m Lexa, by the way,” Her neighbour says over her shoulder, casting a pretty smile aside like it’s nothing.

“H-hi, I’m Clarke,” She goes weak at the knees at the sight of that smile.

With an elegant flick of the wrist, Lexa lets her into her apartment. Far from the cluttered, eclectic taste of her own apartment, Lexa has turned her place from a small, shabby studio to a spacious, neat, warm apartment, filled with white accents and colour coded bookshelves. Wide windows, reminiscent of apartments uptown, let the golden evening sunshine in and candles are flickering neatly near the window seat in the living room. The only thing out of place is the weasel lounging on the back of her couch, glaring at them both as they enter the room.

“Sorry about her,” Lexa shuts the door behind them, hurrying to the kitchen with her vials in hand. “She’s really mad at me.”

“Is she your familiar?” Clarke has never seen a weasel for a familiar before, but then Finn had a toad named Yoda, so who is she to judge?

At her words the weasel hisses her protest and Lexa cringes delicately.

“No,” She nods to the snowy owl on the bookcase in the corner of her living room, and says. “That’s Astrid, she’s my familiar.” The bird pokes her head out from beneath her wing to fix Clarke with one yellow eye, before turning away again. “This,” Lexa glances back at the weasel, “is Anya, and she is why I need your help.”

Clarke can’t help the curious smile that crosses her lips. “You know her?”

“She’s my friend,” Lexa explains, as she begins to gather ingredients on the spotless work surface. “She bought a bad spell from some back alley dealer, thought it would turn her into a bird.” Lexa rolls her eyes when the weasel squeaks her indignation. “She needs me to change her back in time for a date she has tonight.”

Clarke can’t help but laugh, gazing down at the furious little creature in Lexa’s apartment. “This sounds exactly like something my friends would do.” Her eyes narrow as she watches Lexa pull out a clunky iron cauldron and settle it over her hob. “Are you really using that?” She cringes as Lexa starts to prepare her ingredients. “You definitely shouldn’t be chopping the berry root that finely.”

Lexa grimaces a little, stepping back to let Clarke peer over her shoulder. “Like I said, I’m no expert at potions.”

Clarke sighs, and turns away to hide her grin as she offers. “I suppose I could make it for you.”

Lexa’s eyes brighten with relief. “Really? That would be amazing Clarke, thank you.” She glances back at the weasel and prompts, “Anya, thank Clarke.” The weasel just flicks her tail impatiently, and Lexa sighs and gives Clarke an apologetic smile, “Sorry, she’s always mean, even when she’s human.”

The words draw laughter from between her lips, “It’s alright, I wouldn’t want to be a weasel either.” She looks back to the cauldron and rolls up her sleeves. “Let’s get started, can you be trusted with stirring?”

“I think so,” Lexa allows, returning her grin, and retrieves a ladle from one of her neatly stocked drawers.

As she begins to slice the berry root, Clarke asks, curiously. “So why didn’t you have any scorpion venom of your own?”

“Oh,” Lexa wrinkles her nose, “I got into a fight with my usual supplier.” When Clarke glances at her, intrigued, she continues a little reluctantly. “I saw him at the Hallowed Inn with Anya the other week, slipping something into some girl’s drink. I called him out on it and things got a little heated.”

Clarke pauses, her knife stilling, and she feels fury curl in the pit of her stomach. “That makes me sick, love potions should be illegal. Not everyone knows the charms to reveal it.”

“I know,” Lexa agrees quietly, and for a moment they are both silent as Clarke tips a healthy amount of slug juice into the cauldron. “At least you had some to hand,” The smile she offers is distinctly charming, and Clarke fumbles not to slice her fingers off.

“Always good to have some spare,” She finally offers, a little lamely, and then rushes to continue, flushing up to her ears. “How did you even know I had magic? I’m so careful.” The expression Lexa fixes her with is distinctly sceptical, and she bristles. “What?”

“I’m sorry it’s just,” Lexa half shrugs, “You really aren’t that careful. Last month when you had a house party? I swear a hundred people went through your door and I could hear your indoor fireworks.”

