#in honor of lexa

[sassymajesty]

“the trouble is, you think you have time.” — goncharov (1973)

[lexa-griffins]

Kate Middleton at the jubilee with her son gives me so much mom Lexa vibes

I had to go look up the pictures but yup yup yup those are mom Lexa vibes for sure! I think Lexa tries really hard not to be an authoritarian parent and let the kids be kids while still gently disciplining them in to, at the very least, sit down and not be too loud... but their kids are very much Clarke's kids too and siting still for more than five minutes is torture! Although a few hugs from mommy and everything is okay again 🥺

[missaurorathompson]

Love,

Alexandra.

Alexa I’d be honored !!

[gaypirateslife4me]

I survived Buffy and Faith. (BtVS)

I survived Dean and Cas. (SPN)

I survived Olivia and Alex. (SVU)

I survived Sherlock and Watson. (Sherlock)

I survived Bucky and Steve, AND Sam and Steve, AND Bucky and Sam. (MCU)

I survived Clark and Lexa (t100).

I am currently surviving Will and Mike, Steve and Eddie, AND Nancy and Robin. (Stranger Things)

I have suffered through: queerbaiting; "everyone experiments in college"; queer coded? - they must be the villain!; "the inherent tragedy of gayness" (repression, AIDs, violence, hatred); girl-on-girl male fanservice; "pray the gay away"; and, most personally painful, "bisexuals aren't real, they just need to pick a side". (I mean, I am though?)

I have been fully and irrevocably traumatized by having to watch my beloved queers be buried over & over & over.

I have literally spent three-and-a-half decades in a toxic, abusive relationship with (not so) queer media.

Upon recommendation of multiple queer friends, I (skeptically, cynically, borderline angrily) watched their so-called "GAY PIRATE (affectionate)" comedy, and was gobsmacked.

Our Flag Means Death gave us: well-rounded characters that are 'no-room-for-guessing, even-your-deeply-repressed-insufferable-republican-uncle-can-see-it queer! Multiple queers with disabilities! Neurodivergent queers! A genderqueer pirate so slay I lose my breath every time they are on screen! Sex between mlm not reduced to 1) tittilation or 2) the raunchy punchline of a mean joke! An unapologetic celebration of Found Family! Drag treated with respect, and as a catalyst for openly queer joy! A fabulous gay wedding! And that's not to mention the loving, romantic, complicated, vulnerable, beautiful relationship between the two male protagonists!

I saw it. with my own two eyeballs. for the first time ever. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I assumed everyone must be as thrilled, honored, and overjoyed as I am for all the rep, positivity, and LOVE.

I was wrong.

It breaks my queer little heart that so many people on this glorious hellsite are furious, indignant, and quick to cancel the characters, the actors, the writers, and the showrunners for not being spoon-fed perfect queer characters in perfect queer relationships for perfect queer rep in ACTUAL queer media that exists! In canon!

It hurts to be vilified for being a fan who refuses to condemn the show and for loving concerningly imperfect and deeply-flawed queer characters.

I am sorry, but as far as I'm concerned, LOVE WON. We won. Please stop coming into my house (blog) and pissing all over my rainbow parade.

[unchartedcloud]

Final Chapter: My Only Wish (This Year)

On the eve of Christmas, Lexa has one last chance to tell Clarke how she feels. Bullied by her children to make a movie-worthy confession, the innkeeper discovers whether there's any magic in a Christmas wish.

“Okay, okay. Well what is this that’s so important that it couldn’t wait?” Clarke picks apart the wrapping paper. “And was worth risking your life?” “That’s putting it a bit dramatically, don’t you think?” The little white box beneath the sky blue paper is nothing special; it isn’t branded, bears no pattern, and isn’t even tied with ribbon. It’s just a small, plain box bought from the stationary store however many months ago and happened to fit the two inch long, diamond-shaped red key tag nestled inside. That is branded, with the golden logo emblazoned on every one of the Polaris’ key tags…but this one, unlike those, has a C in place of a room number.  Clarke lifts it delicately from the box but doesn’t say anything. Lexa gulps, unable to read the look on a face hidden by hat and curls, and compulsively starts to explain: “It’s symbolic. That is to say…” Blue eyes, the color of a bright winter sky, look up at her, and any success she’d had at sorting out her words evaporates immediately. Gods, what is she doing here? How did she let her kids talk her into this?? “I know it hasn’t been that long, but Clarke…” Her heart hammers in her chest. In truth, she’s already done the crazy thing. What could she possibly lose now? “I would be most honored if you came to visit again, even after you came to say goodbye. So take this as a promise that you will always have a room at the Polaris.”

Read on Ao3.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Any new headcanons brewing in your head after seeing Alycia at the AACTA

Not... entirely

But I've had thoughts. Bear with me.

I'm not even remotely the person to write something like this at all, but it definitely did have me thinking of a SORT OF SHOEH-esque type fic. Something involving them being closeted and in Hollywood. Getting their flowers for their talent and being in love, but having to keep it quiet their entire careers. I've seen some fics along this line here and there, but inevitably in the fic, one or both eventually come out on stage or something.

Which is great! That's a lovely and hopeful ending.

