#sometimes i wonder if Lexa ever heard that she was beautiful or at the very least pretty 🥺🥺 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pawprintsmoon · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Meet Again; love in the time of Salem

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27009418

Late October, 1692 found Massachusetts drenched in rain, with lightning reflecting on decaying leaves. Lexa K. Tricruton found herself bruised and muddy after her mare, spooked by the thunder, had bucked her to the ground before running off into the night. The horse would be able to find her way to Lexa’s stables in Salem and Lexa was not lost either. Her house was less than five miles north and though the rain was icy, it was not ice. Certainly she had faced worse.

That was what she told herself before falling to the ground ten minutes later, her vision going black.

When her eyes opened, the once roaring sound of thunder was muffled and she was no longer wet. Candlelight glowed against wooden walls as she eased into consciousness. Despite unfamiliar surroundings, the smell of wood smoke and something sweet calmed her as she sat up. Though her body ached, her bones were warmed and she could not feel fear while she looked around. She was in a small cottage -a comfortable hut really. A chimney filled the middle of the room and furs and dried herbs hung from the rafters. There was no staircase and only one door. Looking down she realized she was on a small bed, the only one in the one room home.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” The voice belonged to the most beautiful woman Lexa had ever seen.

“You had me quite concerned. Had you been unconscious any longer… but there’s nothing to worry about. Here, drink this.”

Lexa could only stare as the blonde woman held out a ladle full of steaming liquid. She was no less than angelic and her blue eyes left Lexa struggling for breath.

“If I was going to poison you I would have just left you out in the storm,” the angel said, clearly mistaking Lexa’s speechlessness for mistrust. “Would’ve saved myself some trouble. Now drink up. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

“Who are you?” Lexa asked. She knew everyone in Salem and the surrounding countryside, and there was no way she could have missed a woman like this.

“My name is Clarke,” said the woman. She lifted the ladle once more. “Please.”

The smell was pleasant and the angel called Clarke did not seem to bear her any ill will. Lexa parted her lips and allowed Clarke to pour the sweet liquid into her mouth. It was just cooled enough to not burn her tongue and tasted sweet; like apples, cinnamon, and something strange that Lexa could not place. Absolutely delicious. Instantaneously Lexa’s headache subsided and she felt her bruises fade. Looking at her hands she saw the mud and scrapes were gone.

“What is that? The flavor is not unpleasant.”

“Oh, just a little brew,” Clarke said, turning away to fuss with the fire. “My own recipe.”

“Pray, tell me what is in it?”

“Well I can’t be giving away my secrets, can I?” Clarke’s tone was teasing and Lexa felt her lips twitch up at the corners. Now that she was feeling better, she really ought to be going. This woman was unknown, and though she seemed benevolent it was unwise to trust strangers in such times as these.

“Thank you, Clarke. I suppose I ought to be on my way,” said Lexa. She looked out one of the small diamond shaped windows to see that the storm still raged. A particularly loud thunder shook the cottage and almost covered the loveliest laugh Lexa had ever heard.

“And what, walk through the freezing cold into town? Absolutely not.” There was something stern about Clarke that told Lexa there was absolutely no way on heaven or earth that she would be allowed back out into the storm. Admittedly this was all very well, as Lexa didn’t have much desire to leave the warmth and this beautiful woman’s presence. Clarke stirred the pot over the fire and hummed a little tune, giving Lexa an opportunity to hide her smile.

“How did you find me?” Lexa asked, accepting that she would stay until the storm died or the sun rose. “Why on earth would you be out on a night like this?”

“Oh, I just had an inkling I might be needed,” Clarke replied, clearing what looked like playing cards and chicken bones off the table and replacing them with the steaming iron pot. “Sometimes I get a feeling about these things. Woman’s intuition I suppose.”

Lexa narrowed her eyes and didn’t respond immediately. Clarke’s explanation was suspicious, but she knew better than to look a gift-horse in the mouth. She accepted another sip of the delicious brew.

“And what were you doing, riding at night through a storm?” asked Clarke.

“I was in Boston avenging a young couple for a witch who had killed all of their livestock. I thought I would be home before the storm hit, but clearly I was too optimistic.”

Clarke only nodded to acknowledge Lexa’s explanation. She changed the topic and said, “I believe you were concussed from being bucked off your horse.”

“But I recovered so quickly?” One of Lexa’s witch-hunters had suffered a concussion the week previous and he had been useless for days.

“It seems so.” Clarke smiled. “Do you feel better?”

Lexa nodded, unsure how such a speedy recovery was possible. Certainly Clarke was mistaken and she had not suffered such a head injury. There was not a trace of pain pulsing in her skull.

“All the same, you ought to lie back down. A good night’s sleep is always the best cure, for I think you may have suffered quite a chill out there as well.” As Clarke said this, Lexa’s body responded to the suggestion. Feeling heavy, she wanted little more than to fall back to sleep but her senses and manners were in good order so she stood up.

“I will sleep on the floor,” she said. Clarke just laughed and took a step toward her.

“You most certainly will not.” Clarke all but pushed her back onto the bed. “You are still recovering and besides, you are my guest.”

When Lexa sat back onto the bed, she was breathless again at the angel’s close proximity. They were so close now, that Lexa had to crane her neck up to look Clarke in the eye and had to resist looking at the bosom that was at her natural line of sight. She could smell the wood smoke and spices that lingered on Clarke’s bodice.

“You don’t even know me,” said Lexa with constricted lungs. “To give a stranger your home, your bed… I could steal from you in the night.”

“I have nothing worth stealing,” Clarke said, looking down at Lexa fondly. “Besides, you are no stranger, Lexa K Tricruton. The Commander, they call you. You must know that you are the most famous witch hunter in the New World. You are far too noble to be a thief, and have quite an infamous reputation for demanding justice. I know that you are lawful even to the point of cruelty.”

“Justice is not cruel. It is the witch-hunter’s way.” Lexa’s eagerness to contradict Clarke almost made her miss the inexplicable fact that Clarke had recognized her face. She could not recall sitting for any portraits and this woman must be new to the area. Again, Lexa ignored her suspicions as to not offend her gracious host.

“Yes, so I have heard. Blood must have blood.” Clarke nodded. “And yet, I am not sure that a woman’s blood equates to the blood of livestock.”

“When a farmer loses his livestock he loses his livelihood. This puts his life in danger.”

“There are some good people who question the efficacy of the trials,” Clarke continued. Her manner was mild as she ignored the explanation about livestock’s blood value.

“What people?”

“I could not say,” Clarke raised an eyebrow at Lexa and she realized that perhaps it was the blonde angel’s turn to be suspicious. “These good pilgrims would be unwise to express descent or opposition to the church.”

Lexa took this as a cue to apologize: “I do not mean to accuse you or your good people, Clarke. I greatly appreciate your generosity tonight.”

“Think nothing of it.” Clarke still seemed bothered though, and it stung. She must have sensed Lexa’s hurt however, because she immediately softened. Her delicate hand raised to gently stroke Lexa’s cheek, sending delightful shivers down Lexa’s spine. “You are simply showing your ability to be a brave hero to some and a formidable threat to others.”

‘A hero to a Godly man and a threat to a witch,’ Lexa thought to herself.

“I can tell there is great depth to your character,” Clarke continued. “I like it.”

Lexa’s mouth was dry and she lowered her eyes unable to stand the intensity of Clarke’s enchanting blue gaze.

“Interesting people are often contradictory,” continued Clarke, taking a step back, “and I have a sense that you are more so than most.”

“A woman’s intuition again?” Lexa suggested with a hesitant smile.

“Yes,” Clarke said with a laugh, “exactly. You are infamously brutal, having drowned many witches, and yet you are too noble to take my bed from me. I think you must be ruthless and forgiving; strong and yet soft.”

Lexa swallowed. Clarke was identifying truths that she herself tried to deny. It was uncanny.

“They say you spend your life fighting the Devil’s servants, but you redeem yourself of man’s original sin through committing the sin of murder.”

“You go too far, Clarke.” Lexa stood up quickly so that they were almost nose to nose. This strange woman accused her of murder but yet she ached to be closer to those accusing lips. Full of contradictions indeed.

“I apologize,” Clarke said. They both held their breath for a moment and Lexa was impressed that Clarke did not take another step back. In unison they exhaled and both sat down on the bed.

“Maybe someday you and I will owe nothing more to our people,” Clarke suggested. Lexa wondered briefly who Clarke’s people were if not her own. A grain of wisdom told her not to ask in case it was an answer she did not want to hear. “Someday we won’t live in such dangerous times as these.”

“I hope so.”

“Do you wish it?” The angel’s grin flashed with mischief.

“I might, if wishes weren’t for fools.”

They sat in silence for a beat.

“So,” Lexa said, scanning the room for a patch of floor large enough to sprawl out on. “I will set myself up on the floor.”

“You will not. You will sleep in this bed.”

“I will not take your bed from you.” The fight was growing stale however, and Lexa was growing more and more drowsy. Neither of them spoke for a moment and Lexa felt heavy as if enchanted. The rain on the windows and the crackling fire were a lullaby and all she wished to do was to fall onto the feather filled bed. Gravity won and Lexa was horizontal with her head on Clarke’s pillow. She spoke again as her eyelids started to close. “I wish you wouldn’t be too kind to sleep in your own bed.”

“Oh Lexa,” she heard Clarke’s soft laugh, “you ought to know I can’t possibly say no to a wish.”

“Hmm, are you a fairy?” Lexa murmured as Clarke lay down next to her, pulling the quilt over them both.

“Something like that.” Lexa could hear a smile in Clarke’s voice and let one spread onto her sleepy face as well. Before she could think another thought she was caught by slumber, her body inches away from Clarke’s on the tiny bed.

***

Loud purring woke Lexa the next morning and something four legged and agile was walking on her shoulders. Apparently Clarke had a cat. Resisting wakefulness she snuggled into the blankets and pressed against Clarke’s soft body that she held in her arms. It wasn’t until she opened her eyes into long strands of blonde hair that she startled and bolted upright. The black cat hissed and jumped up into the rafters, offended by Lexa’s sudden movements.

How was it that she was cuddling with a stranger though she was usually guided by suspicion of all people? A strange angel who might even question the sanctity of Christ and the trials!

“Yes, your actions do sometimes contradict your beliefs, don’t they?” said Clarke as if reading Lexa’s mind. Lexa’s eyes narrowed as Clarke’s opened. The previous night had been like a dream, and yet here she was waking up to a reality in a strange and beautiful woman’s home.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Lexa said. “I am going back into town now.”

“Of course, I wish you well on your journey. Merry meet again.”

When Clarke said the word ‘journey,’ Lexa’s heart sank. It would be a nearly two hour hike back to town and witch hunter Titus wrote that he had urgent business to discuss. “I wish I still had my horse. ”

“Wish granted,” whispered Clarke, smiling gently from the bed. Her hair was mussed and her eyes glossy from sleep. Lexa frowned, sensing the same danger she had been wary of during last night’s controversial conversations. Her unease was not assuaged by the sight of her horse waiting for her outside of Clarke’s cottage.

***

When Lexa arrived back in the center of Salem she saw Titus waiting outside her large house, his wig powdered and his collar tight against the loose skin of his neck. Lexa had only time enough to tie up her horse before he began to speak to her.

“There is a new woman who lives near town. Led by the devil surely,” Titus said. “The dodgy woman never took a husband and Minister Jaha claims she has never attended a Sunday service. The deviant has a black cat and Miss Alie saw her speaking to her garden plants.”

“You suspect she is a witch?”

“Without a doubt. The exact profile of a woman possessed by a demon. Incurable, I’m afraid.”

“Well,” Lexa considered the efficacy of the trials, “we’ll have to do a test, of course. See if she floats.”

Titus nodded vigorously and Lexa felt a shiver run up her spine. Much less pleasant than the shivers Clarke had caused the night before. Though the sun shone, the Autumn air was cold.

“I need a moment to settle in,” she told Titus. “Send for me when you’ve determined whether this woman is a witch or not.”

“Once she fails the test, you’ll determine whether to burn or hang her, then?” Titus checked as if Lexa didn’t alway end up having the last word.

“Yes, yes just come for my command,” Lexa agreed, eager to get inside. “It’s cold. I imagine a fire would help us all to rid ourselves of such a demon.”

He responded in agreement, and went on to tell Lexa about how the woman went against the Puritan code. Supposedly the witch’s coat was awkwardly torn in two places and young Charlotte had tragically fallen off a cliff. Lexa hardly needed more proof than this and she agreed that the people of Salem needed to see justice.

After giving Titus clear instructions to follow the will of the Law and the Church, Lexa finally entered the safe silence of her home. Her house was too large for one person, and it was only her reputation as a witch-hunter that saved her from the question of why she was still unmarried. And why she owned far more candles than was strictly necessary. All of the New World knew she was a Godly woman.

If only Clarke’s warm cider waited inside her house. She needed a moment to herself, but if she was honest she would have preferred to lie in the bed of an angel once more. Alas, her respite was lonely and brief before she heard the angry crowds outside her house. With a lazy reluctance she left her house and walked toward the town square where her people flocked. As she passed, they stilled to look at her with awe. Their energy was contagious and Lexa’s heart pumped stronger as she looked out to address them.

“The witches have cast a shadow over this town for too long. They’ve haunted us and controlled us. They have instilled fear into our hearts. That ends today.” Lexa’s voice was loud and strong as it spoke these familiar words. Her people had heard them before, but they roared with the same vindication as their first witch trial. Lexa let their excitement fill her with righteous fury, until she looked up at the woman tied to the stake.

Clarke.

Blue eyes desperately pleaded with her and the flames flashed lights against her fair skin. Her blonde hair was frizzing from heat.

Lexa oughtn’t have been surprised considering the obvious magic around the woman but still, it was a nightmare to see an angel tied on the stake like a demon. She had been suspicious the night before but denial was strong. Especially when one is under the charm of a witch. But… perhaps there was such a thing as a good witch? For her charms could not have been satanic.

“Lexa, please!” cried Clarke, voice rough. She coughed as smoke clouded around her beautiful face. “Please, help me.”

Lexa wanted nothing more than to help Clarke, yet her people called for justice. She needed to do what was best for them. Titus had said a young girl, Charlotte, had died. Blood must have blood. The people needed to see Clarke burn.

“Victory stands on the back of sacrifice.” Lexa’s voice carried as though God spoke through her.

“Please, Lexa. I know you do not wish for me to burn!”

It was true, Lexa did not wish it. If only this was all pretend, that any moment Clarke could jump out of the fire and come to embrace her. She wished they lived in a different time, a different world, one where she was not a witch hunter, one where she was free. Lexa couldn’t declare such a desire out loud, but she could look into Clarke’s flame-lit eyes and try to communicate truth.

“I wish things were different,” she whispered.

Suddenly, Clarke’s panicked expression morphed into a wicked grin.

Surely it was impossible that Clarke had heard Lexa’s wish above the noise of the fire and jeering crowd? Yet it must have been magic that blurred Lexa’s vision. The world spun around her, her vision went black, and time lost meaning for a second. Or a minute. Or an hour. Or several centuries.

***

The smell of wood smoke still filled the air around Lexa, but the crowd around her had stopped shouting for the witch to burn and had started chattering and laughing. There was the sound of an acoustic guitar playing a song that Lexa didn’t recognize at first. The style of the music was like none she had ever heard before. Though when slurring voices joined in she recognized it as “Wagon Wheel.”

Slender arms wrapped around her waist and soft lips pressed against her own. They tasted like apples, cinnamon, and something familiar that Lexa recognized immediately.

“Clarke?” Lexa opened her eyes to see an angel’s wicked grin.

“Happy Halloween, babe.” Clarke kissed her again and Lexa kissed back instinctively.

“Wait...” Lexa pulled back. Wasn’t Halloween Satan’s holiday? No, she remembered, it was about pumpkins and candy. “Halloween isn’t for another three days.”

“Yes, well this is a Halloween party and it’s Halloweekend. I’ll wish you happy Halloween if I want to.”

Lexa didn’t respond. Her mind felt hazy but she started to remember arriving at the party with Anya and Lincoln before wandering off to find her girlfriend. Yes, that was right. Clarke had to come to the party late, after a med-school study session.

“Have a little too much witch’s brew there, Lex?”

“Witch’s brew?” Lexa looked down at the warm cup she hadn’t realized she was holding. “You’re a witch?”

“Well yeah! You, me, Raven, Emori, and Octavia? We’re dressed as a sexy coven.” Clarke was exasperated but smiling as her fingers intertwined with Lexa’s. With the other hand she gestured down to her skimpy black dress, orange fishnet tights, and up to the pointed black hat on her head. Then she rolled her eyes playfully. “Echo insisted on being a witch-hunter, plastic sword and everything. But she’s just weird that way, right?”

Lexa was speechless and, looking down at her girlfriend’s body, she felt an undeniable hunger. Absolutely nothing contradicted the desire she felt for this witchy woman. Only after she took a deep breath could she ask, “Aren’t you cold?”

Clarke giggled and pulled Lexa close again. “That’s what you’re here for. Wrap me up in that ridiculously large cloak of yours.”

Lexa looked down at her own costume and appreciated her pointy boots and vaguely magical pendant. Then, with a smile she pulled her girlfriend under her thick velvet cloak and they shared a hot cup of whiskey-apple witch’s brew.

#clextober20 #7DaysofClexa #Day 2 Witches and Wishes #My first Clexa fic!#Halloween #Clexa fanfic #sharing a bed #no beta we die like ben #a03 fanfic #ao3feed-clexafic #clexa ao3

107 notes · View notes

coeurdastronaute · 5 years ago

Text

Atlantis 5

Previously on Atlantis

Three days. That was all she would get of Atlantis. It was more than most other people would ever imagine, more than anyone else had ever had and more than likely would ever be granted. The marvels of the deep sea, of the timeless, effervescent city, with its magic and ancient sciences was to remain a mystery for the entire world for as long as anyone could dare to count.

But Clarke knew, now.

She saw the hanging gardens and tasted the food, she felt the healing powers of the knotted hands of time itself rubbing ointments with imprecise smells etching into her skin. She’d seen the daughter of the king, she’d dined with the queen, she’d heard the language and she stood at a window the size of a blimp, and looked out at the expanse of the sea-floor with her own eyes, and that was a lot of knowledge, and a lot of magic, if she was bold enough to say such a thing despite the science of her mind telling her such notions were ridiculous.

She hadn’t thought that three days could change the entire world, but it did. Her mentors were dead, her life was in flux, and she was now esteemed with the knowledge of Atlantis, in all of its perfection and wonder.

Three days ago, Clarke was studying a drug-resistant strain of a very bad disease on a medical research ship in the middle of the ocean. Three days ago, she woke up in Atlantis, but more importantly, three days ago, she woke up to Lexa. That might be the most defining part of the entire time she spent underwater-- Lexa. All six feet of her. All broad shoulders and long legs and crisp jawline and freckles splattered across her nose and cheeks, all green eyes and plump lips and strong hands and that cut in her arm at her bicep and the--

From her spot on the bed, Clarke shook her head and rubbed her eyes, willing those images to disappear as she rubbed her eyes. None of it mattered. She would be back to real life soon enough, though as she thought about everything, she realized how far away it seemed.

Clarke sat on her bed and braced herself. What should have taken a few weeks to heal was completely back to normal, her body moving normally again. She placed her palm over her previously bruised ribs and held it, as if she could feel the process. But all that was there was a breath and then another.

The smell still lingered there, the mint and the camomile and something indescribably wonderful. It always close to her, the way the air was different. Clarke did her best to not think about Lexa, and the sandalwood musk of her when she moved.

The clothes she came with were torn and bloody, but Clarke slipped on the ones Lexa left for her to wear, putting aside the soft linen of the Atlantean fabric.

“Good morning, Clarke.”

She balked slightly at the door to discover a princess waiting, hand raised as if prepared to knock. Unruffled, Lexa slowly lowered her fist and tucked it behind her back with her other hand, proper and stoic as all.

“Come to collect me and return me to the real world?”

Lexa furrowed and cocked her head slightly as she thought over the words.

“This is still the real world.”

“This is a dream,” Clarke corrected with a sigh. “A dream I have to wake up from eventually.”

“Is it really so bad to return to your home?”

It took genuine thought to figure out how bad it was going to be to return. Clarke thought of her family and how worried they’d be and the secret she’d have to keep. And she thought about returning to school and work without the people she’d come to love and trust and respect-- her mentor gone, her work gone, her life irrevocably altered and weirdly enough, this palace with this Atlantean, it felt the most normal.

“No,” she smiled weakly. “It’ll be nice.”

Lexa didn’t believe the answer, but she closed her mouth after thinking it better not to press when she saw the sadness in Clarke’s shoulders and the weight on her brow. Instead she offered a knowing smile, quick and fleeting in return, dreading this day as much for different reasons.

Instead, Lexa held out her elbow, as she was known to do to help Clarke move when she was injured and they walked through the palace and gardens over the past week, and even though the patient was healed, she took it graciously, her smile more genuine.

“I have news after speaking with my mother and father.”

“You’ve decided to keep me prisoner?”

“That would be an interesting turn of events,” she chuckled. “One that I’m sure a few people here would be okay with.”

“I bet.”

“I’ve been allowed to visit land.”

“Really?” Clarke perked, suddenly aware that she was actually interested in things like Lexa’s plans and whereabouts and accessibility. “I mean. That’s great. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“It is. I know I’ll be called to be someone who helps, and I know I have these gifts. I want to see who I am outside of the comforts of my home.”

“You’re going to be great.”

“Oh? How are you so sure?” Lexa teased, the tips of her ears burning red with the declaration.

Before Clarke could answer, a group of guards ran toward her, hurrying and urgent. Clarke gripped her bicep tightly and waited.

“There has been an attack on the Eastern front. The machines have been destroyed.”

“Did they cross the armistice line?”

“No. It looks like they were doing more than just research though.”

“Drilling?”

The guard nodded and Lexa grit her teeth, contemplating many thoughts.

Thought she wasn’t sure what they were saying, Clarke could recognize the urgency, and she felt Lexa’s energy, picking up on some of her tells, though she wasn’t sure she ever saw that kind of anger on her face as the guard kept speaking. Jaw clenched and eyes on fire, her body tensed.

Her arm dropped and Lexa took the tablet looking item and watched a video or pictures or surveillance of some kind before pushing it back at the guard, disgust apparent beneath the wrath.

But she remembered herself after a moment and looked to Clarke, softening only slightly in the eyes.

“You have to go,” Clarke realized.

“They are going to take you to my mother and the rest of the party going to the Spindrift. I was supposed--” she cleared her throat and waited until her guards took the hint to step back and turn around. “I was going to join, but it seems my father and I have something to take care of.”

“I understand.”

“I would-- I thought i’d have more--” Lexa anxiously scratched the back of her neck and swallowed, her cheeks burning as well, her body losing that fierceness suddenly as she stammered. “I didn’t think we’d have to say goodbye like this.”

“Hoping for something a little more romantic?”

“Hoping to not have to do it at all, honestly.”

Both shared a smile at the thought, comforted by it for just an instant.

“You have work to do, Princess.”

“I do.”

“Find me. I think I promised to show you around.”

“I will. You’ll be close?”

“I will.”

Lexa sighed and smiled, her body aching to reach out and do something, but failing entirely with it and the urge, so she wrung her hands behind her back and nodded curtly.

“This might take me a while.”

“I’m a patient person,” Clarke promised.

With another nod, Lexa looked at Clarke, meeting her eyes and holding it for as long as she could stand before turning away.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Passed from person to person, unaware of what was happening, Clarke found herself sitting on a vessel of some sort, waiting and left to the quiet. For what felt like the first time since Lexa disappeared, she took a breath. There was no one around her, and there was no where to go but back, something she’d actively avoided thinking about for days.

But before she could give it much thought, the vessel filled with bodies, and the Queen took her seat after the crew began the process of taking off. About to travel through miles of deep sea that no human had ever seen before, Clarke gulped, oddly claustrophobic.

“It’ll be a quick trip, Clarke,” the Queen assured her as she took her seat. “Maybe an hour and you’ll be back home.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sure your mother and father will be happy to see you.”

“I can’t imagine what they’ve been going through.”

The guilt hit her then and she pushed aside her selfish thoughts about the ease of staying and elected to take up the burden of returning.

“I have an idea.”

“It must be hard to have your husband and daughter out there sometimes.”

“You never get used to that,” she confessed with a sad smile. “But we are women and we have our role to play. Unlike some, we don’t ignore our duty to have feelings.”

“It’d be nice though, wouldn’t it?”

She thought about it for a moment and nodded before patting Clarke’s knee and taking a deep breath.

XXXXXXXXXX

The Spindrift was a magnificent achievement, perched on the edge of the sea, removed from closest city by miles, a beautiful building that seemed to raise out of the ocean itself. It was large, giant windows, the skeleton bending and wavy, it caught the light of the sun and shone magnificently, and with what Clarke knew of Atlantis, she understood how much of it was similar to their home. The embassy was the closest thing to a connection they would have, and the long bridge of a road that connected it tenuously seemed apt.

Inside was even more beautiful if that was possible. The care and time spent creating it was obvious to everyone who stepped inside and gawked at it. This was the political event of the decade, hell, even the century.

“This is Agent Barnes,” the Queen brought Clarke back from her reverie. “She is a friend of my husbands, and one of only a few that I trust to handle such a sensitive case as yours.”

The agent was short, but severe, decked out in a government issue suit and the only other non-Atlantean. She didn’t say anything, but rather sized up the shipwrecked girl, appraising her quickly enough.

“Thank you, for everything,” Clarke offered as an awkward quiet fell between them. “I have no intention of betraying your generosity.”

“Of course not,” Meera nodded curtly, and Clarke saw her daughter instantly. “You are a smart girl, Clarke. I know you will make wise decisions.”

With a final nod, Clarke bowed as she’d seen the guards do, hopeful that it woul translate to some kind of honor and gratitude. The queen held out her hand as Clarke righted herself, an offering to leave with a handshake.

“I’m sure our paths will cross again,” the queen offered.

“I’d be honored.”

With a friendly smile, the leader of the country turned and left with no fanfare at all, while the agent still didn’t say another word, but rather led Clarke toward her car and away from the waves.

XXXXXXXXXX

The helmet crashed against the wall with a clamor that echoed through the empty wing of the palace. The silence after was just as violent, but not for too long. Books and papers thudded and scattered as they were shoved off of a desk in the rage that swelled.

“You forgot this,” a voice accompanied hands that held out a helmet, followed by a shield.

Lexa grit her teeth and threw them anyway, even though her father was mocking her, amused by her display, able to live through her anger instead of unleashing his own. Someone had to remain stoic, and this time it wasn’t going to be her. Doubled over and bracing herself on the desk, the princess tried to catch her breath, unsure of herself and unsure of what was going to come next; angry at everything, bitter about fate and life and time and all of it happening at the worst time.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?” Aquaman asked absently as he walked toward the window in the study in search of something to drink that would have a bite. He searched the decanters for something suitable while his daughter seethed.

“Forgive, forget, punish, convict, stick to it?”

“It’s not easy.”

“Everytime I think I’ve got something figured out, like I’m making progress, like I can somewhat fathom what my future might hold, it gets completely turned around.”

It was honest and earned a chuckle from the wide shoulders that now poured two drinks before turning back to her. He was amused by her failure, one that she took very personally, as she was known to do. No one was more serious than his daughter. There might have been too much of Meera in her, though his wife would disagree and attribute the stubbornness and penchant for self-flagellation as his own.

“You can’t control the actions of others, as nice as that might be,” Arthor sighed and handed his daughter a glass. “Your cousin has strong convictions.”

“That you’ve spent a lifetime trying to eliminate through peace and alliances with the Land.”