Clarke’s blush darkens again and she laughs sheepishly. “I guess you have a point.”

“But before that,” Lexa continues a little more quietly, and when Clarke steals a glance at her, she is gazing resolutely into the cauldron, pink tinging her cheeks. “You make toadstool soup… sometimes I can smell it through the walls.”

For a second Clarke thinks she may be able to magic herself away in a puff of smoke, so painful is her embarrassment. “Oh I-I’m really sorry, I didn’t…”

“No, don’t be,” Lexa hurries to correct her, looking up to meet her eyes. “I like it, reminds me of home.”

“Oh,” As Clarke gazes at her it is like something tender is blossoming between her ribs, something soft and warm. “I can always bring some over if you’d like. I normally have leftovers.”

“Really?” Lexa’s expression brightens, and Clarke has to resist the urge to reach out and take her hand.

They are disturbed by a raucous clatter from behind, and turn to see that Anya has jumped up onto the counter and pushed a metal tin filled with teabags to the ground. Lexa glares at her, “We’re going as fast as we can!” Her expression softens when she turns back to Clarke. “I’m really sorry about her.”

“My friends are worse,” Clarke assures her with a laugh, and scrapes the berry roots from the chopping board into the cauldron. “Stir that three times clockwise, three times anticlockwise, got it?”

“Got it,” Lexa nods, watching from the corner of her eye as Clarke begins finely chopping mandrake leaves. “So how did you get so good at potions?”

“I just think it’s like cooking,” Clarke shrugs, “You get a feel for what’s right.”

“You’re being modest,” Lexa smiles, “Is your line of work in potions?”

“Occasionally I sell them on the side,” Clarke smiles, “But I’m studying to be a Healer.”

“Wow,” Lexa’s eyes shine bright with admiration. “That’s amazing.”

Clarke can feel the blush returning to her cheeks, and has to look back to her slicing to stop herself from turning bright red. “What about you? What do you do?”

Lexa gazes bashfully down into the cauldron, “I’m a teacher, and I’m writing a book on transfiguration.”

“Really? You must be so good at it.”

Lexa shrugs, lifting the ladle aside to let Clarke slide in the mandrake leaf. “I suppose it’s like you and potions, it just feels like it comes naturally.”

“Will you show me?” Clarke can’t help but ask, and the warm evening light that shines in through the kitchen window dances across Lexa’s features as she smiles, shyly, and waves her hand.

The vase of flowers in the window twitches and then the flowers lift from their stems and turn into beautiful, white butterflies fluttering across the room to circle both of them playfully. Clarke lets out a delighted laugh, gazing upwards, and when a butterfly settles on her hand she gasps in amazement. Another bang comes from behind them, and Clarke flinches as Lexa gives her friend a glower so severe Clarke is sure she would turn to dust beneath it.

The butterflies turn to flowers, fluttering down to the floor, and Lexa sighs. “We should finish this,” She says, and Clarke nods her agreement.

“Final touch,” She reaches out and accepts the ladle from Lexa, tipping a few drops of the scorpion venom into the mixture. Murmuring a quiet incantation, she waves her hand over the cauldron and watches the liquid turn as green as summer grass. Lexa fetches a small saucer and they fill it with a spoonful and place it on the counter beside Anya. “If you have some Tupperware,” Clarke comments conversationally. “This can freeze and keep for up to six months.” Her gaze flickers to Anya, who is drinking feverishly. “In case this happens again.”

Lexa smiles and opens her mouth to respond, but with a sudden flash of light and the slight whiff of singed fur, the weasel on the counter transforms into a tall, furious looking blonde woman, who pushes herself off the counter with a curse.

“I am going to kill that bitch if I ever see her again,” She fumes, her voice rasping, and Clarke has to bite back her laughter as the woman shakes herself. “And you,” She turns on Lexa, “I was a weasel for almost eight hours because you couldn’t work up the courage to ask your crush for one final ingredient!”

