#ccf drabble

[closetcasefabray]

i found this in my drafts, & i don’t remember when i started to write this, but ta-da! finally wrote something. this is not a cohesive whole (nor is grief so we can pretend it’s intentional).

also this phone business is awful—almost threw it when tripling the length of this (what was supposed to be) drabble 😒 forgive wonky formatting &/or typos. (laptopless life sucks)

this drabble-ficlet thing is for @snowandwolves bc our friendship is based in wrecking each other emotionally with avatrice au’s & headcanons. also some of this was inspired by sixth to the ninth hour, from which i will never recover. but this isn’t complete despair!

—

summary: beatrice returns to switzerland and tries to live her life. (canon compliant, s3, grief)

—

a thing that carries itself

—

It is when you are asking about something that you realize you yourself have survived it, and so you must carry it, or fashion it into a thing that carries itself.

(nox, anne carson)

—

beatrice knows hans could close the bar down on his own while blindfolded on a night like tonight—not much money to be made mid-week with dwindling tourists and seasonal stays—but beatrice doesn’t suggest it, and hans doesn’t offer. he’s come to recognize when beatrice needs some company, even if it’s just a couple hours and they exchange few words.

—

beatrice returned to switzerland a few days after camila found her asleep at the arc for the fourth time.

(jillian is moving it back to her lab to rebuild, camila offered with a gentle smile—one that expressed she too was hopeful, but not so much she wished to give beatrice too high of expectations.

beatrice knew, even with every scientific expert working on the arc, it would take over a year to repair the arc and source enough power within their earthly limitations for it to open even briefly. beatrice also knew it would likely require a decade of research before someone could go through the arc, let alone explore the alien realm beyond it.

as of a month ago, the arc team is still a few brilliant nuns led by a genius scientist, but when beatrice looks at them, she only sees young women—too young to be willing to die in a holy war—and a mother mourning the loss of her son for a second time.)

before she left, beatrice said goodbye through the arc—if only for the smallest chance a loving god would take pity on her and split open the barrier between realms just briefly enough for her words to reach through to ava:

see you at home. (i love you.)

—

when beatrice first arrived back to town, she became overwhelmed as she took in the remarkably unchanged neighborhoods, all the same buildings standing as they had when she and ava left in the night.

(the ache in her chest turned bitter, so much so she had to refrain from shaking the couples laughing and enjoying each other’s company in the sunshine—ava is gone. do you understand? don’t you feel it too? the absence of her?)

their old flat sat untouched as well; beatrice knew the elderly couple who owned the building weren’t eager to put much work into clearing it out to show it to young university kids who would be far too loud for their liking. (not that ava would ever be considered quiet—she had charmed them like she does everyone.) they warmly welcomed beatrice back and handed her the keys within the hour.

(she found a crumpled tank top of ava’s in the back of the closet and, holding it in her hands, pressed to her chest, she let herself cry for the first time in weeks, sitting on the dusty floor, counting the pieces of furniture in the room that ava once touched.)

the usually absent bar owner also returned the keys and beatrice’s managerial position before she even finished asking if they were hiring.

(what about hans?

he likes being head bartender.

there’s really no one else?

i’ve had two different managers and three different bartenders come and go since you and ava left. i can’t find a replacement half as good as either of you.

beatrice isn’t sure what expression he read on her face, but he didn’t say ava’s name again after that.)

—

throughout the next few weeks, beatrice thought returning to a place so full of memories of ava was possibly some misguided, catholic-guilt-induced self-flagellation—to wake up in their bed alone, to drink tea across from an empty chair, to walk the familiar paths to their favorite places without her—the lack ached in the hollow of beatrice’s core like penance.

maybe i’m meant to feel like this, she thought, and still thinks at times, but then she remembers ava in the gold room—the only thing holy in a temple devoted to a false prophet—telling beatrice to live her life. (gospel, she thinks.)

when ava kissed her, beatrice didn’t think of sin or hell. she thought only of the truth of ava’s lips, her body—capable of flight and phasing through stone—standing before beatrice and choosing love, a tenderness the world had never offered her. it was the opposite of sin—it was sacrament, a baptism that tasted of salt as they kissed, bathed in light.

so beatrice stays and tries each day.

(we are all just trying to be holy.)

—

in the months of staying, of trying to live her life, her friendship with hans has grown into something quieter and gentler than beatrice would have expected from the same bartender who had taught ava german curses and euphemisms. (beatrice would pretend she couldn’t hear as they whispered conspiratorially, knowing ava was familiar with more than half of the swears, but ava was still delighted by every cautiously murmured phrase hans offered her.)

it surprised beatrice at first, to find that hans actually likes her as she is—his overly organized manager-turned-friend who drinks tea out of the same mug every afternoon she comes into work and almost never drinks alcohol but will sip the occasional “virgin cuba libre” when he asks her to hang out with him after work for a shift drink. hans is even familiar enough with beatrice to occasionally tease her in german, her fluency allowing her to respond with a quick-witted retort. she smiles at his amusement, and he is thrilled by each new detail he learns of her.

beatrice is grateful to be closer to someone who doesn’t owe god his life, who remembers ava as ava—not the warrior nun or the halo-bearer.

(instead, hans remembers training ava at the bar, her focus when he taught her classic cocktail specs, and her enthusiasm that breathed life and vibrancy back into the bar job he had begun to find tedious. he remembers making ava laugh so hard her cuba libre came out of her nose, the little snort in her laugh when something amusing surprised her, the pout she’d use before asking for a favor—always far less effective on hans than beatrice. he remembers ava beaming when she mastered a new skill, her eyes finding beatrice to check if she saw—beatrice always saw and always smiled back; how could she not? beatrice was a moon in ava’s orbit, and she had no other option but to glow in her light.)

mostly beatrice is grateful that their friendship doesn’t try to fill the space and silence ava used to occupy; instead they fashion it into a kind of shared insulation for them to keep warm in the cold of grief. so when beatrice daydreams over the books at the bar and something startles her back into this realm without ava, she appreciates that hans doesn’t say anything to draw attention to the way her eyes shine with the sorrow of reality, like they did the first time hans said ava’s name months ago and all at once beatrice felt the air leave her lungs and her eyes burn. hans will stay nearby in those moments, offering an ear if she does wish to talk, but far enough she doesn’t feel obligated to explain it. sometimes it’s just the comfort of someone nearby who misses ava too.

(occasionally beatrice lets her mind project ava across the bar, watching her move from table to table, turning to beatrice and giving her a wink, hips swaying to a german pop song, sometimes accompanied by a little spin as if she wasn’t carrying a precariously balanced tray of glassware. but when the reel in beatrice’s mind starts to fade and flicker, she blinks and the shining sadness of her eyes dims into a melancholy others often mistake for stolidness—when the vision of ava smiling and making drinks beside hans blurs, it’s too ghostly for beatrice because ava is alive.

beatrice doesn’t find much comfort in god these days, but she still has faith.)

—

beatrice steps outside with hans, takes a deep breath, looks up at the unpolluted skies, and finds the constellations ava drew when they would sneak onto the roof of their flat when the nights were clear. beatrice has taken to writing the mythology of each one in her head as she walks home at night. she often considers writing some kind of scripture based less in fear and shame and more in love and forgiveness. maybe if she tells the stories enough, ava will return a new testament.

(but beatrice promised herself that once ava returns, she won’t share ava with the world—no temples, no saviors, no holy wars. beatrice wants to watch the sun set on the ocean, casting ava in golden light that doesn’t feel like a goodbye. she wants ava to press her lips to hers again but as a greeting, as a stay here with me. she wants to watch the sunrise spill across ava’s face like a promise beatrice will keep. she wants ava, and she is learning to forgive herself for this—the selfishness, not her love—beatrice’s love does not apologize.)

“are you off work tomorrow?” hans asks as they start walking the several blocks toward their respective apartments.

“yes, but if you need—”

hans shakes his head vigorously, and beatrice gives him a small half-smile.

“you should go to the library, get a couple books. if you come by, i’ll make you tea but you absolutely cannot work,” he says, pointing his finger at beatrice with an exaggerated sternness.

beatrice smiles a little wider, “i won’t.”

when they reach the cross streets where they part ways, hans wraps his arms around beatrice’s shoulders, and she wraps hers around his waist—a strange arrangement of limbs both of them had grown up unfamiliar with, something that ava taught them to appreciate—touch, closeness, a human intimacy too many would never admit they needed. so they make a point to hug each other for brief moments to carry that part of ava with them.