But also....

Not entirely realistic.

Or even half as heartwrenching.

"Well yeah jesus fuck, why do you want sad shit Andi, why are you always such a glutton for punishment and literary pain?"

Well I'll tell you why: cuz... shut up

Idk it just got me thinking of Clexa as two Hollywood starlets on kind of differing ends of the spectrum of Hollywood that in the public eye are generally never really thought about together.

Lexa tends to do more gritty work, a lot more indie films. Dark threaded moody pieces and emotional roles, not generally thought of as box office fodder, but pretty much always a contender at awards season. Sleeper hits, you get me. Things like that. She definitely has a well known name, but she's selective in her work and that gains her a lot of respect with fans, even if they have to sometimes wait 2-3 years between projects. Because whatever she signs on for, it's pretty much always really fucking good. Whereas Clarke is more of a mainstream girly. She does a decently broad spectrum of films, but they're by and large always ones with bigger budgets, bigger release dates, more screens. It's not that they're not quality pictures, it's just that Clarke likes to work a broad range of things. One year she's in a comedy, the next a period piece, the next action. There's no real labeling her career.

And most importantly, they're both very, very straight.

At least, their personas are.

Alexandria is a smoky eyed femme fatale who leaves all the men eating out of the palm of her hand. Very "Look but don't touch" attitude that adds to her allure, to her mystery, despite her always being attached to leading man's arm. Miss Griffin is the picture of buxom Hollywood glam that every guy has on the List. Known for leaving a string of broken hearted men in her wake with little more than a cheek kiss-stained in signature red lipstick

Lexa and Clarke though?

Lexa and Clarke are two friends who have been deeply in love and committed to each other for the better part of 5 years.

They love each other in secret because that's what they feel like they have to do. They have two seperate houses with two separate addresses, and only one bed they actually sleep in.

It only really burns on the big nights, which I think would be an interesting oneshot. Just a glimpse into their life and what it feels like in that moment. The night when all their work and their sacrifices are being honored. Because even though, yes, they do play the part of friends and manage to sit near each other, it's not the same. It's not the same when they can't get ready together or even show up in the same car. When they have to remind themselves not to lean into each other too often, or even reach for the others hand to calm their nerves.

When one wins, they walk up alone without a hug or kiss from the only person who actually matters. They thank their families and their friends and their management that they can barely stand half the time, and remind themselves to smile like it's the happiest moment of their life even though at least half it all feels like a lie. Because yeah, they get lonely in the months when projects and shooting schedules pull them to opposite sides of the globe... but somehow those months never feel quite as lonely as being in a room filled with people who act like they adore you, while the love of your life sits quietly with her own "date" half an aisle away

[runawaymarbles]

personal top 5 ships

This hurts me because what are we DEFINING this by. Best ones?? Ones I read the most?? Most formative???

Dean/Cas. I've gone most of the summer without thinking about them much but im sure I'll relapse soon enough. You all know. This is the destiel website.

Silver/Flint (Black Sails) look. Look. Look look look. A story is true a story is untrue I will stand here with you for an hour a day a year he's my friend too I reached back into the past I don't know if this is a warning or a welcome you know all of me I can bear to be known you chose now live with it you gave it all up here in this moment I don't care. Okay???? Okay???????

Charles/Erik (X-Men). It's like. Love isn't everything and love isn't enough and yet. And yet!!!! You know that line from the Hamilton Mixtape when Angelica is like "what have we done with our lives, and what did it get us?" This is DOFP old!cherik and I'm fucked up over it. Love doesn't conquer all but it does keep you company in jail a couple times a month.

Spike/Buffy. I'm sorry, this was fucking formative for me. Toxic ship of my heart. How to hate yourself into a relationship that makes your life worse and you can't let go of and also can be good eventually if you let it. When I tell you that I love you it's not because I want you. I've seen the best and the worst of you. No you don't but thanks for saying it. Deceased.

Max/Anne (Black Sails). You ever decide the best solution to a woman wanting to kill you is to seduce her and then accidentally set off her gay crisis then immediately U-Haul while telling yourself she's going to leave you creating a self-fulfilling prophecy and planning for this eventuality while telling yourself that it's for the best anyway because you have career goals while never getting over her and then at the end of the day realizing half that shit doesn't matter??? Yeah me either these two are crazy. I love them.

Honorable mention: the version of Buck and Eddie that the 911 fanfic writers see. It's the BECAUSE, EVAN of it all.

Other honorable mention: the version of Clarke and Lexa in @entirelytookeen 's brain

[reallygroovyninja]

Lexa and Clarke ambled down the quiet city street, their fingers lightly brushing against each other's as the world moved around them in a blur of muted sounds and color. As they passed by a myriad of storefronts, one in particular caught Clarke's eye, causing her to halt in her tracks.

It was a quaint art gallery, its window displaying an abundance of beautiful paintings. But one painting stood out to Clarke — a magnificent tapestry of colors, embodying emotions that spoke to her deeply. "Lexa, look at that," Clarke whispered, her voice filled with wonder. Lexa followed Clarke's gaze, and for a moment, both women were lost in the strokes and hues of the artwork.