Clarke’s eyes widen, her gaze landing on Lexa, who gapes at Anya’s words and stammers.

“I-I don’t…. that’s not what happened-”

“Oh please,” Anya huffs and with a click of her fingers her outfit disappears, replacing itself with a smart dress and patent heels which click against the tile of the kitchen floor as she flings open a cupboard door and says. “Look! She already has scorpion venom!”

With that, she turns on her heel and strides from the apartment, slamming the door so hard the hinges shake. A long silence follows her departure, and Clarke turns to fix her gaze on Lexa, who is staring down at her shoes as if they might vanish from her feet at any second.

“So,” She leans against the counter, fighting the urge to grin like a lunatic. “You already had some scorpion venom?”

Lexa grimaces, “I guess so.” She offers an innocent smile, “I must have missed it?”

“You know if you wanted to ask me out you could have just done it like a normal person.” She teases, but ever so gently because Lexa looks so painfully embarrassed she feels sorry for her.

“I couldn’t,” Lexa admits, a little pathetically, “I see you come and go all the time and I try to catch your eye in the corridor, but you never say anything more than hi. I thought you hated me.”

“Hated you?” Clarke’s heart drops, “I barely knew you! I mean sure, I was a little jealous of the parade of half-dressed girls coming in and out of your apartment-”

“It is not a parade,” Lexa rolls her eyes, and then hesitates, “Wait, you were jealous?”

“I was,” Clarke admits, freely, “You’re gorgeous, I wanted to curse them all with boils or a rash or something equally as gross.”

“Why were you jealous?” Lexa sounds a little awed, and Clarke laughs.

“Because they’d all been on a date with my gorgeous neighbour, who I’ve been secretly crushing on.” Lexa’s eyes widen and as a grin crosses her features she gathers herself enough to say.

“Well maybe we can do something about that, are you free tonight?”

Clarke glances at the cauldron and half shrugs, biting back her huge smile. “I suppose my work here is done, what were you thinking?”

“Pizza and a movie?” Lexa glances at her TV, “I have Netflix and Hulu.”

“What a charmer,” Clarke teases, trying to ignore the excited butterflies in her stomach. “Only if I get to pick the movie.”

Lexa’s smile widens. “Deal.”

[writtenletterstoyou]

#clextober19 #day13

A Pinch of Magic. 

Seal It With A Kiss

It’s no secret that magic still exists in the world although it is nowhere near as common as it may have been at one point in time. In fact, these days it’s quite rare. Those who do still have magic keep it mostly to themselves for their own safety and that includes Lexa and her family.

So what happens when a spell goes wrong and her secret is reveled?

Read the story here!  

[eris223]

Lexa was a witch. A real witch with magic flowing through her veins, yet she never told a soul that fact. Still, townsfolk showed up on her doorstep after dark, begging for a spell or potion, and Lexa was more than happy to lend a neighborly hand. As long as the request didn't fall outside her moral boundaries. Hexes, curses, love potions and spells. That's where Lexa drew the line.

Clarke was a baker who just opened shop in the small Massachusettes town. Everyone warned her about a certain, very beautiful, frequent customer. They would tell her how scary and dangerous Lexa Woods was.

But sometimes magic was a fickle little thing, and when she made up her mind, it was usually pretty futile to fight it.

Read on ao3

[jordswriteswords]

Clextober19: Flannel

"Faster!"

"I'm going as fast as I can, Clarke!" Lexa tried her best to be gentle with her wife, but frustration was mounting as the moaning from beside her grew more pained. Lexa slammed her hand down on the horn of her car, a loud honk trilling out into the jammed highway.

"Fuck me," Lexa sighed, knowing it was pointless to be mad at the traffic for existing.

Clarke let out a pained grunt, followed by a pitiful whine.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Lexa soothed. She wiped Clarke's sweaty brow with her sleeve.

"I don't want your apologies, I just want -- ahhh!" Clarke's scolding was cut off by another sharp pain.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry," Lexa said again.

"This is all your fault!" Clarke cried. "You did this to me!"