“I can’t say that I wouldn’t feel the same as Roan if I weren’t from there,” he acknowledged. “I think about it often. What would I care about the land at all if I’d grown up with my mother? I wouldn’t have any ties. But I try not to think about it too hard because that’s not our reality.”

Lexa hissed after downing her glass and slumping onto the plush sofa. The sea outside glowed slightly and fell into darkness and unknown, a smother, homey feeling to her.

Tall, broad, a mountain of a man, her father joined her, bringing the bottle and setting it between them after refilling her glass. She had his uncontrollable hair and pointy chin. She had his eyes and his brute force. She had his power-- the power of their blood, shared and royal and mythic. She had his heart, big and open and buried beneath a fortress.

“But I am the King of Atlantis, and not the Land. My duty-- our duty-- is to our people before all else. I believe in a peace with them to preserve our way of life. I won’t have a war because of pollution and poaching.”

“Why doesn’t he understand that it’s for the best? We can’t exterminate them or anyone who uses the water.”

“Because Roan is… he lacks vision. He loves a fight. He believes power comes from force, but it comes from--”

“Those who give it.”

“And a mythical, ancient bloodline and trident,” he smiled, eyes crinkling at the side, oddly at ease to be back at home despite a long battle above the coastline.

Lexa rolled her eyes and sighed again as she held the glass up to her lips and paused before closing her eyes and downing another. For an instant she thought about Clarke, now leagues away and lost to time, time she wouldn’t get back, time she wasn’t sure she’d be granted on land in light of the days events and the attack her cousin led against those ships.

“I should have paid attention. I was distracted. I should have known, or locked him up, or been--”

“You couldn’t have known he’d step out of line when he’d always toed it before. He may be a lot of things, but Roan was never one for complete treason.”

“Isn’t toeing that line the same thing?”

“That’s the most democratic thing we can allow to happen.”

“I should have known,” she whispered again, shaking her head.

“How could you? You were distracted rescuing damsels from wrecks.”

Knowingly, he grinned and looked at his daughter as she furrowed, blushed, and found the empty glass in her hand more interesting than meeting his eye as he teased.

“A moment of weakness.”

“Holding human life as precious is not weak. The ability to take it without understanding the weight of it, that is weakness. That’s a deficiency of the-- of the--”

“Heart.”

Aquaman smiled as his wife entered and found the right word, as she was always known to do for him. He watched her peruse the damage his daughter caused, the mess she’d made, the sag in her shoulder. Their language was innate, communicating it all without a word.

“I heard about what Roan did. He’s still at large?”

“Anya and the fleet are scouring the sea floor as we speak,” Lexa offered. “How was the Embassy?”

“We are ready for the commencement, now that the Justice League have finished saving the planet again and can be there as an act of good faith.”

“Most of them,” Arthur muttered, earning a glare.

“We’ll find Roan,” Meera promised, sitting beside her daughter. “But regardless, you must prepare for your time on land.”

“I’m still… but there’s-- I should--”

“I think we can handle running the country in your absence, your liege,” her father teased. “If your grace so desires.”

“I should deal with him.”

“I will enact his punishment. You will spend time with your grandfather, learning everything you can, preparing for your place as member of the League.”

“I have to prepare to lead our people.”

“The crown is two-fold now, Lexa,” Arthur shook his head. “Protecting our people means protecting our planet which means working with that dick in a bat suit.”

“The timing--”

“Is perfect. Your father is home now, and the leader of the opposition is on the run. It should be quiet and productive here again.”

“And I hear the best damsels are on land,” her father teased again, earning a scowl from his daughter and a warning look from his wife. “Barnes told me she was a real-- Ouch!”

The pillow flew across the coffee table and made him laugh as his wife shook her head.

“Clarke was an act of good will between nations. I would expect the same treatment of any one of my injured people if they washed ashore.”

“I hear you showed her the gardens.”

“It was that, or keep her locked up for a week, which hardly seemed fair,” Lexa defended herself.

“You’re going to see her, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“We’re certainly not going to let Roan get in the way of your growth and training and potential damsel.”

Another pillow pelted him in the face, followed quickly by another, then another, then another before he pushed back against the assault, lifting the women of his life so they couldn’t attack him anymore. He was home and they were all safe, and he needed it.

124 notes · View notes

xparadisexlostx · 4 years ago

Text

So yesterday I was mindin my own business, writing something else, and @graunblida and I got on our gay shit. So I stopped all of that to write a 3.5k drabble about the fact that Beck wakes Lexa up in the middle of the night to do stupid witchy shit like catch moonbeams.

This could definitely use some editing and another draft. I’ve never really written Lexa before and idk why I chose to try for this but... For some reason all of my drabbles seem to be like this??? Why do I do this to myself???

She couldn’t remember ever having someone shake her awake. Ever since she’d been brought to Polis, Lexa had been a perpetually light sleeper. That had only gotten worse after she’d become commander. After she’d lost the woman she loved to Nia’s sadism. Perhaps that was why she didn’t react with immediate murderous intent to the hand on her shoulder gently rocking her back into consciousness.

Lexa jolted upright so quickly that she nearly headbutted the little woman standing above her. She took a breath to steady herself. “What are you doing?”

She wasn’t sure what else to ask. Beck didn’t appear to be distressed, and the streets outside her window were quiet. Nothing seemed to be in disarray. Except for the fact that the moon was still high in the sky over Polis, and that her door had been locked and guarded, and that the the witch was supposed to still be on bed rest unless absolutely necessary, but there she was, her unbound hand still lingering on her shoulder, barely illuminated by the light of a candle she’d forgotten to extinguish.

“Come with me.” The witch whispered. The witch’s fingers trailed down her arm to grasp her wrist and gently tug her forward.

Lexa, who was still blinking away sleep and confusion, allowed herself to be coaxed up from the comfort of her furs and into the cool night air. She wasn’t dressed to go anywhere, and she needed her sword. Were they under attack? What was happening?

Beck kept gently leading her along until she was awake enough to feel the irritation growing inside her.

“Tell me the meaning of this.” She demanded. A cold breeze blew her nightgown flush against her body and Lexa crossed her arms. The chill wasn’t that bad, but it’d been a long time since anyone had seen her in this state, and she felt exposed. “Are we in danger?”

Beck gave her a bewildered look, “Of course not. I need your help with something.”

Another tug on her hand, and Beck was wearing that ridiculously unapologetic smile that lit up her whole face. Lexa felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach, and some of her annoyance waned. It couldn’t hurt to help the witch, right? Surely her task was important if it warranted being out of bed at this hour, especially with her injury. And it wasn’t safe for her to wander the woods around Polis alone; the witch was no warrior. It was better than returning to her fitful dreams and frequent nightmares.

“Wait.” She demanded as the witch began to head for the door. She went to her dresser and rifled through the drawers to find something more suitable to wear. Beck was bouncing impatiently on her heels, but to Lexa’s surprise she was at least listening. She strapped her hunting knife to the thigh and while she was fastening the sword on her hip she looked back to her guest. “What is it I’m helping with, exactly?”

“I’m going to catch moonbeams.” The witch replied. Lexa waited for a long moment for her to break out into a laugh or to roll her eyes to show that she was being sarcastic. That moment never came. Beck was looking at her with utter sincerity and enthusiasm, still smiling, rocking back and forth on the ball of her feet with thinly bridled anticipation.

Beck was a creature in constant motion. She buzzed with a persistent energy that threatened to spill over into action at any moment. The witch would sway back and forth in conversation, or swing her legs while sitting in a chair, and the guards had found her sleep walking twice since she’d come to Polis. Sometimes Lexa found herself resisting the urge to lay her hands on the woman’s shoulders to see if it would quiet her, but she never did.

“You want to catch---the moon?” Lexa said slowly.

Beck nodded eagerly. “Not all of her. Just a few rays. She doesn’t mind. I promise.”

She could only stare in bewilderment. If this was a jest... The irritation started to come back to her.

“Beck-”

The witch must have heard the tension in her voice, because she cut her off. “Please? You need two hands to hold the bowl. I’ve only got the one. It’ll be fun. I promise.”

Lexa looked at the witch’s arm, still tightly splinted from where the healer had reset it only days ago. There was probably still a nasty arrow wound in her leg as well, and a menagerie of bruises on her skin beneath her clothes. Azgeda had not been kind to her when they transported her to the capital. She needed to be in bed.

But short of dragging her there forcefully, there wasn’t much she could do to stop Beck from wandering off on her own. It was well within her ability to do that, but she wouldn’t. The witch was not her captive, and if she wished to leave, so be it.

She let out a soft sigh. “Very well.”

When she turned to follow, Beck had already bent down and picked up a basket sitting by the door that Lexa had not noticed. She precariously lodged it between her hip and her good arm as she slipped out the door into the dark hall. Lexa followed silently, unsure what she could even say to fill the silence if she’d have wanted to. In the light of a torch at the end of the hall, she could see the witch was still limping slightly, but she was still walking quickly.

“My healers said your leg was still injured.” She said, broaching the subject carefully. In her short time of knowing Beck, she had learned the witch didn’t take kindly to being told what to do.

Beck shrugged, and Lexa’s eyes lingered on the way her golden curls glinted in the light of the torch for just a little too long. “It’s doing just fine.”

She was certain if Beck lifted up her long skirt the arrow wound would still be red and swollen, that if the healer assessed the injury he’d send her back to bed to rest, but she didn’t argue. If she were injured she’d do the same. Weakness was not a luxury she could afford. Did witches also value strength? Were they made to cover up their pain for fear their own people would judge them for it? Beck seemed so open and carefree, but was that persona just a mask to hide behind?

The guards by the Tower door stood stiff with confusion as they saw the pair rounding the corner, and Lexa raised her hand to dismiss them. They would tell Titus, and he’d be irritated with her, but as much as she didn’t want to listen to his constant complaints come sunrise, she didn’t like the way Beck tensed and drew back away from her guards. It was obvious that they made the witch nervous, and Lexa hardly blamed her after Azgeda had dragged her across the coalition lands, beaten, filthy, and half-starved. After that if Beck didn’t assume that all of her people were brutish and cruel it’d be nothing short of a miracle. Her trust would be hard earned, as Lexa’s would have been if she were in her shoes.

They stepped out into the night air, and Lexa scanned the quiet streets for threats while Beck hobbled forward without a second thought. She couldn’t afford to hesitate. If she blinked Beck was likely to be gone by the time she opened her eyes.

“The city is so quiet here at night.” Beck said. A trail of silver breath trickled from her lips in the chill of the evening. It was too late for even the seediest mead hall to be serving patrons. Perhaps somewhere in the depths of the city where she could not see, there were a few people lingering by a candle, but they would be few and far between. Despite living in the city, most people still rose early to hunt or fish. Soldiers weren’t afforded the luxury of sleeping in. Craftsmen had to rise with the sun to get their wares in order in their stalls. Spending the evening wandering the streets in the light of the full moon was a senseless waste of energy.

“Do witches not sleep?” She asked, mostly joking. Though that was hardly clear from her tone. But Beck let out a soft, musical laugh and tossed a bit of hair behind her shoulder as they walked, and Lexa felt that jittery sensation flicker to life again at the sound.

“Eventually everything has to sleep.” She was looking off into the distance with a wistful smile on her lips. “But it’s not like this. Some witches prefer the night. Some even specialize in spellcraft that is most powerful under the moon. Others get up to collect spell materials and alchemical supplies that aren’t there during the day or they fight off sleep to finish working on a project. There’s always folks singing around fires and dancing to the tune. Night markets pop up somewhere new every evening, and you have to find your way there by the smell of street food and the glow of crystal lanterns.”

Lexa felt both an intense curiosity and a pang of sorrow at the wonders the witch described. “Polis must bore you.”

The witch leaned her weight off of her bad leg and spun in a circle, looking up at the night sky and then around to the quiet city. If Lexa hadn’t seen her when she’d first been brought to the capital, she’d wonder if the smile ever left Beck’s face. Moonlight shimmered off of her hair as she twirled, and glowed silver along her cheeks.

“Not at all. Everything here is different.” She began to walk once more, headed for the woods behind the city. “I can feel them all dreaming here. All at once. And when I dream with them I feel their power in the dream realm spread out like a beacon. Power they aren’t even aware they wield. It’s---harmonious. Beautiful. Foreign. Peaceful. How could it possibly bore me?”

Lexa couldn’t be sure what any of that meant. She had received visions before, dreams from the previous commanders showing her wisdom, but she knew nothing of a realm of dreams. But as the witch described it, quiet, breathy, and reverent, Lexa felt as if their emotions were bleeding together, and that even if she did not have a rational explanation of the witch’s words, she understood by feeling.

They walked out of the city and into the woods in silence after that. Something peaceful had settled inside her chest, and Lexa clung to that rare feeling desperately. She focused on the sound of their muffled footfalls on the dirt path and the whisper of the wind gently stirring the brush. Animals wandered the forest unperturbed by their presence. An owl preening itself on a branch right above her that did not fly away as they passed, and a small herd of deer grazing on the tender grass at the edge of the path walked alongside them for several moments with no fear for their speckled fawns. It felt like a dream, and Lexa feared that if she spoke, it would be shattered and she’d wake in her bed---warm, comfortable, but terribly alone.

Beck gasped and drew her back to reality. Lexa found her hand gripping her sword handle and searching the forest for threats. The woods were shrouded in darkness, and she couldn’t hear anything. When she looked back to the witch, she was kneeling by a cluster of flowers that were glowing faintly. Her fingers gently lifted the petals without breaking them from their stems, and her thumb tenderly stroked their edges.

“What are these?”

“We call them natshana yongon.” She explained. The little bell shaped flowers grew all over her lands. She remembered being young and sneaking out of the tower with the other nightbloods to gather armfuls of them. She remembered Luna’s hands over hers teaching her how to grind them into a paste, and painting glowing pictures on the tower wall that would fade before Titus ever had the chance to see them. That was so far behind her now that it felt like a different world. They were all gone, all but Luna. Luna who had ran. Luna who had at one time been her closest friend. Luna who hated her so much that she couldn’t bear the sight of her now. But even if the memory had turned bittersweet in her mouth, she still cherished it.

“Natshana---yo-gun?”

“Yongon.” She corrected gently. “Moon children in the Maunon tongue. They only bloom at night.”

“Can I take some of them?” Beck asked, looking up at her with an unnecessary plea in her eyes.

Lexa nodded. “They will fade not long after you pick them.

Beck began to gently pluck the flowers and tuck them away into an apron she was wearing over her skirt until it was puffed and full. She looked up at Lexa and held out her hand. “Will you help me up?”

It was such a small request, but the flutter in her stomach was back. It was a cold night, but the witch seemed to radiate a warmth. Her gaze gentle and unguarded, her smile soft and ever present. Lexa took her hand and felt a shiver rush down her spine that she desperately tried to cover up as she helped Beck back up. The witch rocked unsteadily and Lexa instinctively reached out and gently grasped her hip when she stumbled forward. Unable to steady herself with her broken arm, Beck couldn’t stop herself from swaying into Lexa’s chest.

The world came to a crashing halt around her. She could smell the perfume of freshly picked flowers, and feel the tickle of golden curls brush against her neck. Beck was all soft curves and warmth, a refuge from the bite of the evening air around them. She could feel her chest shaking and hear the sound of laughter bubbling through the air.

“I’m so sorry.” The witch said, and as she pulled away Lexa could see her face was flushed. Lexa couldn’t bring herself to laugh. Her heart was racing like a spooked horse, and it was all she could do to keep her breathing steady. She felt Beck squeeze her fingers and then step out of her grasp entirely. “I can’t even stand on my own two feet anymore.”

“It’s fine.” She finally managed, her voice gentler than usual. To give herself something to do other than stare stupidly at the witch, Lexa bent down and scooped up the basket that Beck had dropped while picking flowers.

“You’re sweet.” Beck reached out and took back her things. “Thank you.”

The sincerity of the complement took her off guard. She’d been called many things in her life---but no one had ever called her sweet. No one other than Costia.

This was going too far. She needed to get back to the tower. Away from the woods, away from the wild eyed witch. But Beck was already headed down the path again, humming softly as she went. There would be no coaxing her back to the Tower, and she couldn’t bring herself to leave her out in the woods alone. She would just have to control herself.

Beck stopped them by a large pond where the surface was quiet and the reflection of the full more was undisturbed. She sat her basket on a rock and pulled a large bowl and a few small glass bottles. After handing the bowl to Lexa, she removed her apron and reached up to unbutton several of the buttons on her shirt, revealing two large flat crystals hanging from a leather cord on her neck. She tugged on them until they came free, and with careful fingers she took them off her necklace and placed one in the bottom of the bowl. Lexa bit down on the inside of her cheek and fought to keep the stony expression on her face while Beck rearranged the little crystal to her liking. The top of her shirt remained unbuttoned, and Lexa was trying to look anywhere but the dark stain of the tattoo between the witch’s breasts.

Her voice was barely more than a whisper when she spoke, “What do you want me to do?”

Beck poured the contents of one bottle into the bowl and then took hold of Lexa’s wrist. She wanted to say that this was unnecessary, that if the witch would just give her direction she’d follow, that they shouldn’t be doing---whatever this was. But the words never left her throat. She allowed herself to be pulled out into the cold water until it was up to her hips.

“All you have to do is hold the bowl still. I’ll pass the crystal over it.”

Was it her imagination or were her fingers lingering again?

Beck lifted the crystal above her head and passed it directly over the reflection of the moon in her bowl. A tingling sensation went up through her fingers, and Lexa furrowed her brows. Beck had begun to sing a strange, unintelligible song in a high, breathy tone. Once more she passed the crystal over the bowl and this time the vibration was stronger. The bowl felt---lighter somehow, and it was getting hard to keep her breathing even. Her eyes were locked onto the witch, whose head was tilted up toward the sky as she sang out her spell. She rocked with every slow swing of the crystal, and the water rippled and whispered with the movement of her body. Was all magic so---entrancing to witness?

As far as Lexa knew this was the first intentional magic she’d seen the witch do. She’d seen---something on the day of Beck’s arrival when they had visited her healer, but it had been brought on by fear. There had been no purpose to it. And Lexa had felt like an outsider merely observing the phenomenon. Now she felt the effects of the spell merging with her, running through her body as she held the bowl in her hand.

When the witch finished her song she continued to silently sway for several minutes, soaking up the light of the full moon until the magic waned and she came back to herself. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked the trance away from her eyes and returned to herself. And then the warm smile returned to her face and she looked down into the bowl.

“That should be more than enough.” She said, fishing her crystal from the bottom of the vessel and returning both of them to the leather cord they came from. “Here, help me pour it into the bottles.”

Lexa followed her carefully back to the shore. She wasn’t sure what if anything would happen should she spill the bowl of freshly gathered “moonbeams” and she didn’t intend on finding out. Beck carefully collected the water in her bottles and corked them, then put everything back in her basket. They had just turned to leave when a soft glow caught her eye.

“Wait.” She scooped down to pick up the apron and shook the debris from it before placing it in the basket as well.”

The walk back was quiet. Beck didn’t bombard her with questions or ramble on about something that she didn’t understand like Lexa was used to. She was content to hum softly as they made their way out of the woods and back to the tower.

“I’m glad you came with me.” Beck said once they had crossed the threshold and entered into the city proper.

“I…” Lexa wasn’t sure what she should say. There was a knot of confusing emotions sitting in her stomach. Desire, longing, loneliness, and fear were all fighting for her attention, and she wasn’t sure which to give into. “I owed you as much, after what the Azgedan forces did to your arm.”

“Well then consider your debt paid in full.” The witch teased, and then she held Lexa’s gaze, her playful expression giving way to something else. Something sincere and hopeful. “Maybe next time you’ll tag along just for fun.”

She couldn’t bring herself to tell the witch that she had no time for fun. That every part of her was meant to belong to her duty. Titus would say it later, once he found out about their midnight tryst. He’d tell her that if she truly cared for the witch that she’d send her home. It would be better just to accept that now. To put an end to her hopeless desire before it truly began. And yet…

Lexa gave the witch a slight nod and turned back to the Tower. “Goodnight, Beck.”

That playful air seeped back into her tone. “That wasn’t a no.”

It was still dark when she woke the next morning, but a faint glow greeted her as she opened her eyes. Sitting in a small glass bottle on her bedside table, brilliantly and impossibly shimmering with life, as a twine-bound bundle of the natshana yongon. She propped herself up on an arm and reached out to stroke a shimmering petal, and she felt the magic dance along her fingertips just as she had the night before. And in the privacy of her quarters, she allowed herself a smile.

#I post all of my drabbles to this account bc the theme is more accessible #this theme isn't great for reading long shit #i need to make a bexa tag on this blog tho

2 notes · View notes

tsthrace · 5 years ago

Text

Once Upon a Time

Awhile back, I asked y’all to send me a song so I could take its energy, lyrics, and/or feeling and write you a 1,000-word Clexa fic.

This one shot is a VERY angsty take on Once Upon a Time by the Moody Blues, as requested by @cynic-and-a-saint.

Lexa has betrayed Clarke. Clarke has gone into hiding. They can't stop thinking about each other. Not so much a one shot than a snapshot of all the things going on in their thoughts. Set in that sweet little gap between 2x16 and 3x01 where so many fab fics have been born.

You can also find it on ao3.

-----------------------------

There were moments when Clarke could rest in the beauty of this world. Moments when she opened the hatch of the bunker and the sun was peeking through the forest, lighting up the dew on the grass. Moments when chatting birds were all she could hear. Moments when she could feel the green and blue expanse of this world reaching far beyond the stupid conflicts of this particular place.

Moments when she could forget. Or remember. She wasn’t sure which she wanted more.

She remembered looking down on this planet from the Ark. She couldn’t see the destruction or the blood or the bullets. All she could see was everything at once and wonder how her people destroyed their miracle. She remembered when the drop ship landed, and she was sure she was about to die, but instead the planet was alive and endless.

Which is what she felt this day, her back against a tree as the sun spilled through the thick trees onto her face. She reached down for one of the blackberries in a pile on the ground next to her. She’d found a new cluster of the prickly bushes that morning and risked the pokes and scratches for the explosion of sweet and tart. She’d never tasted anything like them before she came to the ground. The Ark grew fruits and vegetables, yes, but they were stubborn and bland without natural sunlight and the secrets of seasoned soil to nourish them.

The first time she had tasted blackberries was in Ton DC. After Finn. Before…

In her mind, she lived a hundred lifetimes in that one night. A dozen times betrayed. A dozen times when she doesn’t pull the lever. A dozen times when Lexa stands fierce beside her. A dozen times when her life goes dark. A dozen times when the battle has ended, the celebrations have gone quiet, and they are together in the night.

Nothing happened. Everything happened.

Her sleep was haunted by images of children gasping for breath, their parents’ skin bubbling with radiation, an entire mountain dying. Her mind moved their pain and destruction to a city she’d never seen—children burning, men screaming, buildings tumbling, the flames closing in on their Commander whose eyes have finally gone fearful.

It was the least she deserved.

Clarke took a deep, jagged breath and picked up another blueberry. It tasted like a miracle. She was angry. Too angry. Move on. The voice in her head was harsh. She’s not worth it. She never has been. She shook her head. Every time, she waited for the flames to take Lexa, waited for her sash to catch and the shoulder piece to melt into her skin. But every time, she opened her eyes just as the flames licked at the Commander’s feet.

She never let Lexa burn.

---

“This has gotten out of control, Heda.” Titus paced back and forth across Lexa’s throne. “They’re calling her Wanheda.” He stopped and looked Lexa in the eyes. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

“Yes, she does,” Lexa said evenly. “We ran.” She looked down. “And she destroyed the Mountain.”

“You saved your people, Heda.” Titus squinted at her. “And she saved hers.”

Lexa wondered if he could see the worry in her eyes.

“She’s powerful, Lexa. Her legend grows. I’m told the Ice Queen searches for her as we speak. To take her power.”

Lexa wasn’t expecting how her heart skipped, but her face remained stone.

“Every moment she lives undermines your authority.”

Her head didn’t move, but her eyes darted like a blow in his direction. He wasn’t wrong.

She took in a slow breath, letting a thick silence settle over them. Finally, she let the breath out. “You’re right, teacher.” She saw the corner of his mouth lift just a millimeter. She knew him well enough to know that he thought he’d won. Lexa was careful not to let her face betray her own satisfaction. “We need to capture her, bring her to Polis.” She looked Titus in the eyes. “Quietly. And unharmed. I don’t want her weakened when I deal with her.”

“Yes, Heda.��

She saw the smile in his eyes as he bowed. He doesn’t know how well he trained me, she thought as she watched him stride out. Lexa waited until the sound of his feet disappeared down the hall.

“Give me the room,” she said to the guards. They nodded silently as they swung the doors closed behind them. When she heard them click shut, she let her body slump into the chair, her head resting against one of the branches that made up its back. After a moment, she stood up, pushed in the clasp of her shoulder piece, and let it fall with her sash into a red puddle onto the floor.

She let out a long breath and closed her eyes—which was always a mistake. She saw Clarke’s face whenever she let her eyes close. Torchlight. The edge of a battle. The Mountain. The weight of disappointment in those blue eyes wouldn’t let go of her. More sadness than anger, which made it almost unbearable.

Most nights, Lexa was barely sleeping.

She replayed the scene in her head over and over, cringing whenever she heard herself say, “I made this decision with my head and not my heart.” It was a lie. Worse, it was a lie she had convinced herself was true, at least at the time.

The truth was, Lexa couldn’t forget the moment she had risked everything she had built, everything she had become, in order to be close to Clarke. Her impenetrable strength. Her ruthless decisiveness. She set that all down when she pulled Clarke towards her and kissed her.

And Clarke had pulled away.

It stung. It stayed with her. It was with her at the Mountain. It was with her when she was given a choice. Her people or Clarke’s. She meant for her head to guide her, but when Clarke was nearby, there was no getting her heart out of the way. And her heart had been hurt.

Lexa bit her lip and shook her head hard. That’s not why I did it, she told herself over and over again. But the truth was, she didn’t know. She could never be sure. But the Commander had to be sure.

She rubbed her eyes and picked up her shoulder piece.

The truth was, Clarke made her vulnerable. And the truth was, sometimes Lexa wanted to be vulnerable.

---

Clarke rubbed her stomach. Too many blackberries. She smiled. It was worth it.

Her head spun as she heard a rustle behind her. She peeked around the tree and saw a squirrel digging in the leaves. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She knew Bellamy and her mother would be looking for her. Niylah had mentioned Azgeda hunting parties creeping across Trikru land. Clarke stood up and rubbed her eyes. She should get back to the bunker. Everyone was searching for her. Except…

Thoughts tumbled through her mind without permission. Was I just a pawn? Did she ever care? She shook her head hard, berating herself. Let her go.

That night instead of fire she dreamed of the door. The armies ready to launch. Warriors straining and the door cracking open. The world halting with one word from the Commander. Emerson’s smirk. Lexa’s eyes in the torchlight.

Forgive me, she pleaded with her. Please.

She woke up in the pitch black of the bunker. She took a few heavy breaths in the dark then turned onto her side. Her pillow was wet where she had been crying. Her jaw clenched hard as she reached up to run her fingers over the wet cloth.

She said we would fight together. She said she trusted me. She said we would get our people back. Clarke’s jaw ached, and she noticed she hadn’t taken a breath. She closed her eyes, though it was all the same in the darkness of the bunker. I only asked for what my people needed. Not anything else. She leaned into me. She kissed me. I didn’t ask for that.

I didn’t ask for you.

More tears spilled down her face, and every tear brought a flash of anger so sharp she could feel it cutting into the lead floor of the bunker and drawing her into the dirt below.

I didn’t ask for you. The thought washed out like waves on a beach and then came back again changed and real and true: Come find me. The rhythm pulsed through her—the heat of anger then the blank emptiness of a longing she couldn’t exile. I didn’t ask for you. Come find me. Out and back again. Over and over.