The world around them was muted, the distant hum of the city blending with the subtle rustling of trees. Gathering her thoughts, Lexa turned to Clarke with a vulnerability in her eyes that wasn't often seen. "Do you ever regret it?" she asked hesitantly. Clarke looked at her, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Regret what?" she probed. Lexa exhaled, searching for the right words. "Not pursuing your love of art," she finally voiced out. Clarke's gaze drifted away for a moment, lost in a whirlwind of memories and dreams left behind.

As they stood there, the weight of Lexa's question lingered in the air. Clarke took a deep breath, her eyes reflecting the moon's gentle glow as she met Lexa's gaze. "No," she replied with unwavering certainty, "I don't regret it."

Seeing the surprise in Lexa's eyes, she continued, "When I chose to follow you to Polis University and pursue medicine, it wasn't just about us or about abandoning my passion for art. It was a calling. Something deep within me knew that this was where I needed to be, what I needed to do." She reached out, holding Lexa's hand reassuringly. "My love for art will always be a part of me, but walking this path with you, healing and helping others, feels just as right."

The stillness of the street enveloped them, amplifying the sincerity and depth of Clarke's words. As they resonated within Lexa, a rush of emotions welled up inside her, a concoction of admiration, understanding, and overwhelming love.

She looked deep into Clarke's blue eyes, seeing not just the woman she loved, but a soul filled with passion and purpose. Overwhelmed by the profound connection and the gravity of the moment, Lexa bridged the distance between them.

Gently cradling Clarke's face, she pressed her lips onto hers. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a silent acknowledgment of their shared journey and the sacrifices they made for each other and their dreams. The world around them faded as they lost themselves in the kiss, a testament to their unbreakable bond.

As their lips parted, Clarke and Lexa remained close, foreheads touching, and eyes still closed. The cacophony of life around them — the chirping crickets, distant conversations, and soft rustle of leaves — seemed distant, as if the world had taken a pause to honor their bond. With a shared smile and intertwined fingers, they stood, ready to face the challenges and joys the future would bring. Both women had made choices, faced regrets, and confronted fears, but together, they found strength and purpose. And as they walked away, side by side, it was evident to anyone who saw them that they were not just two souls in love, but also partners on a journey of growth, discovery, and unyielding commitment.

[talktomeinclexa]

On the Ground All Can Hear You Scream

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None in this chapter. Canon violence in others

Status: Complete (Part 1)

Summary: Novitiate Lexa is captured by reapers and wakes up locked in a cage, not knowing the girl who finds her there will change her destiny. Unless this enemy turns out to be who Fate had in store for her?

***

Chapter 14: Hodnes Laik Yujnes

Twice in her life before Lexa had felt the floor collapse under her feet. A free fall sensation brought by the realization that her life would never be the same again and the knowledge there was nothing she could do to stop the course of events derailing it. The first time was when she woke up in Mount Weather, trapped in a cage. The second, the day warriors came to collect her from the library at Titus’s orders and informed her that Heda Hanbin was dead.

If the former had come as a shock, she should have expected the latter one. Her whole existence back then revolved around the notion that she would one day partake in a conclave for the honor of being chosen by the Spirit. She simply hadn’t anticipated it to be that particular afternoon, on a perfectly ordinary day—if a little cold for the beginning of fall.

“Titus…” she said, her voice closer to a plea than the warning she had intended.

She would have given anything to convince him to forget the dark stain on the rag. But the Fleimkepa lived for the Flame and the novitiate system his order protected. She would have had more success reversing the flow of the river passing by Polis than getting him to turn a blind eye to Clarke’s nightblood.

“Are there more like you among your people?” Titus asked, ignoring Lexa.

After spending years under his tutelage, Lexa read him like a book. On his face, she saw a mix of curiosity, excitement, and dread. One novitiate from Mount Weather, he could handle. But ten, or worse, dozens of them? It would destroy his entire belief system, not to mention the Coalition.

Clarke shook her head, thankfully holding her composure better than Lexa had hoped. “Just me. My parents were pretty surprised when they found out.”

“Good. That is good.” Oblivious to the glance Lexa and Clarke shared, Titus cleared his throat. “It is too late for you to join the lessons of the day. We will start your instruction tomorrow morning.”

Keep reading

[lexa-griffins]

That's how Elaina and the twins learn about the different colors when they paint nomon's tattoo 🥺 Clarke shows them a tray of different colors and asks them to first name a color they want before handing them a brush

That is how Clarke taught Elaina her colors, and it is how she teaches the twins. Paper seemed to distract them far too much, too easy to rip for tiny hands and too light to be thrown all over and have Lexa complaint about a bedroom filled with paint.

The three kids were always so intrigued by the ink that adorns Lexa's body, and it wasn't until Clarke tried to teach Elaina her colors with Lexa napping naked next to them and Elaina kept trying to paint in Lexa's back tattoo that she realized getting Lexa in on the activity would be a benefit.