"I know, I know. If only this fucking traffic would move!" Lexa slammed her hand down on the horn again, somehow hoping that the cars would magically move for them. They needed to get to the hospital now.

Tears leaked out of Clarke's eyes as another wave of pain washed over her. Lexa leaned over and pressed kisses to her temple.

"I don't think I'm going to make it, Lex," Clarke cried.

Lexa gaped at her wife. They had to make it. They had to. Lexa didn't know what to do. "Just breathe. Follow me," she tried to coach.

Clarke tried to follow, but she was cut off by another whirlwind of pain, screaming into the dash of the car. Lexa nearly split her lip, biting it out if sympathy for her wife.

"Help me," Clarke said. "Help me into the back. Please."

Lexa growled at the traffic again, then swung the driver side door open. The cars still hadn't budged. She ran around the SUV to the passenger door and nearly ripped the handle off upon opening. She undid Clarke's seatbelt and took her in her arms and placed her in the backseat. She took one last glance out at what seemed to be never-moving traffic and climbed into the back with her wife.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, wiping Clarke's brow again.

"I love you," Clarke breathed through her exhaustion.

"I love you, too," Lexa said. She took Clarke's hand between hers and pressed kisses to her knuckles.

The blonde leaned her head back against the glass in desperate search of coolness to soothe her sweaty brow.

"It's time, Lex, it's time," she cried.

Lexa's chin wobbled, and she took off her flannel shirt and placed it on the seat between them.

"Okay, baby, on three, I want you to push. One, two, three."

***

The sound of sharp, terrified cries filled the car.

It was music to the couple's ears.

Lexa wrapped her flannel around the little bundle of flesh, using her sleeves to wipe away as much fluid and blood from it's little face.

"It's a girl," she whispered, eyes filled with so much love when she looked at the strongest woman in the world - her wife. "It's a girl," she repeated, amazed by the tiny fingers that grasped onto her thumb.

"It's our little girl," Clarke said, chin wobbling with emotion as she looked at the love of her life holding their baby girl.

Lexa let her tears flow as she passed the bundle of flannel joy to her partner, leaning over her to give her a careful kiss. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," Clarke responded. "I love you both."

Clarke held their baby girl to her chest, tracing her fingers over her dark brown curls. "She's got quite the head of hair," she laughed, her own tears leaking from her eyes.

"She's got your eyes," Lexa commented as the baby opened them just enough to gaze up at her mommies before closing them back and snuggling down in the soft red and black material.

"Hi, baby," Lexa said. "happy birthday."

[sabrinushka]

Clextober 2019 - Day 7: BYOB: Bring your own Boo’s

Someone was not happy with the costumes Lexa got for this year’s Halloween party

[100hearteyes]

Clextober19 - Day 3 - Monster Mash

A terrible plague has left the planet’s population divided between zombies and humans.

When an unusual zombie named L sees her walking-dead brethren attacking a living woman, she decides to rescue her. The woman, Clarke, sees that L is different from the other zombies, and the pair embark on an unusual friendship.

As their bond grows, L becomes more and more human and Clarke finds herself entertaining two unthinkable possibilities: one, maybe all hope is not lost for humanity after all; and two, she may be falling in love with a zombie.

It’s a Warm Bodies AU.

[dontcha-wanheda]

Day 11: Flannel  (AKA - Lumberjack Lexa)

[thecrimsonknight]

Clextober Day 10: Ghouls’ Night Out

[butmakeitgayblog]

It’s you, isn’t it?

Clarke Griffin had always been more than a bit strange.

At least, that’s what the residents of her sleepy Massachusetts town she grew up in always said.

Clarke herself never really felt any different than anyone else as a child. She liked playing and pretending and dancing and shouting, she liked toys and arts and crafts time and hanging upside down on the monkey bars. But somewhere between kindergarten and fifth grade, almost every single one of her peers decided there was something… creepy about her.

[cantgetoutofmyheda]

Clextober 2019 - Vampires/Werewolves

Anon Prompt: “I’m not leaving this place without you.”