Her jaw let go as her breath followed the rhythm. Finally, she drifted off into a black sleep.

Clarke woke up twelve hours later thirsty and with a sharp headache. She checked her supplies for the dried ginger turmeric tea that Niylah had given her for pain. One cup left, and enough dried meat for just another day or two.

She would need to visit the trading post again. But first, she needed to hunt.

#clexa #clexa fanfic #clarke x lexa #canon

20 notes · View notes

brokendevilwrites · 5 years ago

Note

Who says i love you first? Nerd!Clarke or Popular!Lexa?

Hallooooo.

I did a thing. Hope it answers your question:

Before Lexa actually says the words ‘I love you’ she tries three whole times.

She’s been thinking about it for a long time and Clarke’s been teaching her things about psychology and body language and she’s pretty sure, just from those few lessons, that Clarke probably is deep in like with her too. Dilated pupils and open body language and initiating intimacy.

She’s kind of sure about it.

And it’s almost been a year of them being together which, in lesbian, is like ten years so she’s sort of overdue on saying it and moving in together and one of them should probably be pregnant.

(She really needs to stop reading stories online before she goes to sleep.)

---------------------------

The first time Lexa tries to say it is on a warm Wednesday.

She’s warm and sated and relaxed after missing her last class of her day. It wasn’t really her fault; she went to sit in her car during a break in lessons and then she fell asleep.

She wakes up to a very annoyed Clarke Griffin tapping on her window, books pressed against her chest in a very distracting way, and it’s hard to find the little huff Clarke lets out anything less than attractive as she unlocks the car and the blonde drops into the passenger seat.

Part of her wonders if she should say sorry but Clarke isn’t her teacher and her dream was kind of nice. Plus the weather is warm so it heated up her body to a nice temperature and, honestly, if Clarke wasn’t scowling it’d be a pretty great afternoon for her.

“You can’t just not go to lessons because you want a nap,” Clarke scolds and Lexa hums along to a song on the radio, knowing that Clarke’s lectures can go on for a little while and she’s really not all that sorry that she missed one lesson. “What if you were caught? These are some of the most important years of our lives and you’re napping through them.”

Lexa chuckles at that. She knows Clarke is mostly annoyed because her debate team has lost a member through them moving schools and she’s stressed about exams and they haven’t seen each other much. So she lets herself get yelled at because Clarke needs the release and, honestly, she’s really hot when she’s angry.

“You’re going to be involved in the best years of my life,” Lexa tells her and Clarke snaps her jaw shut so quickly that Lexa actually turns away from the road to look at her. “Clarke, it’s one lesson out of the hundreds I’ve had. I didn’t mean to fall asleep and in the grand scheme of things, high school really isn’t that important. If I promise to not skip another lessons just to nap will you smile again?”

Clarke eyes her warily. “Are you just saying that to make me stop being annoyed at you?”

“Yeah,” Lexa laughs and she reaches across to lace her fingers with Clarke’s. “Now stop being annoyed at me. We have, like, two hours before my mom gets home and I’d rather spend them with my tongue in your mouth than listening to you yell at me about the best nap I’ve had this week.”

“Lexa,” Clarke blushes but she doesn’t argue that she also wants to make out in the free time they have. “I could tell that you were enjoying it. You have little red marks on your face from the headrest and when I found you your mouth was wide open.”

At that, Lexa almost falls into herself. To everyone else she’s perfect and popular and has absolutely no flaws. To Clarke, she drools in her sleep and wakes up with the worst bed head in the world.

Nobody else can ever see her like that.

She’s kind of in love with that thought.

I love you, she thinks. I love you, I love you, I’m in love with you Clarke Griffin.

What she says is, “Ihad a dream about you,” and judging by the wide grin on Clarke’s face that pretty much just as good as the words pounding in her head.

---------------------------

The second time she almost says it she is completely entranced by Clarke’s boobs.

Honestly, she’s starting to think that Clarke knows exactly what it is that she’s doing when she dresses up for their Friday night dates.

Ever since sleeping together--which, by the way, woah--Clarke has become this...Vixen. This Aphrodite with sculpted features and a wicked tongue. She’s still Clarke; still sweetly nervous in crowds, still party-shy, still quiet and observant and quietly leading her friends without them knowing.

But she’s also...Clarke.

Hot. Inviting. Dangerous.

And Lexa was pretty sure for a long time that the g-spot was a magical spot inside a girl but ever since she’s pressed Clarke’s she’s turned into a confident, radiant, sexual woman and Lexa doesn’t really know what to do with all of that.

Like, she’s still in high school.

She’s way too young to die from sexual frustration.

Right?

“Clarke, Lexa’s here!” Abby smiles tightly at Lexa as they wait at the bottom of the stairs and Lexa smiles back in a way that screams “I’ve-seen-your-daughter-naked-and-wet’ and she tries to wipe it from her face but she really can’t. Because she’s totally seen Clarke naked and wet.

And now she’s thinking about it.

“How is school going?”

“Great,” Lexa squeaks out before she remembers that Abby doesn’t actually hate her and she clears her throat. “It’s getting harder but I guess they’re just preparing us for college.”

Abby hums at that and tugs at the sleeves of her green shirt. “And you’re ready for college?”

“I don’t think anyone can be ready for anything,” Lexa replies diplomatically and she licks at her upper lip quickly. “But I’m excited for a new challenge.”

“You’ll do well. You both will,” Clarke’s mom decides and Lexa breathes out, sure she’s on the woman's good side now. She doesn’t think she’s ever been on her bad side but she knows it’s always good to keep up the good impressions. “Where are you two going tonight?”

When she’d walked in wearing a gold mini-dress she felt Abby’s eyes on her immediately. And it wasn’t in a good way; it was in a way that knew she wanted a rise out of her daughter and she wanted to look good like she did it. But the gold complimented her eyes and she needed to look good for the restaurant.

And Clarke.

Mostly Clarke.

“I got us a table at Trikru,” she says and Abby looks impressed. It’s one of the better restaurants in the city and she knows the waiting list is long; but Lincoln’s mom is the head chef and sometimes it’s who you know, rather than what you know, that gets you places in life. “Clarke’s been busy with school and her clubs that I wanted to treat her.”

Before Abby can say anything Clarke makes her way down the stairs. Upstairs she can hear the voices of Bellamy and Octavia and she smiles, knowing Clarke’s best friend had dragged his sister over to help and it calms her knowing that Clarke was probably just as nervous to look good for tonight as she was.

Going to Trikru was never a surprise; Clarke isn’t a fan of them and Lexa likes showing off and she knows Clarke has made an effort, much like Lexa had tried to, and that image alone makes her heart pound.

Lexa knows Clarke has boobs.

She’s very, very, very aware her girlfriend has boobs.

But Holy Shit -- Boobs.

Generally Clarke sticks to shirts with a high neckline, ones that tie around and cover her chest, because she tries to divert attention away but--like she mentioned earlier--Lexa is pretty sure her girlfriend is trying to kill her now.

A plunging neckline, one that stops above her damn belly button, is what grabs her attention first and the sheer material between the black fabric of the dress does nothing to hide the smooth, pale skin exposed to Lexa’s eyes.

The dress cups Clarke’s chest perfectly, her cleavage on show thanks to the large slit down the middle, and she doesn’t know how much time has passed but she knows she’s staring.

Abby knows she’s staring.

Bellamy and Octavia know she’s staring.

Clarke giggles.

Because of course Clarke giggles. Because as sexy and as hot and as delicious as she is; she’s still her Clarke. That snaps Lexa out of her daze, her eyes a little darker, and she smiles at the beauty in front of her.

“You look incredible,” Lexa says, proud of herself for not tripping over her words or her feet as she steps towards her girlfriend. “You always look amazing but...Clarke, you look incredible.”

“So do you,” Clarke whispers and she lifts a hand to push a curled hair behind her ear. It falls back down naturally, heavier due to its styling, and Clarke blushes. “That dress makes your legs look...Wow”

Lexa has heard compliments all of her life. Her eyes are beautiful, her legs are long, her lips are perfect. Exes have lavished her with kind words and admirers have whispered compliments in her ears. But nothing, absolutely nothing, compares to the shy smile Clarke gives her when she finds her attractive.

Just knowing she has any type of attention from Clarke sets her on fire.

“I love you,” she tries to say but it sounds like, “I can’t wait to show the world how amazing my girlfriend is.”

And it’s almost enough.

---

The third time she almost says it she’s glad she didn’t.

Luna Murray has stuck around for longer than Lexa begins to feel comfortable with and she doesn’t know what to do. Usually she’s level-headed and calm, and she knows Clarke knows that Luna likes her because they’ve spoken about it and Clarke asked Lexa is she trusted her and she did, she does, but Luna is still there and it’s starting to drive her a little crazy.

Because Luna understands jokes about dead politicians that goes over Lexa’s head and Luna knows that Bal du moulin de la Galette is a wondrous painting even though Lexa thinks all the faces look exactly the same.

Luna gets Clarke in a way that Lexa is still learning to understand.

“You need to stop,” Lincoln warns one afternoon in the gym and Lexa frowns in the mirror.

She kind of hates being in the gym--it smells and all people ever do is flex and upload to Instagram--but ever since she told Monty to ‘shut the fuck up’ when he interrupted Clarke, she’s not been allowed back in the debate room so she waits for Clarke after school by hanging out with Lincoln.

“Stop what?” She asks but she knows exactly what she’s doing and she lets out an annoyed grunt when Lincoln takes her phone out of her hand and rolls his eyes at her. “Hey.”

“Stop stalking Luna,” he chastises and deletes Lexa’s search history because he’s a good friend and because the poor girl hasn’t done anything wrong. He knows Luna kind of likes getting under Lexa’s skin and, honestly, he has to admit it’s been quite funny to watch Lexa seethe quietly when Luna puts her hand on Clarke’s shoulder -- but it has to stop. “Have you spoken to Clarke about it?”

Lexa nods, annoyed. “She thinks I’m being dumb,” she says but that’s not true because Clarke would never call her that. “She says that if I trust her then it shouldn’t matter that Luna wants to fuck her but that’s some messed up logic because I’m not going to sit back and let her worm her way in.”

Lincoln lifts a weight casually and Lexa frowns because, surely, nobody should be that strong at seventeen. “I don’t think she’s actually trying to steal Clarke from you.”

“Good. Because she belongs to me.”

And that sentence, right there, is where Lexa really wishes she could turn back time.

“I like to think I’m an individual and I don’t belong to anyone,” calls across the gym and Lincoln stops lifting his weight stone-cold half way up his torso. Which, honestly, would be really impressive but Lexa has kind of something else to focus on. “And I’m not some possession or someone to just ‘fuck’, Lexa.”

If Clarke swearing wasn’t enough to let Lexa know she was in trouble, the girl slamming the door on the way out is.

“Go,” Lincoln says and his eyes are wide.

“What do I say? We were just talking,” she looks at her best friend and he shrugs. Which, of course he fucking shrugs because he’s a seventeen year old boy and he’s avoiding the wrath of Clarke Griffin. “Lincoln.”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t like that you spoke about her like she’s some kind of...prize, I guess,” he says and lowers his weight. “And I know you didn’t mean that but you might have to explain it to her.”

Lexa blinks because that sort of makes sense.

Sometimes Clarke doesn’t always understand when Lexa says things like that; she prefers to be seen as independent and strong and Lexa is all about feminism but she really also wants Clarke to understand that she’s hers. And not in a possessive way -- just in…She’s just...

She’s hers.

She doesn’t know how else to explain it.

“Clarke, stop,” she calls out when she catches up to her in the parking lot and she frowns when the girl keeps walking. “Clarke. You’re not walking home. Get in the car with me and we’ll talk about this.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not some...some...Pet!”

Lexa stops because a) she knows she isn’t and b) she wonders if Clarke knows what else that could mean.

No.

Probably not.

“I never said you were. Just stop,” Lexa finally catches up to her and grasps at her wrist, effectively stopping the girl from stomping across the parking lot and walking home when Lexa’s car is right there. “That’s not what I meant by any of that.”

“So what did you mean? Because it sounded to me like you still don’t trust my friendship with Luna and I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do to prove it to you that I don’t want anyone else.”

“It’s not you that I don’t trust.”

Pulling her wrist from Lexa’s hold, Clarke glares. “I can’t tell Luna how to act any more than you can tell me who to be friends with.”

“She makes me uncomfortable.”

“She’s my friend.”

Lexa is seconds away from actually stomping her foot and she briefly wonders when she became this person. People used to flirt with Costia all the time; hell, she’s been at parties where Costia has made out with people in front of her. And never, not once, has she ever felt her heart race with the fear that someone else could take her girl away.

“And I’m your girlfriend,” Lexa grits out. “Surely that has to count for fucking something. Surely my feelings come before that of some new girl that has just turned up and turned your head.”

“She hasn’t turned my head! Lexa, what are you talking about?”

“She’s everything you should want!” Finally, finally, finally it comes out and Lexa feels the weight fall from her shoulders like an avalanche. Her voice cracks, her body droops and Clarke looks stunned for the few seconds Lexa takes to breathe. “Clarke she’s smart and she’s in, like, the top ten percent of our year or something. She’s traveled and she understands art and she hates parties. Her dad is, like, some freaking author or whatever the fuck he is and -- Fuck!”

“Stop swearing.”

Lexa rolls her eyes at that but it’s fond. Because Clarke knows what it’s like to be overwhelmed and she’s letting Lexa know it by focusing on one thing at once to calm her down.

“She’s exactly the girl I always figured you’d be with. When we were in chemistry and I was trying to flirt and see if you liked me, you’d ignore it all and I figured it was because you didn’t like girls like me. And then I heard you were with Niylah and she’s quiet and sweet and all of those things too. So I thought maybe I just wasn’t your type. And then suddenly I was and we...You fell for me too, which was like the biggest surprise, and it’s like I’m just waiting for you to figure it out.”

Clarke moves closer, slowly, like she’s approaching a wild animal and Lexa shakes her head at herself in annoyance. She isn’t this girl. She isn’t insecure and she doesn’t care and she hates that this is who Clarke is turning her into.

But she isn’t fighting it either.

“I’ve never been afraid of losing anything. That’s why I do what I want or whatever the fuck it is my reputation says about me. I don’t have anything to lose and now I have you -- And you think it’s possessive, I get that, and I’m totally on board with you being your own woman. But you’re mine, Clarke Griffin. And I’m yours. It’s not some power play or some bullshit emotional abuse -- I just want to belong to you and I want you to belong to me. I want your needs to be my needs, I want to share it all. I just want it to be us against the world, you know?”

There’s still a frown on Clarke’s face, her eyes radiating with something Lexa can’t quite read, but she lets her head be tilted down to meet Clarke in a soft kiss.

Hands rest on full hips and Clarke’s hands move to press against the back of her neck and Lexa sighs into her mouth; tired and emotional and she’s pretty sure she’s in love.

“You’re everything I want,” Clarke finally says and Lexa nods because she trusts that, she trusts Clarke. It’s her own insecurities that have caused this. “I’m sorry Luna makes you feel like that and I apologise if I’ve done anything to make it worse but I promise...I’m yours.”

“Clarke,” Lexa sighs, her eyes closing. “Don’t say that if you’re not comfortable. I just wanted you to get it.”

“I’m yours, Lexa.”

“Clarke.”

“I’m yours.”

Lexa smiles and presses her lips against Clarke’s again. It takes like “I love you,” but she hears instead. “I’m yours too.”

And she’s never said anything more honest in her life.

---

When she finally says it Clarke pretends she can’t hear so she says it again and again and again.

The movie playing isn’t the best movie in the world but it’s Friday and it’s date night but Clarke has the worst period pains of her life--she claims--and Lexa doesn’t mind staying in because the weather is kind of humid and that always makes her hair frizz up.

Next to her Clarke has curled up into her side, her hands wrapped around her bicep and her head on Lexa’s chest. For a solid ten minutes her girlfriend had tried to sync their breathing up, to see if she could, but she’d almost passed out and when they finally settled down from their giggles they fell into a comfortable silence.

Her phone has lit up a few times, enough that it caught Clarke’s interest, but she ignores it for the movie and the girl laying beside her. Fridays are for them and she doesn’t care if Mila Kunis is in town and throwing a rager; Friday is for Clarke.

(Although, if it was Mila Kunis she could probably convince Clarke to go.)

(It wouldn’t be hard. She seen her girlfriends search history.)

“Say I’m a bird.”

Lexa laughs at that and looks at the mess of blonde hair on her chest, completely enamored. “We’re not even watching The Notebook.”

“Say I’m a bird,” Clarke shrugs and even through the material covering her chest, Lexa can feel the smile. “Say it.”

“You’re not.”

“Say it.”

“You’re a bird,” Lexa laughs and it’s so stupid--that whole scene makes absolutely no fucking sense--but it makes Clarke wriggle closer to her and she wonders if Nicolas Sparks would appreciate a thank you letter.

“Now say you’re a bird.”

Clarke lifts her head and there are little creases on her cheeks from the fabric of her top and her hair has matted to her face a little; but her eyes are bright and her smile is wide and when Lexa kisses her she tastes like ice-cream and soda.

“If you’re a bird then I’m a bird.”

Clarke hums happily before she runs her thumb against Lexa’s lower lip. “I love that you do that even though you hate that movie,” she whispers and Lexa’s heart fucking pounds at the words ‘I love’. She knows Clarke has been hinting at it for a few weeks, and Lexa knows she’s felt it for at least two months, but they’re teenagers and they’re nervous and Lexa quite likes the build up if she’s honest. “I love a lot of things about you.”

“Yeah?”

She expects Clarke to sing sweet about her eyes and her hair, her flawless skin, her hair and her hands and how she sings in the shower but only after Clarke has stayed the night.

“I love your patience with me. I know I’m not easy and I don’t always pick up the right social cues but you’re always there, you never judge. I love how selfless you are; how you always open my door to the car first, even if it’s raining, because I know how you hate it when your hair gets wet and your makeup runs.”

Clarke blushes as she speaks and her eyes don’t always quite meet Lexa’s but she knows she’s being truthful. She can hear it in the quiver of her words, in the way her body presses tighter against her.

“I love that you still want me to be yours, even after all this time. I love that you’re sitting through this even though I know you’re not big on romance and speeches and all of those things that you think made a bad story. Sometimes, when you’re not here and I can’t sleep, I think about all of these things and it helps me sleep.”

“Why, is loving me boring?”

And Lexa knows exactly what she’s just say, she knows what she’s implying, and her heart beats faster and faster and faster as Clarke smiles slow and calm and ready.

“Loving you is the easiest, scariest, most worthy thing I’ve ever done.”

Lexa swallows at that because Holy Fuck.

Holy Shit.

Clarke presses a happy kiss against her lips and settles down again, ten minutes of the movie passing easily while they were busy speaking, and she feels Clarke’s hands leave her bicep to rest across her stomach instead.

She knows Clarke isn’t looking for a reply--she’s too perfect for that, too patient and kind--but Lexa knows, she’s so sure of it.

“I love you.”

“Hm?”

“I love you,” she clears her throat a little because her voice is scratchy and she tightens her hold on Clarke’s waist. “Clarke.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Sorry. What did you say?” There’s a giggle in Clarke’s voice and she wriggles against Lexa a little in happiness, which only makes Lexa laugh loudly. “Can you say that again?”

“I’ll say it forever,” she decides and Clarke sits up again, resting her forehead on Lexa’s. “I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

Before she can reply, Clarke kisses it out of her mouth.

Not that she minds.

Forever is enough time to make sure Clarke hears her correctly.

#clexa #clexa fic #verse: high school #anonymous #answered #Anonymous

105 notes · View notes

5hfanfiction · 6 years ago

Text

Love, Lauren (Camren)

Part Four: Identity

Identity /ʌɪˈdɛntɪti/ (noun) - The fact of being who or what a person or thing is.

***

Journal Entry #3

Dear Diary, A couple days ago, I heard the strangest thing being whispered into my ear. ‘To állo misó’ which basically means 'the other half’ and ever since then, I can’t help but think about it. I know a lot of strange things have been happening to me ever since I got this journal, but why was any of this really happening?

Yesterday was my first day working as a bartender, I can’t say that I hated the job, because I actually liked it. I saw Elena with her dad there. She smiled at me and we actually spoke a lot longer than we had in months. I was shocked to say the least.

But then, there was Eliana, Maggie’s sister. I had learnt from one of my coworkers that her name was Camila. I’ve haven’t seen her as yet, and every time Maggie tried to introduce us, she was literally always busy. But somehow, I felt drawn to her. Every time I would catch a glimpse of her, something within me would make me want to get closer to her. It was an unexplainable feeling but it would disappear as soon as Camila would leave my vision. I yearned to see what this woman had looked like and if she was as remotely beautiful as Maggie, I don’t know what I would’ve done.

I closed the book, promising that I would finish my journal entry another time, just as my roommate Renee popped into my bedroom. We had been talking a bit more than usual and I took a liking to her. I learnt that she and Elena were pretty close friends, so she knew about our history but she never brought it up.

Thankfully.

“Hey,” Renee smiled. “I just got back from class and I bought some Chinese takeout. Want some?”

I shrugged. It was approaching the time I had to leave for my shift, and though I could’ve gotten food at work, who was I to pass up even more free food?

“Sure. Thanks, but I’ll grab food for us the next time.”

We sat in the kitchen and passed around some boxes of food and exchanged some pleasant small talk, until Renee decided to bring up the journal. I assumed she had forgotten about it because she never asked about it again.

“I saw the girl with the journal similar to yours today,” Renee said as she shoved some noodles into her mouth. “I actually spoke to her and she this really cool Greek accent.”

I kinked an eyebrow. “Greek?”

What a coincidence it was for someone from Greece; also known as the home of mythology, to possess such a journal. I would think that if the person was told the same thing I was by the crazy woman I met in the antique shop, she might’ve believed in it quicker than I did. I’m also not saying that I happen to believe that this was in fact 'Aphrodite’s Journal’ but if something else were to have happened, I would’ve been sold.

“Oh yeah. She’s insanely beautiful too, man,” Renee informed me again. Seeming to have forgotten that she had told me about the woman’s looks already. “Wait, I told you that already?” She laughed to herself. The more I got to know Renee, the more I realised that she was…simply put a weirdo, but the good type of weirdo. “Hey, by the way…I know we don’t talk about this stuff but I was just with Elena and she asked about you. I know you two ended a while ago, but I think she misses you.”

She misses me?

I literally…well almost audibly scoffed at the thought. She never really ignored my presence, but when she acknowledged me, I feel like she did it just out of the need to be polite.

Maybe we were doomed from the start and that’s honestly okay. I’ve gotten over it. I used to think that it was probably my fault for getting attached to her, when both of us knew that she would leave eventually.

She was always way too good for me.

I mean, really. We were always doomed from the start. We were bound to end, and she was the one who was always going to end it. I guess, some part of me always hoped that maybe she would’ve loved me enough to fight. To try.

Everyday I used to wake up and wonder why. Why it went wrong, why did it happen and what I could’ve done to make her stay. It didn’t seem fair because I was the one still hurting, while she was the one off in someone new romance, happy as can be, while I was trying to pick myself back up from the ground where she left me.

She didn’t have to wake up or go to sleep thinking about how much she missed me.

I did.

She wasn’t the one hurting. And it had hurt a little bit more each and every time, even if I didn’t admit it out loud.

“I know she still feels something for you…” Renee began but I didn’t want to hear any of this. My heart couldn’t take any more disappointment from the girl I once loved.

“Can you just stop?” I blurted out in frustration. I was sick and tired of everyone in my life trying to play matchmaker. From Lexa to my parents. I know they only meant well and they wanted me to be happy, but I needed to feel all these feelings; pain, hurt, hatred, before I could’ve finally move on. “I don’t give a shit about what Elena feels towards me. We broke up. In fact, she broke up with me. She has a boyfriend who she’s quite happy with, might I add. So I just….don’t care.”

I stood quickly, not caring that I didn’t eat much of my food, I grabbed my things and before I headed out the door, I heard Renee yell.

“She and Tobias aren’t even together!”

I slammed the door just to be dramatic but I’m pretty sure I was going to apologise to her for my behaviour when I got back from work.

I’m guessing Tobias was her 'boyfriend’s’ name. Even if they weren’t together, when we broke up she started talking to him, but I couldn’t care less about what Elena was doing with her life.

She was entitled to love and date who she wanted. The same way I was allowed to be with who I wanted to be with, and that wasn’t Elena anymore.

One day, someone will come along. Someone who understands that sometimes I get jealous, and sometimes I get anxious about silly little things. Someone who knows the fears that I have rooted in my past and holds me when I get scared. Because truth is, I get scared a lot.

Someone who can’t dance, but dances with me anyway. They can’t sing, but will sing with me just when we’re drunk out of our minds.

Someone who loves me no matter what. Even in the moments when I think it’s possibly hard for anyone to look at me with love in their eyes, she will love me in spite of everything.

She’ll leave me feeling helplessly, unapologetically happy as I fall asleep at night, with her in my arms.

I just have to be patient. I know she’s out there.

“Hey,” I heard Lexa’s voice coming up the hallway behind me. “Are you okay?” She rested her hand on my shoulder, looking into my eyes. She was one of the only people out there who were capable of reading me, so if I lied, Lexa would know the truth.

I shook my head 'yes’ and moved away from from my dorm’s front door. “I’m fine. I just had a minor disagreement with Renee.” I shrugged downplaying it.

“What about?” Lexa kinked an eyebrow.

“Elena.” I said curtly. After our discussion in the coffee shop, Lexa never really brought up Elena again. She knew how talking about her made me feel uncomfortable.

“Do you want me to beat her up?” Lexa grabbed my door’s handle and was about to open it but I held her back. “I’ll beat her up, Lauren. Don’t try me.”

I laughed. “It’s okay, Lex. Nothing I can’t handle. I promise.”

My best friend stared at me for a few moments before releasing the doorknob. “Fine. We should head to work. Don’t want to disappoint, Maggie.”

***

When I stepped into the hotel’s bar, something felt different about the atmosphere. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was feeling, but my mood had instantly felt lifted. I wasn’t thinking about Renee or what she had said about Elena.

I was an hour into my shift when I first spotted Maggie from a distance, when our eyes locked, she smiled brightly at me, waving excitedly.

“LAUREN!” She yelled, a huge smile on her face. She approached the bar and took a seat. “Hi.”

I laughed. “You’re really loud, you know that right?”

Maggie shrugged. “Some may see it as loud, but I see it as happy.” She winked at me. It was always incredible when I thought back to how close Maggie and I had gotten over these past few days. “Can I get some whiskey on the rocks?”

I nodded and poured a glass for her. “Whiskey tastes like ass.”

Maggie almost choked on her drink. “Should I ask how you know what ass tastes like?” She smirked at me, once she was settled from her near death experience.

I smirked back. “A lady never eats ass and tells.”

Maggie began choking on her drink again as she laughed at what I said.

“Sí̱mera,” I heard that same, soft feminine voice in my ear. It possessed that thick Greek accent.

I saw Maggie glance up from her drink the moment the word was said, she looked at me with furrowed eyebrows but played it off quickly.

Did she hear it too?

“Sí̱mera.” The voice grew a bit softer but it was still very audible. I had a hunch Maggie heard it as she mouthed the word, maybe trying to figure out what on earth she was hearing. I’m not sure if she knew what it meant because Maggie was actually born in Barcelona, Spain. But she had told me that her step mother was from Santorini, Greece, so maybe over the years, she learnt the language.

“Did you hear that?” I decided to ask her.

She looked a bit taken aback, but again, she played it off. “Hear what? It’s pretty much noisy in here, Laur.”

Sí̱mera meant 'today’ in Greek. But I didn’t understand what it meant per say. Why was I hearing that particular word?

