#lexa still thinks it's worth it

[owl127]

Now that you opened the can of worms, how about a prompt about Kara’s bed ? 🫠

It had been a tough game.

Kara's back ached, and the light sprain on her ankle would hurt for days. She was happy to spend the rest of the weekend at home, where she could relax and not worry about food, laundry, or cleaning her room. She threw her bag behind the door and sighed, turning on the light.

Something was off.

Kara scanned her room under the bright, cold light, her eyes jumping from her desk—impeccable—her closet (closed), and finally, her bed.

Coffee, the family cat, purred happily while he napped on the clean sheets.

But Kara was supposed to get new sheets this weekend. Weird.

She joined the cat, scratching his dark ears. "What happened here, buddy?"

The cat blinked lazily, stretched his butt up in the air, and licked a spot on the mattress. Kara leaned down and sniffed on the spot, pulling the fitted sheet to check under the mattress.

A new stain.

But what…

Lexa's grin crossed her mind and Kara groaned, yelling, "Clarke! What the fuck, Clarke!"

"Language!" Jake yelled from his office down the hall.

Lexa was going to pee blood for a week after Kara was done with her.

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

Accidentally tripped my way back into my t100 obsession, and am once again begging everyone to remember that Clarke didn’t just mean irradiating Mount Weather when she said “what I did to get them here”. Of course she means that part, but she also means killing Finn, letting the bomb drop on TonDC without warning anyone besides Lexa, even leaving the 47 behind when she was forced to escape in order to get the rest of the Delinquents a real rescue, lying to Bellamy about Octavia being in TonDC, telling Bellamy to. his. face. that it’s worth risking his life to take down the Mountain with the Grounders, and any number of other specific wrongs Clarke would 100% feel she had done. Bellamy’s “what we did” is unbearably kind, and does not even pale as an example of their partnership and love for each other, but he is only thinking of one part of Clarke’s enormous guilt to bear. As is his right. He did just help her commit genocide, he’s not going to be on top of his game (understanding Clarke), nor is he going to necessarily see many of these burdens the same way Clarke, in her special brand of self-deprecation, would.

It does feel as though we as a fandom focus on the same thing as Bellamy. Fair. Genocide of the entire Mountain is certainly going to be more devastating in the way of guilt than lying to Bellamy about Octavia’s safety, or even killing the boy she loves/loved. But Clarke spends much of season 2 either battling for a voice at Camp Jaha, forcing Lexa to take the alliance seriously, or trying to find any way to reach the 47 and get them all out safely, and she has Bellamy and any number of allies and friends alongside her for much of the journey, but the choices she makes for the 47 are largely still hers alone, especially once Bellamy goes into the Mountain. She has many reasons to feel guilty, and not all of them are choices she and Bellamy made together, so his support, while meaningful, doesn’t actually encompass all that is haunting Clarke.

[butmakeitgayblog]

So you're telling me that God regrets punishing Lexa but She is not going (please notice the use of "She", we stan CoA Lexa) to save her from eternal damnation? So my precious Angel/Demon is doomed to feel Heaven everywhere and she won't be saved even though God regrets her decision? You're telling me that GOD has no power over this?

The audacity.

She is better off with Clarke anyway.

'Regrets' is a strong word. Strictly speaking.

Misses Lexa is closer.

Still loves her, even more so.

But God's decrees are final, so as far as her expulsion goes, there is no going back on that. To even entertain an idea like that would open the door to more pleas for reversals of fates. It would give credence to the thought that any one of God's decisions are worth challenging, thus inviting yet another potential war for the throne.

It's easiest to think of it like any other relationship that once was incredibly close, but had to end for reasons that required someone to distance themselves from the other. Even tho you know you can't be in that person's life anymore, that doesn't mean you stop missing them. That love doesn't just disappear.

It was very much a situation of, "all the love I have for her, I don't know where to put it now..."

And then God thought up Clarke...

[reallygroovyninja]

The Prisoner Pickup

Lexa sat in her car, her fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the steering wheel. The massive gate loomed ahead, stark and imposing under the midday sun. The surrounding area was silent, the only sound the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze.  

Her eyes were fixed on the gate, watching intently for any sign of movement. It seemed lifeless, with no guards patrolling the perimeter and no vehicles coming or going. Lexa's heart raced, the weight of anticipation pressing heavily on her chest. 

Lexa adjusted her rearview mirror, scanning the empty road behind her. No one else seemed to be around except for her. She glanced at her watch, the minutes ticking by slowly, each second feeling like an eternity. 

Her thoughts drifted as she shifted in her seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. She reached for a bottle of water in the cup holder, taking a sip to calm her nerves. The cool liquid did little to ease the knot in her stomach. She knew that at any moment, that gate might open. 

As the minutes dragged on, Lexa kept her vigil, her eyes never leaving the gate. She was prepared, ready to step out of the car at any moment.  

Lexa's phone rang, breaking the tense silence in the car. She glanced at the screen and saw Anya's name flashing. With a sigh, she picked up the call, pressing the phone to her ear. 

"Hey, Anya," Lexa greeted. 

"Hey yourself," Anya said, her voice questioning. "Where are you at?" 

Lexa hesitated for a moment, then answered, "I'm at the prison." 

"What the fuck are you doing at the prison?" Anya's voice was a combination of shock and concern. 

"I'm picking up a prisoner," Lexa replied calmly, her eyes still fixed on the gate. 

"A prisoner?" Anya voice rose. "What fucking prisoner?" 

"The one I agreed to pick up," Lexa said, her tone even. She could almost picture Anya's furrowed brow and wide eyes. 