They use their fingers when painting as the brushes are still hard to come by and easy to be ruined by toddlers and pre schoolers. And Lexa kind of loved feeling their tiny little hand full of paint touching her back. She can't fully see, but she can feel Elaina trying to paint inside the lines of her tattoo while the twins tend to go more abstract. The adoration she feels for her babies and Clarke when she hears them shout the color name in both english and trig, Clarke's delighted praise for their good job. Her tattoos are ones that represent her life accomplishments and hard moments in her life. Those are gone now, replaced with the warmth of her wife's touch, the laughter of her children, and the calmness of peace.

(Can you imagine the first time it fully hits her that Elaina is coloring in the circles meant to represent the children Lexa grew up with and watched die, either by her hand or each other's? Nightblood children, the same blood that runs on her veins and Elaina's. For her, nothing more than a sad story from her nomon's childhood she will never have to face. Coloring dark circles meant to mourn and honor her fallen siblings, now filled with the colorful paint of a child with the blood of the same color as theirs, more free than they ever dreamed to be. The children represented by Lexa's tattoos where the last ones to die for a heartless senseless tradition, Elaina the first nightblood born of another nightblood, having never once feared for a destiny Lexa saw as certain only a couple years older than Elaina....)

[ai-laik-hcda]

Wanheda. The Commander of Death. The name encouraged both fear and utter awe. To be able to command death... that was a power greatly sought after. Especially by the Commander's enemies.

Lexa was pleased to let Clarke do what she wanted. Was fine leaving the blonde to roam as she pleased. That was until she heard that Queen Nia wanted Clarke's head served on a silver platter for her. And that only meant one thing, Nia was planning to wage war against Lexa. It didn't surprise the young woman, Nia had never wanted to work within Lexa's laid out laws. But Lexa couldn't let Nia get her way. And so Lexa had offered a great reward to the Prince of the Ice Nation. She would lift his banishment, or so she said.

Lexa stood on the balcony of her tower, one of many, and gazed out at the city that lay below. Her arms were folded behind her. Her hair was braided in its knots that told of her rank, but nothing else told of the Commander that lay within the young woman. She had no formal business that day, only teaching her natblidas. And even the children had been sent away for the day. Images, memories, flashed before her eyes.

The rider coming in to tell her that Costia had never arrived in TonDc. The hateful letter sent by the Ice Queen. The months of sitting just outside Azgeda territory, shivering in the cold. The cold words spoken by her Flamekeeper. The pitying look from her mentor. All of this only to return to Polis without anything to show. Waking up that night, with a foreboding sensation in her stomach. Her fingers being met with white blonde locks of hair. Tears. The city draped in black, not only for the Commander's mourning, but for the city's as well.

"Heda..." Titus sounded exasperated as if he had been saying her name over and over. Lexa looked up, looking slightly startled. How long had he been next to her.

"Sha fleimkeppa?" She questioned softly, turning her green eyed gaze back out to the city.

"Heda, I beg you." He began and Lexa already knew where this was going. She almost stopped him, but resigned herself to allowing him to speak his argument... again. "Don't  go through with this. Nia, the whole coalition will see it as weakness. If you are sending the Prince out for any other reason than to harvest Wanheda's..." His words were stopped by the sharp look given to him by his Commander.

"I do not want to hear it Titus. I am not killing Wanheda." She was quiet for a moment, her gaze shifting to the doors on the other side of her throne room when she heard a knock. "Leave." She snapped, stepping around the older man and towards her throne. "Enter!" She sat on her throne, her gaze watching as the Ice Prince was let into her audience.

"Heda." The man bowed his head. He had been banished, thrown out from lands she ruled over. It was an honor to be here.

"Roan." She stated, her fingers gripping to the edges of her arm rests. "Your mother wants to wage war... again." She sighed. "However I want to stop her. Of course. Peace must be maintained. And so, for your return to the Coalition, I offer you a deal." She stated, gauging his response. "If you bring me Wanheda, unharmed, I will lift your banishment." Her words were devoid of emotion, having long since learned how to hide such signs of weakness. "Do you accept, or shall I have you escorted back to the badalands?" She asked.

A small nod,  a bowing of his head and his knee, was all the acceptance she was given. "Do not cross me, Roan of the Ice Nation." She commented, raising her hand to tell him to leave.

Lexa watched as the Prince, several years her senior, rose to his feet and left. She did this to prevent war and maintain her peace. But she did this for a greater reason.

She feared just what Nia would put Clarke through. She knew what the Ice Queen was capable of and she feared loosing just someone else that she cared for. Her parents. Costia. Anya. Gustus. She would not allow this cycle to continue. And she would not allow Nia to have just one more person to hold over her. 

[coneheda]

67 am i interrupting

67. Uh, am I interrupting?

Lexa wakes up with a killer headache.

Not wanting to torture her eyes she squeezes them shut tighter to block out the offending beam of light coming from the window. The hand on her stomach moves and she turns into the warm body next to her humming in satisfaction. Only her nose wrinkles at the unfamiliar scent.

While clubbing certainly doesn't let you come out unscathed from the myriad of smells she's always able to distinguish her girlfriends unique scent underneath all of the sweat and alcohol. She squints one eye open and freezes when she encounters brown hair. Her girlfriend is most certainly not a brunette- unless she dyed it last night. 

Lexa shakes her head at the thought before realizing she has her arms wrapped around this stranger. As she tries to pry the arm trapped under her unknown bedmate she invokes a groan.