Truthfully, a lot of weird things have in fact been happening since I got that journal that even logic couldn’t possibly explain, so altogether I tried to stop figuring out why it was happening but rather, see what was going to happen.

I just nodded absentmindedly and continued to serve other guests at the hotel. Maggie remained at the bar and we would engage in pieces of conversations here and there.

I kept feeling as though someone was looking at me, and again, it was that strange woman who was all in white, sitting off in the corner of the bar.

What I found strange about her, was that she had a cup of tea in front of her. We didn’t serve tea here, so where on earth did she get it? She had a huge pair of sunglasses obscuring the view of her face, but I knew she was staring at me. I could feel her eyes boring into my soul.

I held her gaze for a few more seconds, until I glanced away to attend to another guest, but when I looked back at the table, the woman was gone. She never stayed for more than a few seconds to a couple of minutes.

Was she my guardian angel?

Were we supposed to see our guardian angels, though?

In Greek mythology, Prometheus, is a Titan, culture hero, and trickster figure who is credited with the creation of man from clay, and who defied the gods by stealing fire and giving it to humanity, an act that enabled progress and civilization. So in a sense, Prometheus was a 'guardian angel’ to mankind.

This woman in white, I guess I’ll call her 'Lady in White.’ Yes, I’m very creative, but from what I knew, didn’t do anything to benefit me, or to help me, so I’m pretty sure she was not my guardian angel. But what was her purpose? And why did I keep seeing her?

I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket, when I pulled it out, I saw that it was my mom. “Can I get a few minutes? It’s a family emergency.” I told my supervisor; Raven who Lexa definitely had a crush on. It’s not that anything bad had happened, I just didn’t call home in two days, because I had been busy adjusting with work, so I only assumed my mother became worried.

“Sure. Five minutes, Jauregui. That’s it.”

When I came back, I saw Maggie with a woman standing next to her. She had her hair in a ponytail, an arm draped casually over Maggie’s shoulder, and something that caught my eye, was that she was clad in a chef’s uniform.

I stopped in my tracks.

Was this her?

Was I finally going to meet her?

I found my way behind the bar, and that’s when Maggie noticed me. She called me over, and when I locked eyes with those beautiful grey eyes I knew I was a goner.

She had a very beautiful face, the bone structure, her smile, her lips, her fucking eyes that I was so lost in.

I couldn’t even breathe.

Wait, do I know how to breathe?

My heart rate accelerated and I could feel my heart pounding against my chest. I was so afraid to say anything because I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of her.

“Yassou,” she said in a thick Greek accent as she smiled at me. I literally thought I was going to pass out. “I’m Camila.”

It took me a few moments to realise that she was talking to me and introduced herself. Maggie cleared her throat and waved her hand in front of me.

“I think you broke her, Eliana,” Maggie laughed. I learnt from that Maggie liked calling her sister by her middle name because when they had met, she couldn’t pronounce 'Camila’ for the life of her. So after all these years, she stuck with calling her 'Eliana’.

I blushed in embarrassment, mentally facepalming myself. Way to go, Lauren.

“H-hi,” I stuttered out. “I’m…I’m Lauren.”

Camila smiled at me. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. What did she mean by that? But apparently Camila noticed and she cleared it up. “Maggie has been talking nonstop about you. She’s been trying to introduce us, since you came here, but I’ve just been so busy. I’m sorry I can’t meet your friend though. Alexandria, right?”

I nodded. “Uh, yeah. But you can call her Lexa. She’s a valet, so she’s outside, wrecking cars.”

“Wait! Does Lexa even have her license?” Maggie asked in a panic, as it just hit her, she had never actually interviewed us to ensure that we were qualified for the jobs we were given.

I snorted. “Relax, Mags. She has her license and I’m twenty one, so it’s all good here.”

“Twenty one?” Camila asked me.

“I uh, yeah. I’m twenty one. Recently turned twenty one,” I said. Just one question from Camila and I was a flustered and stuttering mess.

Camila smiled. As though she knew what effect she was having on me. “I’m twenty three. Recently turned twenty three.”

Maggie kept looking in between the both of us but she didn’t say anything.

“You have beautiful eyes, by the way,” Camila said as she looked into my eyes. “The softest shade of brown infused with just the right amount of green. It looks as thought it possesses the new spring growth inside.”

Maggie smiled proudly to herself and took a sip of her drink. “I should’ve introduced the both of you a lot sooner.”

“Wow,” was all I managed the day. “That was a very beautiful description.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” Camila said. She picked up Maggie’s glass and took a sip. “This tastes absolutely terrible, Maggikins.”

Her elder sister just rolled her eyes. “Don’t you have work to head back to?”

“Don’t you have work to head back to?”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Touché, sister. Touché. I should probably leave. My shift starts soon.”

“And I should probably head back into the kitchen, I’m sure some dishes are running low by now,” Camila looked away from her sister to me. “It was really nice meeting you, Lauren. Maybe next time, we can spend some more time getting to know each other.”

“I’d like that,” I managed to say without being flustered. “I’ll see you around, Camila.”

***

I saw Camila again before my shift had ended that night. I was passing through the restaurant in search of Lexa because I was well aware that my best friend was trying to get some free food, and that’s when I saw her. She smiled at me, with that same damned smile. I wanted to talk to her, to say something, but I settled with awkwardly waving her goodbye as I left with Lexa.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I said to Lexa once we reached by my dorm. She had a habit of ensuring my safety. She was the type of friend that would drop you off at home, and won’t leave without you getting in. She would walk me home everyday after school back when we were living in LA. Every single time I thought about Lexa, I knew just how blessed I was.

She wrapped me into a quick hug before she went on her way.

When I entered my room, I was expecting to see my roommate, but thankfully, she wasn’t there. It’s not that I was still mad at her, it’s just that I was way too tired to have to apologise to her and listen to how sorry she was for interfering with my love life.

I was beyond tired, but I managed to take a quick shower before heading to bed and finishing off my journal entry. I wouldn’t exactly say that I still didn’t believe in the journal. I was trying my best to discourage any sort of belief, but with everything that was happening recently, it sure made me want to believe in something.

Especially since I wrote about wanting to see Camila, and then I saw her.

Once I got to bed, I pulled out the journal from under my sheets, grabbed my glasses and decided to get lost in my own little world.

“Sometimes you meet someone, and it’s so clear that the two of you, on some level are meant to be together. Maybe as lovers, as friends, or as something completely different. Sometimes you meet someone and they drive you wild from the very first glance. You become nothing but a stuttering mess when you’re around them.

…It was like that for me when I saw Camila. I wasn’t expecting that. I had only assumed that she would be beautiful, especially if she was related to Maggie. But when I saw her, I just felt drawn to her. I knew my heart felt it too, because it couldn’t stop beating so wildly against my chest. I barely even knew her and she had this effect on me. What was going to happen when I started to know every little thing about her?

I remember, when Elena and I had just broken up, I was crying in my mom’s arms, because this was the very first girl that I had loved. She told me, 'You’re slowly going to learn that some people, no matter how much you love them, they’re never going to be good enough for you. You deserve someone who is gentle and kind because your soul can only take so much. So realising that you deserve something good, is going to be one of your first steps.’

Those words resonated with me. And there was just something about Camila that made me think that she was my 'something good.’

Love, Lauren.

I sighed happily as I shut my journal. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself because Camila seemed so out of my league, but something in the back of my mind kept telling me, that she was it for me.

But how can she be when I don’t even know her?

What if she was one of those people who liked pineapple on their pizza?

Or she poured her milk then her cereal?

What if she didn’t like singing along to songs on the radio?

Okay, Lauren. You were definitely getting ahead of yourself.

But the thing is, you can be in a relationship with someone for two years and feel absolutely nothing spectacular; but you could be in a relationship for two weeks and feel everything. The butterflies, the excitement when you see them, every…single…thing.

Time is not a measure of love.

☾☀︎

My mind brings me back to the story of Pygmalion and Galatea; the ivory statute that Aphrodite had given life to. It’s a story that makes you not want to give up on love because, when you least expect it, you can always find it in a place you had never even thought about.

Never in a thousand years, would I have thought that I was going to find love in Camila.

The thing is, you know when a house becomes a home. You know just about which stair creeks a bit more than the others. You know every turn like the back of your hand, and you can walk around in the dark without bumping into anything. Before I met Camila, I had a house but never a home.

Now?

Now, my home was two eyes, lips that I will never grow tired of kissing and a heart…a heart that I wanted to treasure for all of eternity. Until my dying breath, if you will.

Home is how Camila’s grey eyes sparkle when the sun hits it at just the right angle.

I know what home feels like now, home feels like her.

I’ve finally found my home.

Fall in love.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be with someone, because not everyone is so fortunate to fall in love with a person. Fall in love with art, music, dancing in the dark, the colours of the sun as it rises, or as it sets. Fall in love with the smell of the flowers on a Thursday morning while you’re having a walk around the block.

Fall in love with good friends who bring out your best.

Fall in love with the little things that make you feel most alive and find purpose.

But most importantly….fall in love with yourself.

Relax and trust the timing of your life. Not everything will go according to how you like it. You won’t always get the guy, or the girl. You won’t always get your dream career and buy that huge house in Beverly Hills.

You will figure out your career.

You will find the right relationship.

You will become the person you always wanted to be. Just don’t forget to appreciate who you are right now. Just don’t forget what led you to the place you are right now. Every single disappointment, every heartbreak is leading you to something greater.

Just be patient.

Look at me for example, after much sadness and disappointments, I finally got my dream girl.

☾☀︎

"Real love is always chaotic,” my professor said as he started his lecture. For some reason, I always felt like he thought of himself as a love guru. “You’re going to lose control, you’re going to lose perspective. You’re going to lose the ability to protect yourself. The greater the love, the greater the chaos.”

What he said was absolutely right.

The more you love someone, the more it’s going to hurt if you get your heartbroken in the end.

It’s a given and that’s the secret.

“Can someone tell the class who was Eros?” My Greek Mythology professor paced around the lecture hall, his eyes falling on every student but no one wanted to answer. “Miss Consuelos? Do you have something to add?”

I spun around in my seat, to follow where my professor was looking, and there she was. Elena Consuelos, aka my former love of my life was in my Greek Mythology class.

What. The. Fuck?

Elena nodded. She looked up from her laptop and caught my eye. We held eye contact for a little over ten seconds until she directed her attention to Mr Centaur. “Eros was the Greek god of love and fertility. He was the son of Aphrodite and Ares. In later years, he was known as 'Cupid’ by the Romans. According to all Greek myths, Eros was beautiful, but also a constant source of trouble for both gods and mortals.”

Eros was one of the fundamental causes in the formation of the world, inasmuch as he was the uniting power of love, which brought order and harmony among the conflicting elements of which Chaos consisted.

Chaos.

That word kept repeating in my head. Hopefully it was nothing for me to worry about.

My professor smiled happily. Elena was an A+ student. She didn’t need to study for any tests to pass any of her exams. She was always reading about something, so she was always filled with information, and don’t get me wrong, I always thought that was an incredibly sexy trait of hers, but why was she in my class?

Elena wanted to be a medical doctor, so why was she here?

Was Renee actually serious when she said Elena still felt something for me? If she did, she could’ve just told me instead of adding a class to her schedule. Unless I was just over analysing everything and she was just here because she had a love for Greek mythology.

As the class droned on and on, I kept feeling Elena’s eyes piercing into the side of my head. One time, I caved and I caught her looking at me, she blushed and looked away quickly.

Don’t you think that there is always something unspoken between two people?

When Elena and I said our goodbyes, it felt as though something was missing. Yes, we broke up, the reason being that the relationship wasn’t going nowhere, but it always felt like we had more to say to each other but yet we never did.

I shook my head, snapping out of these ridiculous thoughts.

I needed to pay attention in my class. I needed to get my degree.

☾☀︎

But of course, things were only just heating up.

☾☀︎

“Camila.”

I immediately stopped taking notes on my laptop when I heard that name.

“Iliázo̱.”

Iliazo?

Wait, what did that mean again?

Before I could process what I just heard, I saw Elena grabbing her things, and quickly leaving the lecture hall.

Sun? Camila?

Was Camila my i̱liázo̱?

*** Wattpad: Commander_Camren

#UPDATE #series #AU #g!p #camren #submission #love lauren

19 notes · View notes

lost-n-stereo · 6 years ago

Text

Summary: Clarke Griffin doesn't want to join Cupid's Arrow, Los Angeles' newest online dating site but her mother insists she at least give it a try. Enter "Fake Blake", a man claiming to be Bellamy Blake, TV's hottest new up and coming actor. With a profile photo that can't be found on the internet, to stories only the man himself could tell, Clarke starts to wonder if her online crush could be her celebrity crush too. Modern Romantic Comedy AU

draw back your bow (let your arrow go)

Part 1 - Clarke

Tuesday night is her favorite night of the week.

Her roommate works late every Tuesday, which means that Clarke gets the television all to herself. And sure, she could always bring up Netflix or whatever on her laptop if she wanted to watch something that her roommate didn’t. But her favorite show is on Tuesday nights, the only one she actually watches live and not on Hulu a day or five later.

It starts in five minutes, so she grabs her favorite plush blanket from her bed and drags that and a pillow onto the couch in the living room she shares with her best friend Raven. They go to the same college but are in two completely different programs and while Clarke is lucky enough to have help from her mom and stepdad for financing, Raven has to work most nights that she’s not in class.

She grabs the remote and turns on the TV just as the opening credits of The Ark are starting. She blushes a little when Bellamy Blake’s name crosses the screen. He’s by far her biggest celebrity crush at the moment. His character Robert Moore is her favorite and not just because Bellamy is so good looking. Robert is tough and strong but also kind and sweet. He’s a guard on a space station called the Ark that can’t come down to Earth because of a nuclear war a hundred years before that’s left the planet uninhabitable.

Sometimes she feels like a nerd for loving this show so much but it is what it is.

Her phone dings halfway through the episode but she doesn’t check until commercial.

Did you think anymore about joining Cupid’s Arrow?

Clarke rolls her eyes at the text from her mother, who’s been trying to get her to join a new dating site that just started up. It’s supposed to be only for people in the Los Angeles area, where she’s currently living while she attends university.

Mom…I told you. I’m not signing up for a dating site that’s just for L.A. People here are the worst.

Clarke, that’s not very nice! How can you say that when you met Raven there?

She’ll give her mom that one. Raven is by far the most badass chick she’s ever met. She briefly thought about trying to ask her out because the girl is a straight up ten. They were dorm roommates their freshman year and then as soon as Clarke got that college experience out of the way she insisted they get an apartment off campus.

Clarke sighs and pulls her legs up under her on the couch. Her mom only means well. It’s been almost two years since Lexa passed away and while Clarke hasn’t been exactly celibate, it’s still hard to think about being in another relationship.

I’ll think about it.

Her phone dings again almost instantly.

That’s all I ask!

She tosses the phone down on the coffee table with a roll of her eyes and turns back to finish the episode.

When it’s over, instead of pulling up Tumblr to check out spoilers for next week’s episode like she does most nights, she types in cupidsarrow.com into her browser and hits enter.

CUPID’S ARROW: THE NUMBER ONE WAY TO MEET NEW PEOPLE IN THE GREATER LOS ANGELES AREA. WHETHER YOU’RE LOOKING FOR A ONE NIGHT ROMANCE OR THE SOULMATE OF YOUR DREAMS, CUPID’S ARROW HAS THE LARGEST DATABASE OF FUN, ATTRACTIVE AND AVAILABLE SINGLES IN YOUR AREA!

“Good lord,” Clarke mumbles to herself as she clicks the Create A Profile button. “Here goes nothing.”

The signup process is pretty basic. Add a photo, but no nudity. Add a bio, but no profanity. She uploads a selfie she took on the beach of Cancun last spring break and starts to type in her bio, keeping it short and sweet.

I’m Clarke, a bisexual college student currently living in LaLaLand while I attend UCLA. I’m originally from the east coast but I plan to stay in California after I graduate. Not looking for anything serious but I’m not looking for a hookup either. Somewhere in between, I guess.

She groans as she reads it out loud. “What am I even doing?” She asks herself as she clicks enter and then her profile is officially live. A popup comes up almost instantly, followed by another, and she clicks through an array of guys and girls that have liked her profile already. Within ten minutes she’s got fifty “arrows” which are apparently the Cupid’s Arrow equivalent of a like. She’s supposed to check the other person’s profile and if she likes them back, she can send a message.

There’s a tab at the top that reads Cupid’s Top Picks, and she clicks it because if she’s here she might as well see what Cupid has to offer her. Her screen is filled with faces and she raises an eyebrow as she takes in how freaking attractive everyone seems to be. Then she remembers that it’s the L.A. crowd, notorious for putting their best face forward even if all they are doing is taking out the trash.

Every photo has two icons, a broken heart or an arrow, so she thinks, what the hell, and starts making her way through the list.

Broken Heart: Guy from Long Beach with a bio that reads “Fuck Bitches, Get Money”

Arrow: Girl from UCLA named Niylah that she’s 99% sure she’s seen on campus before.

Broken Heart, Broken Heart, Arrow, Broken Heart .

She’s almost starting to get into this now, picking and choosing a person based on one photo and a few lines of text might seem super shallow but it’s actually kind of fun.

Her heart stops in her chest when she reaches the next on Cupid’s Top Picks list.

Bellamy Blake’s gorgeous face is staring back at her. And it’s not a promotional photo either, but a candid shot of him sitting on a balcony smoking a cigarette. His feet are bare, propped up on the railing. He’s looking at the camera and smirking, his full lips curled up as the cigarette hangs from the tips of his fingers.

She’s never seen this photo before. And she’s seen a lot of photos of Bellamy Blake.

There’s no way in hell that it’s actually him. Last she heard he was dating a CW actress that plays on The Ark’s spinoff, Grounders. Curiosity gets the better of her and she’s clicking on the profile to see what kind of nonsense this imposter is posting.

I’m Bellamy, I’m 25 years old and I’m an actor. Recently got out of a relationship and I’m looking for someone down to earth, sweet and real. That’s the most important thing…that she’s real.

Clarke’s teeth dig into her bottom lip. That doesn’t sound like someone pretending to be someone famous but she knows that it can’t possibly be the real Bellamy Blake. He could have anyone that he wants, why would he be on some random dating site, making a profile that anyone in the world could find?

Even though it’s fake and she has no idea what the person behind the profile actually looks like, she hits the arrow icon.

That’s the most important thing…that she’s real.

For some reason that hit close to home for her. In this town she’s learned that it’s hard to find people that are real. And she realizes how ironic it is that she’s saying that when this person is definitely NOT being real by posting that he’s Bellamy Blake. But maybe there’s a reason they are hiding behind the façade. Maybe she wants to know what it is.

And maybe there’s a tiny part of her that wonders if he could really be behind the screen on the other side.

***

There’s a message from Bellamy Blake waiting for her when she wakes up the next morning.

She rolls her eyes at herself, her heart pounding when she sees his picture in her message box.

“It’s not fucking him, Clarke. Get yourself together.”

The message is short but nice, not at all inappropriate like some of the other messages she’s gotten.

Hello, Clarke. Thanks for the “arrow”. Is it just me or is that a very strange way to like someone’s profile? Then again, it could be even weirder considering Cupid is a baby in a diaper but I digress. Not to sound like a creeper but I like your profile photo. And not just because you look beautiful, which you do. I have been to Cancun a few times and those beaches are amazing. I’m Bellamy, by the way.

“Why do you have to sound so normal?” She drums her fingers on her keyboard, thinking of something to say back.

“Why does who have to sound so normal?”

Clarke practically jumps out of her chair when Raven walks behind where she’s sitting at the dining room table and into the kitchen. She pours herself a cup of coffee and leans against the counter, raising an eyebrow in Clarke’s direction.

“Uh…no one.” Clarke stutters and Raven snorts.

“Real convincing, Griffin.”

“Fine!” Clarke gives Raven the rundown of the night before. Her mom texting and insisting she try this new dating site and then finding Fake Bellamy’s profile.

“So you sent this guy a like even though you know he’s not the real deal?”

Clarke shrugs. “I know it’s not him but I don’t know. I just felt something when I read his bio.”

Raven blinks at her for a few seconds and then reaches for her phone. “Send me his profile pic.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re going to reverse search that picture. I know you basically cyberstalk Bellamy Blake, so I’m honestly surprised you’ve never seen this photo before. If it’s a fake profile, whoever made it definitely just pulled it off the internet.”

Clarke thinks about it for a second before right clicking and saving the photo and then sending it to Raven’s phone.

“Hmmm.”

Clarke narrows her eyes. “Hmmm? What does ‘hmmm’ mean?”

Raven turns her phone screen around so Clarke can see. “No image matches. Anywhere on the internet. At all. Do you know how rare that is? That a celebrity can take a photo without it getting out online?”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “That doesn’t mean it’s him, Raven. It just means…well I don’t know! But it’s not him.”

“You’re right. It’s not him,” Raven says from behind her mug. “Just be careful, Clarke. This guy could be anyone in the world. Well…anyone other than Bellamy Blake.”

They both laugh before Raven goes into a story about a friend from work named Murphy that Clarke always jokes is Raven’s work husband. They aren’t romantic, as far as Clarke can tell, but she can tell Raven cares for the guy.

“So, did I tell you Shaw asked me out?”

Clarke’s eyes go wide. “What?! When did this happen?”

Raven blushes, a look Clarke doesn’t see on her friend often. “Yesterday. He came into the diner and asked if I wanted to go to an air show at the base this weekend.”

Shaw is in the Air Force and frequents the diner Raven works at. Sometimes Clarke thinks it’s the only reason he goes there at all.

“That’s awesome,” Clarke tells her and she’s happy for her friend. Raven has had a tough go of it and it’s nice to see a smile on her face.

“Message him back,” Raven tells Clarke before she leaves the kitchen. “You never know, maybe it’s the person you’re supposed to be with. And you have to admit, this would make an insanely funny meetcute story.”

Clarke shakes her head. “You’re insane. I gotta get ready for class.” Raven just shrugs and walks out and before she can question herself, she’s typing a response to the Fake Blake.

I know your profile photo is bogus but I’d like to give you the benefit of the doubt and hope you mean it as a joke. I also highly doubt your name is Bellamy, so what’s your real name? You’ve been to Cancun, that’s cool. Did you go for spring break?

She closes her laptop, expecting it to be awhile before she gets a response, but her phone dings almost instantly. She doesn’t recognize the notification sound until she remembers downloading the Cupid’s Arrow app to her phone the night before.

My profile photo is bogus? I don’t understand. My best friend Monty took that photo of me last summer at his beach house in Malibu. And my name is Bellamy, I promise. My mom gave it to me and everything. And no, not spring break. I filmed this little indie film there three years ago.

“Oh, you are good,” Clarke says out loud, laughing as she reads the message again. His best friend Monty. As in, Monty Green, who is another actor on The Ark. This little indie flick filmed in Cancun. If Clarke had to guess, she’d say it was a horror film that Bellamy Blake starred in a couple of years ago that no one she knows has ever even seen.

Whoever this person is, they did their homework on the real Bellamy. She’s going to catch them in a lie eventually. And she doesn’t know why, but it’s kind of fun talking to him.

You must think I was born yesterday. There’s no way in hell you’re Bellamy Blake.

She goes about her morning as she gets ready for class.

Oh, so you know who I am? And why is that so hard to believe? And for what reason would I possibly have to lie?

Clarke snorts as she reads the message. She’s got her mascara wand in one hand and her phone in the other, trying to type with one thumb as she finishes up her makeup.

Lots of reasons. Number one with a bullet, I’d guess, is you wanna get laid. What better way to get a girl’s attention that pretending to be the hottest actor on television right now.

She doesn’t realize what she’s said until his message and then she’s laughing.

Aha…so you think I’m the hottest actor on TV?

No. I said I think Bellamy Blake is the hottest actor.

Same thing, sweetheart. We’re one in the same.

She rolls her eyes and thumbs in a response.

I have to go to class. Maybe you should consider telling me your real name since you’re not entirely horrible to talk to. And honestly, I’m sure you’re a good guy. You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not.

Her phone beeps one more time before she walks out the door, and his response makes her stop in her tracks.

Pretending is my job, Clarke. Trust me when I say that this is the true me. Quite possibly the truest me that there is.

One thought crosses her mind in a loop as she drives towards campus.

What if it’s really him?

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bffnet #modern au #verse: cupid's arrow #just in case this becomes a series #fanfic #100

167 notes · View notes

dylanobrienisbatman · 6 years ago

Text

100 Questions

it’s long so it’s under the cut, but man was this fun. thanks for the tag @the-most-beautiful-broom ♥ i’ll tag my loves (if you want to haha this is a lot) @raven-reyes-of-sunshine @perhalta @dracovengeance @hedaalicia and @amihanmayari

1. What is your nickname? Bails

2. How old are you? 24

3. What is your birth month? February

4. What is your zodiac sign? Aquarius!

5. What is your favorite color? green (Aw hey linds, same !!)

6. What’s your lucky number? I was number 8 for marching band every single year (F8 for flute 8) except my junior year, and my junior year we had a shit show, so im calling that.

7. Do you have any pets? 5 dogs back home in seattle but none where i live now or in NY when i get back

8. Where are you from? everywhere and nowhere. my dads military. but im american!

9. How tall are you? 5’ 5″

10. What shoe size are you? 7

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? A whole lot, but they’re not always all with me.

12. Are you random? not really. im pretty set in my routines and very comfortably a home body

13. Last person you texted? my best friend @broadwaybound2016

14. Are you psychic in any way? not even a little tbh

15. Last TV show watched? The Bold Type (WATCH IT ITS AMAZING)

16. Favorite movie? I’m not really sure but i just watched Love, Simon and im literally just crying because of it right now so im gonna go with that until further notice

17. Favorite show from your childhood? probably Lizze McGuire

18. Do you want children? Nope

19. Do you want a church wedding? I dont really want to get married

20. What is your religion? agnostic? maybe? im not religious, and not very spiritual. I love spirituality, things like crystals and stuff, but i try not to appropriate those things from groups/cultures who actually use them. I’d love to learn more about them and be someone who actually knew how to practice but, again, i dont want to step on toes culturally and take things that aren’t mine to take

21. Have you ever been to the hospital? a lot! a ton of surgeries on my ears

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? nope, im literally a goody two shoes

23. How is life? lovely

24. Baths or showers? showers!

25. What color socks are you wearing? i dont really wear socks? i like those little half socks. I’m not wearing any rn

26. Have you ever been famous? nope.

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? probably. i’d love to have a voice, and if it was for doing something i love, i cant think of anything better than getting to share my passion with the world like that. But it would definitely be a lot of pressure

28. What type of music do you like? i’m into literally anything. I love Hayley Kiyoko, the 1975, big fan of just basic pop like ariana grande and charlie puth, Harry Styles’s album is a masterpiece, Shawn Mendes, 5th Harmony. i love anything.

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? Yes!!

30. How many pillows do you sleep with? just two!

31. What position do you usually sleep in? on my stomach

32. How big is your house? my house at home is a 5 bedroom 3 bath, my apt in amsterdam rn is just a room in a hotel type place with my own bathroom, and my apt in nyc is a studio

33. What do you typically have for breakfast? i literally hardly ever eat breakfast, but i love a bagel

34. Have you ever left the country? I’m in europe RIGHT NOW! lol

35. Have you ever tried archery? once, i was terrible

36. Do you like anyone? Not right now, but i might want too

37. Favorite swear word? i love the word fuck. it’s got so much you can do with it. i swear like a sailor.

38. When do you fall asleep? ummmmmm? whenever i guess lol

39. Do you have any scars? A few small ones. a decent one on my knee from falling off my bike when i was 8

40. Sexual orientation? Bisexual

41. Are you a good liar? excellent

42. What languages would you like to learn? ALLLL the languages. I’d love to learn native hawai’ian. i spent my high school years there and the culture is so incredible, and i was so welcomed into it by my friends who were from there, i’d love a chance to really connect too it and try to learn that.