—

her nighttime routine unfolds as muscle memory so her mind wanders to work, hans, and always ava. she climbs into bed and imagines ava teasing her for keeping her shirt under her pillow, where she rubs the fabric between her fingers.

you always liked being close to me when we slept, ava would say.

i always liked being close to you when we were awake, beatrice would confess.

she savors the moments just before sleep, when those minutes are hers alone without obligations or the weight of the outside world—her mind in a free fall. (when beatrice was a child and her mother was kinder, she would soothe beatrice after a nightmare by telling her to think of all the exciting things tomorrow would bring.) as if directing the trajectory of her plummet, she chooses ava every time.

she closes her eyes and plays the memories against the back if her eyelids, setting her unconscious mind on a path toward a kind of imagined heaven, so maybe—just maybe—beatrice will see ava again in her dreams.

tonight she is walking into work, and ava looks up and smiles at her from behind the bar.

hey, bea.

hi. she feels something joyous swell inside her, and the glassware behind the bar starts to glimmer as she walks toward ava. i missed you.

we had breakfast together this morning, ava says with a laugh, but once beatrice is beside her, ava leans close and whispers, i miss you too, bea. everyday.

when ava pulls back slightly, beatrice sees it—the melancholy half-smile on ava’s lips, her dark, shining eyes. the shimmering light grows, and beatrice feels ava’s hands take hers and pull her closer.

i’ll see you at home soon. ava tucks a strand of bea’s hair behind her ear, and she feels herself lean into her touch.

ava—

it’s okay, bea. just wake up.

when beatrice opens her eyes, she can see the night sky outside her window, but the flickering light of her ocs necklace on her bedside table seems to light the entire room. she cradles it in her hands and decodes it on the first pass, but to be sure, she watches it flash three more times—ava is alive.

—

fin

—

thanks for reading!

some rambles/notes:

i almost never write from bea’s perspective bc she’s v smart—i’m decidedly not bea-smart (nor am i ava-smart but i am ava-eager-&-a-little-reckless, so that’s what i typically lean toward). so i think i did a rewatch & felt a little heartbroken. also p sure i drank half a bottle of wine during the rewatch so that may have been why this is [gestures vaguely] like this.

but anne carson and richard siken are my roman empires, so i named this after the opening anne carson quote from nox. and i will always think of avatrice when i remember we were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want . . . we are all just trying to be holy.

also what i didn’t include & is in my head:

- hans & bea’s talk about what happened with ava. basically “she had to leave, and i don’t know if… i don’t know when she’ll come back” & hans isn’t sure what it means but he never tells beatrice to move on bc he knows he couldn’t understand what happened. mostly he saw them together and he’s never seen beatrice smile the way she did with ava. also i said beatrice rarely drinks but she & hans have this conversation with wine involved. the drunk cry bar staff bond is real.

- the day beatrice realizes she’s been without ava longer than she was with her—she’s marking the date in the inventory book, then she just stops as her brain does the math against her will. hans sees her hands are trembling & he just knows. he takes bea up to the office & gives her some water. he asks, “do you think your home will help or make this harder right now?” so he has beatrice over to his small, neat apartment and he makes some food for her. he asks if it’s about ava & whether or not bea wants to talk about it. she doesn’t want to talk, but she says hans can talk about her. so hans tells bea some of his memories with ava. thus some of the memories included.

anyway, sorry? i guess?

also if you haven’t—read @snowandwolves fics if you want coherent & complete(ly devastating & healing) fics:

sixth to the ninth hour is canon compliant s3 & basically ava walks through hell to get back to bea. 😭 i cried. my heart ached. but also there’s plenty of spice 😏 [ava eyebrow wiggle]. all my favorite things heh…

leave the light on (i'll find my way home) is lighthouse au. our babes are so soft and in love 🥹 i went on a trip to see puffins & lighthouses bc of this. the whole fic is incredible, but there’s this one part in the lighthouse… i think it altered my brain chemistry in the best way.

[thisapplepielife]

Monthly Word Count Wrap-Up

June 2024

I've ran around all my docs this past month like a chicken with its head cut off. Writing here, writing there, writing everywhere.

Corroded Coffin Fest (@corrodedcoffinfest) starts today, and I let myself get behind on my own writing for it. I've known the prompts the longest! I only have myself to blame for this, lol. 🤡

I worked on 10 different projects this month, for a total of 40,024 words. And the 500 words a day streak is still alive.

The big winner for this month was fics for Corroded Coffin Fest. But an honorable mention to Certified Freak, which was supposed to be for CCF, but spiraled out of control and well beyond 1000 words. Will it ever be anything? Don't know. But I clearly had 8,515 thoughts about it, lol.

I was wrong last month when I said AATU should be finished up during June. There are still two chapters to go. I just got caught up in working on entries for events with strict date deadlines, and kept pushing it back. I'm sorry! I missed the announcement for the dates for Steddie Week, and have scrambled for the past four days while trying to whip up things for that. Curse my need to participate in all the many fun things. FOMO is real, ya'll, lol.

Anyway, I averaged 1,334.13 words a day this month.

And for the yearly average, I'm now at 1139.49 words per day.

What I Posted This Month:

Set Sail on This Ocean of Flavor (For A Stranger Summer Week #6, T, 2560 Words)

Packrat (For Steddie Micro, T, 483 Words)

Dude is Happy (For A Stranger Summer Week #7, T, 1010 Words)

Eddie Munson's Corroded Coffin Celebrity Full Metal Upside Down Memorial Awareness Pro-Am Fun Run 5K Race For Hunger (For Corroded Coffin Fest Warm-Up #3, T, 1000 Words)

Stays in Mexico (For Steddie Holiday Drabbles Summer Pop-Up, E, 1000 Words)

Sink Back Into the Ocean (For A Stranger Summer Week #8, T, 228 Words)

Save it For a Rainy Day (For A Stranger Summer Week #9, T, 1950 Words)

Fan Mail (For Steddie Song Fics, M, 876, Words)

All Across the Universe (Chapters 13-14, E, 1730 Words)

[closetcasefabray]

(to vaguely catalogue my misc. avatrice ideas)

avatrice college au thought #291:

camila drags bea to a bar one night that notoriously doesn’t card. it’s almost midnight, but they see ava typing at her laptop at the bar and feeling equal parts horrified and impressed, bea watches ava tell mary, the upperclassman and part-time bartender, “line ‘em up!” as she opens her email and sends one of her biggest papers of the quarter—the same one bea finished in the library five hours ago. ava slams her laptop shut, turns to her friends JC and chanel, cheers with mary as well, then they all do two shots back to back.

like ava can tell she was being watched, she makes eye contact with bea and gives her a wink that makes bea’s face turn pink.

[closetcasefabray]

Blue + Yellow (1 / 2)

@coeurdastronaute’s “colors” soulmates au inspired me to write a different take. thank weird tumblr app crap for the formatting and two parts. still a rather unedited & rushed drabble/fic, but i had to write it and wanted to share so here’s this messy, sappy thing. (forever a sucker for this sort of stuff. also clexa.)

Blue + Yellow

Part 1 / 2

“The leaves are green, Daddy,” you say, skipping through the park on a rare September afternoon your dad has off from work. You don’t think much of your comment, really, because you’re too busy taking in the world now to talk about it, but this simple statement makes him stop in his tracks as you skip ahead.

He clears his throat and picks up his stride again, so you keep skipping along. “Did you learn that in school, hon?”

“Well, yeah,” you say with a roll of your eyes at the memory of tedious flashcard lessons with your classmates, all of you droning back the colors and pairing with an object that color, “but now I don’t have to memorize everything,” you add with pride.

“When did you start seeing colors?” he asks, his voice soft as you take his hand, opting to walk beside him instead. When you look up at him, he’s looking at you with shining eyes, and you feel a hundred nervous butterflies in your stomach, wondering if you should have said something sooner.

“Yesterday morning, just a little,” you say, feeling less worried when your dad gives your hand a little squeeze. “Today it’s all super bright, though.”

“Yesterday at school?”