All of a sudden the door creaks open, bless those rusty hinges for giving her some warning and Lexa jerks upright, wincing as her brain tries to catch up with her but only rattles painfully in her head.

“Uh, am I interrupting something?” Clarke says with a smirk that Lexa misses as she scrambles out of bed, catching her foot in the sheet and falling to the floor.

"Lex-hey take it easy." Lexa mistakes her girlfriend's look of concern for one of accusation.

"Clarke! This isnt- I didnt- i- it's not what it looks like"

Clarke raises an eyebrow as she pulls Lexa up from the floor "So you aren't suffering a massive headache right now?” 

“What? That's not- I mean I am but-"

“I would be surprised if you weren't considering how hard you went last night. I honestly don't think I've seen you drink so much, but I should have known your competitive side would get the best of you. I brought you some advil and crackers. The smoothies are almost done.”

She stared dumbfounded. “How are you being so okay about this?” 

“Babe, this isn't the first time I've taken care of your drunk butt.”

Babe, so she was still babe, but for how long. Surely Clarke has noticed the other presence in the room?

"Clarke there is an unidentified woman in our bed who up until two minutes ago had her hand on my boob.” Lexa says bluntly, waiting for the inevitable fall out. 

Clarke sighs. “She does get handsy in her sleep.”

“You know her?” Lexa asks dumbfounded. Did the three of them…?

Clarke furrows her brow, “of course I know her. That's Raven. My best friend who's been in Helsinki for the last couple of years...last night was her welcome home party?” Clarke explains slowly. Maybe she’ll remember that bit later.

“So, we didn't- she and I didn't-”

“Oh my god!” Clarke laughs. Rude. “Did you think you slept with Raven? Lex, honey you're fully clothed! I slept in the middle of you two but like I said she gets handsy so she must have gravitated towards you when I left. Lex baby, you don’t have a deceptive bone in your body.”

For some reason she takes offense to that. “That’s not true! There was- what about the time that I...when I…”

“I’m going to stop you right there, one, because your brain is going to implode and two because do you really want to defend the idea of you cheating?”

“Well, no.” Lexa pouts.

“Come here dork.” Clarke shakes head as she drags Lexa into a kiss.

—

“As the maid of honor it is my duty to make this night memorable and I will do that by telling you all about the time Lexa thought she had the honor of sleeping with me.”

[bellamysgriffin]

why do you think lexa wasn't? genuinely curious/asking

happy to answer this one actually! so this is in reference to my bold claim that lexa's death on the 100 was not part of the bury your gays trope and i stand by that.

so the 100 was a show in which main characters died every season. when adc decided to leave the 100 there was truly no other way to write lexa's character off than to kill her. again, this is a show where lincoln would die episodes later, finn had died the season previous, wells died, monty and harper would die, jasper would die, kane and abby would die, and im sure there are plenty more i'm forgetting. main characters died all the time.

lexa is actually as far as i can remember the only canon queer character who died -- clarke, niylah, and miller all survive to the finale. there was no way to have lexa walk off into the sunset for a season and pop in and out. she was too consequential as a character. when adc left, lexa had to die, and i don't think the way she was killed was particularly disrespectful. in fact, i would argue that her death was the most resonant in the plotline long after she was gone. it advanced the plot, advanced clarke's character, and was a rather beautiful send off scene. lexa was mentioned post-death more than any other character on the show. i know there are some people who have issues with the fact that she and clarke had just gotten together when it happened, but that's just a common writing trope -- the character gets what they want only to die immediately after. super common.

now, that said, i understand that she was one of several lesbian deaths on television that year, and i don't begrudge any queer woman who mourned that death in a deeper way. there is so little representation that when a sapphic character we love dies so brutally it can feel like more than just a television death. that said, i don't think jroth (a man of many crimes) did anything wrong by killing off lexa nor killing her off in the way he did. it wasn't offensive.

the 100 is a survival show. as a queer woman i personally find it just as dehumanizing to demand that the only queer stories we get are happy as to say that every queer story must be tragic. and queer people deserve well-written, resonant tragedies. lexa's arc/clexa's arc on the 100 was beautiful and well-executed, and it wasn't offensive to kill her off. "bury your gays" is not just when a queer person dies. it's when the queer character is seen as expendable, is usually the only queer person in the cast, and usually not on a show/film where characters die regularly. it has ties to the hayes production code in which homosexuality was seen as immorality and was required under the code's rules to be punished, often resulting in queer characters dying or committing suicide.

i don't think that trope describes lexa. i think her death made sense for a show in which there was a lot of death and carnage, i think her character was well-written, well-developed and honored long after her death, and i think we would be remiss to say that she cannot die merely because she is queer when there are truly no other compelling reasons for why it would be wrong to kill that character off on a survival show. and i would hardly call it shock value, which is usually what the bury your gays trope is.

[owl127]

Could you write another alpha Clarke and omega Lexa chapter in your fic? I think it would be cool to see their first time together

Read on Ao3

Lexa hated Azgeda. 

A necessary headache, Titus would say, to preserve the Coalition. Lexa understood the logic: Azgeda was the largest northern clan, with thousands of seasoned warriors and an established mining operation and wool production. A useful and important ally.