43. Top 10 songs? Oh boy... im just gonna bullet these because i cant decide the order but this is the general

the way i am - charlie puth

young god - halsey

rather be - clean bandit

feelings - hayley kiyoko

woman - harry styles

make me feel - janelle monáe

six inch heels - beyonce

get right witcha - migos

my my my - troye sivan

nice for what - drake

44. Do you like your country? i’m torn at the moment. I hate tr*mp and everything him and his stand for, but i think america can be a wonderful place.

45. Do you have friends from the web? Yes!! <3

46. What is your personality type? MBTI: INTP

47. Hogwarts House? Ravenclaw

48. Can you curl your tongue? yes!

49. Pick one fictional character you can relate to? I am Hermione and Hermione is me. (also i really relate a lot to Lexa from the 100, which... is interesting. the way she suppresses feelings, her generally logical approach to things, the way she is totally useless around pretty girls.)

50. Left or right handed? right!

51. Are you scared of spiders? If they’re like, big spiders yes. or if they come out of nowhere. im way more scared of cockroaches tho.

52. Favorite food? For some reason this question has been really hard for me lately? idk. i love a good indian style curry, and tacos?

53. Favorite foreign food? Indian!

54. Are you a clean or messy person? I’m CLEAN, but im messy. i feel like cleanliness and orderliness have been misconstrued to mean the same thing, but clean is to dirty as orderly is to messy. I’m clean and messy, i am not very orderly, and i am NOT dirty.

55. If you could switch your gender for a day, what would you do? Experience a walk down the street in a city at night where im not afraid

56. What color underwear? black

57. How long does it take for you to get ready? not too long, but it sometimes takes me a long ass time to pick an outfit

58. Do you have much of an ego? It’s as big as it should be.

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? i suck on them until i can bite them

60. Do you talk to yourself? Constantly.

61. Do you sing to yourself? Hell yeah

62. Are you a good singer? i’m decent but i need another voice to match with. on my own i can’t carry a tune.

63. Biggest Fears? failure. and heights.

64. Are you a gossip? I can be, but never about like.. bad things. I like to talk about how this friend or that friend did x y z cool thing but im not like “omg did you hear so and so hooked up with so and so”

65. Are you a grammar nazi? Not really because i can’t spell for shit

66. Do you have long or short hair? Short-ish? i cut my hair in march of LAST YEAR and then trimmed it again this year and i want it to fucking grow

67. Can you name all 50 states of America? i would definitely forget some

68. Favorite school subject? History

69. Extrovert or Introvert? Pretty introverted.

70. Have you ever been scuba diving? Nah, im not allowed too for medical reasons

71. What makes you nervous? when I see kids wandering and their parents not noticing (okay im keeping that because me too, but also travelling? like the in-transit part of travel, catching busses/trains/planes makes me panic)

72. Are you scared of the dark? not at all

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? i try not too unless its major. usually its unintentional or the mistake is irrelevant to the flow of the conversation/situation

74. Are you ticklish? Yes, but i hate being tickled unless its like, my sister or my dad

75. Have you ever started a rumor? No

76. Have you ever been out of your home country? Yes i have lol (linds, ily, we DEFINITELY have been over this already)

77. Have you ever drank underage? a little, but not until i was like 19, and then i was in europe for 6 months, so i didnt REALLY drink underage until i was like... less than 6 months to 21

78. Have you ever done drugs? Pot pretty regularly here in Amsterdam, and i’ve done shrooms

79. What do you fantasize about? getting a beautiful loft in a big city (preferrably london or NYC), with a kick ass job, a dog, and maybe a girlfriend with huge curly hair.

80. How many piercings do you have? Four

81. Can you roll your R’s? Yep!

82. How fast can you type? I just took a little online quiz that said i can type 72 words per minute with 93% accuracy?

83. How fast can you run? lol I don’t run (same linds... same)

84. What color is your hair? brown!

85. What color are your eyes? Green!

86. What are you allergic to? I’m a bit lactose intolerant and pineapple makes my tongue itch?

87. Do you keep a journal? no, but i wish i did sometimes

88. Are you depressed about anything? I’m not depressed “about anything”, im just generally someone who experiences a pretty mild case of depression.

89. Do you like your age? Yeah, i dig it.

90. What makes you angry? bigotry, ignorance, and spilling things. I spill drinks constantly, i spilled a WHOLE BOWL OF CEREAL ON MY FLOOR THE OTHER NIGHT.

91. Do you like your own name? I didn’t used too but i really do now

92. Did you ever get a foreign object up your nose? not that i know of

93. Do you want a boy or a girl for a child? I don’t want kids.

94. What talents do you have? i have a pretty great memory, but for random things i dont need

95. Sun or moon? Moon <3

96. How did you get your name? My dad, he just liked it. My middle name was also my dad, he heard the name Jess on the movie A Man From Snowy River and he thought it was a nice like, nickname/pet name, so he gave me the middle name Ges (pronounced like Jess) with the intent of calling me that (it didnt stick), but he didn’t want anyone to think my middle name was Jessica, so he spelled it Ges.

97. Are you religious? I am not, but i have a lot of respect for the concept of religion, as long as its used for the real purpose, which is to make people feel peace and help people find love and comfort.

98. Have you ever been to a therapist? I have not, but i shold

99. Color of your bedspread? White

100. Color of your room? White, with one black wall

#about me #this was so fun thanks linds #tag game

8 notes · View notes

almostafantasia · 7 years ago

Text

Cloudburst - Chapter Two

Cloudburst – an unexpected heavy downpour of rain, usually brief but with devastating consequences.

Long awaited sequel to Down Came The Rain.

An unconventional friendship blooms into something stronger and Lexa prepares to navigate a web of lies so that her parents will approve of her rebellious new girlfriend. The two girls from opposite ends of the spectrum try to find a middle ground to become an ‘us’ and Lexa puts all of her efforts into trying to give Clarke a better life, only to neglect the storm brewing on the horizon of her own. And then comes the cloudburst…

Read on AO3.

They’ve been together for three and a half weeks now and Lexa wonders if she’ll ever tire of kissing Clarke.

Nothing could have ever prepared Lexa for just how soft Clarke is. Not just her soft lips moving leisurely against Lexa’s, or her soft hair between Lexa’s fingers, or the soft curves of her body melting into Lexa’s as they lie almost on top of each other on Lexa’s bed, but how soft she is in the way she makes out with Lexa, never pushing for more, as if she is content to just kiss Lexa for the rest of eternity.

Which of course, Lexa is more than happy with.

Except that sometimes, she wonders what it would be like to push Clarke down onto the bed and kiss her senseless, before stripping them both of all clothing and having her wicked way.

But Lexa doesn’t think she has the kind of bravery in her that she needs to go through with that idea at all. She doesn’t think that she has a wicked way.

It’s not that Lexa doesn’t want to, in fact quite the opposite. Despite never really considering herself as a particularly sexual person – she always thought that sex would be one of those things that she’d do more to please a partner than because she had a deep desire to do it herself – she’s really quite into the idea of getting intimate with Clarke. So into the idea, in fact, that she’s probably touched herself more in the last three and a half weeks than she has in the previous almost seventeen years, and imagining that it is Clarke’s hand bringing her to climax instead of her own sends her over the edge far quicker than she’d like to admit.

The problem is that beyond her own imagination, Lexa worries that she has very little idea of what to actually do when it comes to sex. She has limited knowledge of what to do with regards to any physical aspect of her relationship with Clarke, and everything that she’s done so far has been on pure instinct alone (a small part of her brain tries to reassure her that if instinct has gotten her this far, then why shouldn’t it be able to take her all the way?), but she feels wave after wave of anxiety course through her body every time she thinks about taking it to the next step with her girlfriend.

She’s not scared of sex, she’s scared of her own incompetence compared to Clarke, who has almost certainly progressed further than making out with people before. They’ve never really discussed it, but Lexa’s heard Clarke talking about an ex-boyfriend before (some guy called Finn than she and Raven seem to hold in equal contempt) and Lexa assumes that she probably did at least something with him. Besides, Lexa thinks that Clarke doesn’t seem like the kind of person to be shy about her own sex life, whether that’s with boys or girls or both.

Regardless of Clarke’s sexual history, the fact remains that it would be very difficult for Clarke to have less experience than Lexa, who had never so much as kissed another person before she met Clarke, and so while the idea of pushing things further is a very appealing one, it also terrifies Lexa to the core that she somehow won’t be good enough to meet Clarke’s expectations.

And yet the soft little noises of contentment that escape Clarke’s lips between kisses make Lexa want to move things along to the next level even more.

She detaches her lips from Clarke’s, pulling a disappointed little whine from Clarke, who tries to chase after another kiss. She relaxes again though, when Lexa’s lips touch her cheek and start trailing a path along the sharp plane of Clarke’s jaw, and a hand buries itself in Lexa’s curls to keep her mouth in place, letting out another gasp of pleasure as Lexa’s lips meet the skin of her neck.

With all the noises that Clarke is making, Lexa is glad that neither of her parents are home from work yet.

It spurs her on and she gets an idea in her head, a bold idea that makes her blush slightly just thinking about it, but thankfully Clarke’s eyes are blissfully closed and the pink tinge to her cheeks goes unnoticed. Pressing a hot open mouthed kiss to Clarke’s neck, she decides to incorporate her teeth, giving a soft little nip that elicits another gasp, at the same time as she manoeuvres their positions on the bed until Clarke is lying fully on her back on the mattress.

Lexa swings one of her legs over Clarke’s hips to straddle the blonde’s thighs, reaching up to sweep her long hair out of her face with nimble fingers. Clarke’s eyes blink open, pupils dark and her eyelids heavy with what Lexa thinks might be lust, and she raises a single eyebrow at Lexa’s sudden display of assertiveness.

“So that’s how you’re playing this game, huh?” Clarke teases her, her hands seeking out Lexa’s hips, while her fingertips dance beneath the hem of Lexa’s top and brush the bare skin she finds just above the waistband of Lexa’s jeans.

Hoping that she comes across as way more confident than she feels, Lexa replies, “I wasn’t aware this was a game.”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.”

Clarke still has the teasing smirk on her face and her hands continue to toy with the soft skin at Lexa’s hips, but Lexa knows that her words are sincere. It’s Clarke’s way of telling Lexa that the ball is in her court, that it’s up to her what happens next and how far they go, and that Clarke isn’t going to push her to do anything that she’s not comfortable with.

In another uncharacteristic display of boldness, Lexa answers the silent question that Clarke is asking her with each brush of her fingers against Lexa’s skin with a movement of her own. She reaches down with both hands to the bottom hem of her t-shirt and lifts it up and over her head in a swift movement, exposing her bra-covered top half to the girl beneath her.

Clarke’s eyes widen in surprise and she lets out a little noise of wonderment.

Before she has a chance to second guess herself, Lexa nudges at the bottom of Clarke’s own top with her hand and asks softly, “Your turn?”

Clarke pushes herself up into a seated position, causing Lexa to shuffle back a little bit so that she is now straddling Clarke’s upper thighs instead of her hips, and reaches down to the hem of her t-shirt, pulling it up to reveal the expanse of creamy stomach that lies below. The shirt gets briefly caught around Clarke’s head, a tangle of arms and stray bits of hair that has Clarke huffing, but just as Lexa reaches out a helpful hand to assist, Clarke triumphs over the unwanted garment and tosses it onto the floor beside Lexa’s bed.

“If I’d known you were going to be seeing me like this, I would have worn my nice bra,” Clarke quips.

Her words bring Lexa’s attention to the fact that Clarke has just taken off her top for Lexa and holy shit, what a sight it is. Lexa’s eyes widen as she takes in the sheer amount of skin that Clarke has just exposed for her, covered only by a plain navy bra that despite Clarke’s words, Lexa thinks is actually very nice indeed. It’s maybe a size too small (Lexa guesses that getting a decently fitted bra isn’t too high up on the agenda when you’re homeless) but Lexa quickly decides that if there’s one fault that a bra can get away with having then this is definitely it. Clarke’s breasts are bigger than Lexa’s own and they strain against the dark fabric that contains them, and it’s all Lexa can do to not drool at the sight of them.

Her hands itch to reach out and touch them, but the feminist within Lexa rears her head and sends a shameful blush across her face. She knows that Clarke is her girlfriend and if anybody is allowed to look at her topless with hunger and desire it’s her, but Lexa forcefully drags her gaze away from Clarke’s chest, feeling guilty for objectifying the beautiful girl beneath her.

As if sensing the internal struggle in Lexa’s mind, Clarke lays a reassuring hand on Lexa’s thigh and says, “It’s okay, I wouldn’t have taken it off if I didn’t want you to look at them.”

Lexa hesitantly lets her eyes drop back down to Clarke’s breasts and she gapes at them for a few long moments. Trying not to behave like a drooling teenage boy (but okay, she finally understands the obsession that men seem to have with boobs because wow), Lexa’s eyes stray further down, across the soft skin of Clarke’s stomach. It turns out to be a bad idea too because when her gaze reaches the waistband of Clarke’s jeans she finds herself wondering what might lie beyond that too.

As Lexa blushes furiously at this latest train of thought, Clarke reaches up to tuck a loose strand of Lexa’s hair behind her ear, a knowing smile on her face.

“You’re so gay.”

“I’m so gay,” Lexa concedes, even as she slides a nervous hand up Clarke’s torso until it hovers over a clothed breast, and though she is barely making contact with it, her brain somehow still manages to short-circuit and her hand forgets what it is doing.

Clarke laughs softly under her breath and reaches up with one of her own hands to cover Lexa’s, encouraging her to apply a bit more pressure until her palm is full of soft flesh.

There is only one word that Lexa is coherent enough to gasp out.

“Wow.”

She finds herself briefly wondering whether removing somebody else’s bra is any harder than taking off her own, whether the angles and the distractions created by the proximity of a half-naked girl make what should be a simple flick of a clasp into a monstrous challenge.

And then she internally berates herself for being presumptuous enough to assume that she might get the opportunity to find out.

“Stop overthinking everything,” Clarke whispers, reaching up a hand to caress Lexa’s cheek, and then pulling her back down for another heated kiss.

It’s a little easier to fondle Clarke’s breasts when she’s got Clarke’s kisses to distract her because the brain space that would otherwise be spent worrying that she’s doing it wrong is too busy marvelling at the way that Clarke’s kisses somehow seem infinitely better than they were just a couple of minutes ago, which Lexa didn’t think was possible. She thinks it might have something to do with the two items of clothing that now lay discarded somewhere else in the bedroom, or perhaps the way that Clarke arches her back ever so slightly, pushing her chest up further into Lexa’s exploratory hand.

It happens subconsciously, but the second time that Clarke moves her body to give Lexa better access, Lexa’s hips move with her, and the seam of her crotch rubs against Clarke’s lower belly as she does so. The action does two things; it elicits another little moan from the girl beneath her, but it also alerts Lexa to just how turned on she is.

She removes her hand from Clarke’s breast, letting it drop slightly to her ribcage, and nuzzles her face into the blonde curls that cover Clarke’s neck, hoping that Clarke won’t notice how red she’s just turned in embarrassment at the unintentional movement of her hips.

But instead of picking up on Lexa’s desperation and laughing at her for it, Clarke’s hands seek out Lexa’s hips and give her a reassuring little squeeze, encouraging Lexa to move once more.

“Yeah?” Clarke asks breathily.

“Mm hmm,” Lexa nods as she leans down for another kiss in an attempt to distract Clarke from the way that she once again grinds against Clarke’s hips.

Clarke’s hands drop slightly so that they are resting over Lexa’s denim covered butt, grasping a cheek in each hand and giving a gentle squeeze as she urges Lexa to roll her hips again, which is counterintuitive to Lexa’s own personal mission to try and ignore the growing ache between her legs. She kisses Clarke messily - a casual flick of the tongue here, an urgent nip of the teeth there – drawing out gasp after moan from Clarke until Lexa knows that she can’t be the only one going out of her mind with pleasure.

“You’re so beautiful,” Lexa whispers between kisses.

There’s truth to Lexa’s words but it’s not exactly what she wants to say. What she wants to say is something about how good Clarke is making her feel, how enjoyable her kisses are and how every encouraging squeeze of Clarke’s hands sends another little rush of arousal to the area between Lexa’s thighs. But all of these ways that Clarke is making her feel like she’s floating high above the world are the exact reasons why she can’t verbalise any of it; it’s all far too overwhelming in the most incredible of ways that Lexa doesn’t want to ruin it with words, even if she were able to form a coherent sentence.

She grinds her hips down again and is reminded of just how wet she is. Embarassingly so. She’s almost glad that she’s still got her jeans on because she’s certain that her underwear must be ruined and is grateful for that extra layer that hides from Clarke just how aroused she is.

Clarke pulls away slightly and then immediately dives into Lexa’s neck, assaulting the skin there with fresh kisses that both tickle and burn. Lexa gasps at the briefest scrape of Clarke’s teeth and circles her hips once more, wondering momentarily just how far this is going to escalate.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” Clarke murmurs just below Lexa’s ear, her warm breath sending a shiver of pleasure down Lexa’s spine. “I can’t believe I get to call you mine. That I get to be the one to kiss you like this.”

There’s something about Clarke’s words – it’s not even what Lexa would count as dirty talk, but it’s still turning her on like hell. She rolls her hips once more and Clarke responds, lifting her own slightly in a way that presses the seam at the crotch of Lexa’s jeans right against her clit through her underwear, and she feels everything building at once. The burning arousal between her legs intensifies tenfold, and she knows it’s coming sooner than she would like, and she knows she should stop for just a moment and cool down, but Clarke’s hands, and Clarke’s lips, and Clarke’s everything, and…

“Clarke, I – oh!”

And then it crashes over her, the kind of mind-numbing pleasure that she’s only even been given by her own touch before, and it is so unexpected that all Lexa can do is cling to Clarke as she comes down, letting the blonde press kisses to her flushed neck and run tender hands up and down Lexa’s bare back.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” Lexa stutters out as soon as she has regained her senses enough to comprehend exactly what just happened and to form words.

“Don’t apologise,” Clarke soothes her, and though her voice is low and throaty and just really damn sexy, Lexa is filled with far too much shame to be able to appreciate it. “That was hot.”

“But I didn’t mean to,” Lexa continues, her eyes beginning to prickle with tears. “We were just kissing and … and then you were just there and before I knew it…”

“Shhh,” Clarke hushes her, wrapping her arms around Lexa to pull her into a tight embrace, their almost bare chests pressing tightly against each other. “There’s nothing wrong with what just happened.”

“But I should have warned you, or something. It just … it happened so unexpectedly.”

One of Clarke’s hands finds its way to the back of Lexa’s head, stroking the wild curls there in an attempt to soothe her. She shushes Lexa softly, keeping her arms wrapped around Lexa’s back to keep them as close as humanly possible.

As she tries to concentrate on the deep in and out of her own lungs in an attempt to calm herself down, Lexa can’t help but replay the previous moments over and over in her mind. She doesn’t really understand how it crept up on her so unexpectedly. Whenever she’s touched herself before, it’s always been a slow build kind of thing. Unpractised hands exploring and learning her own body in the darkness of her own bedroom, quiet little gasps as she discovers something that she likes, tentative touches that gradually get bolder as she works herself towards that peak.

It’s never taken her by surprise before.

It’s not like Lexa gets herself off all the time (Lexa’s still ashamed enough of the fact that she does it at all that it’s not a particularly regular thing) but she’s done it enough to know what kind of stimulation she likes. She knows that she does need stimulation in certain places, which is partly why she’s so confused. Perhaps she was so caught up in everything, too busy with kisses, too distracted by the softness and fullness of Clarke’s breast in her hand, to notice that the way that her hips were moving against Clarke’s was providing her with friction in all the right places until it was too late to stop it.

“I can hear you thinking again,” Clarke says softly into Lexa’s ear.

Lifting her head from where it rests on Clarke’s shoulder, Lexa tentatively asks, “You really don’t mind that I … you know … on you?”

“Of course not,” Clarke scoffs, as if it’s a stupid question. “Like I said, it was hot. And the fact that it happened accidentally, that your body had that reaction so suddenly to what was happening that you didn’t even have time to fully anticipate it, makes it kind of even hotter. Lexa, I want to make you feel like that again. I want to touch you and I want to taste you and I want to make you feel that good over and over again until you believe that you’re worthy of being made to feel like that. And it doesn’t have to be now, or even this week, or anytime soon at all, but as long as you’re comfortable with it, I want you to do all those things to me too.”

Lexa doesn’t know what to do with that last offer. Still in recovery from her own unexpected orgasm, her brain really doesn’t know how to comprehend the idea of being the one to gift Clarke with that kind of pleasure.

Her throat dry and scratchy, Lexa croaks out, “I want to make you feel like that too.” She hesitates for a couple of seconds to gather a bit of rational thought, and then adds, “Probably not now, because we don’t have long until my mom gets home from work, but soon. I promise.”

Clarke responds with a kiss, nothing like the hungry kisses they were exchanging mere minutes ago, but a sweet lingering kiss that fills Lexa’s heart with so much affection that it starts to overflow, her tear ducts once again prickling with the threat of incoming tears. She blinks them back just in time for Clarke to pull away from the kiss and speak.

“We have all the time in the world.”

And for the second time, Lexa wonders if she’s in love with Clarke, or whether the warm feeling in her chest is because she’s still completely blissed out from her unexpected climax on her girlfriend’s thigh.

Lexa’s mom arrives home from work forty minutes later to find the two girls curled up together on the couch watching cartoons. Upon hearing the front door slam shut, followed by footsteps that gradually get louder as they make their way through the house and into the living room, Lexa lifts her head from where it has been resting in Clarke’s lap.

“Hey mom.”

“Hello, Lexa,” her mother replies, draping her suit jacket over the back of one of the armchairs and setting her bag down on the floor by the door. “Hello, Clarke. Are you staying for dinner tonight?”

Before Clarke can inevitably protest and come up with and excuse to leave before dinner is served, Lexa speaks up hurriedly, “If that’s not too much trouble.”

“Fantastic,” beams Lexa’s mom. “I’ll go and start the food now. How does spaghetti bolognese sound?”

“That sounds lovely,” Clarke answers.

But the politeness is obviously feigned, and barely a second after Lexa’s mother has left the room in the direction of the kitchen, Clarke’s smile drops into a scowl and she pokes Lexa just below her ribs with a pointy index finger.

“I stayed for dinner on Monday,” she says angrily. “I can’t let your mom feed me again.”

“Of course you can,” Lexa replies calmly. “She wouldn’t have offered if she didn’t mind. And if she knew the truth she’d offer to feed you every day and let you sleep in the spare room, no questions asked.”

Lexa leans her head down on Clarke’s shoulder and reaches out with lazy fingers to take her girlfriend’s hand. Clarke jolts at the contact and then relaxes into it slightly, though she remains noticeably tense.

“We’ve been through this before,” Clarke says softly, as if she is worried that Lexa’s mom might overhear their conversation from the other room. “We’re not coming clean to your mom. We don’t need to. Everything is fine as it is.”

“In which case you need to accept that we will be feeding you a couple of times each week,” Lexa argues back. “I have dinner with you at Bellamy’s sometimes so it’s no big deal.”

“I know,” sighs Clarke. “I just … I don’t want you to think that I’m only with you for your money.”

Lexa actually snorts when she hears the sheer preposterousness of Clarke’s words, and she lifts her head up and uses one of her fingers to tilt Clarke’s chin until they are face to face.

“Do you honestly believe I could ever think that?”

“Well, no…” Clarke admits, hanging her head in shame.

“Exactly,” says Lexa, giving Clarke a warm smile. “I really care about you, Clarke, and that means that I care that you’re eating well and that you have somewhere to sleep but it also means that I really hope you care about me too.”

“I do,” Clarke insists.

“And I know that,” Lexa continues. “I know that if you were only interested in me for my money then you would have taken the two hundred dollars I tried to give you back when we first met and scarpered. But for some reason you’re still here. I trust you and I want the best for you.”

It’s Clarke’s turn to cuddle up into Lexa, pressing herself into the brunette’s side and giving Lexa’s fingers a grateful squeeze where they sit interlaced on Clarke’s lap.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she mumbles.

“Clarke…”

“No, listen,” Clarke continues. “When I lost my dad and then my mom grew distant and I lost everything and all my hope for a future, I thought that I’d never be happy again. And of course I’m happy with my friends, or at least they help me forget to be sad, but then I met you and … and I don’t think I’ve been this happy since before my dad died.”

Lexa feels a lump form in her throat and it takes a lot of effort to keep herself together in front of Clarke. She feels a rush of affection for the girl leaning against her side, and though she’s obviously heard all about Clarke’s past, and seen the defensive walls that Clarke puts up to protect herself from further pain, it only really hits Lexa now just what her girlfriend has been through – loss, grief and suffering, crippling loneliness – despite which Clarke is still making an effort to try and rebuild her life again.

Thinking aloud, Lexa muses, “Have you thought about getting in contact with your mom again?”

Clarke jolts up, no longer soft and affectionate, but with a dark scowl on her face.

“Why would I -? Lexa, she killed my dad.”

“She didn’t kill …” Lexa trails off, the glare on Clarke’s face telling her that she needs to know better than to try and speak as if she knows more about Clarke’s parental situation than Clarke does. “Clarke, it’s been three years. She’s probably worried about you.”

“She’s probably forgotten I exist. Which is good, because I don’t care about her anymore either.”

Lexa can see it written all over Clarke’s face that it’s a lie, but she decides not to point that out for Clarke’s sake. She has a point that she’s trying to get across here and the less agitated Clarke is, the better reception Lexa’s words will get.

“Of course she cares about you, Clarke. You’re her daughter. I know that you lost your dad and that was a terrible, terrible thing, but she lost her husband. She lost the love of her life, and that will have been hard for her. And yes, I know there aren’t any excuses for neglecting you like she did but people aren’t themselves when they’re grieving.”

“Speaking from experience, are you?” Clarke scorns. “What, did your goldfish die when you were younger, or something? Did you bury it in your back garden and hold a little funeral for it?”

Lexa slumps back against the cushions of the sofa. She knows it’s a touchy subject, but Clarke has been showing so much enthusiasm for getting her life back on track recently that Lexa had been hoping that she would at least be receptive to the idea of speaking to her mom again.

After a minute of not saying anything, the only sound in the room being the bright music and slapstick sound effects coming from the cartoons on the television, Clarke says in a much softer voice. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“No, you’re right. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like to have lost your father. I just don’t like to see you hurting.”

“I’m hurting a hell of a lot less than I would be if I was still around my mom,” Clarke says with a shrug. “Anyway, I’ve got you now. You’re my family. You and Raven and the Blakes and all my other friends. I don’t need parents.”

Though she’s entirely unsatisfied with both the way the conversation panned out and Clarke’s attitude towards reconnecting with her mother, Lexa decides to let the subject drop.

Except that she doesn’t really.

She doesn’t bring it up as forwardly as the first time, learning from experience that Clarke a) doesn’t like to be told what to do and b) will shut down a conversation about her mother as soon as it starts. But Lexa decides that she’s going to subtly inject the idea into a conversation every so often in the hope that keeping Clarke’s mom close to the front of her girlfriend’s mind might guilt her into taking some initiative and making the first move into getting back into contact with her mom.

Clarke, as observant and quick-witted as she is, sees right through Lexa.

“No,” she says adamantly, when Lexa mentions Clarke’s mom for the third time in two days, while the two are out for a weekend brunch at a quiet little cafe not too far from Bellamy and Raven’s apartment. “I see what you’re doing. She’s out of my life and it’s for the best, Lexa, and the sooner you can understand that the better.”