—

It was like clockwork. Every Wednesday at 6:45pm the quiet brunette would saunter into the quaint restaurant. It was a small town, the kind of town that if you were born there, you’d likely spend the rest of your life there. This mysterious brunette, though, she stuck out like a sore thumb. It had been short of two months of Lexa being there—her great uncle Alexander had passed away and she was his last known relative. It was supposed to be an “in and out” process—clean the house, list it for sale, box Alexander’s things up, donate them to shelters, and then be on her way, but her stay had extended far longer than anyone would have thought. The house needed some fixing before it could be listed on the market and the process of switching over the title of the house to her name ended up being more complex than it should have been.

This Wednesday was no different than the rest. Lexa walked into the small establishment and took it upon herself to walk past the host station and seat herself. She barely spoke to anyone and always kept to herself, and like every Wednesday before this one, she came alone.

“Your fan club is here,” Clarke heard Miller call from the front of house.

Clarke brushed off the teasing, “Thanks, Miller. Your food’s up for your corner table in the back, better get it out there before they stiff you a tip again.”

The blonde dropped off the tray of food she was carrying to her early-bird diners before she made her way to Lexa’s table—the brunette always sat on the same side of the same exact booth every visit, “Hey there. I’d ask if you wanted to hear the specials, but I already know the answer to that. Double whiskey, straight up and the check?

“If you don’t mind,” Lexa nodded

Clarke grinned, “Never have, won’t start now. I’ll bring it over in a few minutes, the bar shouldn’t have too many orders ‘round this time of day.”

Lexa nodded again as she watched the blonde walk off to put her order in with Octavia behind the bar. She found herself bringing her attention away from the waitress, her insides started to twist—she was hungrier than she should have been for the time of day. She looked down and laid her eyes on the gold watch that adorned her wrist, cursing at herself for skipping lunch earlier for the sake of getting a paint job done and over with.

Not even a minute had passed before the blonde reappeared, setting her drink down next to her check and joked, “Sure you don’t want to hear tonight’s specials?” She looked over her shoulder to the older couple eating their dinner, before turning back to Lexa, “Johnny and Cath over there are sure loving Murphy’s meatloaf.”

Lexa peered over Clarke’s shoulder, wincing at the sight of the meat mushed around their plates, “Never have, won’t start now.”

“Alrighty then, Lexa. Enjoy your whiskey. Maybe one of these days I can convince you to stay for dinner, too,” the blonde laughed.

Lexa took a sip, “Doubt it, the food here… It’s not really up my alley.”

Clarke nodded, though she wasn’t sure why she did. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why Lexa frequented the restaurant every week if all she wanted was a glass of cheap whiskey, “You know there are other places in town you can go to get a drink, right?”

“I can stop coming here, if that’s what you’re insinuating,” the brunette set her glass down on the table and looked straight into Clarke’s eyes.

The blonde inhaled deeply—Lexa was extremely difficult to read, but from what she gathered, the woman didn’t mean any malice behind her words. If anything, it seemed as if Lexa had taken a liking to her, especially from seeing her around town and barely speaking two words to anyone else, “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re an easy customer. Same day every week, same order, you leave when you’re done so you don’t hog up my tables, and you tip 100% of your check every time. I’d be an idiot to tell you to stop coming here.”

The brunette nodded, “So why the suggestion?”

“Just wasn’t sure if you’ve ventured around town. Maybe one of the bars would be more your scene, you don’t necessarily strike me as the type to be surrounded by the dinosaurs that come through this place,” Clarke shrugged.

“Well then, that’s appreciated,” Lexa let out a small smile, “I get along with dinosaurs quite well, though.”

Clarke raised a brow, “You have a sense of humor,” she pointed out. “Who woulda thought?”

“I’m an old soul, at heart,” Lexa said, bringing the glass to her lips again.