It didn't change the fact that Lexa despised them.

"Heda," mumbled a short boy serving her wine, her personal server for the night's celebration. Her drink was bitter, and she hid her grimace with another gulp. 

With Azgeda, the Coalition—Lexa's dream—was complete. There would be sleepless nights to argue about treaties and new alliances to form, but tonight, under the heavy and humid skies of Polis summer, Lexa's Coalition celebrated the integration of their last, most stubborn, and one of their most powerful members. 

Fucking Azgeda. 

Lexa stared at Nia and her pitiful entourage. Nia gorged herself on wine and salted meats, berry juices running down her pale chin as she called for her son to bring her more wine. Nia was everything Lexa despised in an alpha: public debauchery, loud threats that other people would have to fill for her; a sickening air of forced superiority, as if the world needed to know about her cock.

Lexa hated her.

"Behave," Anya warned from her side, and Lexa could swear her old mentor was teasing her. 

"I'm not doing anything," Lexa complained into her cup, adjusting her seat on her throne. 

"So you were not about to challenge Nia to some stupid party game simply to publicly humiliate her?" Anya eyed the knife on Lexa's hand, knowing her commander had a penchant for throwing it at parties. Mostly for fun.

"In any case, she'd name a champion. The woman never does anything herself." 

"She's their chosen leader, Heda."

Chosen. An old-fashioned way to select a leader. A true leader had intelligence and strength, like Lexa. A true leader proved their way with a blade. 

Lexa would never name a champion if challenged by that pitiful woman. 

Spirits, how she hated them.

0000000000

When wine was low in cups and laughter was high on cheeks, Lexa knew it was the moment she could escape the celebration. She waited for that moment and not a second longer, with Anya like a shadow behind her as they headed to her tower. The festivities spilled from the central market to the tower, with most ambassadors hosted on the first floor. Lexa refused the requests for liquor and dancing, thanking Floukru's representative and trying not to laugh at Sankru’s joke about Nia's dick, or lack thereof. 

She made her way around the main lobby, aiming to reach her private elevator, but stopped at the sharp sound of a slap. It came from a dark corridor that led to the ambassador's quarters. Anya touched her knife, but Lexa raised a hand. There would be no bloodshed tonight to honor their new Coalition member. Instead, Lexa headed to the corridor, the unmistakable sound of whimpering filling the air.

Nia's hand was red from the slap, and she shook it ungracefully. On her knees, the woman Lexa knew to be the Azgeda general shook her head, a trickle of blood brimming on her cheek. Nia's ring had left it there.

"Don't you ever question me," Nia hissed, inebriated and angry. Her crow was crooked on her pale curls, and she looked like everything Lexa thought of her: a small, scared woman.

"My queen, she's to be your ambassador. You asked me to appoint her, and she deserves respect," the wounded general said, eyes cast down.

Between them, still whimpering, another woman kneeled, tears overflowing from her lowered chin. Her dress was torn, carelessly so, and the omega in Lexa snarled with recognition.

"Is there anything you need, Queen Nia?" Lexa's voice boomed in the corridor, not matching her serene, small smile. Nia startled, her fury melting in surprise. She stood taller, shaking her head. 

"I appreciate your hospitality, Heda, but my general and ambassador were simply lost. If you may direct them," she said with the easy pride of someone used to giving orders, but her speech was slurred and she was not in a position to give orders to Heda Lexa.

Anya growled from the shadows, but Lexa stopped it with a flick of her wrist. "A guard will assign them a room. Have a good night, Queen Nia."

That was as much as a dismissal would be, and Nia slammed her doors once inside, like the pup she was.

The general stood up and helped the distressed omega, exchanging short and sharp words. The omega bowed her head to Lexa and disappeared at the end of the hallway. 

"I appreciate your kindness, Heda Lexa," the general said, as if her cheek wasn't still bleeding, "but please refrain from interviewing in Azgeda's internal politics."

Anya took a full step out of the shadows to threaten the other woman, who lowered her head and continued, "I mean no disrespect. But Nia is a proud leader and will not take kindly to looking weak."

"You talking to your queen doesn't make her look weak." Lexa pulled a handkerchief from her coat pocket, extending it between them as a peace offering. "Your queen trying to rape her newly appointed ambassador, on the contrary, does make her look weak."

The general, all hard lines on pale skin marked by scars and weather, looked Lexa up and down before accepting the cloth. She placed it on her cheek, and it slowly turned scarlet. It made her eyes darker in that dim hallway. 

"I appreciate your concern," the general said, tilting her head in half a bow, her voice clipped. 

"I haven't seen you at the festivities," Lexa found herself saying, her mind intent on deciphering the puzzle that seemed to be the Azgeda woman. 

"There are other priorities besides celebration."

A hard worker. Maybe Nia had half a brain to have someone like that at her side. 

"Will the ambassador need any more assistance? Or will you be with her through the night?"

Lexa felt the confused look Anya shot at her back.

The general's eyebrows rose to her hairline, and she shook her head. "The ambassador will be taken care of," she said, her hand covering half her face with a bloody cloth, but Lexa saw the beginning of a smile. "Even if not by me."