“I’m not asking you to move back in with her,” Lexa sighs. “I just think it would be nice if you maybe at least let her know that you’re still alive.”

Clarke wipes at her mouth with a napkin and pushes her chair back from the table, getting up to her feet.

“This conversation is over. I’m going to the bathroom and when I get back we’re talking about something else, okay?”

Lexa nods apologetically and watches as Clarke walks over to the bathroom on the other side of the restaurant.

But Clarke has left her phone on the table, and with the previous conversation not yet pushed from her mind, the temptation to reach over and take it in Clarke’s absence is too strong, and Lexa knows that she shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t...

Sparing a quick glance to the bathroom door to check that Clarke isn’t returning yet, Lexa reaches across the table and swipes Clarke’s phone up. She unlocks it swiftly – so quickly in fact that she doesn’t even let herself smile at the fact that Clarke’s passcode means that Lexa has to type out her own name into the number pad on the cracked screen to gain access to the phone – and immediately opens up Clarke’s contacts, her teeth anxiously nibbling at her own lower lip as she races to complete her mission before Clarke gets back.

There’s a moment of panic when it takes Lexa far too long to find the phone number that she’s looking for (because Clarke doesn’t have her mom’s number under anything normal like Mom or even the slightly less affectionate Abby) and she worries that maybe Clarke actually is heartless enough to have removed all trace of her mother from her life, but when Lexa scrolls down the list of contacts in Clarke’s phone and spots a number listed under the name Supreme Bitch, Lexa thinks she’s probably hit the jackpot.

She quickly sends the number to herself, and then goes about hastily removing all evidence from Clarke’s phone.

Lexa has barely had time to place Clarke’s phone back down on the table in its original position when Clarke emerges from the bathroom, wiping her wet hands on the front of her jeans and completely oblivious to the way that Lexa has completely violated not only her privacy, but also her desire to stay out of contact with her mother.

Lexa manages to cleanse her conscience, at least for a few days, by telling herself that if she hasn’t yet called the new number in her phone (which she has saved under a false name so as not to arouse suspicion in the unlikely circumstance that Clarke should find herself looking through Lexa’s contacts) then she has no reason to feel guilty for betraying her girlfriend’s trust.

But with each day that passes, Lexa’s phone gets heavier and heavier in her pocket, until finally, when Clarke complains for the second day in a row that she couldn’t afford lunch, Lexa realises that she has the power to maybe help turn Clarke’s life back around.

The problem is that in order to do that, she needs to do something that could make Clarke hate Lexa forever.

She’s in the middle of doing her homework on a Wednesday night when it finally happens, meticulously combing through a literature essay that she needs to turn in the following morning. Her phone sits on top of a pile of books a couple of feet away, just out of reach (from what Lexa understands, Clarke is currently being beaten by Raven and Octavia on Mario Kart on the other side of the city and though the pouty snapchats she keeps receiving from her girlfriend are cute, they are a distraction that Lexa’s near perfect GPA can’t afford), but Lexa still can’t concentrate. It’s like the phone is taunting her from where it lies just in her peripheral vision, never quite out of sight in a constant reminder of the number within that she could be calling.

In a split second, Lexa has snatched up her phone, unlocked it, and opened up the contact information for Clarke’s mom. The number glares up at her from the screen, and her thumb twitches towards the call icon. That’s all it would take, just a little more movement from her thumb and then…

Oh shit.

Lexa didn’t mean to actually dial the number, in fact she had every intention of turning off her phone and tossing it onto the bed behind her in the hope that being out of sight completely would also remove it from Lexa’s mind, but an accidental twitch of her thumb at exactly the wrong moment means that she hears the dial-up tone coming through the speaker of her phone, and one petrifying word stares up at her from the screen.

Calling.

The phone rings three times – five long seconds that feel like hours as Lexa stares at the screen in a panic and her mind flails around uselessly – before it is answered on the other end of the call.

“Hello?”

It’s a woman’s voice, and though Lexa has no way of knowing that she’s taken the right number from Clarke’s phone, she would hazard a guess that the voice probably does belong to an older woman and not one of Clarke’s friends.

“Hello,” Lexa says, her hand trembling as she raises the phone to her ear and speaks into it, “is this Abby Griffin?”

“Yes, speaking.”

Lexa exhales slowly, closing her eyes for a couple of seconds to gain a little bit of composure, then continues with her call.

“Hello Mrs Griffin. I … I’m just calling about your daughter.”

There’s a moment of silence on the line, then Abby’s voice comes back, this time with a nervous edge that wasn’t there before.

“Clarke? Is she okay? She’s not hurt is she?” Another pause, and then, “Oh my, has she been arrested?”

“Don’t worry, she’s fine,” Lexa is quick to assure Abby.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Abby breathes a sigh of relief. “You had me worried for a second.”

“Clarke is perfectly safe, I can promise you that.”

Sounding much calmer after Lexa’s reassurances, Abby asks, “May I ask who is calling?”

“My name is Lexa. I’m Clarke’s…”

Lexa trails off, realising that telling Abby that she’s dating Clarke might not be the best idea. Clarke has never really spoken much about her sexuality and though Lexa gets the impression that it’s not, nor has it ever been, a particularly big deal to Clarke, she doesn’t know if she ever took the opportunity to come out to her parents before her father’s death. She definitely knows it’s not fair for her to out Clarke to her own mother.

(She tries to ignore the fact that it’s not really fair for her to be talking to Clarke’s mother at all.)

“I’m a friend of your daughter’s,” Lexa says, settling for a toned down version of the truth. “I … I’m so sorry, I spent ages planning what I was going to say to you and it’s all gone straight out of my head in the moment.”

“Does she want to see me?” Abby asks, and Lexa’s insides sink at the glimmer of hope she can hear in her voice, even through the speaker of the phone.

“Not exactly,” Lexa chooses her words carefully, afraid of damaging an already broken relationship even further. “She … she’s still hurting a lot after what happened and she’s trying to act tough and pretend that she doesn’t care anymore but I think it would do her some good to have you back in her life again, even if it’s just small steps to start with.”

Abby gives a hum of agreement, and then says carefully, “I know that I wasn’t the best mother to Clarke. I can’t begin to imagine what it must have been like for her. I … I wasn’t myself after Jake died but I should have been there for her.”

Abby’s words do a little to settle the guilty unease that has been bubbling away inside Lexa, reassured that even if she is doing the wrong thing by speaking to Clarke’s mom behind her back, she’s at least learned that Abby understands where she went wrong.

“How is she?” Abby asks, before Lexa can say anything else. “How is she really? I haven’t spoken to or heard from her since she got expelled from school.”

“She’s…” Lexa considers fabricating the truth just to appease Abby and give her what she wants to hear, but she settles for being completely honest. “Frankly I think she’s been better.” She adds quickly, “She’s doing well though. Much better now than when I met her. She’s going to school regularly now and she’s got a good network of friends. I think she’s really trying to get her life back on track.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” says Abby, and Lexa can hear the relief in her voice.

“Oh,” Lexa remembers, “and she wants to go to college. Not this fall, but next year. Art school.”

“College?” Abby’s voice is full of surprise. “Oh, wow. You know, I had all these visions of Clarke being alone out on the streets, or in prison somewhere, or … something much worse.”

Or dead. Abby doesn’t have to elaborate for Lexa to know exactly what she means by ‘something much worse’. And to be honest, this is partly why she called Abby in the first place, to reassure her that her daughter is alive and well.

“You don’t have to worry,” Lexa says calmly. “She’s doing great.”

“Can I see her?”

Lexa is taken aback by the question, and she quickly scolds herself because she should have known that Abby would want to see Clarke again and prepared a response accordingly. She knows what answer she should give – a resolute no until she gets Clarke’s consent – but even though Abby’s voice is slightly grainy through the speaker of Lexa’s phone, she can still hear the hope in Abby’s words, and Lexa doesn’t know whether she can be ruthless enough to outright crush that hope.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she starts tentatively. “Clarke would kill me if she even knew I was talking to you right now, let alone setting up a meeting with you.” Hearing a disappointed sigh down the phone, Lexa adds quickly, “I’m working on it though. I’m hoping she’ll come around soon.”

“Can I at least have a number to call her on?” Abby begs. “I won’t tell her that you gave it to me. I’ll say I got it through other means.”

Lexa knows that she should probably say no, for Clarke’s sake, but she can hear the pleading tone in Abby’s voice and if their conversation has brought one thing to Lexa’s attention, it’s that Abby understands her mistakes and is keen to make things right with her daughter.

The only issue is that Clarke doesn’t seem ready for that yet.

“I shouldn’t…” Lexa starts.

“Please, Lexa.”

Closing her eyes, Lexa lets out a heavy sigh and rests her head on the hand not holding her phone up to her ear. It’s taking every ounce of willpower that she can muster up to say no to Abby and it kills her inside that she has to do this, but she know that it’s the right thing to do for now.

“I really shouldn’t,” Lexa repeats. “I’m not sure that I can do that.”

“I just want a chance to talk to my daughter again,” Abby pleads. “I know I messed up, but she’s my little girl and I love her and…”

Interrupting Abby, Lexa says, “I know that Mrs. Griffin. I want you to have that chance too, but I can’t give you Clarke’s number without her permission, I’m sorry. I will speak to her though. I’ll try my best to get her to open up to the idea of talking to you.”

The disappointment evident in her voice, Abby quietly says, “I understand. Thank you for calling me. You’ve put my mind at ease.”

“It’s been nice talking to you, Mrs Griffin. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Lexa.”

Lexa finds it even harder than before to concentrate on her homework for the rest of the night.

Lexa’s phone goes off in the middle of history class, vibrating in the pocket of the blazer that hangs over the back of her chair. Glancing around quickly to check that nobody else heard the soft buzzing sound, she retrieves it and holds it under her table, out of sight from any prying eyes, particularly those of the teacher lecturing them at the front of the classroom, should she look Lexa’s way.

Clarke Griffin Hey, you busy tonight?

Lexa glances once up to the front, then quickly taps out a reply, grateful to her past self who chose to sit in the second row from the back at the beginning of the academic year.

Lexa Woods Just the usual, homework etc.

Clarke’s response is almost immediate.

Clarke Griffin Can I see you? There’s something I need to do and I’d like it if you came with me

Lexa Woods Of course!

Lexa locks the screen of her phone, resting it on her lap beneath the table, and picks up her pen, quickly jotting down some of the notes that she missed during her brief texting interlude. But the tone of Clarke’s messages worry Lexa and she drops her pen after only a couple of sentences, picking up the phone once again and typing out another message to her girlfriend.

Lexa Woods Is everything ok?

Clarke Griffin I’ll explain later

Lexa is not convinced. Clarke has been acting a little strangely for the last three or four days, and ever since Lexa’s phonecall with Clarke’s mother just two days ago, and the paranoid part of Lexa’s brain has done a fantastic job in convincing her that Clarke has somehow found out about Lexa’s betrayal.

The rational part of Lexa’s brain tries to remind her that if Clarke had already found out, Lexa would definitely know about it because she would have taken it out on Lexa immediately, but that doesn’t really help calm Lexa’s nerves.

Clarke is just as jumpy when Lexa meets with her after school, and Lexa can tell that there’s something on her mind before she even reaches the bus stop, spotting her girlfriend pacing back and forth along the sidewalk at their agreed meeting point as she approaches.

“Hey, what’s up?” Lexa asks, laying a gentle hand on Clarke’s arm when she arrives. “Is everything okay? Where are we going?”

Clarke reaches up to take the hand that Lexa is comforting her with in her own and leads Lexa over to the wall nearby that lines the sidewalk, perching on the edge of it and encouraging Lexa to sit down beside her. She intertwines their fingers and traces her thumb up and down the soft skin on the back of Lexa’s hand.

“We’re getting a bus,” explains Clarke. “A different bus. There’s somewhere I need to … I …”

Clarke trails off with a sad little sigh and she leans into Lexa’s side, resting her head against Lexa’s.

“What’s wrong?” Lexa asks worriedly. “Is something the matter?”

“Three years,” Clarke says softly, her voice barely more than a whisper, and Lexa can hear a gravelly little croak to her voice that isn’t usually there. “My dad died three years ago today. I want to … I need to go to his grave.”

“Oh, Clarke,” Lexa sighs, dropping the hands that are linked between their thighs so that she can swing an arm around Clarke’s shoulders and pull her into a tight embrace. Pressing a lingering kiss to Clarke’s cheek, she continues, “I had no idea that was today.”

“Yeah, well I don’t really go around advertising it,” shrugs Clarke. “Raven and Octavia knew it was today. We took the day off school and went into town as a distraction. It was good of them to do that, but I’d like it a lot if you would be the one to visit his grave with me. I’d like to – and I know this is going to sound fucking stupid – but I’d really like for him to ‘meet’ you, so to speak.”

Clarke uses two fingers on each hand to create air quotes as she says the word “meet”, and Lexa smiles reassuringly at her.

“I’d like that,” she tells Clarke honestly. “I know how hard you find it to open up, but I really appreciate you offering to let me into something so personal.”

They catch a bus, a different one to the normal ones that either of them usually catch to and from school, and get off it again after just a quick fifteen minute journey. Clarke takes them down a quiet street with a few independent shops, leading Lexa by the hand into a florists on the corner, but once inside, she stops and stares around with wide eyes.

“I don’t know what to get him,” she admits. “I don’t know what kind of flowers he liked, or if he even liked flowers at all.”

“What was his favourite colour?”

“Blue.”

Lexa immediately jumps to Clarke’s rescue, wandering around the shop knowledgeably and picking out a pretty selection of white and blue flowers, before approaching the counter and asking the florist to create a bouquet from her choices. The display that she creates for them is simple but artful, and when the price pops up in green letters on the front of the cash register, Clarke starts fumbling around in the back pocket of her jeans for some change, but Lexa quickly stops her.

“I’ll get it, it’s fine,” she insists. “A gift to your father from somebody who cares about his daughter very much.”

As they leave the florist’s, bouquet in Clarke’s hand, Clarke scuffs her shoes against the sidewalk and mumbles softly, “You didn’t have to pay for it for me. He’s dead, you don’t need to try and impress him.”

Lexa laughs under her breath at Clarke’s little attempt to lighten the mood with a joke, then reaches out to take Clarke’s free hand with her own.

“It’s okay. I wanted to.”

Clarke gives Lexa’s hand a grateful little squeeze and they continue on their way.

The cemetery is just a five minute walk away but they make the journey in silence. There’s a sombre mood hanging over them, understandably so, and though Lexa wonders whether she should be leading a conversation to distract Clarke from what day it is and where they’re going, she figures that that’s probably what Raven and Octavia have been doing all day, and that she might welcome the silence to be alone with her own thoughts.

“Here we are,” Clarke says as she pushes open the heavy iron gate that leads into the cemetery from the sidewalk. “He’s over by that tree.”

Lexa follows Clarke between two rows of worn headstones until Clarke stops in front of one that is newer than those surrounding it, the polished marble not yet showing any signs of erosion and the gold inscription carved into it still as legible as it would have been the day it was installed in the graveyard.

JAKE GRIFFIN 09.26.71 – 05.10.15

“Hey, Dad,” Clarke says aloud into the cemetery that is empty apart from the two girls who stand at this particular grave. “Um, I brought you some flowers.”

Clarke bends down to place the bouquet at the foot of the marble headstone, and when she straightens, she takes a step back to stand at Lexa’s side, her hand fumbling to take hold of Lexa’s once more. There’s a little frown on Clarke’s face, shown in the tiny line just between her eyebrows, and a look of sad longing in her usually lively blue eyes.

“And I brought somebody to meet you,” Clarke continues, glancing up at Lexa for reassurance, which Lexa gives her with a little nod. Turning back to the gravestone, Clarke says, “This is Lexa.”

“Hello, Mr Griffin,” Lexa says aloud, pushing past the lump that has formed in her throat. She feels a little stupid speaking to what is essentially just a slab of shiny marble, but she knows how much this means to Clarke, how much Clarke does actually believe that her father can hear her right now, and she wants to do this as much for Clarke as she does herself. “I’m honored that Clarke brought me along today. She always speaks so highly of you.”

The little squeeze that Clarke gives her hand, almost indiscernible but not quite, tells Lexa that she’s saying the right things.

“Dad, Lexa is my girlfriend. I…” Clarke pauses, closes her eyes for a couple of seconds, and then after a deep breath, opens them and continues, “I’m sorry that I never had the chance to come out to you before you … well, I never had the chance to share that bit of me with you when you were still here, but I know you wouldn’t care that Lexa is a girl. And … and I really like her, Dad.”

Lexa’s heart can’t help but melt as she hears Clarke’s words, and she quickly reaches a hand up to wipe at the tear that forms in the corner of her eye, not wanting Clarke to see it.

Thankfully oblivious, Clarke continues, “I think you’d really like her too. She’s like super smart, and funny, and just a really good person.” Clarke smiles to herself, then says, “You’d get on with her well. I can just imagine you both at family dinners, sharing jokes between you and ganging up on me.”

Hearing a soft sniffle from beside her, Lexa glances across to see Clarke wiping her own damp eyes with her free hand, slightly smudging her mascara. Lexa drops Clarke’s hand so that she has the arm free to wrap around Clarke’s back, fingers tightening around Clarke’s waist.

Sensing that Clarke might be too emotional to continue, at least for the immediate future, Lexa speaks up, “You raised a really wonderful daughter, Mr Griffin. Clarke is the most incredible person I’ve ever met and I owe part of that to you. And we both know that she can be stubborn and likes everybody to think that she’s always strong, but I promise to be there for her when she can’t be strong. I promise to look after her.”

I promise to look after her for you. Lexa doesn’t say it, but it’s implied, and she knows that Clarke has picked up on it because she leans slightly into Lexa’s side and reaches a hand up to cover Lexa’s briefly on her waist.

“Thank you,” Clarke whispers softly, and Lexa knows that these words are meant for her. “Thanks for coming with me. I wasn’t sure if I could do it on my own.”

“Of course,” Lexa replies. “I’d do anything for you, Clarke, I…”

She stops herself before she says the words, catching her tongue before it runs away from her. Perhaps it’s the emotion riding high between the two them, charged by the situation and the words that have just been spoken into the early evening air, but Lexa knows that she’d been just about to say it to Clarke.

‘It’ being those three little words.

Clarke, I love you.

Which is ridiculous, because Lexa has been waiting for the moment when it suddenly hits her how much she is in love with Clarke, and it hasn’t happened yet. Unless it has, and she somehow missed it, because she’s pretty sure in this moment that she does love Clarke…

“Clarke?”

Lexa doesn’t get the chance to figure out just exactly what this means because they are interrupted by a third person in the cemetery, a female voice calling out Clarke’s name from somewhere behind them. And though the voice is almost unfamiliar to Lexa, nearly unrecognisable from the last time she heard it coming through the speaker of her phone, from the way that she can feel the way that Clarke instantly tenses at her side, as if somebody has just poured an ice cold bucket of water over her head, Lexa knows exactly who it belongs to.

“Mom?”

The two of them turn around slowly in complete synchronisation, and Lexa’s eyes fall on the woman standing just inside the gated entrance to the cemetery. Lexa recognises her from a few images she’d found in online medical journals during the quick google search she did of Abby Griffin last week when psyching herself up to make the phonecall, but this Abby looks very different to how she had looked in the professional photographs. And Lexa knows that the differences must be down to more than just some good lighting and a decent quality camera, because there are many more lines on Abby’s face and her complexion is pale, exaggerating the dark bags under her eyes.

Perhaps losing your husband and your only daughter in quick succession makes you age much faster.

“Clarke, honey, I…”

Abby starts to walk towards them, but Clarke is having none of it, dropping Lexa’s hand and taking a few steps back.

“No,” she shakes her head, her eyes shimmering with the onset of tears. “No. Stay away from me.”

“Clarke…”

“Stay away from me!” Clarke repeats, raising her voice and choking over the words as the first tears spill from her eyes and cascade down her cheeks, leaving dark trails of mascara in their wake.

Spotting her chance to maybe try and make things right between mother and daughter, Lexa reaches out a hand to steady Clarke, hoping that if she can just get Clarke to calm down and look at things rationally, perhaps Clarke will be willing to have a mature conversation with her mom and takes the first steps towards fixing their broken relationship.

“Clarke,” Lexa starts, “maybe if you just…”

Lexa trails off in fear as Clarke turns her attention to Lexa, the sheer anger in her glare causing Lexa to cower away and forget her own words. There’s something in Clarke’s eyes that Lexa has never seen before, a dark inferno of rage that hasn’t been there when Clarke has been angry with Lexa in the past.

“I bet you’re in on this, aren’t you?” she shouts at Lexa. “It’s a bit of a coincidence that you’ve been asking me to make up with her and then she just turns up here. Did you invite her here? Huh? Huh?”

“Clarke, no, of course I didn’t!” Lexa protests.

“Tell me the truth, Lexa!”

Lexa sighs exasperatedly, not entirely sure why Clarke is choosing to lash out at her but trying not to get too frustrated in retaliation because she knows that Clarke is highly charged with raw emotions right now, the combination of grief along with the reminder of why she ran away from home. Abby’s presence is certainly not going to help keep Clarke in an emotionally stable place, and though Lexa knows that she has nothing to do with Abby turning up here today, she can understand why Clarke might feel the need to lash out at her.

“Clarke, look where we are!” Lexa reminds her, gesturing to the headstones that surround them. “It’s your father’s grave on the anniversary of his death. Has it not crossed your mind that she’s here for the same reason that we are?”

Clarke lets out a lurching sob as tears cascade down her cheeks, a painful noise that seems to rip through Lexa’s chest and tear her heart out from inside her ribcage.

“Clarke, I…”

It’s then that Lexa makes her mistake, in reaching out with one hand to touch Clarke’s arm in what is intended to be a gesture of reassurance.

“Get off me!” Clarke shrieks, as she retracts her arm as suddenly as she would if Lexa’s hand were a red hot poker burning her skin. “I … I need space.”

Before Lexa even has a chance to fully process what is going on, Clarke has stormed right past her, right past her mother, and leaves the graveyard through the same gate they entered earlier, hurrying along the sidewalk and across the road.

Realising that Clarke is not in the right mental or emotional state to be wandering parts of the city alone, let alone safely crossing roads, Lexa forces her brain to start working in a forward gear once more and rushes after Clarke’s retreating form, stopping only momentarily on her way out of the cemetery to apologise to an equally stunned and teary-eyed Abby.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Griffin,” Lexa tells Abby as she passes Clarke’s mother. “I’ll try and get her to see some sense, I promise!”

Lexa chases after Clarke as fast as her legs will carry her, a feat which is much harder in her restrictive school uniform. Her black shoes, flimsy pumps that are open at the top, are hardly made for running, and the bag that hangs from her shoulder, heavy with schoolbooks, is an uncomfortable extra weight that swings as Lexa runs and makes chasing after Clarke just that little bit harder.

Clarke’s headstart has her across the busy road when Lexa is barely out of the gated cemetery and it’s just Lexa’s luck that the lights at the pedestrian crossing turn red when she reaches it, and two lanes of traffic zoom past in each direction as she waits for the lights to change again. With each second that Lexa is waiting on the sidewalk, Clarke gets further away until, when the traffic finally slows to let Lexa cross the road, Clarke has vanished from sight with no indication of which way she might have gone.

“Shit,” Lexa mutters, delving into the inside pocket on her school blazer and pulling out her phone. She opens the text conversation with Clarke, where the most recent messages are the ones of Clarke asking to meet Lexa after school, and composes a quick message for her girlfriend.

Lexa Woods Please don’t push me away Clarke. I’m always going to be here for you xxx

Lexa considers sending a second message, an I love you Clarke, but it doesn’t quite seem right to say it for the first time over text after the day that Clarke has had.

#clexa #clexa fanfic #clexa fic #clarke griffin #commander lexa #cloudburst #dctr #bsau2

23 notes · View notes

nataliecrown · 8 years ago

Text

4x01 Recap - Echoes (The 100)

Alright folks, it’s time. My show has returned, and I am throwing myself back on this ride with wild abandon.

I’m adopting my Discussapalooza style from here on out. Which is to say that this recap is going to be very long. If there are any sections that you’d like me to pull out and post seperately, let me know. Otherwise, you have been warned - I like to go in depth.

We ready? LET’S GO.

Octavia feels right from the get go

First we need to talk about how stupid the Polis tower is, from a practical standpoint. It’s one of those choices where this show went for BIG BIG BIG without thinking of anything else. It is DUMB that they all got down without incident with the elevator out. And like...next episode they are back up there again??? AGSAJSABHFSAF.

Anyway, the little wobble that Octavia has as we see her climbing down the last chunk is hilarious to me because I feel it’s the only acknowledgment the writers make to the ridiculously death defying feat they all just accomplished? ANYWAY.

We then get all the emotions when Octavia runs to Indra, and this relationship means the actual world to me if I’m honest. When you look back at how they started, and the genuine affection and respect between them now - particularly from Indra’s side - it’s actually incredible. Plus I am just STRAIGHT UP EUPHORIC that Indra is still around.

Their interaction regarding Pike is really subtle, and I love it. As much as I am sad to have lost Mike Beach (though he continues to be the absolute best), I also really do not have an issue with Octavia killing him. He executed Lincoln, and this world is messed up. I enjoy Octavia’s ‘I waited until it was over line’ even though it’s only just true (she almost screwed everybody over beforehand when she couldn’t control her urges), but I think the delivery is spot on. It was a struggle for Octavia to hold back. In the end, she needed it to be over. And Indra’s nod? Mostly, I see understanding there. But I’ll keep an eye on where these two go this season, because maybe there was also a little bit of sadness? We’ll see.

Bellarke instantly blow my mind

HONESTLY. I’m not exaggerating when I flail over them standing next to each other. It’s actually iconic at this point. STAND TOGETHER ALL THE TIME PLEASE.

Polis is a mess. Would be super great if it would just...get blasted out of existence sometime soon? *innocent emoji*

I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THEIR OCTAVIA INTERACTION. I’M GONNA LIST WITHIN MY LIST.

1. I love that Clarke is looking to make him feel better, despite everything else on their plates. That’s the first thing we get from Clarke in Season 4 - her reassuring Bellamy.

2. I also love that Bellamy isn’t racing after Octavia to check in, to follow up, or even just to keep an eye on her. We see this throughout the episode, and I’ll talk about it more, but I really feel like the Blake relationship is going to step up in a big way, and in a way that it needs to. Bellamy is going to step back from Octavia, not from lack of love, but from the perspective that she can take care of herself. And maybe, for the first time in Bellamy’s life, he can lift a little of the burden of responsibility off his shoulders (I mean, that’s a joke obviously...because the world is ending, but you know).

3. AND when Clarke mentions that people will believe Pike had it coming, Bellamy responds with ‘maybe we all do.’ His head almost snaps around when Clarke says it, and it’s clear that he’s thinking if Pike deserved it, then so do I.

Okay, so moving on. We’ve known for a long time that Clarke was going to tell Bellamy before everyone else. I want to point it out again though. Because.

It’s Bellamy that suggests they hold back on sharing the end of the world news until they have more facts, and Clarke points out that he’s afraid of how people will react. Meg and I have just shared our podcast recap of 1x04, so the episode is vivid in my mind and I LOVE how this moment calls back to that episode. Back then Bellamy told Clarke ‘be smart about this’. She didn’t listen, and things went a bit tits up. It was the end of that episode that Bellamy and Clarke became partners with ‘from now on, we make the rules.’ And we see their evolution presented here. Clarke listens to Bellamy.

THEY ARE STANDING VERY CLOSE TO ONE ANOTHER JUST SO YOU KNOW.