The blonde smiled, “I gathered that the second you walked in here that first time. There’s something about you. I can’t quite place it yet, but I’m sure in time I will. But that’s enough out of me, I’ll let you enjoy your evening treat.” Clarke tapped the table with her pen, “I’ll come back around to say bye before you head out—if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure,” Lexa nodded before turning her attention away from Clarke, looking back down at her watch again.

It was ten after seven—she had about fifty minutes to make it back home before her dinner would be ready. Just a few more weeks. After that, she’d be able to go back to her real home, back to the life she was used to. This short stint in Arkadia would be behind her, and so would the facade she had been having to keep up over the long few weeks.

She was jostled out her thoughts at the sound of a glass breaking. She looked up and noticed Clarke hovering over a table in the back in a heated argument with a customer, the brown-haired man was clearly inebriated, likely the cause of the glass shards lining the table. She waited a little longer, watching how her server was able to hold her own. It wasn’t until the man placed his hands around Clarke’s wrists that Lexa’s body went into overdrive.

In a matter of seconds, Lexa was standing next to Clarke, she now had a grasp on the man’s hand, “Let go.”

“Lexa?” the blonde was astonished, she hadn’t even realized the woman was standing right next to her.

“Get your hand off of me, you whack job,” the man huffed, trying to shake Lexa off as he still had a hold on the blonde.

“Now,” Lexa stated, “before I rip your hand off her myself.”

“You can’t threaten me like that,” he scoffed, still not loosening his grip, even under the brunette’s ice cold grasp.

“I believe I already did,” there was an esurient look in her eyes, her hunger pangs from before had been exponentially amplified. As the man finally let Clarke’s hand free, the small trail of blood running down her palm gave her a resolution as to why.

Lexa jumped back at the sight, looking down again at the small cut on Clarke’s hand, moving her eyes to the blonde’s, “Are you okay?”

All Clarke could do was nod—so much had happened in such a short period of time. Finn, the angry town drunk set his hands on her, Lexa appearing out of thin air and threatening the man on her behalf, and now, the brunette looked absolutely disgusted by her.

“Go home, Finn. You’re drunk,” Clarke said, tapping the man’s chair with her foot, then turned her attention to Lexa, “Thanks, I need to go get this wrapped up.”

“Yeah, okay. I should get going soon,” Lexa nodded, unable to look straight at the blonde.

Lexa made her way back to her booth to finish the rest of her drink. She watched from her seat as the man slapped a few bills and change on the table—to be frank, she was surprised he even did that. Her eyes never left the man, something he had realized on his way out. She took notice that he stood near the front door, lighting a cigarette, and she couldn’t help but wonder why he was still sticking around. The sound of someone clearing their throat brought her attention back inside the restaurant.

“You’re still here,” Clarke observed, zipping the front of her jacket.

Lexa nodded, taking the last swig of whiskey from her glass, “I am, and by the looks of it, he is too.”

“He’s drunk and he’s an idiot, but thank you again for that,” Clarke managed to smile. She brought her hand up to push a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and Lexa was glad to see that her cut had been bandaged up.

“You don’t have to thank me, I was just doing what was right.”

Clarke pursed her lips, “Right, well I’m going to head out. The boss said I could go home after all that, Octavia will be by to pick up your check. See you same time next week?”

Lexa looked out the window again, the man was still lingering near the door, “Is that the best idea? It looks like he’s waiting for you or something.”

“I’m a big girl, Lexa, I’ll be fine.”

“Let me walk you out, at least. This town is so small that we’re probably heading in the same direction,” Lexa offered, though her expression was still stoic.

“Really,” Clarke shook her head, “I’ll be okay, he’d be an idiot to try anything like that when there are people all around.”

“Clarke,” Lexa emphasized the blonde’s name, “he already grabbed you in a restaurant full of people. Not for nothing, but no one batted an eye. Let me walk you until he’s at least out of sight.”

The blonde took her bottom lip between her teeth, she knew Lexa was right, but there was also something about the woman that had her wondering if her suggested idea would be her best option—there was something about her, something that she still couldn’t quite place, and she didn’t like the feeling.

Before Clarke could respond, the brunette added, “I’m not leaving this place without you.”