Lexa nodded and continued on her way to the elevator. 

Anya's smirk showed her teeth as the doors closed in front of them.

"Oh, shut up," Lexa said in their native tongue.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it."

"Maybe you are the one with a vivid imagination."

There might be something good in Azgeda after all.

0000000000

Her name was Clarke. 

Unlike Nia, she acquired her position by personal merit while leading Azgeda's army against invasions from the frozen north.

She was also an unmated alpha, but not like Lexa was paying any attention.

On their month-long visit to Polis, Clarke was the only Azgeda warrior who visited the training grounds every single sunrise. It simply happened that Lexa did the same. And it was because of this coincidence that Lexa found herself able to act on her hatred for Azgeda in her daily combat training with their most revered general. It was almost an even battle.

Clarke's back lifted dust in the training grounds as she fell. She grunted with the effort to roll out of Lexa's wooden spear, jumping to her feet to avoid another blow from the commander's weapon. Her blood mixed with the orange and copper dust as she spit on the ground.

"Again," she asked, and Lexa nodded, her spear fast and accurate.

When they stopped, the sun had risen completely—a new summer morning in the capital of the Coalition. They drank water in silence, with Clarke perched on the training fence while Lexa rested her hips against it. 

"Why do you insist on fighting unarmed?" Lexa voiced the question that had been nagging her since the general had inquired if they could train together.

"It's what I need to develop." Clarke's voice was always low and gravely in the mornings. Not that Lexa talked to her at any other time of the day, but she liked to imagine that voice was for her ears only.

"But you carry a weapon. The Azgeda sling."

Clarke chucked. "Azcaretha. Please don't call it a sling."

"What is it, then?"

"A traditional weapon crafted by Azgeda specialists."

"In the format of a sling," Lexa completed, and Clarke snorted into her cup.

Watching them, Anya squinted her eyes. Lexa was getting very good at ignoring her pointed looks.

Clarke picked up her azcaretha from the side of the training grounds, crossed the dusty arena, leaving her empty cup on a post, and walked back to Lexa. Lexa raised an eyebrow in challenge, and the other woman smirked. Clarke looked at her target, took a deep breath, and raised her left arm in an arch, twisting the soft leather of her weapon in a continuous flow until it spun once, twice, and three times, and a rock Lexa had not even noticed was there flew with surgical precision and hit the metallic cup across the arena. It fell with a loud ring.

For the first time, Lexa saw a side of smug alpha in the general. She was able to control her face with nonchalant approval, but when Clarke smiled triumphantly at Lexa’s silent praise, there was no stopping the heat surging low in her belly. Just a little.

0000000000

The Azgueda entourage had a lightness to them without their queen. Laughter bubbled easier and mead went down faster, scarred faces broken into grins around their blonde circle.

Polis welcomed the start of the fall harvest with a festival, which coincided with the Azgeda general's last days in Polis. Lexa would miss their morning training, though she would never admit that. She saw the general put her hand around the Azgeda ambassador's shoulders, the two of them a perfect pair of scars and wheat hair, and whatever she felt about it, it wasn't good. Lexa would not admit to that either. 

"Heda." 

Lexa straightened her shoulders and took another sip of her mulled wine. It tasted sharp and sweet, with a touch of spice that overwhelmed her tongue. It came from Azgeda, and she wondered if everything from there tasted sweet. And that was another thought for the secret box. "What, Anya?" Her own general stared at the Azgeda group with a tilt to her chin that Lexa immediately disliked. 

"It’s the Azgeda general’s last night in Polis," Anya said casually, in a way she didn’t say anything. Anya was not casual; she was purposeful and direct.

"Speak your mind." Lexa took another sip from her cup. Sweet, sweet Azgeda wine.

"You won’t see her again. It won’t be a problem for the coalition."

"Spirits, Anya, what are you—"

"Spend the night with her." Anya shrugged at Lexa’s frown. "It will do you good."

Clarke chose that moment to turn and find Lexa’s eyes, waving from the other side of the Polis Tower room. The candles made her eyes flash darker, giving Lexa a steely focus. Lexa’s cheeks warmed, and she hoped it was the Azgeda wine and not the Azgeda alpha. 

"Do you approve of her?" Lexa challenged, aware of Anya’s overprotectiveness. 

"I said spend the night with her, not join her under the Spirits," Anya mumbled, crossing her arms. That was as close to an approval as Lexa was ever going to get. What had the general done to convince Anya? 

Lexa rose from her honorable table, nodding to the Floukru Ambassador, who had too much of the mulled wine. She glanced back at Clarke and held her gaze. Clarke raised a pale eyebrow, and Lexa nodded. The way the alpha licked her lips was satisfying. Lexa’s commander emblem itched on her forehead as she excused herself to the kitchens, apparently in search of wine. Anya stopped by the door and didn't follow.

Thin layers of dust covered the caskets in the tower's wine cellar, an underground room accessible by a simple hatch with a single window to the lower gardens. The hatch was left unlocked, and no servant would follow the commander. New, clean casks with Azgeda-burned symbols rested next to the entrance, and Lexa lifted a lid to smell the richness of what was becoming her favorite beverage.