Bellamy loves to drop in shit jokes in terribad situations. I love it. It’s like he’s constantly trying to lighten the weight on Clarke’s shoulders. Like he cares for her happiness or some shit.

So Clarke listens to Bellamy as he reassures her. It’s step by step Clarke, one thing at a time. We get down, we go home, we figure it out (hey, remember the 3x16 script revealing to us that Clarke thought of Bellamy as she pulled the lever? And remember how she said ‘we’ll figure something out, we always do.’ It’s a little bit like this sort of moment was EXACTLY what she imagined) and we survive. We get a long shot of Clarke’s face when Bellamy finished talking, and it is all about her looking at him and just being so grateful for him. She needs him, more than anyone (yes, I believe more than she needs Abby and yes I believe more than she needed Lexa - sue me).

‘Thank you, for keeping me alive.’ SO AFTER THE FLAILING IS DONE, there is a ton to unpack here. Most obviously, Bob is a master of his face. Like, he does the whole I AM TAKEN ABACK thing so goddamn well. There’s also a sadness to Clarke that Eliza carries in this episode. She’s tired, and she’s mourning, and she’s scared. It’s beautiful to me that she took this moment, looking up at this stalwart beside her, and said those words. We see her thank Raven later too, and I wonder if this is perhaps the legacy of Clarke’s S3 arc. Love is weakness is truly gone. Will we see her be more open in general now, knowing that they might all be dead in six months anyway?

I talked about this already, but I’ll go again because lbr this recap won’t have anywhere near enough words in it if I don’t (L O L). I think we can take this thank you in its most literal sense, which is probably how Bellamy takes it. By that I mean that Clarke is thanking him for his solid work in 3x15 and 3x16, and then for all the other times that he has stepped in to save her. But I also think it throws back to her pulling the lever in 3x16 again, especially when you consider the script. In that scene, Clarke essentially chose life or death for everyone. It was thinking of Bellamy that gave her the strength to survive. He doesn’t know that, and he probably never will, but without him ALWAYS doing what he is doing in this very scene Clarke might have chosen differently.

No wonder they stick to each other like glue.

‘You don’t make it easy.’ *giggles*

I like the confirmation that the people Lexa killed in the CoL are dead IRL. I wonder if this is just put in there to tie up a loose end, or if it’s going to be relevant later?

I also like the spinning shot of Bellarke because I am who I am, and I am not ashamed.

CREDITS! I always thought it was spelled Zach tbh. Surely they wouldn’t put a typo in the credits for an actor’s name though? Right? RIGHT?

Arkadia kru!

THIS SCENE WAS SO CUTE. EVERYTHING ABOUT IT. I’m like, give or take about Marper, but their shuffle dancing was adorable.

Jasper skidding in and pleading the chip was also adorable, but I’LL GET TO JASPER LATER.

RAVEN. HI RAVEN. HOW ARE YOU RAVEN. I LOVE YOU RAVEN.

Anybody else notice that Raven is almost a little bit S1 Clark in this moment? The others are taking a moment to chill, and savour their success. Raven is all business. We’ve all heard that Raven is going to have more of a leadership role this season, and I am already getting those vibes.

The moment between Jasper and Raven is wonderful and heartbreaking. Their scenes together last season were so lovely, and I really buy her checking in on him as she does here. I also think everything about Jasper in this moment is hella complex. I think he is happy that Raven is okay, but I also suspect he is incredibly jealous. He looks at her and her injury, knowing that she has ‘been through more than anyone’, and he sees how capable she is, how helpful she is, AND ALIE upgraded her brain on top of that? It must make him feel even worse about himself, even more useless. He’s beating himself up for not being as good as she is. But it’s not a competition, Jasper. It’s different people that deal with things in different ways. Oh my god I’m talking to him like he can hear me. YOU’LL BE OKAY JASPER.

‘There’s nothing like a little pain to remind you that you’re alive.’ LET ME WEEP. Also, NEVER say this to a person suffering from chronic pain. HOWEVER, as somebody that does suffer from it...I adore this line. I know that might sound like a contradiction, but this is the sort of shit that is inspiring when coming from the right source. And Raven is that source. She made it out, she survived. She can put things in perspective. Her pain is her choice, her life is her choice. AH.

‘Wish I could get an upgrade’ OH JASPER. I have complicated feelings about Jasper in this episode. I’ll get to it later.

RAVEN CHECKING THAT THE OTHERS HAVE LEFT AND THEN LETTING HERSELF REACT TO HER PAIN IS THE MOST IMPORTANT. THANK YOU SHOW. THANK YOU SO MUCH.

I refuse to speculate about Raven’s face fading into the skull, simply because a world in which Raven dies is not a world that I believe will ever exist. So I ain’t worried.

Bravenlarke Rises

Fucking Jaha.

Kane, you’re very kind. But ‘what have we done’? I don’t know if you can really take any of the blame for the CoL.

Kabby! Standing! People stand so well on this show.

Abby’s mum senses tingle, and we get some more classic Bellarke/Kabby because this show knows what it’s about and it’s FINE VESSELS.

And then BRAVENLARKE RISES. Bellamy and Clarke step away from the adults to chat to their BFF and there is SO MUCH HERE. MY GOD THIS RECAP IS GOING TO BE SO LONG I AM SO SORRY. I CAN’T BELIEVE ANY OF YOU WILL READ THE WHOLE THING. YIKES.

Also worth noting: Kabby observing Bellarke as they walk away.

FIRST AND FOREMOST - Raven wants to know if everyone is okay, AND ASKS AFTER CLARKE. And then CLARKE THANKS HER. You guys, we have been so goddamn deprived of Clarke and Raven. GIVE ME ALL OF IT PLEASE.

Clarke thanking Raven is also nice from the perspective that the show is acknowledging that Clarke wouldn’t have pulled any lever without Raven’s smarts.

ALSO, CLARKE PUTS BOTH HANDS OVER BELLAMY’S. NOTE THIS SHIT DOWN. I LIVE.

Bellarke split up here for no other reason than to set up the following scene with Echo, which honestly makes me laugh a lot.

ROAN IS ALIVE. I mean, this isn’t news but let’s YAY over it anyway.

Okay, so Echo grabs Clarke and Abby is all GASP and then from a million miles away Bellamy storms over, and the FURY in his face honestly gives me shivers. The point, the being held back by Kane, the ‘Bellamy, don’t’. Everybody in this bar knows in their own way that threatening Clarke is liable to set Bellamy the f off. And when you add the Echo/Gina to it all, it becomes ever more intense.

Much catching of Clarke. Much standing close.

Setting up the politics

Okay, so Echo is not about Skaikru and Azgeda have the numbers to back up their ire. Kane makes a lovely attempt at defending Clarke, but it doesn’t seem to faze Echo at all. We then meet random ambassador with spectacular eyes, and we then lose random ambassador when Echo slits her throat. I have a bit of an issue with this scene if I’m honest, because it feels a bit contrived. Echo JUST had a sword to Clarke’s throat, and no argument actually won her over. Yet she happily murders random ambassador? I’d argue that Echo spares Clarke because Bellamy is there and she feels residual guilt for what happened at Mt Weather...but then, she seems more than happy to see Clarke murdered later so that doesn’t add up. Essentially, I see the writer’s hands at work here.

‘Looks like saving the world will have to wait.’ *giggles* Also, HOW CLOSE ARE YOUR FACES HONESTLY.

Fucking Jaha.

Oh, hey Murphy! Nice to see you and your sass. And also nice to see you agree with me on the fucking Jaha front.

This Memori scene is super cute. I love the reminder that Emori was essentially banished by the grounders because of her deformity. I love Murphy calling his people his people, and thinking things are different now. I love how earnest and honest her is with her. And her acceptance. BUT THEN I GET SAD, BUT I’LL GET TO THAT LATER.

Family Gathering

So Abby sees Kane look at his crucifixion wounds, and we all remember that he was crucified because he wouldn’t let them hurt Abby. Paige nails Abby’s guilt, and the whole exchange is wonderfully tender. The best part of this scene is Clarke watching it happen. I love her little smile. She wants her mum to be happy, especially if the world is ending in six months. I also think there’s a little sadness in her expression. We can’t forget that Clarke was reunited with Lexa literally...what..an hour or so before this? I’m sure she’s thinking of Lexa here too.

KINDRA. The hug was everything.

Bellamy returns to Clarke’s side.

Octavia is SO SASSY IN THIS EPISODE MY GOD.

There’s a shot where Bellamy looks across at Clarke when she says ‘we have to save Roan’ that I really enjoy. Just thought I’d point it out.

Abby’s motherly intuition tells her that Clarke knows more than she does, but before Clarke informs the group she looks to Bellamy. He nods. THEY ARE A TEAM. And the truth is out there. They can’t afford a fight, nor do they have time for it. They need to save Roan and form some sort of truce with Azgeda if they have any hope of saving the world.

FUN FACT I actually did not at any point twig that it was Octavia in the bag, and that Jaha was in on the team effort. I truly thought he was just off doing some weird shit by himself. So I guess...I was pleasantly surprised? Good...good for you, Jaha?

Can’t say I was too emotionally impacted to see him get beat up though *shrug*. I mean, it wasn’t pleasant but whatever.

Bellamy, the Leader

Personally, I do not believe that Becho will happen. What I do see is the writer’s using Echo, and their history, as a means to bring Bellamy back to the forefront as a leader. Others have already mentioned the parallel to Clarke and Lexa here, and I totally see it. Because Echo will only deal with Bellamy, the show is allowed to pull back from just Clarke as representative of Skaikru. It’s actually pretty clever, and gives Bellamy a ton of agency outside of his partnership with Clarke. So, kudos.

GUYS I WAS JUST SO PLEASED WITH OCTAVIA THIS EPISODE. All the pre season stuff made it sound like she was going to be off on her own, and doing her own murderous thing. But her murderous thing is totally for her people! I love it! And yes, it is completely implausible that Octavia is suddenly a highly skilled ninja. I absolutely agree. But also, whatever. I accepted her sudden level up back in S2. I’m over it.

ABBY’S REACTION TO OCTAVIA’S MURDERS WAS HONESTLY AMAZING. I LAUGHED VERY HARD. More Abby/the Blakes please and thank you. Make the family complete.

Okay, so Murphamy lives. I love how Emori says she doesn’t like this, and Murphy’s reaction is IT’S OKAY, BELLAMY IS RIGHT THERE. And then as he approaches, Indra has to TELL BELLAMY TO PAY ATTENTION. Ahaha. Amazing.

CAN WE TALK ABOUT INDRA AND BELLAMY FOR A SECOND? LIKE. The last time they were alone together, Bellamy was chained to a wall and she hated his guts. And I mean, she probably still sort of hates his guts. But wow, progress. And progress on Bellamy’s part too. I actually think it says a lot for his self worth that he can stand there with her on such a level. It probably helps that his dad, and her BFF, is there too but still. IMPORTANT.

‘I know how you feel about her, but you can’t lose control’ was clearly put in to remind people that are less obsessed than us that Bellamy has a pretty solid reason to hate Echo. Much like we understand Octavia’s quest for vengeance re. Pike, we could understand Bellamy feeling the same here. But Bellamy has come out of S3 in a much better place than he started it, that’s for sure.

‘That’s probably because you’re not an idiot.’ Oh, Murphy.

AND THEN I GET REALLY SAD YOU GUYS. Bellamy gives Murphy his gun, in a throwback to S2 and like...I just....I GET it. It’s totally in character for Murphy to look at this situation brewing, to think of Emori, and to say screw it. IT TOTALLY IS. But I was really, really looking forward to Murphy being back with the group. And EVEN MORE THAN THAT I was looking forward to Emori meeting the group! Clarke and Emori scenes. Raven and Emori scenes. Bellamy and Emori scenes. GIVE IT TO ME. So I can’t help but be disappointed with Murphy here. And I really hope Memori aren’t off on their own for long. Maybe Murphy will have a change of heart? Maybe Memori have started back towards Arkadia? Maybe they will bump into Bellarke on the way? DOUBLE DATE?

‘I GOT THIS’ means everything, as does Bellamy’s power strut. HE’S BACK IN THE GAME. I’m sure he’s still full of self loathing, but it’s not crippling him like it was. He is finding his self worth again.

I actually don’t find it at all surprising that Echo seems to genuinely care for Bellamy’s opinion. She saw his courage and his strength and his compassion in Mt Weather. He saved her and all of the others that were trapped there. He is a good, in her eyes. But as Bellamy says, it’s not that easy. At the end of the day, Gina died because Echo betrayed Bellamy. You don’t just apologise for something like that. And while I don’t personally care for Gina (so so so scandalous - note: I care that the writers created the character just to kill her, but it was so obviously going down that way that I never formed an attachment. Sue me) her memory won’t just disappear.

Bob nails this scene by the way. He told the others that he had this, and he does. He IS control. But you can still see his anger in the stiff way he holds himself, the furrow of his brow, the occasional gulp, and the deliberate way that he talks.

OH LOOK. OCTAVIA LOVES HER BROTHER AND DOESN’T WANT HIM TO DIE.

Bellamy’s reaction to the Trikru massacre is ALSO on point, and I like that Echo had no idea he was there. She almost looks a little bit excited by it. Murder clearly turns her on.

‘The alternative is war. Is that what you want?’ makes me think of the Bellarke fight in 3x05 and I had to mention it because if I am feeling these emotions, you should be too.

Oh, btw, during all of this Clarke and Abby are trying to save Roan. I bring it up because I LOVE THE MOTHER/DAUGHTER BONDING IN THIS EP. GRIFFIN LADIES FTW.

And then we see the sliiiiightest break in Bellamy’s composure. Echo turns to leave, and he grabs her arm saying ‘I wasn’t done talking’’ and the delivery does things to me. But then, oops. Bellamy is on the floor with a knife at his throat. And the ANGER. The ANGER in his eyes. OOF.

OH LOOK. OCTAVIA LOVES HER BROTHER AND DOESN’T WANT HIM TO DIE PT II

‘Abby will come through.’ Kane’s faith in her is beautiful

OH LOOK. OCTAVIA LOVES HER BROTHER AND DOESN’T WANT HIM TO DIE PT III

I hate writerly contrivance, so I hate that Roan wakes up just as Echo is about to chop Clarke’s head off. It’s dumb. Don’t be dumb, writers.

ABS.

CLARKE give the guy a second before you pounce.

Also, thank you so very much for hiring Mr McGowan. You did me a solid.

I’m Niytavia for lyf but noting Octavia’s take no BS ‘we just saved your damn life’ juuuuust in case.

Sex and giggles and SADNESS

The Marper scene is cute. Like...I don’t know, it came out of nowhere so I’m not emotionally invested. But I want both characters to be happy, so yay.

Raven interrupting them eternally is my fave. Her delivery of ‘we’re all gonna die’ is also my fave.

Okay, let’s tackle Jasper being about to kill himself. It’s clear that the writers were going to kill Jasper off in S3, but decided against it. Cool. I’m glad. So why go for an attempt of suicide here after the lovely Jonty scene in the S3 finale? Because it’s not just that they postponed the storyline, because Jasper DOESN’T kill himself. It’s NEW story. I’ll jump ahead now to Raven revealing the radiation truth to them (kinda loving that ALL the delinquents know btw) and Jasper’s reaction. I personally kinda like it? I mean, I’m withholding judgement until I’ve seen more. But in this episode alone? I like that he has a different reaction to the others, and that - weirdly - knowing that he’s doing to die makes him want to live? The thing that stops me getting really excited is being fairly convinced that Jasper WILL die this season, but if they handle the death right (I still have faith) then I might actually like this arc? I JUST DON’T KNOW BASICALLY. (Jasper’s soundtrack theme is so haunting and wonderful).

Devon is really knocking it out of the park btw.

I’m intrigued by what will come of Echo and Roan. I’d pin Echo as the season’s villain, but from Tasya’s interviews it doesn’t seem to be what’s coming.

Will Roan cauterise his own wounds with blades once per season? Excellent.

Stupid crown.

Down to learn more about Roan’s family though. Siblings? Grandpa Theo?

Hell in a cell (not really an apt subheading, I just wanted to use it)

All right, let’s do this.

The conversation between Abby and Clarke is important on so many levels. Firstly, these two haven’t had such a moment in so long. It’s just plain nice to see. It’s also INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT to see Clarke talk about her love for Lexa, in a room full of people, and to have her mother just smile and understand. It ain’t no thing, and that’s quality representation for so many people.

I’ve also already mentioned that while we’ve had months to get over 3x16, the events we witnessed have JUST HAPPENED in the shows timeline. Seeing Lexa and then losing her again is fresh in Clarke’s mind. I mean, she hasn’t even had one night to sleep on it. Of course, she’s upset.

AND I talked about this in Season 3 but I will never understand why so many people give Clarke shit for being attached to the chip. I know we’re all different, but it’s really quite normal to attach emotional significance to objects. In this case, I’d say it’s particularly justified.

The camera then hops to Kane watching Bellamy, and then closes in on Bellamy’s face. I’ve seen all the different interpretations, so here’s my take.

Overall, I think Bellamy is feeling compassion and empathy for somebody that he loves. He doesn’t want Clarke to be sad or hurting! It hurts him to see her that way, and to not be able to help. I do think that there is a layer of something else there though, but I’m loathe to call it jealousy. Jealousy sounds so...so negative. I am very much in the camp that Bellamy is aware, on some level, that he is in love with Clarke. But I also believe that he isn’t remotely thinking about it ever actually happening between them, and he’s okay with that. So not jealousy as such...but a twinge, let’s say. A slight twisting of the stomach and a twinge of the heart.

I’ve also seen the suggestion that he’s looking towards Octavia, and eh. I mean, perhaps. But for me the most important thing about this scene is that the writers chose to include it, and chose to showcase it in the way that they did. I think if they wanted us to know that Bellamy was thinking about Octavia, we would have seen a shot of her after Bellamy. We didn’t. Which tells me that the intention of the scene was for us to connect Clarke to Kane watching Bellamy to Bellamy reacting to Clarke.

In which case - SQUEE.

And then we get my absolute fave moment, because it was one of the few Bellarke scenes that wasn’t spoiled in one way or another - and that is Bellamy’s freak out when Echo takes Clarke. There’s honestly not much to say at this point. Obviously, he’d react that way. Obviously, Bob would nail it. But I’d like to draw attention to the writer’s intention once more here. We get a brief shot of Abby’s reaction, but the majority of the scene focuses on Bellamy’s reaction. Important.

Clarke, Crown, Chip

‘It’s always something with you, isn’t it.’ ‘This will be good.’ LOL FOREVER.

I can’t wait for Clarke and Roan to be BFFs.

‘Science is our only hope’ HEY IT’S LIKE THE REAL WORLD.

Clarke giving up the chip is a lovely scene. She does it for the sake of all, and ultimately I doubt it was that much of a struggle for her. Mostly, I think it makes her sad. Poor Clarke.

I also do think this a symbolic closing of the door re. Lexa. Which isn’t to say I don’t think she will be mentioned or referenced again this season, but it will be sporadic and only in relation to pushing forward other relationships or story arcs.

THE COALITION IS FORMED.

Until another Nightblood ascends? Where you at Luna.

Once again, we get a shot of Bellamy taking in Clarke’s reaction to the flame. The two of them are so in tune, it’s ridiculous.

We also get a shot of the woman who shouts out during Roan’s speech, and then Indra looking around. So...Indra’s daughter, yes? If not her daughter, then somebody significant. VERY excited to meet her next episode. And I’m intrigued as to how she might interact with Octavia.

The youth inherit the earth!!!!!!!

So the last scene with Echo bothers me just because I think Echo’s line about trust is stupid after everything she has done, at such an early point. Like...maybe if you had just saved his life (something I feel will inevitably happen at some point this season) and that just makes the scene feel really obvious. I am adamant that there will be no romance here, but I do see a future where the show will take Bellamy towards forgiving her. Please show, handle this well.

On the other hand, if I hadn’t read Tasya’s interview, I might take Bob’s delivery of ‘I doubt it’ as the final nail in the coffin, and confirmation that this is done. It’s cold, collected. Perfect.

Family pow wow!!

Octavia sass and then, ‘this is serious, O’ and again I sense a different Bellamy here in relation to Octavia. Further emphasised by his leaving without insisting on a hug, or even a lingering look. It’s like...he’s there, and he’s observing, and he’s contributing...but the relationship between them is on her now. Or something.

This is emphasised again by the parental goodbyes to Bellarke. Clarke and Abby is lovely as ever, so now let me turn to the scene between Kane and Bellamy.

I was surprised to see there was so much ‘controversy’ over this scene. I definitely did not take it as Kane admonishing Bellamy, or Kane implying that Bellamy did not deserve to live or that everything was Bellamy’s fault. I very much took it as Kane speaking from past experience, and knowing that Bellamy has a tendency to blame himself. It’s advice from the heart, and well meaning.

That being said, it has all the subtlety of being smashed in the face with a frying pan. That’s my issue with it. It reminds me of Bellamy spelling out his arc to Pike in 3x16. I was okay with that one because fandom last season had proven that it needed to be spelled out. I was hoping we could do away with such over explaining this season though.

I would have much preferred Kane placing a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder, the two of them nodding at each other, Kane saying ‘take care of yourself’, and then A GODDAMN HUG.

When Kane says ‘you’ll deserve to survive’ and Abby looks up at him - HEY SEASON 1 THROWBACK I SEE YOU.

Bellamy’s ‘I hope so’ is really important to me. He WANTS to live, to survive, to earn happiness again.

The shot of Clarke witnessing the moment is ALSO VERY IMPORTANT TO ME. again, they are just so in tune with each other, with their emotions, with their headspaces. Slay me.

Anyway.

So.

Like.

The shot of Clarke and Bellamy walking away framed by Kabby!!!!!!!!!!!

‘THE YOUTH INHERITED THE EARTH.’

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I ALMOST THREW MY LAPTOP WHICH WOULD HAVE SUCKED CAUSE I JUST BOUGHT IT

WHAT KIND OF EPIC SHIT

I’ve always said that Bellarke will usher in a new age on earth, but like….YOOOOO I NEVER THOUGHT IT WOULD BE SO EXPLICITLY STATED ON SHOW. FUCKING YES.

I also LOVE Abby’s ‘they have six months to save it.’ Gone are the days of her trying to step in and be an adult for the children. Kabby are stepping back. They are keeping an eye on the politics of things. Saving the world? That’s for Bellarke and the delinquents.

‘SO WHAT NOW, PRINCESS?’

Look, here’s the deal. I am so okay with Princess coming back in this moment. FIRSTLY, after an episode which really emphasises the S1ness of Bellarke in so many ways, the use of the old nickname really drives that home. But it also drives home how far they have come since then. It’s a light hearted moment, a joke, a tool again for Bellamy to lift Clarke’s burdens.

(Plus, Jason recently confirmed that the whole point of the Princess nickname between Bellarke was Han x Leia inspired so like HOW CAN I NOT LOVE THAT.)

AND IT WORKS. She is so clearly surprised, and delighted by it! She struts, she smirks! Walking out of Polis with Bellamy calling her Princess has her feeling all kinds of badass.

And I also love how lots of you have pointed out the contrast between everyone else, even Kane, calling her Wanheda. I LOVE IT AND I AGREE. Before Polis, before the grounders, Bellamy was there - and he’s still there now.

Fucking Jaha.

Oh hey, radiation. Sweet. Also, Egypt. People. World. Countries. LET’S GO SOMEWHERE.

SO THAT WAS MY RECAP. WHO’S STILL HERE WITH ME? NOBODY? GOOD.

I CAN’T WAIT FOR 4X02.

#I don't understand why the formatting went all weird #the 100 #bellarke #this is REALLY LONG PEOPLE #and mostly me rambling about stuff already said #but whatever #I had a fun time #the 100 recap #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #raven reyes #lindsey morgan #eliza taylor #bob morley #kabby

204 notes · View notes

for-the-grey-wardens · 8 years ago

Text

The 100 Fandom - We Need to Talk

Soooo....here it goes: I want to start off by saying that I am new to The 100 fandom. I didn't start watching The 100 until a few months ago. It started off with an accidental follow that turned out to be a mostly about The 100 (and it’s pro Bellarke) blog. At first I didn't think much of it. I was pretty new to Tumblr as well so I thought that just happened sometimes. Like I STILL don't really understand how Tumblr works. Anyways, I kept seeing these posts about The 100 and at first I just kept scrolling until I got to something that did interest me. Then later I started actually paying attention. And the more I saw, the more interested I became. Finally I was like - Alright, I gotta see what this show is all about. So, I sat down to watch it and…..well anyone who loves The 100 can probably guess what happened. I was hooked. I binge watched the first three seasons in like two weeks (or less, I don't remember) Season 3 wasn't on Netflix at the time, I had to buy episodes on Amazon in order to watch it but the show was like crack and I didn't care that I had to buy it. I had to keep watching. This is where it gets interesting… Anyone who pays attention to my Tumblr, who also watches The 100, can obviously see that I am a Bellarke. I ship it. I ship it so hard. I'm so in love with this ship. I will go down with this ship. It's my OTP of this show…. HOWEVER Here’s what you don't see…. I am also a Clexa shipper. That's right. You read that right. I am the magical unicorn that ships them both. I loved Lexa. I loved her fierceness. Her devotion to her people. Her bravery. Her badassness. I loved how her and Clarke’s relationship wasn't easy. That they wanted so badly to be on the same team and same side with same ideals but it was hard when the rest of their people didn't want to have it. It was beautiful and for god’s sake, it was real. IT STILL IS. I will always think that Bellarke is endgame but I also loved Clexa for what it was and what it still is. It meant something. It still does. It always will. I was devastated when her character died. It broke my heart because even if I was still pro Bellarke, I was also pro Clexa. I was sad to see her go. If you’ve read this far, you’re probably wondering to yourself - If I'm such a Clexa shipper, why don't I ever post about Lexa or the Clexa ship? The answer is simple. I was warned about the fandom from the beginning. I had heard about the ship wars. I heard about the season 3 shit fest, and the horrible aftermath. I had heard that it was easy to love The 100 but to stay away from the fandom. And though I may be new to The 100 fandom, I am not new to toxicity of Fandom Wars. (Shout out to all my fellow dragon age fans who survived the Bioware Social Network- you wanna talk toxic fandoms? That place was a fucking nightmare!) Plainly put, when I'm told to stay away from a fandom - then it must be bad. Eventually however, I started following blogs. Since the blog that started it all was a Bellarke blog, and since I was also a Bellarke even if I was also a Clexa fan, I stayed in the Bellarke fandom and didn't drift for one simple reason: I was afraid. I was afraid that if I started venturing further into the 100 fandom, that I would be sucked into this nightmare I had been hearing so much about even if I hadn't been personally affected by it. Yet. So I stuck to what was comfortable - my fellow Bellarke shippers. (And for the most part, honest to god, they are the most loving, positive people I've encountered. And so involved. I love you guys. You guys are amazing.) But I am sad that I am still afraid to go further. But I want to. I want to be involved. I want to be a real part of this fandom. Because I love The 100. I love this show and I want to see what else is out there. I want to meet other fans. But then! But then! After all the excitement with Unity Days - the Twitter drama happened. And this time I was around to see it. Obviously we all heard about the two (ONLY TWO) horrible! terrible! people who virtually attacked Lindsey and I was so appalled by it and I remembered WHY I was afraid. Raven is my favorite character on the show. My favorite one. And whether or not her actress’ opinion on the Bellarke ship is negative, positive, or neutral doesn't matter to me. It doesn't alter my love for Lindsey and the character she plays. It doesn't alter my opinion of my ship. It doesn't bother me at all. What does bother me is this: 1. That someone was horrible enough to tell another fellow human being to kill themselves, that they were a fat pig, over an opinion about a FICTIONAL pairing. And 2. That I saw more Clexa shippers dragging all Bellarke shippers into the ground over two people who “claim” the ship. Who they ship has no bearing on who they are as a person and clearly these two were fucking garbage. It does not mean that the rest of us are. And for the Clexa shippers who don't drag Bellarke shippers because like me- you are of the mind to believe that a ship does not define a person’s worth - thank you. I will not lump all Clexa shippers into the same category considering that I am actually one of them. I hope that somewhere out there there is a Clexa shipper who feels the same. BUT what I wanted to get to - the real reason for this very long post - is this: No matter what ship you sail, be it Bellarke or Clexa. Minty. Briller. Braven. Bina. Niylarke. Kabby. Etc etc etc, doesn't matter. You didn't start watching The 100 to board a ship. You started watching because you liked the show. Because isn't that what everyone is here for? The fans - the right ones. Obviously we all agree on something - we all like The 100. (Or at least those who are still watching/waiting for Season 4) There is something about the show that interest you enough to keep watching. This is something we all agree on. That we all enjoy this show. That's why we are all here. This negativity has to stop. This divide in our fandom has to stop. This hatred has to end. I love The 100 - and if you are a Bellarke or Clexa or whoever or nothing - I don't care. Let's talk.