“Before school, when I woke up? ... I think.” You remember your head hurt at school the day before, and you were tired as soon as you got home from Kids’ Club after school. You don’t remember seeing any colors though, not until the next morning. “Like... some of my cereal was green... and the limes in the fruit bowl!”

″That’s good, Clarke,” your dad says with a bright smile, picking you up into a tight hug. You both growl into your “bear hug” like always.

“So does that mean I’ll meet someone like you or Mommy? Or I’ll fall in love like you and Mommy?” you ask as your dad adjusts his arms to carry you like when you were smaller. You try to remember what your parents told you about seeing colors some day, so you close your eyes to think because what was once mindless, dreary gray is now a loud, growing spectrum of color. 

“It means you’ve already met them.”

“I don’t feel like I’m in love.”

“It just might take time, hon.”

You’re quiet for a moment as you think about this new information. After a few moments of silence, you open your eyes and look at your dad with eyes like yours. “Ewwww, I hope it’s not that boy, Bellamy. I like his sister, Octavia. She’s in my class. But he plays too rough at recess.”

You’ll always remember the sound of your father’s laughter at that, three perfect laugh lines at the corners of his blue eyes. You laugh too, and you feel his deep chuckle rumble in his chest against yours. You wrap your arms around him tighter as you pass under a row of trees on the path, and the green leaves rustling in the wind seem to laugh with you both—everything easy and gentle.

A week passes, and now you can see the colors of the rainbow and everything in-between R.O.Y.G.B.I.V. Your art teacher, Mr. Kane, lets you stay in the art room during Kids’ Club after school. He cleans and prepares lessons while you mix the few paints he has in search of your new favorite color. Because of your immediate gravitation toward art, you parents invest in a paint set. You know they’re expensive and for grown-ups because most paint sets aren’t made for kids; painting is a skill mostly adults learn.

Your parents never seem concerned about their five-year-old having met her soulmate, but you do overhear parts of one hushed argument. Your dad insists on asking other parents at the school, and your mom says something about it making sense “in due time.” They both conclude they’re “old-fashioned,” and you’re not sure what that means, but you hear them kiss and decide to go back to bed.

You know it isn’t common for children to see colors so early and you know you’re the youngest in your small town to have found their soulmate... kind of. Out of curiosity, you start asking your classmates if they see in color too, but they all say no. Some even tease you because grown-ups see colors, and they kiss and have coodies.

You learn to be more subtle about it after.

It’s a Friday, so your mom picks you up to go to the park instead of Kids’ Club. She’ll work late, overnight into Saturday evening, sometimes well past Sunday afternoon, so she spends the time she can with you.

It’s been almost a month since you started school and began seeing the world in color. It makes you tired, trying to explain it and understand it. You're pretty sure you’ve learned all you need to know as a five-year-old and no one in school sees what you do, so you dramatically asked your dad, “What’s the point?” and threw yourself back onto your bed when he tried to get you up for school this past Monday. He had to explain that school lasts basically forever, but some day you can go to a grown-up school and just study art if you want, “if you work at it.” So you fill your nights and weekends with coloring and drawing and painting, which is much more exciting than learning math and the alphabet.

You played tag for a bit with Wells and Octavia, but they had to go home and right now you’re happy sitting at a picnic table with your crayons and activity book. Your mom talks with another mother nearby, waving and coming over to see what you’re coloring every so often. Crayons aren’t very fun; they don’t blend well and they’re made cheap and in weird hues that starkly contrast each other for kids who only see in greys, but they’re all you have since your mom won’t let you bring your paint set or special paper and brushes anywhere but art class or home.

“What are you doing?” a voice asks.

"Coloring,” you say, finishing the last petal of a sunflower. “Do you wanna color with me?” You look up and you remember her from a few weeks ago. You remember her pretty face and dark hair and the same skirt she had on for school. Now you can see her skirt is charcoal—boring and almost exactly the same as before—but her hair is brown, almost auburn in the early evening sunlight. Most of all, you notice her eyes—green like those laughing leaves.

“I’m not very good,” the girl says timidly.

You’re used to this; most kids like tracing or doodling because coloring is like schoolwork—you have to memorize everything, like, “the sky is blue, the sun is yellow, the grass is green.” You decide the grass nearby is a much uglier green than you see in this other girl’s eyes.

“That’s okay,” you say, scooting over to make room on the bench. “I can help.”

She takes off her backpack to sit at the picnic table. “Your name is Clarke, right?” she asks as she settles beside you.

You nod.

“I’m Lexa,” she says to remind you.

You appreciate it because you didn’t remember it. You feel your cheeks get warm and repeat Lexa in your head over and over so you’ll remember for next time. You notice she kept on her school skirt but changed out of the white polo private school kids wear, opting for a soft-yellow t-shirt with a sun in sunglasses on it. “You go to St. Mary’s, don’t you?” 

“Mhm.” Lexa picks up a crayon and fiddles with it nervously as she looks at it for a moment.

“You use that one for the sky,” you say, ripping out a page from your activity book for her to color—a sailboat on the water with the sun in the sky.

″I know,” she replies quietly, beginning to color the sky, careful not to get blue in the lines of the sun or sailboat.

“Sorry,” you say, unsure if you should ask if she knows her colors from school or sees them like you. Instead you decide to say, “I know you from that coffee place.“

“Mhm.”

“Our moms were sleepy and getting coffee before school.”

“She’s not my mom,” Lexa says. She doesn’t sound upset, but she keeps her attention focused on coloring the sky.

“Oh, well she was a nice lady,” you say with a shrug, “and you were in your uniform. Is it weird wearing a uniform?”

“No, but I can get ready for school real fast.”

“Hm... It just seems kind of boring to me.”

Lexa laughs and you smile at the sound and sight of her grin. “It is,” she agrees.

You chew your lip nervously before asking, “What’s your favorite color?”

Lexa looks at the half-colored paper before turning toward you to sit criss-cross applesauce. She tilts her head and hums as she thinks for a moment. “Blue... or yellow. I haven’t decided. What’s yours?”

“Blue plus yellow.”

“Equals green. Like pine trees.”

“What are pine trees?”

“Christmas trees but without the lights and stuff hanging on them.”

“Oh, yeah! I like that green. I like all kinds of green!”

“Lexa,” a voice calls, interrupting your smiles and conversation, “we have to go back to the house to pack.” A girl appears beside the table and picks up Lexa’s backpack. She looks much older and cooler than you, and also like she could scare Bellamy. Before you can say a word, the girl huffs and starts walking off.

“Sorry. That’s my sister. I’ve gotta go,” Lexa says, setting down her crayon. “Thanks for letting me color with you.”

You pout and you think your heart knows what’s happening more than you have words for. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Let’s go, Lexa,” the other girl demands; despite the frustration in her voice, she mostly seems sad.

Lexa shakes her head. “Today was my last day at St. Mary’s. We’re moving to New York City tomorrow with my new family.”

“Oh...” the sound seems to fall out of your chest. “I’ll see you again some day though,” you manage with a smile. “My dad and Mr. Kane say if I work hard enough and paint, one day I could make art in a city or go to school there.”

Lexa smiles back. “OK.”

“You want your coloring?” you ask, offering her the unfinished page.

“You keep it. Paint something yellow or blue for me when you come to New York. Like a sunset or your hair... or your eyes. I like your eyes,” she pauses before adding, “Yeah, I think blue is my favorite. but yellow is my second favorite.”

“OK, I promise.”

“See you later, Clarke.”

You wave goodbye and some minutes later, when you’re by yourself and can’t seem to color because the sunset looks too golden, your mom comes over to check on you. “Did you make a friend, Clarke?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

Part 2 / 2

[closetcasefabray]

Blue + Yellow (2/2)

so i’m never drinking again (meaning i’m not going to drink until a few days from now), but i did some stuff around my apartment & recovered before looking this over. it’s in decent enough shape i figured i’d post it on my night in. so here's the second/final part of b+y, a soulmate clexa au. thanks for the likes & reblogs <3

(i also have some ranya companion bits & other cute shit in my head from this. hit me up in the asks or message me if you wanna know anything.)

(Part 1 / 2)

Blue + Yellow

Part 2 / 2

Once you’re old enough to be trusted on a computer, your parents let you use your dad’s old laptop (with safety settings programmed in, courtesy of your dad being a computer engineer and generally a protective father). You spend hours reading stories online about people seeing color. The romantics talk about how life burst into color as soon as they set eyes on their soulmates. The realists are more prevalent, like you, and they tell of their search for their soulmate, having seen color gradually after a few days. Some even reject the idea of soulmates completely, finding different kinds of love with other like-minded people. 