“If you insist,” Clarke gave in, “but your uncle’s place is before mine, so I don’t need you to walk me the whole way.”

---

Lexa was reserved as the two walked, but that didn’t surprise Clarke one bit. Her uneasiness started to dissipate once she realized Lexa was really trying to help—Finn had still been outside the restaurant as the pair left, the drunk man screamed profanities at both women as they walked past him.

They had gone on in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Clarke spoke up, “So are you some sort of chef or something? You only eat the food you prepare yourself?”

“Huh?” Lexa looked over to the blonde, her hands were buried deep in her pockets and her head had been buried deep in her thoughts of why she insisted on walking with the woman in the first place.

“You’ve been to the restaurant every week and you’ve never ordered a thing. There aren’t many places to grab food around here and you don’t have a car, so I just assumed you preferred your own cooking to anyone else’s,” the blonde pointed out.

Lexa stopped walking, “How do you know I don’t have a car?”

Clarke shrugged, “Small town.”

“Right,” Lexa nodded, starting to walk again, “And I get my food delivered fresh every day.”

“One of those fancy farm-to-table meal services, huh? Clarke grinned, “Too rich for my blood.”

Lexa winced at the last word that left the blonde’s mouth, “Something like that.” The brunette looked around and realized that they were no longer going in the direction of Alexander’s home, “I thought you said my uncle’s place was on the way.”

“It was,” the blonde blushed, “I got kind of creeped about Finn so I kept walking, I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind, it’ll only be a five minute walk back for you, though. We can part ways here if you’d like.”

“I didn’t know you were capable of such trickery,” Lexa smirked, “It’s fine, I have time before I have to be back,” she looked at her watch—she had about thirty minutes to get home and finally eat before her hunger would take the best of her.

“Thank you,” Clarke smiled, reaching into her purse to pull out a set of keys.

“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

Clarke shrugged, “I know I don’t know you, but something tells me you wouldn’t have done that for just anyone.”

“I suppose you’re right about that,” Lexa stopped at the bottom of the steps leading to the front door of a modest craftsman-style house.

Clarke opened the door and walked in, turning around to see Lexa awkwardly standing at the base of the stoop, “What are you doing?”

“Well, I was going to head back now that I know you got home okay,” Lexa said, shuffling her feet.

Clarke nodded, “Well, I don’t want to be too forward, but since you want me to stop saying ‘thank you’ I figured I could do something nice for you. I have a pretty decent bottle of whiskey in here—tastes much better than what you drink at the restaurant. Stay for one?”

“Oh,” Lexa was honestly surprised. She knew she had enough time for one drink before having to be home, but something inside of her kept her at the bottom of the steps, keeping her from taking a step forward, “that does sound nice.”

Clarke arched a brow, “So what are you still standing there for?”

Lexa’s mind raced at how to tackle the conversation. There was something burning inside of her, wanting to step inside the home and be closer to Clarke—she knew it was partly because of the experience at the restaurant which fueled her hunger, but it was also partly because out of all the people in this small town, Clarke had been the only welcoming person towards her. She took a breath and cursed herself for how forward she was about to become, “I’m waiting for you to invite me in.”

The blonde was thoroughly confused, “I thought I just did.”

“I need you to say it,” Lexa sighed.

“Okay,” Clarke exhaled, still confused and now hoping she wasn’t having a lapse of judgement about inviting the woman in front of her into her home, “Lexa, would you please come inside for a drink?”

The brunette’s legs started to mindlessly move towards the door and into the house, “I only have twenty-five minutes, but I’d love to.”

****

Few notes here: I wrote this pretty hastily and didn’t have any time to proofread, so I’m sorry if there are any typos and whatnot. Secondly, I left this pretty open ended because I have a few ideas for how a larger story could pan out. If you guys are interested in that, let me know and I’ll start to post some snippets when I have time!

[hushthots]

Clextober Day 12: Pumpkin Spice & Everything Nice

pose - @sim-bubble @something-wicked-sims | Lot - @mychqqq-blog