#the100 #Bellarke #Clexa #Lexa #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #Stoptheshipwars

7 notes · View notes

coeurdastronaute · 5 years ago

Text

Essays in Existentialism: Stud 8

Previously on Stud

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“No, really,” she sighed. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

The panting of two bodies trying to catch their breath filled the room. Chests heaved and a damp kind of humidity hung over the bed and throughout the bedroom It smelled like sex. The winter weather outside of the window fogged up the corners as the snow fell, but that didn’t really matter, not at all, not a bit.

“No, I mean it,” Lexa nodded and closed her eyes. “That was some of your best work yet.”

A chuckle rumbled beside her, but she couldn't turn to look and see where it came from. Instead, Lexa listened to her own breathing and tried to save the tingles that filled her entire body.

The sheets were tangled between legs, the heat from bodies keeping them well warm enough despite the lingering threat of weather and the missed arrival of spring. It was still well before noon, but Clarke’s bedroom was warm in the morning sun. Lexa froze and closed her eyes, memorizing everything that was happening, from the feeling of Clarke’s flannel sheets and the slight itch against her skin, to the draft from the window that let a small stream of cold air waft across her hip, to the light in her eyelids and the smell of her girlfriend.

An arm settled over her chest as a nose found her cheek and a leg draped over her hip, now encompassed in the streaks of sunlight from the blinds.

“I’m going to tell the world that you like to be the little spoon after sex.”

Lexa smiled and refused to open her eyes. She ran her hand over Clarke’s hip, around her ass, toward her thigh, repeating the loop as she wiggled into the arm around her. Warm lips kissed her shoulder and she felt the breath there.

“As long as you tell them about the amazing sex that earned me the little spoon spot.”

“I will not tell anyone anything of the sort.”

“I have a reputation.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Lexa smiled at Clarke’s tone and nuzzled against her nose, enjoying the closeness, absorbing everything that this feeling had to give her.

“I would give anything to never have to move from this moment ever again,” Lexa sighed.

“Did you ever imagine this would be us?”

“I never imagined this for myself.”

“Not even with all of the first thoughts about fucking me on a car?”

Her lips tugged up into a grin but still, Lexa didn’t move or open her eyes. Clarke watched her entire being lighten. Gone was the girl who sat on the floor in search of her passion. Gone was the girl who worked sixteen hour days for a month straight. Back was the girl who took the time to be alive and be human, and Clarke was enamoured with how her body felt.

“I had no idea you were about to change my life.”

“I don’t think I did that.”

“You did.”

“I like you on Sundays after sex. You’re so lovely,” Clarke whispered, her hand shifting to Lexa’s cheek and jaw where she felt skin and cheeks.

“It’s just not lost on me who you’ve turned me into, Griffin.”

“Me neither.”

Finally, after a moment of Sunday morning, Lexa took in a deep breath and turned her head, coming nose to nose with her girlfriend, messy blonde hair and deep blue eyes firmly fixed on her own.

It was their new routine, since the holidays calmed and the new year started. Lexa made sure to be around more, and they agreed to not do anything on Sundays. If they did, it was unrelated to any form of work. It led to very domestic days and long, dreamy nights. Lexa never slept better than in Clarke’s old creaky place with the warm, worn sheets and the girl in her arms.

“I’m very in love with you, Clarke.”

“I love you, too,” Clarke promised.

“Even though I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do in the world?”

“Even then.”

“Even when I keep you in bed all day?”

“Especially then,” Clarke smiled, allowing Lexa to finally push her over, settling atop her fixedly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m better than ever.”

“Don’t you start again,” she warned as a leg slipped between her own and Lexa smirked. There was something tender about it. Something needed.

“One more.”

“If you must.”

XXXXXXXXXX

When she was a girl, Lexa used to love spending time in her dad’s office. There was something very wonderful about the giant wooden desk and the awards on the wall. She loved the smell of it, a heartiness that forever stuck in her head of warmth. When they remodeled the offices, she requested the old leather couch remain because it was imperative that something remained of her childhood. She was perhaps, the most sentimental of her family, though no one would ever think to call her such.

The day she got her own office, across the hall, with her name matching her father’s, she stepped inside and waited until everyone left, her father hugging her tightly and kissing her forehead before he followed, and she stood in the middle and cried because she secured her place as his daughter.

Now, she loved her office for more reasons than ever before. Even though she stepped back, her office remained, untouched. Indra moved into an office on the floor below, and though Lexa was not in her office every day, she could come back to it and she could feel like she was part of it all. There was still a bit of fear about disappointing her father. That hung heavy in her heart.

But as she sat at her desk and surveyed all that she’d done, and all that she tried to do next, she felt like a kid again at a much too big desk and safe behind it.

She looked at the picture of herself and Clarke at an event from just a few months ago and she smiled to herself because she somehow met and kept a beautiful girl for almost an entire year, and a fucking brutal year at that. It sat next to a picture of her graduation with her brother and parents, her mother hugging her shoulders tightly and smiling in the sun.

“You look pensive,” her father offered as he cleared his throat. After a few moments of not being noticed, he felt it important. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Do you think Mom would be proud of me?”

Not expecting such a loaded question, the patriarch stopped short of the chair he planned on taking and leaned his hands on the back, bracing himself to undertake the mental effort of thinking it. His daughter looked at him, waiting, so painfully like his wife.

“You know she would be.”

“I mean it though,” Lexa shook her head, not interested in the easy answer. “What have I done? Got caught up and burnt out? Skated through the past few months trying to be something?”

“It took me years to figure out who I am. I know you’re an overachiever, but sometimes it just doesn’t work like that, kid.”

“I remember her telling me to do good things, and I can’t imagine I am actually enacting any change.”

“You work hard. You have a huge heart,” he promised as he took a seat across from her.

“Do you think she would like Clarke?”

Despite himself, Alex chuckled and adjusted his cuff link.

“I really do. She’d love what she’s given you.”

“What’s that?”

“Someone to dance with at the Christmas party. Someone to take you to the library on Thursday evenings. Someone to bring you lunch. Someone who makes you so desperate to be a better person.”

“I keep trying to do something else, but I don’t want to be anywhere else than here with you. I just don’t know how to do it.”

“Why don’t you take an actual vacation?”

“I did.”

“Two days isn’t a vacation.”

“Sometimes, I want to tell Clarke about Mom, but I don’t know how. I don’t know how to talk about her at all.”

Alex sighed and shook his head as he sized up his daughter. She was one of his favorite people alive, and he wasn’t sure how to help her lately, and that ate at him. His wife would have known what to do.

“You threw yourself into this whole company after everything, and I can’t tell you how proud I am, how grateful I am that you gave me time to grieve and help Aden, but I wasn’t the parent, and I didn’t help you.”

“I don’t need any help.”

“You do though. You’re finally waking up from this frozen state you locked yourself into to survive, and now it’s all hitting you.”

“I’m really okay,” Lexa promised, her best attempt to convince her father failing. “I really was just thinking about what a shame it is that Clarke didn’t get to meet Mom.”

“I agree.”

The two sat together, understanding that unique loss. Alex smiled slightly as his daughter sighed and adjusted in her chair. He so badly wanted his wife to help him, but also to see her daughter now, to be absolutely blown away by the hurricane of a person she’d had no small hand in creating.

“Wanna get out of here for the day? Go see a movie or something?”

“I have some stuff I have to do. Dinner?”

“Sounds good,” he nodded and stood. “You okay though?”

“I am.” Alex gave his daughter a look. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“I’m here to help with whatever, you know that, right?”

“I do,” she promised with a nod. “I think I’m happy now. I’m figuring that part out.”

“You’re allowed to be.”

Lexa smiled and blushed slightly. She played with a pen between her hands, tapping it against her palm nervously. It was a lot to admit and talk about. Her mind was swirling and she didn’t know how to make it stop, but this all felt like a good place to start.

“That’s what my therapist tells me too.”

Struck by the news, her father did his best not to seem too excited about the revelation that she was seeing and talking to someone. He asked her a few times over the years to consider it, often dismissed with weeklong disappearances under the guise of work in other time zones and continents.

“Dinner tonight then. How about sushi?”

“Sakana?”

“I’ll text Aden that I’ll be home late,” Alex offered, pulling out his phone. “I want to hear more about what else you’ve been up to on this sabbatical.”

Lexa just shook her head and watched him leave, oddly relieved to have said those words to her father. Maybe he was right, and she was finally feeling things, and this is what happened when she let the ache in, and when she tried to figure out how to be happy. It seemed like a lot of work for something that should come so naturally to most. But she caught sight of the picture of her and her girlfriend and she decided she wanted to have more.

XXXXXXXXXX

Just because she was directionless didn’t mean that she wasn’t working. Already after four months of sabbatical, Lexa discovered many things that didn’t particularly scratch the itch she assumed her father was talking about when he made her step down. In truth, she still found her way back to the company, unsure of what else to do. She was attached to the legacy and indebted to how it formed her. She didn’t know who she was without that part of her very being.

But still, she tried everything else with equal vigor because she wasn’t a quitter, and for some reason, her life seemed to be going well enough when she tried to be happy.

She had to believe that because she had a side of the bed in her girlfriend’s place and a key attached to her keyring that let her in, even when Clarke wasn’t there. It wasn’t a Park-view property with a doorman, but the little house on the corner outside of the city was cozy and quiet and Lexa was certain she thought better there than anywhere else.

Sometimes she was afraid she was overstepping. Clarke made a compelling argument that they weren’t ready to live together. Lexa found herself never staying more than two nights in a row, and not even because she wanted to leave, but because she had a truce with Clarke to not ask any big questions and not expect any big gestures. Her girlfriend was committed but bad at believing there could be more. Lexa was there to convince her otherwise.

With a yawn, Lexa stretched and rubbed her eyes beneath her glasses as she readjusted to continue reading the article about her old schoolmate’s success with her new company. She found herself envying the girl she once kissed in the bathroom after fourth period on a dare. But still she kept reading after taking a look at the alarm clock and wondering if Clarke would be much later on her Tuesday date with Raven.

It wasn’t until Lexa was elbow deep in social media stalking that she heard the lock turn and the front door open as her clumsy girlfriend let herself in. She smiled and waited, eager.

“I’m either very drunk or there is an extremely sexy, number seven on Fortune’s Top Forty under Forty finisher in my bed.”

Her eyes were slightly off, squinting awkwardly against the light as she smiled mischievously. Her dress hung slightly on her shoulder, flowers and springtime and warmth over her skin. But Clarke was beautiful and charming and drunk and perfectly imperfect.

“I didn’t know the CEO of Yahoo was in your bed,” Lexa furrowed as she looked around, lifting a pillow, returning the grin.

“Shut up. What were you, number six?”

“Four.”

“Not that you keep track though,” Clarke teased before moving around the bedroom to get ready for bed.

She stumbled slightly as she took out her earrings before turning on the light in the bathroom. Lexa closed her laptop and watched it all happen.

“How’s Raven on this fine Tuesday?”

“She’s good. Itching for a project, but has more than enough actual work to keep her busy.”

“I’ll go buy something for her to fix up.”

Clarke gave her a look from the mirror as she pulled up her hair.

“Just like you miraculously found a couple grand in the couch cushions to give to the school for new musical instruments?”

“Are you jealous I’m not spending any money on you, darling?”

It was meant to be a joke, but Lexa knew the moment she said it, it wasn’t going to land quite right. She was met with quiet as the bathroom door shut. With a sigh she shook her head and put her laptop on the side table.

The water ran and she could imagine Clarke scrubbing her face with such passion that was going to be geared toward her in a few moments. When the door opened and the light was flipped off, she waited for it.

“I’m sorry. That was a bad joke. I know you hate when I am cavalier about money.”

“I hate talking about it,” Clarke shook her head.

“We’re going to have to one day, you know that, right?”

“Well I have bad news for you, if you’re after me for my millions.”

Lexa smiled as Clarke shook her head, dismissing the fight because she knew there was nothing new to be said about it and she was desperately afraid of that talk.

“I’m actually strictly after your body.”

“Oh?”

Clarke paused, mid lift of her dress as she let it drop again.

“I’m really glad you’re drunk and not letting me be an idiot that makes you mad.”

She smiled and put her hands on her hips.

“Just another reason that I’m a better girlfriend than you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Lexa shrugged. “I’m wearing considerably less clothes than you. I think that makes me the best.”

Her shirt was on the floor a second later leaving her in just a sports bra and she watched as drunk eyes gobbled it up. Lexa pushed her hair around and away from her face, waiting for the return from her girlfriend.

Clarke lifted her dress slightly, just enough to show her knees and then her thighs. She stopped as Lexa’s eyes followed the hem eagerly.

“I was going to come home and put on sweatpants, but you’ve challenged me to a duel.”

“Take off your dress.”

“I don’t know if I want to,” she said as she let it drop again.

“You do.”

“Do I? Because I seem to remember you making me annoyed a few minutes ago. And that’s just very bad foreplay.”

“You want to take off that dress,” Lexa informed her again. “Because you like that dress, and I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Fuck,” Clarke sighed. “You are insanely hot. I’d put you at number one on the hottest person on the top Forty under Forty list.”

“You can write a letter to the editor tomorrow if you’d like. For now, you should probably just take off your dress.”

“Right, this old thing,” she nodded, looking down as she began to lift it again. She contemplated dropping it again, but she met Lexa’s eyes and watched as she put her glasses on the table.

Clarke held her eyes as she lifted the dress, pulling it over her head. A blush crept up her chest as her girlfriend watched. It took a few moments after the offending fabric was tossed on the floor, but Lexa stood up and made her way around the bed. She watched as Clarke unhooked her bra and dropped it as well.

“You are absolutely addictive, did you know that?” Lexa wondered aloud. All she got in response was lashes and lips and a shrug.

She didn’t waste anymore time, cupping her girlfriend’s cheeks in her hand.

XXXXXXXXXX

“I don’t want to go to school tomorrow,” Clarke murmured in the quiet as they settled in for the night.

“Sorry love, but you have to. Want me to drop you off on my way?”

“You sleep in for me. I won’t make you get up early.”

“Anya is coming back tomorrow. I’m going to go in early and take her a pastry and coffee.”

“That’s sweet.”

“I really missed her.”

“I know, but it’s nice she gets maternity leave. Most people don’t.”

“Yeah,” Lexa mumbled, half asleep as Clarke’s warm, naked body pressed into her side, molding against-- her eyes opened in the dark. “I don’t know if anyone else at my company gets maternity leave.”

“I’m sure--”

“I don’t know if they get paternity leave. I doubt it,” she muttered to herself, pulling herself out of bed as she turned on the light by the bed earning a groan as blankets were pulled up beside her.

“You can find out tomorrow.”

“I was just reading about Maggie James’ doctoral studies in business growth through sustainable and ethical practices--”

Lexa was out of bed, grabbing at the magazines in her bag on the floor.

“Is that the girl you first got to second base with?” Clarke murmured, completely hidden beneath the covers.

“If I can find her bibliography, I can find some source material on HR stuff within high functioning conglomerations, and I can compare it to our practices. But I’ll need our guidelines first. I think someone once emailed them to me…”

Her fingers and hands were moving faster than her mouth could process the words she was thinking, and surely the half drunk and completely sated girl in the bed didn’t fully care or comprehend what was happening, but still, Lexa kept muttering to herself.

“Can’t you sleep first?”

“I can’t. I have to know.”

“I hate Maggie James.”

“Are you jealous of a girl I haven’t seen since college after what I just did to you?”

“Turn out the light please. I’m spinning.”

“I’ll be back in ten minutes,” Lexa promised, kissing the mound of blankets as she turned off the light and juggled her materials. “But I think Anya’s uterus might have just given me the idea I need.”

“Always the bridesmaid and never the uterus,” Clarke sighed.

“Yours is great too, I’m sure,” her girlfriend promised. “Ten minutes. Fifteen tops.”

“Night.”

Lexa hurried down the hall her arms full of materials and her mind racing as she wondered quite simply if everyone got maternity leave, and if not, how quickly she could get Maggie James’ research.

255 notes · View notes

coeurdastronaute · 8 years ago

Text

Essays in Existentialism: Strip II

Do you think strip will get a sequel? Like Lexas friends finding out about Clarke and her job and Lexa being protective about her

Previously on Strip

The sunshine had never been more cheerful or beautiful. The earth was signing, the clouds were dancing, the universe itself was a spring afternoon, perfectly tempered and happily tinged with the makings of a great mood. The campus throbbed to life, pulsating like a heart, crackling with sparklers beneath the sidewalks, soaked in an invisible, upbeat tempo that refused to be slowed or stopped.

Strolling across the green, Lexa found herself taking the long way to her office. Awake and hopping out of bed, she was early enough to beat the rush at her favorite coffee cart, and she found herself taking her time meandering across the way in the melodic spring morning, a smile plastered permanently on her face, a hum surgically latched into her lungs. She greeted students and whistled a tune that was stuck in her head. She held the elevator for the secretary and skipped up the last few floors to her office.

The first class of the day got an extra day on their online quiz, while the second got an extension on a paper. By the time lunch rolled around, Lexa was earning quizzical looks from students who stopped by during office hours. Not notoriously the easiest professor in the department, the shift in leniency was noted and not questioned for fear of losing it.

“Hey, did you send in for that conference in Montreal?” Bellamy asked as he poked his head into the office at the top of the building. “When is the due date?”

“I turned it in last Thursday,” Lexa rolled her eyes and tried to finish crafting the text message she’d been working on for what felt like all day. “You have until Monday.”

“I heard you gave out extensions today.”

Ignoring her distracted glance, he took the seat across from the desk. He watched her furrow and erase whatever she was attempting to do on her phone.

“And you had class outside,” he asked, cocking his head slightly. Still, he didn’t get an answer, but he watched the smile on his colleague’s lips and he rolled his eyes. “Your sister’s pregnant.” Nothing. “Hey. What’s gotten into you today?” he asked, leaning forward and waving a hand in front of Lexa’s face.

“When did you get here?” she asked, chuckling as she pushed up her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” Lexa shook her head and gave up, exiting her phone. “What can I do for you?”

“Does this have something to do with the dates you’ve gone on?” Bellamy teased.

“What?” she balked, electrocuted by the knowledge.

“You’ve got the same I’ve-just-gotten-a-good-lay face as your sister. And your mood is strange.”

“First, gross. Second, no. Third, I’ve doubt you’ve ever gotten that face out of anyone.”

“Look at you!” he chuckled as she crossed her arms, uncrossed them, picked up a pen, fiddled with it, growing anxious. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“No...” she shrugged, picking up her phone again. “Yes.”

“I need to know more right now.”

“There’s nothing to know. A great first date, and I left her at her house,” Lexa babbled, waving her hand.

“So just a kiss?”

“I didn’t say that,” she smirked. “But it was nice. And then we went to a movie last week. And we had breakfast yesterday morning.”

“Okay.”

“And things are good. But she invited me to her place and I don’t... I mean. It means... you know.”

“I thought you already...”

“She has a... colorful job, and I’m not sure I’m interesting enough. She’s used to more than... this,” Lexa shrugged, motioning to herself.

“Well, that’s hard to believe. You’re so spicy.”

“I have class in an hour.”

“What are you texting her?” Bellamy ignored it and leaned over the desk.

“Nothing.”

“What did she text you?”

“Stop! I can do it!”

Bellamy made his way around the desk and leaned on the chair, attempting to read whatever was on the screen. All that he earned was a shove, though it did not deter him at all.

“Oh my goodness, she is out of your league,” Bellamy whistled as he managed to grab the phone.

Lexa tried to grab the phone but failed as Bellamy scrolled through. She marveled at her ability to go from a great day to fighting a grown man to give back her phone because she had a crush on someone.

Holding his arm out and keeping the shorter professor away, Bellamy attempted to type out a response, giving her options. All he earned in return was snarls and complaints.

“Am I interrupting?” a voice appeared at the door, and the two adult toddlers froze like siblings when mom returned.

They were stuck in place until they weren’t. It took just a second for them to pull apart and blush knowingly. Lexa cleared her throat and snatched her phone from her friend while he grinned, huge and toothy at her blush.

“I never would have guessed the history game to be so exciting.”

“It’s not... he’s... I was just.... We... There was a bug,” Lexa decided, lying as smoothly as she was capable, clearly missing the mark.

“Sure. A bug,” Bellamy agreed.

They all looked at each other, none of them knowing quite where to go after the moment encountered. Bellamy elbowed Lexa slightly and nudged his head at the newest guest.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “Clarke, this is Bellamy. He’s a professor of early cultures, primarily Athenian culture.”

“That sounds exciting,” she offered politely as she took a few steps to shake his hand.

“Bellamy, this is Clarke. I... am... consulting. Consulting on her art project,” Lexa remembered, offering it quickly, distracted by blue eyes and those lips.

“That sounds even more exciting. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Bellamy welcomed the guest. “Lexa won’t stop talking about you. It’s nice to put a name to a face. Ouch,” he grunted as his friend stomped on his foot.

“Well, I just stopped by to drop off that book you lent me while I was in the neighborhood,” Clarke offered. “I have to run over to work for a few hours.”

“Where do you work?”

Lexa felt her stomach flip when Clarke looked at her and didn’t miss a beat.

“Clyde’s, over on Adams Street.”

“That’s the... oh. Ouch!” he grunted again.

“That’s the place,” she agreed. “I really have to go. See you tonight, right?”

“Definitely,” Lexa nodded quickly. She earned a small peck on her cheek and blushed at the display.

“I’ll see you around seven,” Clarke promised. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Bellamy.”

“You too.”

“Bye,” Lexa sighed, earning a wave at the door.

There was a long, long stretch of quiet, until the ding of the elevator could be heard, until all else was deadly still. Lexa braced for it, and inevitably it came.

“You’re dating a stripper?” Bellamy asked, each word measured and more excited than the last until they formed an exciting sentence for him.

“Bartender...” Lexa corrected, taking her seat and organizing her already organized desk just to keep her hands busy. “Who sometimes dances.”

“No wonder you’re walking around like you just snorted rainbows. I’d be in a great mood too if I was dating her.”

“Watch it.”

“I mean it purely respectfully,” he held up his hands in peace.

“Sounds like it,” she snorted. “You know what, I don’t have to explain it to you. She’s a stripper. So what? It’s a perfectly legal way to make money.”

“It certainly is,” he agreed again.

“And she’s wonderful, and that’s all you need to know.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Your tone was.”

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy relented. “No tone.”

They stood on opposite sides of the office for a moment, Lexa oddly defensive in ways she never understood or experienced before, realizing that much of her hearing of tones came from her own thoughts and nerves on the topic.

“She seemed nice.”

“She is.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy,” Bellamy offered genuinely. “You seem really excited, and I think it’s good.”

“Thanks,” she sighed, relaxing slightly before flopping in her chair.

“Leave it to you to go to a strip club and fall in love,” he shook his head as he made his way toward the door.

Lexa leaned back and swirled slightly at her desk before smiling at the observation.

The night was busy, and Clarke was absolutely exhausted just three hours into her shift. Two bachelor parties and a college football game led to too many bodies, too many drunks, and plenty of money being shoved around in all directions. The music blared and the show went on, allowing a lull where she could catch her breath.

“I’m going to die,” Raven fanned herself as she leaned against the back of the bar. “This is insane.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m going to walk out of here with over a thousand dollars. I’m more alive than ever before.”

“You’re insufferable lately,” the bartender rolled her eyes and chugged cold water.

“What do you mean?” Clarke chuckled, making another round of drinks.

“You’re so positive. It’s disgusting.”

“I can’t help it. Life is good.”

From her spot, Raven shook her head and crossed her arms at the notion. It wasn’t that it was very anti-Clarke to be hopeful or happy, but that it was so painfully obvious what was causing it. The money was nice, but not everything. Work certainly wasn’t joy inspiring. All that remained was the dorky professor who Raven was almost certain couldn’t form words properly.

“We work in a strip club, you dance when your student loans are due, and I drank expired milk this morning.”

“Things are looking up.”

“Expired by three weeks.”

Shaking her head, Clarke made another drink, smiling and making small talk for a moment with a small gaggle of guys.

“You know what? I like my job well enough. Pays good. And I have one more semester until I’m done.”

“Plus the naughty professor,” Raven needled.

“It’s just been a couple dates,” Clarke shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear and grabbing a drink herself. “I only seem to find assholes to date working here, but she’s different.”

“Yeah, she’s mute.”

“No, she talks.”

“Sure sure.”

“I mean it,” Clarke promised. “She’s sweet and smart and I can’t believe I met her here.”

“Just be careful. Like you said. Anyone we meet here turns out to be assholes.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and sighed before watching the lights and show. It was nice and life was good and not even Ravens cautionary tale could stop her from feeling so optimistic. Lexa wasn’t like any of the people she’d been with, nor was she like a sleazeball who hit on her at work, or even worse, the people who bolted when they found out where she worked. Lexa was genuine and boring and oddly brazen and funny.

She wasn’t deterred.

The night continued and the evening waged. There was a kind of trance Clarke found herself going into when she was stuck behind the bar. It was easy, and it was how she got through the boring nights.

And though it was late, she smiled when she crawled into bed and got an incoherent message from a sleepy professor.

“Just an appearance,” Lexa assured her date, though it was mostly for herself. “I hate these things.”

“I could tell,” Clarke chuckled slightly, watching as the professor adjusted the tuck of her shirt once again before lifting her chin and working hard on the tie. “Let me.”

Frazzled, Lexa gave in and turned around, tilting her chin and allowing the blonde to go to work on making her presentable. She flexed her palms and played with her fingers anxiously. The faculty mixer was just the preamble for the conference, a little, informal gathering of participants and a few departments to celebrate. To Lexa, it was a death sentence comprised of small talk and gassy department heads who refused to retire.

“You look very nice,” Lexa offered.

“We’ll go and schmooze for a bit and then I’m stealing you for dart night at the Ox. We have to hold my reigning title of Thursday Evening Empress.”

“I’m terrible at darts.”

“Yeah, but you can keep buying me drinks while I win for us,” Clarke smiled and smoothed Lexa’s shoulders.

“Perfect.”

“See? Not terrible.”

“This is going to be the worst,” Lexa groaned and leaned her forehead on Clarke’s shoulder.

“I’m sure we can have fun. Want to make out in a closet or something?”

“We can do that?”

“Hell yeah we can. We’re adults.”

Standing up straight once again, Lexa furrowed and stared at her girlfriend of just a few months, already blown away by how smart she was turning out to be. Skeptically, she appraised to see if the twinkle in the blue eyes was a warning or a promise.

“Alright. Let’s do that,” the professor agreed, earning a smile with her serious demeanor and resignation.

“Perfect.”

499 notes · View notes