Your heart breaks when you read about the people who never see their soulmates again—whether a war-torn nation dividing them, or travelers who board a plane back home only to start seeing color as they leave, or sometimes death. But you feel reassured when you read about those who have lost a soulmate and find love again with someone else. Still, your heart aches at the idea of giving up on finding Lexa, even more when you wonder if she’s given up on you.

Your parents did all they could when you told them about Lexa those years ago, a few days after coloring with Lexa in the park, but they couldn’t get much information because of child protection and privacy reasons, especially because Lexa had been in foster care with her half-sister before moving. With a different last name in a city of millions, you know you’ll never be able to find Lexa, but that doesn’t stop you from searching Facebook and social media most nights. 

Once puberty hits, everyone talks about seeing in color. You never hide the fact that you have been able to see colors since you were five, but you don’t like talking about it much. It’s often something you keep to yourself and your paints. Most kids in your small town know it’s unlikely and often hope they don’t meet their soulmate here, but that doesn’t prevent their hormones from kicking into full gear.

When a new student arrives in the spring of seventh grade, you’re not surprised when you hear Octavia (amongst several others) has a crush. You’re also not shocked to hear that Bellamy confronts him after baseball try-outs that same day, telling the new kid, Lincoln, to stay away from his sister. You decide you like Lincoln when you hear he dodged Bellamy’s first swing and in turn gave the Blake boy a bloody nose. Neither of them get into trouble since it happened far enough from school grounds, but Octavia does get in trouble for giving her brother a fat lip as soon as he gets home for starting a fight with Lincoln. 

After punching Bellamy, Octavia calls you.

“I can see colors like you now,” Octavia says excitedly. “Just... wow, Clarke. You never told me how beautiful it is.”

She ends up rushing off the phone when her mom gets home and sees a beat up Bellamy holding bags of frozen corn to his nose and mouth.

Although Octavia is grounded for the first month of their relationship, there isn’t anything or anyone who can stop Lincoln and Octavia from falling in love because both puberty-stricken thirteen and twelve-year-olds knew as soon as they saw each other in fourth period English. It really is beautiful, seeing the world in color, but you don’t have the heart to tell Octavia that the colors you see haven’t been as bright since you were just a kid in a park.

Your mom never asks, but you know she’s thinking it when you tell her your top choices for college—Columbia, New School, NYU, Fordham, CUNY. You don’t talk to your mother often, not since your dad died two years ago, so you think she might not want to scare you away from opening up by asking questions.

“I like the idea of being somewhere I don’t have to drive to get to the best art in the city... or the world for that matter,” you say one night over dinner.

She nods in understanding. It is true that the city has that benefit, but you’re not sure if you’re rationalizing it more to yourself or your mother.

You drove enough to get your license, but you hate it. You’ve grown more comfortable riding in passenger seats because Octavia luckily loves to drive, and she talks and plays music loud enough to stop you from thinking too much. But it’s still too easy to get in your head when you drive on your own. You still tremble in your seat at large intersections, and your hands sweat as they hold the wheel because you don’t think you’ll ever forget the sound of metal being crushed and the silence that comes after.

“So wait,” your roommate slurs with a chuckle, “you’re telling me... you decided to come here... because you think your soulmate might still be here?”

“Way to make me sound like a total sucker, but yeah, pretty much,” you confess before downing another shot.

You just had the entire art department rip into your sophomore year portfolio, so you decided to put some distance between you and the art world and get drunk with Raven—a computer engineering student who transferred from UMass back to her home, New York City born and bred.

“You’re not like a sucker. Pretty sure you just are one, but I’m a bitter asshole,” Raven says with a smirk.

You smile and clink your beer bottle with hers before taking a sip.

Raven has good reason and you’re sure you would be much angrier with the world if in her shoes. She met her soulmate when she was fourteen, and they fixed cars and built things with their hands together. Then they were sixteen, riding on a motorcycle they had fixed up together, a car didn’t see them, and Raven just remembers waking up in the hospital with a shattered leg. “I can still see colors,” she said that night the whole story spilled out of her, “but it’s all... faded, I guess. Colors are pretty dull in my eyes.”

“Do you think it’s stupid?” you ask Raven. “That I thought I could find her again?”

Raven shrugs. “Don’t put your life on hold for someone who isn’t here right now,” she says. “If you really are soulmates, things will work themselves out. Until then, have fun, make art like you weird liberal arts kids do. Do whatever. Doesn’t mean you have to fall in love.”

“Makes sense,” you agree as Raven pours you both a shot and opens a couple more beers.

“Of course. I know what I’m talking about; I’m in the sciences.”

You kiss a boy who also sees color, but nothing about him feels special or makes your heart race. You both know you’re welcome distractions for each other, but he knows his soulmate is never coming back and you might always be looking for yours.

You kiss a lot of people and sleep with a few others too. Some can see color, some can’t, and some you don’t bother asking. It’s fun and nothing close to love, so it fills the gaps between those times you think about a little girl who brought green into your life and then everything else. You wonder what she looks like now, if she’s cut her hair, or if she’s somewhere thinking about you.

You fall for a girl with long, light brown hair. She has the opposite curse—born colorblind like everyone else but informed by doctors that she will never see colors. She has to learn to love the hard way—heart first. When you’re lying next to her in bed, and she hums as you trace her jawline, you wish you could love her the way she deserves.

You think she’s always known and that’s why she never said “I love you” because the response would be a lie or an apology.

She’s standing in front of you now, smiling that sad, knowing smile. “You showed me color in a different way,” she says before kissing you softly for the last time. She leaves you in your studio with your hands covered in verdigris.

You don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep or your eyes playing tricks on you again, but you swear you see a flash of green eyes and dark hair on your morning commute. You don’t know if it’s because you’ve been busy and single for the past couple of months, but you feel your heart swell, your blood flowing through your veins to your fingertips. You just know that when you get to your studio, your paintings look a little brighter and your hands find the paint on their own, blending the perfect shades for your last piece of your senior presentation.

Your advisor introduces you to more of her curator friends and they praise your work as you stand in the gallery beside one of your paintings of an eclipse, half the canvas is a haunting cerulean, the other half painted bright shades of yellow.

“I assume you gave Ms. Griffin the A she deserves?” jokes one of her colleagues.

Dr. Miles grins and hugs your shoulders. “I wouldn’t dream of giving her anything lower than that,” she says with pride.

Dr. Miles had been so impressed by your senior project, she invited some friends from MoMA to your show at the campus art center. You were already elated to have your work being viewed by such important people, but when Dr. Miles called you during senior week to ask if you’d like to feature your work at a gallery in affiliation with PS1, you almost burst. You could hardly process what you were hearing and when you did, after hanging up your phone, you screamed and jumped around your apartment, much to Raven’s hungover chagrin.

Since it was rather last minute, Dr. Miles managed to sort out most of the details while you prepared for graduation. Still in your apartment until the end of May, you were able to help move your work to the small gallery space in the Lower East Side on Rivington with some help from Raven. It didn’t feel real until you saw your name in the brochure for New York City Museums’ Summer Tour.

You excuse yourself to greet your mother and her boyfriend, Marcus Kane. They’re beaming as they look at all your work on display, but mostly they look happy together. You smile because your mother’s found a kind of happiness you haven’t seen since your father passed away. Of all people, you’re glad the first person to put paint in your hands is now the person adding color to your mother’s life again.

You give them both a hug and kiss on the cheek, asking how they like the city since they stuck around after your graduation. Someone offers them wine, and Marcus happily takes a glass and mouths to you, “Fancy,” and wiggles his eyebrows, making you laugh.

“Wow, your work is selling quick,” Marcus notes, sipping from his wine.

You’re surprised when you take in how many red dots are stickered next to several of your paintings.

“You’re taking us out to dinner when you visit,” your mom teases.

“I like lobster,” Marcus adds before wandering off to look at more of your work.

You find him a bit later in front of your favorite piece. It’s mixed media, with various New York debris scattered around the edges with the blur of a subway train speeding through the center, featuring green eyes that stand out from the grey. You didn’t put a price on it; you want to hold onto this one.