A minute passed, then two. Five. Ten. 

Maybe the general wasn't as sagacious as she had expected, or maybe that wasn’t a good idea at all, because flirting on the training grounds was one thing, but acting on her impulses was another. She should, as Heda—

"Bloody chicken hell!" The exclamation was accompanied by a loud thud in the quiet room, the small garden window shaking in its rusty frame. Lexa, a glass of wine in hand, walked to the lump of a warrior on the ground: a mess of blonde tresses and swears.

"There is a door," Lexa pointed to the hatch above them, her lips curling in unsuppressed amusement.

Clarke dusted herself off and stood up with what was left of her dignity. Her cheeks flushed a beautiful pink, a stark contrast to the scars that painted her face. "I was under the impression you wanted me to be discreet."

"Did you accomplish that?" Lexa raised an eyebrow at the ajar window, music and laughter from the celebration invading the cellar. 

Clarke made a small noise at the back of her throat, the pink in her cheeks turning a shade of burgundy. "Well enough."

"And what do you plan to do now that you're here?" Lexa abandoned her glass on top of a forgotten cask. She took a couple steps further into the room, away from the few candles and the only door. 

Clarke seemed to know an invitation when offered one. 

The cold from the stone room vanished when the Azgeda warrior—fully recovered from her window stunt—stepped into Lexa's personal space, close enough for them to share heat. 

"I have an idea or two," Clarke whispered as she took in Lexa's scent, her nose dangerously close to a pulsing neck. Lexa placed her forearms on the general's shoulders, liking how comfortable they felt there. Clarke leaned in, their hips meeting, sharp Azgeda leather and the commander's sash entwining. Lexa's forefinger followed the line of a long scar, a silver drawing that curled on Clarke's temple and climbed down a pink cheek to meet her chin. Lexa shared a breath with Clarke, who closed her eyes and sighed under Lexa’s touch.

"So at least two?" Lexa challenged, and her stomach filled with butterflies at being lifted, a playful growl leaving Clarke’s lips. 

"That’s a promise." 

Lexa nodded, their noses meeting in a feathery touch. "Show me, then. General." It was whispered with reverence. 

The kiss was not what Lexa expected. Azgeda was hard ice, cold, fierce, and unforgiving. But all she found on Clarke's lips was warmth and softness. Lexa welcomed Clarke closer, her legs spreading to allow more heat, more access, and more Clarke.

And who would know that wine wasn’t the only sweet Azgedian export. 

[graunblida]

oops all angst prompts // accepting @exilesign sent: what are you talking about? i'm not leaving you here! / from silas!

a wry smile threatens to lighten her features, and she gives in. he's not the self-serving, callous person he wants others to perceive him as. he could have betrayed her at any time and yet he honored their ALLIANCE.

" yes, you are. " words are stated firmly. the dull throbbing in her ankle reminds lexa she can't go on like this forever. body and mind are both exhausted, pushed to the brink of their capabilities. now eternal rest sounds ever so tempting.

with a labored grunt, she gets into a defensive position with knives gripped in each hand. she's hoping she can use the little energy she has left for a burst of speed. otherwise..." the careers are trying to flush us out. " there are two of them left and closing in on her and silas. lexa's injuries aren't death sentences per say, but she knows the risks fighting in her condition. " i'll do what i can to slow them down, but that won't mean shit unless you keep moving. "

[butmakeitgayblog]

In honor of Lexa's birthday... With regards to the Happy Version (correct version) of AWTR, when/how does Clarke tell Lexa she's a match? Does Lexa know she was testing or did she not want to get her hopes up? What is Lexa's reaction to this news? Is she hopeful that perhaps now she might have a much longer future with Clarke, or cautious since she knows there's still a chance the treatment won't work?

Oh Clarke did not tell Lexa she was getting tested. No not at all. She didn't even tell Abby or Gus. Not even just for not wanting to get their or Lexa's hopes up, but she didn't want to get her own hopes up. Talking about it would've made it too real. She knew it was a shot in the dark to begin with. Lexa'd already been told her markers weren't compatible with anyone currently willing to donate and she'd stopped responding to treatment as it was, it just felt like something she didn't even want to breathe into existence until there was actually something worth saying.

When Clarke knows she kind of, to put it elegantly, flips the fuck out? Forgoes her car and instead slams her way out of the house to run on foot to the shop the second she gets the call. It was a shitshow and it takes her literally longer to get there and then get her breath back and have Lexa stop freaking out at the state of her than it would've been just to drive, but ya know... hindsight or whatever 🙄 Details!

And yeah, Lexa's more cautious than anything. Initially a bit pissed that Clarke would do this without speaking to her first, and then hiding it from her for the couple weeks it took to get the results back. Also a little miffed that her doctor hadn't said anything to her either considering,,, it was her damn disease to begin with. Obviously that is only a quick train of thought before the reality kind of settles in. And even though she's still a little uneasy about the whole thing - about Clarke going through the whole process and apparently signing on for actually being around to witness the whole nasty business of her treatments - she is... hopeful. But very cautious. Because she'd already made peace with her own death. She doesn't really know what to do with the prospect of actually living...