You’re taking inventory of all the sold pieces and confirming contact information with buyers as Raven continues texting you from across the street as she waits for you to wrap up. She keeps sending you ridiculous ideas of how to spend your newfound relative wealth.

You’re in the back office when you hear the door open.

“Raven, I gave you the passcode to help me move my stuff here, not so you can treat it like an extension of our apartment,” you say as you round the corner, flipping through the contact paperwork. “I’ll just be ten more min—”

You forget how to speak as you blindly set down the stack of paper on the desk, unable to look away from the figure in front of the door.

“Sorry. Your friend told me the passcode... I’d have come earlier, but I had to take the train in from Connecticut.”

You remember everything: the laughing leaves, the charcoal skirt, her brown hair, and those eyes.

“My sister only told me a couple of hours ago there was this art gallery I had to see,” she says, offering a small smile as she takes a couple tentative steps toward you. She picks up one of the small pamphlets about yourself and the exhibit. “Blue + Yellow,” she reads, “Still your favorite color?”

You nod, still struggling to find the right words to say. Maybe it’s because you never let yourself plan this part out; all your energy went solely into making her appear again. Now she’s here, right in front of you.

“Clarke Griffin,” Lexa says like she’s trying it out, putting the pamphlet in her pocket. “Clarke, with an e, Griffin...” She lets out a small laugh. “That would have made things easier.”

You let out a laugh of your own. “And you’re Lexa...”

“Woods. Well, now anyway, once my parents adopted me,” she explains.

"Woods,” you repeat. “Suits you. Woods, forests... like pines.”

Lexa’s smile broadens at that and you wonder if she’s played your last conversation as children over and over in her head like you have, as if sifting through memories for clues to find each other again.

“Is it stupid of me to have dreamed of meeting you again here?” you ask.

Lexa shakes her head. “Only if it’s stupid of me to have read every art section of every New York magazine for the past five years,” she admits, blushing lightly and looking away from Clarke. She notices your unsold mixed media piece and stands in front of it. “It must have been you,” she says, almost to herself as she deciphers the subway and her own eyes gazing out, “but I also thought I saw you walk by me or waiting on the opposite subway platform for years.”

“If it’s any consolation,” you say, standing beside her, looking at it as if from her perspective, “I thought that too. I painted this after I thought I saw you in March. Everything was grey in the rain, but then I saw you... Or thought I did.”

You watch her take in the painting, a look of awe. “Yeah, it must have been you then,” she says, lifting her hand to her chest as if she felt you too. Her eyes trace the grey-blue edges filled with bits of New York—a MetroCard, a crushed coffee cup, a newspaper, and a faded piece of paper with a simple cartoon boat with half the sky colored blue. “It’s always been you,” she says, reaching out as if to touch it but stopping herself.

She turns toward you. “Sorry, this is... a lot.”

You nod dumbly. Lexa smiles and takes your hands in hers. Your artwork breathes with you, seemingly radiating colors off the canvases. They’re singing as they all come back to you in full.

“I spent all my time hoping to find you again... I didn’t put much thought into what I’d say,” Lexa admits with an embarrassed half-smile.

“We have time,” you give her hand a squeeze. “You being here is... We don’t need to talk at all.”

Lexa closes the small distance between you and presses her lips to yours. Every stroke of your paintbrush for seventeen years has been a wish for this moment, and if magic exists, you’re sure it’s in art because Lexa is wrapping her arms around you, holding you, and you’re kissing her back. Like neon buzzing butterflies in your stomach, all the light and color makes its home in you and you’re in love exactly as it was supposed to be.

When you part, you’re looking into those green eyes and you don’t want to look away or wake up if this is all a dream. Lexa blushes under your gaze and you let out a laugh like a breath you’ve been holding in. “Hi,” you sigh.

“Hi,” she says quietly in return, her eyes shimmering like those leaves in the wind. “Would you like to get dinner with me?”

“Now?”

“Yes. Right now.”

“I’d like that. I just, uh,” you keep Lexa’s hand in yours, pulling her with you to grab your phone and keys from the back office, unwilling to let her go now that she’s here. You laugh when you see Raven texted you about a dozen messages, concluding with, you’re welcome. have fun. i’m going to meet with octavia and lincoln to help those poor souls around the city. you owe me several rounds. xox.

You walk out of the building hand-in-hand, and the city’s fast pace and noise welcomes you back to reality. It doesn’t feel jarring with Lexa still beside you, and you sigh contentedly. The city doesn’t feel lonely, seeing it the way you do now.

“I painted a sunset for you... well, several, actually,” you tell her as you walk down the street toward one of the restaurants Lexa likes nearby.

“Any paintings of your hair and eyes?” she asks, smiling at you and almost walking herself into the streetlight pole because she can’t take her eyes off you.

You laugh and kiss her cheek as you wait for the crosswalk sign. “I’m not a fan of self-portraits,” you say, “but you don’t need a painting of me now; you have me right here.”

“You’re right,” Lexa says, and that same look of awe washes over her again because she touches your hair, tucks it behind your ear, and leans down to kiss the corner of your lips. “I’ve missed you... That’s what it feels like.”

Like coming home, you think.

“I’ve missed you too.”

So you ignore the walk sign and kiss her again, under the golden glow of the streetlight to start making up for all that that time spent apart.

fin.

[closetcasefabray]

i was just thinking about cophine getting high together & then imagined modern day clexa doing the same & omg a whole headcanon is now exploding out my brain. so here’s this not-a-fic.

so clarke would have tried weed in hs & she would get high once in a while, but she was a good student & pretty popular so her parents never really saw any change. & one time jake catches her coming in late & he can totally tell she’s high & he’s just like “we’ll talk in the morning.” when he does, he doesn’t tell abby but just tells clarke not to drive high & recommends against smoking bc lungs are important. & he ends it with “i trust you kiddo. you can make your own decisions. im proud of you for being you.” bc he’s jake & he loves her so much (& also thinks marijuana should be legal & regulated).

so clarke is at university (i normally imagine them at UMD just bc Polis & TonDC are Maryland/DC references) & she’s roommates with raven, & the two of them like going to the roof of one of the campus science buildings & smoking bc sometimes the professors leave telescopes on the roof for labs. raven gets medicinal marijuana & explained that her parents knew she already smoked so they wanted her to do it legally & “the leg thing just helped expedite the process.” so they smoke pretty regularly. (eventually raven tells clarke that she was in an accident when she was with her boyfriend, finn, on his motorcycle.)

clarke meets octavia in her math class & they both hate it but numbers come easier for clarke than O so clarke essentially carries O through that class despite paying zero attention in class. O is on the track team, so she doesn’t smoke but hangs out with clarke & raven on the roof.

lexa is a sophomore but really ahead & could easily graduate early. but she’s double majoring in political science & psychology with a minor in world literature. clarke has dyslexia & while she does know various strategies to read & study well, she devotes most her energy toward her pre-med materials. that unfortunately affects the quality of her weekly papers for her english lit gen ed class. so she goes to the writing center where of course lexa works.

& clarke is pretty intimidated bc lexa is dressed for the career fair the first time she meets her & just looks like she has all her shit together. when lexa asks her what she should focus on for critiques, clarke just says “everything.” & lexa does that small smile & clarke is just like “wHAT IS THIS FEELING????”

even though lexa rips her paper apart it was fine bc clarke could watch her hands move across paper all day. one day clarke asks if she wants to go to the food court since lexa gets out at the same time. so they do & they end up talking & clarke ends up confessing she has dyslexia & lexa encourages her to go to the student disability services office so a formal letter could be sent to the professor, but clarke says how it shouldn’t be an excuse. & lexa is like super serious & respects clarke’s choice but also says, “it’s not an excuse if you do go. it’s about being honest with yourself & the professor. you’re fully capable of doing great work, & dyslexia isn’t a reflection of your intelligence, but just letting your professor know may help form a more effective curriculum.” they exchange numbers & the next day, clarke sends her a thank you text bc she went to student services & her lit professor’s office hours & they decided on bi-weekly 3pg papers instead of the weekly 2 pg papers.

then clarke eventually asks her out as they leave the writing center one night & lexa has to ask, “like a date?” & clarke mildly panics but lexa explains “i have a girlfriend.” costia, who is this really wonderful art history major & photographer back home in PA & attending Penn State, who she met through a summer internship before lexa’s first year in university. but lexa thinks they’d make good friends & clarke refuses to be a douche who broods in the “friend zone.”

lexa doesn’t go to parties, but she drinks occasionally. so clarke invites her to the roof with O & Raven & they end up drinking two giant bottles of cheap wine. when lexa admits she’s never smoked weed, it becomes raven’s mission to get lexa high, mostly bc lexa is so serious & she wants to see what she would happen. but lexa passes on the weed & is grateful bc clarke smoked & got the spins & puked off the side of the roof.

another time, raven gets a few edibles & splits them with her friends so she, O & Lincoln (OT/PT major, junior, also on track) are playing frisbee on the quad while super high & clarke is drawing & sitting bc physical exertion is so not her style, esp when stoned. & lexa gets out of class & sees clarke so she joins her. & when clarke looks up & sees lexa approaching, she gets the biggest cheesiest smile bc it’s lexa & its one of the few remaining warm days of fall so she’s in a knee-length dress & just looks stunning. she sits down & lifts up clarke’s sunglasses & laughs & asks “how high are you rn?” clarke just giggles–something she only does high–& replies “very.” & lexa just grins & pokes clarke’s cheek & says “i can tell bc your dimples. you have them the entire time bc you can’t stop smiling.” & clarke just replies “or maybe i’m just happy to see you.” & then O appears with her arms full of snacks & clarke is like “good call, O” & O is like “tf are you talking about???? this is mine.” but raven & lincoln brought munchies for clarke.

then when it’s just the two of them, lexa asks what it feels like being high. clarke’s still stoned so it’s hard but says “you can’t really know the feeling without getting high….. your stream of consciousness goes on every tangent. your thoughts take the scenic route… also your internal voice becomes really apparent, but it’s not critical or anything. things feel easy.” & lexa just concludes “you’re an anti-anti-drug ad.”

so lexa tells clarke one day she wants to try weed so clarke’s super excited & wants lexa to be comfortable & they go to the roof, just the two of them & smoke & lexa quickly learns smoking hurts her throat & lungs a lot but clarke packed ice water which helps. when clarke can tell lexa is stoned, she laughs bc her eyes are glossy & just beautiful & that small smile of hers doesn’t leave her lips. but she reassures lexa that she looks fine & isn’t obviously high.

they lie on a blanket & lexa asks clarke to hold her hand bc she feels strange & clarke just smiles & takes her hand & gives it a little squeeze. but they end up talking & laughing bc of some stupid story clarke told & even though clarke’s heard lexa’s laugh, she loves the sound of it in that moment. & she’s jus like “wow. im so in love with her” inside of course.

that night gets lexa into trouble with costia bc long distance is dumb & costia can tell lexa is falling for clarke. they break up before the second semester so lexa throws herself into work but clarke is persistent about making lexa interact with ppl outside of academics & they end up smoking on the quad one night & lexa is p sure she could kiss clarke but she knows she should tell her how she feels first & not kiss her & have clarke assume it was just bc they were high. but they hold hands even though lexa feels fine.

so they both end up super busy bc midterms but they study together in the library. clarke has a nervous habit of tapping her pen & the sound makes lexa anxious, so one day she puts her hand on top of clarke’s tapping hands & clarke apologizes but lexa removes her hand then takes clarke’s right & runs her thumb along the back. it ends up being the kind of sensory stuff the both of them needed & becomes habit.

both of them finish their midterms the same day so they hang out to celebrate which basically turns into them taking a nap in clarke’s bed & raven taking a million ways photos & taking bets from O & lincoln about how long it would take them.

but something about missing clarke on spring break spurred lexa into action so their first day back at school, they’re two of the first back on campus so they go the roof but don’t have weed & as clarke is rambling about something lexa just hugs her & clarke laughs & asks “what’s this about?” & lexa says “i missed you.” & clarke smiles & says “me too.” & then lexa kisses her & it’s grossly cute & clarke kind of sighs as they hold each other after. & blah blah they’re in love & just the grossest.

but what originally spurred this whole thing on was just me thinking “i bet lexa would get horny when high” so my brain is essentially the tag “porn with feelings.” ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

anyway. i’ve got shit to do i guess but thought i’d share.

[closetcasefabray]

wednesdays

a (belated) rough drabble i wrote on my phone for day 2 of clexa week, “no strings attached,” based on my college life choices. if ppl like it, i’ll maybe turn this into a multi-part fic.

this is in a separate universe from the mom-arm nyc au i have planned for a super belated useless bisexual fic. but here have this in the meantime.

//

you groan as your phone rings next to your head in bed. 3:30 am exactly. you answer with sleep still in your voice, “be right there.” you hang up without waiting for a response.

you pull yourself out of bed, throw on some comfortable sweatpants and a jacket, grab your keys, and walk toward the train. you don’t live in a “bad neighborhood,” but clarke grew up in a massive house in the suburbs outside the city, where her mother taught her cities are “where people get murdered,” so clarke insists she has someone walk her because it would just be her luck she would walk by herself one night and get mugged and therefore have to tell her mother.

you rolled your eyes at her explanation but part of you also likes this tradition—going out when most of the city is asleep, and the idea of someone feeling safer with you doesn’t hurt. this is all habit and anya likes to remind you how desperate it is for you to do so much for “a little action.” a little is an understatement.

you first met clarke through your friend luna, who is very much so the opposite of you. clarke and luna like going out to party, and you have a thesis to write. clarke devotes a lot of her time to classes too, but you don’t find spending that much money for a hangover to be appealing.

you kissed clarke after meeting at luna’s birthday party, right after costia visited and left for what felt like the last time. (you broke up because of long distance, but you think you’ll always be in love with costia.) it felt easy and clarke was an incredible kisser.

you never had a “talk,” but you both understood. clarke’s lifestyle is so different from yours, the attraction is mostly physical. spending time with clarke and luna can really annoy you, the two of them caring far too much about parties and finding new haunts. when you found yourself regretting joining them at a rooftop bar, ready to make up an excuse to leave, clarke pulled you into the bathroom before you understood what was happening. you realized you like her most when she’s pressed against you and kissing you fiercely.

meanwhile, you make strange but decent friends. sometimes she brings you a scone from the bakery across from her internship, meets you at the library to give you a small break from studying. you like hanging out with her in your element—your place or on campus.

drunken kissing became normal after a month, so it was easy to invite her back to your apartment after a night out, leaving clarke stuck in the city until she could drive back home sober. she only had a couple of beers and you can both admit it was a flimsy excuse to get her in your bed. once she kissed you in the dark of your room, pressed her leg between your thighs, and you heard her breath catch when you reciprocated the gesture, you were hooked.

clarke likes kissing you in secret. once you started fucking completely sober, you learned she likes fucking you in secret too. but you’re both bad at secrets and luna makes jokes about it all the time and anya finds it 100% annoying.

so you fuck in fancy bar bathrooms, the library stacks, a sorority house spare bedroom. the best was when she fucked you in the bathroom above the park, floor to ceiling windows, so you just remember how the skyline shimmered when she made you come.

then luna and clarke got closer, realized their love for night life and made a weekly tradition of going out late. to avoid clarke driving or staying in luna’s small dorm, luna was the one who said she should stay with you. clarke didn’t like walking the three blocks alone, so you have gotten used to these 3 am treks. you’ve walked through rain and snow to meet her outside luna’s, and you’re grumpy about it sometimes, but after several orgasms you get over it.

luna lives in a dorm right off the train, so you find them having cigarettes on her stoop, as always. luna hugs clarke goodbye, swaying relatively drunkenly, then gives you a wink and tells you both to have fun.

the walk is silent at times, but tonight clarke tells you she slapped a guy in the face for trying to kiss her in some bougie bar you’ve never heard of. you grin when she ends with a concise, “fuck that guy.” you briefly wonder if she’s ever turned down going home with someone to come back to you. you don’t let yourself ask her.

you enter your apartment quietly and slip by anya’s room to yours at the other end. clarke stops in the bathroom to brush her teeth because she knows you will tell her she tastes like an ashtray otherwise. (anya saw the third toothbrush appear a few weeks ago and threatened to clean the toilet with it. you know she won’t, but she doesn’t hide how much she dislikes clarke when she talks to you. when it comes to interacting with clarke, she usually just disappears into her room after greeting clarke in passing, so you know it’s less personal and more that she thinks clarke is bad for you. you would probably agree if you thought it out more, but you like that clarke being in your life doesn’t require deep analysis or reflection. right now, anyway.)

you take off your jacket and sweatpants and crawl into bed. clarke follows shortly after, closing the bedroom door gently. you watch her take off her jewelry, setting it on your desk, then her black dress is unzipped and shrugged off, slung over your desk chair, and she smirks and holds eye contact as she removes her bra and underwear.

“what if i’m not in the mood tonight?” you say as she approaches you with her smirk in place.

she raises an eyebrow. “are you not in the mood?”

“i’m just saying ‘what if?’”

“i’d be a little disappointed because i’ve honestly been thinking about fucking you all day,” she says quietly, and you feel yourself get wetter at the thought and the sound of her raspy voice from yelling over music most of the night, “but i’d steal your stupid french club t-shirt and your silly library stamp boxers and sleep next to you.”

“good to know,” you say with a small grin. “but i’m in the mood so...”

she gets in bed, straddling your lap. she plucks the band of your sleep shorts. “why do you even bother getting in bed with clothes on then?”

you shrug, sitting up and wrapping your arms around her waist. you place a kiss to the center of her bare chest. “in case you’re not in the mood?”

she takes your hand and guides it down between her legs, a soft moan escaping her mouth as your run your fingers through her folds and feel how wet she is. “what kind of mood does that feel like?”

you end up fucking until the sun starts to come up, and you’re not entirely sure when you felt comfortable enough to sleep entirely naked with clarke but it’s never awkward the morning after. even when you were with costia, you often threw on underwear and a shirt after getting back into bed. maybe it’s because clarke is not afraid to talk about sex—what she likes doing, what she wants to try—so nudity between you two is hardly anything to make you blush.

you wake up before her, but you lie there and begin to plan out your day. eventually you feel clarke roll over to face you, and you smile because her hairs a mess and she smiles because you are.

“y’know,” she rasps, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn, “if i ever wake up before you one of these days, how would you feel if i woke you up by going down on you?”

you feel your face blush, but manage to reply, “that’d probably be the best alarm clock ever.”

clarke hums in agreement. you eyes travel down her body, the sheet only covering her from the waist down. when your gaze returns to her face again, she’s smirking knowingly.

“well,” she says, rolling over onto you and putting her thigh between your legs, “why don’t we pretend you hit snooze?”

//

[closetcasefabray]

fun fact: raven & O trick Clarke into going to Medieval Times for her 20th birthday & hotbox their car beforehand. clarke sneaks in a flask, & raven almost gets them thrown out for shouting “WENCH! MY GROG!!!” during the middle of the show several times. O is just hilariously aggressive & like “FINISH HIM” & clarke of course gets a flower thrown to her from a knight & a wink.

after, raven flirts with one of the knight’s & a group of them go out for drinks in Baltimore & just raven totally sleeps with the sexy bearded green knight & O’s only major criticism was that they had been rooting for the Red knight & raven is like “O im not fucking a dude who literally cosplays for work on the whim of what color crown the ppl gave us.” & clarke is just like “but you still fucked a dude who literally cosplays for work.”

[closetcasefabray]

in clarke’s second year, lexa is so busy with school bc she shifts her focus toward social work & sociology & it’s just a lot of research so they hardly see each other.

lexa likes being in control of her life, so even if it’s jam packed with school work, she can navigate fine. emotions & love? not so much. so when clarke & her go for a walk one night, she’s not surprised when clarke says “this isn’t enough. it scares me how much i want you, & sometimes i think you don’t want me around as much as i want to be near you. maybe that makes me needy, but christ, lexa. i cant ask you to drop your work to spend time with me, but what time you can afford isn’t enough for me. i don’t want to be the angry girlfriend, so maybe we should take a step back…”

so they break up & lexa doesnt really understand that’s what it is until clarke just kisses her cheek goodnight & she feels the moisture left behind from clarke’s tears.

they don’t talk for a couple of weeks, which lexa realizes is really hard bc she sees so many things that make her think of clarke, like when Orion’s belt is super bright, or the moon looks especially huge, or someone epically trips & falls (which clarke will always find hilarious).

another week later & anya, lexa’s cousin, comes to visit. anya does a bunch of work in Central & South America as an anthropology prof & researcher & art curator. she’s a badass. anyway, they get royally drunk & lexa drunk dials for the first time. when clarke picks up at 3am, lexa holds her breath briefly before saying “oh. you picked up……. i didn’t plan for this…” which makes clarke laugh & lexa smiles so big because wow she’s missed that sound. they end up talking for an hour & clarke says “ok drunky, i’ve got to be up in the morning, but drink some water… im glad you called. this was nice.” & lexa just feels like some weight has been lifted.

clarke & lexa start talking again, & clarke surprises lexa with tickets to a small jazz show. clarke tries to give the other ticket to miller, but he insists she goes (he loves the quartet but lexa’s heart comes first). so they go & clarke just watches lexa most of the time. after the show, they get hot chocolate & walk in the nearby park & in the glow of the christmas tree lights, lexa confesses “it’s so easy to fall for you all over again.” so she kisses clarke & clarke doesn’t hesitate to kiss her back. they hold hands for the rest of the night & lexa says, “i want you around, clarke. i want to be enough for you to stay around.” & clarke assures her they’ll make it work.

[closetcasefabray]

one time clarke & lexa are stoned & being cute & sharing some smooches when over lincoln’s, O throws some popcorn at them to be an ass. lexa, all smiley & dopey says, “you cant judge. you & lincoln always need to… yknow… rent a hotel.” & clarke bursts out laughing bc lexa immediately pulls a face bc she knows it came out wrong. “i think you mean ‘get a room.’”

from that point on, every time a couple in their crew shows PDA, they come up with different versions of “get a room!” like “go stay in a hostel,” or “go pay a mortgage for a house,” or “go squat a vacant house!” bc they’re dumb & the best.

[closetcasefabray]

so in stoner!au miller is good friends with lexa & he was in rotc but drops out after his first year & works his ass off & gets a fuck ton of grants to stay in school. he met lexa in a political science intro class & when they had to do a group project lexa had kind of insinuated she’d take the lead on stuff bc she frankly didn’t trust anyone else in the group to do it & miller found that amusing & they became friends bc lexa was at a table in the library doing research & miller showed up & gave her some cookies his mom mailed him in a care package & helped lexa wrap up their project.

by his third year he’s roommates with lincoln & jasper. he’s also the reason lexa becomes a fan of jazz. he grew up in atlanta & played the drums in the marching band at his school but learned the jazz drums from his grandfather who played a bunch of jazz in new york for a while.

monty is friends with raven bc they’re both nerds & built some drone shit for some convention together. monty & miller meet one snow day in monty’s first year bc everyone holed up at lincoln’s/miller’s/jasper’s bc they had basically the top floor of the house as an apartment. so it’s clarke, lexa, raven, octavia, lincoln, monty, miller, & jasper. monty is a hero & installs jasper’s smart TV he splurged on but didn’t hook up. so everyone cheers when monty just turns around after a few minutes of setting it up & opens netflix & asks what everyone wants to watch. (O & raven immediately answer with PLANET EARTH!)

then when they’re all moderately high & hanging out, jasper takes out his bass & starts jamming with miller who only has a plastic bins & his drum pad & his drum sticks but makes do. & monty will say that he knew he loved miller when miller started singing in his “louis armstrong” voice which was absolutely wonderful.

meanwhile lexa & clarke held hands the entire time & clarke would sometimes laugh & stick her tongue out at lexa when lexa would get caught staring. like a month later when clarke walks in on monty & miller making out & tells lexa, lexa is like “oh. that wasn’t a thing ppl knew before??” bc it just made sense since the snow day.

miller, monty, jasper, & raven also start poker nights, so the crew tends to hang out at either the guys’ place or clarke & raven’s. like lexa saw monty & miller, miller knew lexa was falling for clarke p early on. when spring term starts, he asks if lexa is going to pursue anything with clarke & lexa is like “i just broke up with costia. i still love her.” & miller understands but also thinks lexa & clarke just need to fucking date already. & one night on spring break he calls lexa & they’re talking about their love lives & miller just says “you’re overthinking it. love doesn’t have to be hard. let there easy parts be easy.” & loving clarke is easy for lexa but it’s scary bc she’s had to work so hard for everything that good things don’t come so easily for her, & feelings are inconsistent & what if clarke doesn’t want her that way anymore??? but she knows he’s right & that’s kind of what makes lexa return to school like “im gonna tell clarke my feelings!” but really it just becomes her panicking internally for the first half hour she hangs out with clarke & then she does the seemingly random hug & then finally kisses clarke on the roof (posted about this kiss earlier & just aw lexa…).

(lexa calls miller later to tell him & he basically cheers into the phone & she blushes but feels electric bc she finally kissed clarke & !!!!!!!! she’s glad she has someone to share that with. then miller says “im proud of you, lex. you deserve good things & clarke makes you happy, so im happy for you.” & lexa is just so grateful for a friend like miller.)

[closetcasefabray]

more headcanons about lexa's libido skyrocketing while she's high? what is her favorite thing to do to clarke/have clarke do to her?

ugh so i’d written this then was bitten by a kid at work so it closed & deleted everything. but anyway!

lexa is a bit of a doofy puppy when she’s stoned with clarke. she feels just so incredibly comfortable with her so sometimes they’ll be doing something & lexa will just kiss clarke bc she can & it’s the most lovely thing she can feel. sometimes clarke will catch her staring & smile & kiss her “where’d ya go?” lexa will just smile & shrug & pull her close. she’s honestly just letting herself think about her life with clarke in it.

lexa loves touching clarke to begin with, so when she’s high she just loves trailing her fingers along clarke’s skin. clarke is ticklish so she’ll press her lips to clarke’s throat & smile bc she’ll feel clarke’s laugh against her lips when she skims her fingers across clarke’s stomach. she normally keeps being handsy & they’ll start making out.

clarke is usually in control when they have sex but when they’re stoned, lexa likes to set the pace. so it’ll be super intimate & slow & lexa loves loves listening to clarke’s breath hitch when she first presses her thigh between clarke’s legs. the both of them get incredibly turned on in the process of making out high, plus lexa enjoys kissing clarke’s neck & she’ll tend to leave small hickeys all over but clarke doesn’t mind bc she enjoys this side of lexa. then it typically gets a bit heated & clarke will say “lexa please” bordering on a whine/begging & lexa just finds it super sexy & then she’s pulling clarke’s clothes off, alternating from fast to slow just to hear clarke say her name again.

then lexa has to get clarke off first & gets so turned on in the process that clarke typically hardly has to touch her after for her to come & then lexa is a sleepy puppy & they fall asleep all tangled up together.

[closetcasefabray]

lexa enjoys jazz to begin with but when she’s high she feels only what she can describe as lorca’s duende. one night when she cant sleep after smoking with clarke, she reads into jazz & just falls in love with it. clarke could just watch her listen to it now. lexa will always enthusiastically share her new favorites when clarke & lexa get high together.

their first high kiss happens after a busy week where they hardly see each other. clarke was missing lexa already & their brief peck hello isn’t enough & lexa just looks really cute with her glossy eyes & dreamy stoned smile as she talks about why “freddie freeloader” is just the coolest. so clarke just goes “let’s listen to it later but right now i need you to kiss me bc i’ve honestly been thinking about it all week.” & lexa smiles this dopey smile & has this innocent glee as if suddenly remembering she can kiss clarke whenever they want & thats just the best & why weren’t they kissing this whole time?????

so clarke & lexa make out to jazz a lot.

[closetcasefabray]

stoner!au bits:

- clarke’s grandmother is getting senile & miserable & clarke makes her pot brownies & it’s the best fall break bc her grandma is blazed & pleasant the whole time. her mom writes a prescription for medicinal weed for her mother & tells clarke not to bake pot brownies anymore. but grandma always asks clarke for those delicious brownies when she’s home…

- lexa loves when raven & O decide on planet earth when they smoke bc their commentary is the best. “ohhhhhh shiiiiiit they’re fucking those fish UP,” “camels are cool but DAMN they look stupid when they’re eating…” “BIOLUMINESCENCE IS FUCKIN WIIIIIILLLLLD.”

- clarke & raven have an eating contest & they both just whined for hours after bc they ate too much. lexa just let’s clarke curl into fetal position in her bed & rubs her back & makes her drink water.

- after a rooftop smoke session, raven steals clarke’s sandwich & runs away eating it. it becomes a tradition.

- clarke becomes friends with a boy named noah. he’s a nice guy but lexa doesn’t really like him bc of how easy it is for clarke to get along with him. noah is a frisbee bro & stoner, but he’s the calmest guy. noah’s friend luna is a grungy hipster but also gets the best medicinal marijuana from the west coast. clarke & luna flirt at parties & will do blowbacks for fun.

lexa doesn’t like parties to begin with, so she leaves & runs into noah outside having a cigarette. lexa bums one & she likes that they can be there in silence together. she passes on a second but noah walks back to their dorm with her & asks if she’d rather have a drink & play n64.

clarke of course texts asking where she is & lexa tells her. 30 minutes later, clarke joins them. lexa tries to casually ask where luna is & clarke explains that strip poker started & clarke didn’t want to strip down in front of everyone so she left when luna was down to her bra & underwear.

costia calls lexa drunk at some point that night & lexa smiles bc costia is so earnest & sweet, even when drunk. she steps out to talk & noah kind of looks at clarke who’s stoned but quieter than usual. noah asks “have you ever met her?” & clarke says no. “what does lexa say about her?” & clarke shrugs. “she says she loves her. shes gorgeous too. she sounds perfect, i guess.” & noah learns clarke doesn’t really like talking about costia.

- clarke starts sleeping with niylah after thanksgiving. it’s a convenient fwb relationship. lexa doesn’t like it but doesn’t tell clarke.

- costia visits before finals & meets everyone. clarke hates to admit that she really likes costia. she’s perfectly friendly & costia gets why lexa likes her. she breaks up with lexa before she leaves & it’s heartbreaking but gentle & mutual. afterward lexa just curls up in bed next to clarke & asks her to hold her. clarke doesn’t ask questions & they both fall asleep that way.

[closetcasefabray]

how is my room already a disaster again????

anyway, i’m cleaning. gimme something about my stoner!au headcanon in my ask. or anything really.

also: clarke did her laundry stoned with raven all the time. it was the only way they’d both get it done. so one day lexa says she’ll give it a try & clarke goes into her dorm & lexa is just sitting at her computer in the dark with her headphones on watching itunes visualizer. & clarke is just like “did you finish your laundry?” & lexa is just wide-eyed like “oops!” & runs out of the room bc she left her laundry in the wash about an hour ago & totally forgot.

since she lives in a single she pretty much drops her stuff in the doorway not bc she’s lazy but bc she’s still high & clarke’s pants are off & she is pulling off her shirt swaying to the music now coming from the speakers. when she goes to grab a comfy shirt from lexa’s drawer, lexa stops her & shakes her head bc they’re together & kiss & have sex & it’s wonderful so lexa doesn’t give a fuck about her laundry anymore.

as i said before, lexa’s libido sky rockets when she’s high, so she welcomes laundry days when clarke will be over & after she comes back from putting her clothes in the dryer, clarke will be stripped down to her underwear waiting bc lexa likes to take the last of her clothes off.

so laundry day is a thing.

[closetcasefabray]

O: oh shit this is gonna be wild. R: hahahahaha look at his little fins go O: nature’s greatest artist??? R: bitches love artists O: whaaaaaaat, 24 hours for a week???? R: that’s some intense commitment. O: he probably wants to make it clear he’s not looking for just friendship yknow? R: i don’t think the friend zone exists outside the douchey human population. O: aw he carried that little piece in his mouth to decorate! L: *snoring bc he just falls asleep when he gets high* R & O at the reveal: YOOOOOOOO *look at each other* YOOOOOOOOOOO R: this soundtrack is so fucking epic. O: hes totally getting laid. R: id fuck a fish that made cool art… WAIT I MEANT IF I WERE A FISH OR IF THE FISH WERE A HUMAN WAIT– O: *dying laughing* L: wtf is so funny? O: *running to the bathroom to not pee her pants* RAVEN SAID SHED FUCK A FISH Lexa & Clarke: *walk in* Clarke: i see you guys made those brownies. R: i see you were at the roof. *eying hickeys on lexa’s neck* clexa: *blushes*