"What the fuck are you talking about, Lexa?" Anya asked, disbelief lacing her words. 

Lexa took a deep breath. "I heard you could pick up a prisoner, and you know, being the first omega they've seen in a while..." 

"Wait, wait," Anya interrupted, her voice rising. "Are you serious right now? You're telling me you’re picking up some random prisoner just because you're the first omega they've seen in forever? What are you thinking? You're picking up a prisoner to get laid?" 

Before Lexa could respond, she noticed movement at the gate. People were walking out of a door, heading towards the exit. "Anya, I have to go," Lexa said quickly. "I'll call you back later." 

"Lexa, wait—" Anya started, but Lexa had already ended the call and placed her phone back in the cup holder. She took a deep breath, her eyes locked on the group approaching the gate, ready to see this through. 

Lexa glanced down at the paper she held in her hand, the crisp white sheet stark against the dull interior of her car. The prisoner's name and description were clearly printed: Clarke Griffin, female alpha, blonde hair, blue eyes. The crime listed was embezzlement. She frowned slightly, wondering why the mugshot hadn't been available. It seemed odd, but she figured it wasn't her problem to worry about at this point. 

Her eyes flicked back to the gate, watching the small group as they drew closer. Lexa scanned each face, searching for the one that matched the description. She couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness that had settled in her stomach.  

Picking up a prisoner under such vague circumstances wasn't exactly ideal, but the potential payoff made it worth the risk. If she didn't like Clarke, she could always drop her off at her destination and head on her way. It wasn't like she had made any promises beyond the initial pick-up. 

The sun beat down, casting harsh shadows that made it hard to see clearly. Lexa squinted, trying to make out the details of the approaching figures. As the group reached the gate, one figure stood out. Average height, with a confident stance, tousled blonde hair catching the sunlight, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to take in everything. Lexa's heart skipped a beat. This had to be Clarke Griffin. She took a deep breath, steadying herself for whatever came next. 

She opened her car door and stepped out, the paper still clutched in her hand. As she walked towards the front of her car, she rehearsed what she would say, keeping her demeanor calm and confident. No matter what, she had to see this through. Maybe this crazy plan would actually work out, and she'd find herself with more than just a prisoner to drop off. 

Lexa watched as the gate slowly creaked open, a guard stepping aside to let Clarke Griffin walk out. Clarke's appearance was a stark contrast to the confident description Lexa had imagined. She wore a baggy pair of scrub bottoms and a plain t-shirt, the loose fabric hanging awkwardly on her frame. On her feet were those horrible Croc shoes, adding an almost comical touch to her otherwise serious demeanor. 

Lexa had been warned that most prisoners didn't have street clothes, so she had prepared by bringing along some sweatpants and a sweatshirt just in case. They rested neatly folded in her arms, a small gesture of consideration for Clarke’s comfort. 

As Clarke walked towards her, Lexa felt a strange tension in the air. Clarke’s piercing blue eyes seemed to be sizing her up, evaluating every detail with a calm, methodical gaze. Despite the unflattering attire, there was an undeniable strength in the way Clarke carried herself, a glimmer of the alpha presence Lexa had been expecting. 

When Clarke reached her, Lexa extended the bundle of clothes. "I brought you these," she said, her voice steady. "I figured you might need something more comfortable." 

Clarke glanced at the sweatpants and sweatshirt, then back at Lexa, a hint of surprise in her eyes. "Thanks," she said simply, taking the clothes. She shifted her weight, the Crocs making a faint squeaking sound on the pavement. 

Lexa couldn't help but smile slightly. "I didn't think about shoes," she admitted. "But if things go well, we can get you some proper ones," she thought to herself. 

Clarke nodded and then, without any hesitation, began to change right there. She stripped off the scrub bottoms and t-shirt, leaving them in a heap on the ground. Lexa's eyes widened, and she quickly averted her gaze, focusing intently on the horizon. 

Despite her best efforts, Lexa found it hard not to peek. She stole quick glances, her curiosity getting the better of her. Clarke's movements were efficient, almost practiced, as she pulled on the sweatpants and then the sweatshirt. 

"Ready," Clarke said, her voice breaking Lexa's internal struggle. Lexa turned back, finding Clarke now dressed in the sweats, looking a bit more comfortable. 

"Great," Lexa replied, trying to keep her voice even. She opened the car door for Clarke. "Let's get you settled." 

As Clarke climbed into the car, Lexa took a deep breath, steadying herself for whatever came next. Clarke's intense gaze had left a lasting impression. This encounter might have started under strange circumstances, but there was potential for something more. She started the engine, ready to see where this road would lead. 

Lexa pulled out of the prison parking lot, the silence between her and Clarke stretching as she navigated towards the highway. All they really knew about each other were their names, exchanged for the purpose of this pick-up. Lexa's mind raced, trying to think of something to say to break the ice. 

"Are you hungry?" Lexa finally asked, glancing over at Clarke. 

Clarke looked thoughtful for a moment before replying, "I could go for a juicy hamburger. But I only have a few dollars the prison gave me until I can get in touch with some people." 

Lexa nodded, her mind made up. "Don't worry about it. I can pay for it." 

Clarke turned to look at her, surprise evident in her blue eyes. "Really? Thanks." 

"Sure," Lexa replied, giving Clarke a reassuring smile. "I know a diner that makes some of the best burgers around." 

As they drove, the tension in the car began to ease slightly. Lexa focused on the road, her mind wandering to the diner she had in mind. It was a small, cozy place that she'd been to a few times. 

After a short drive, they reached the diner. Lexa pulled into the parking lot and shut off the engine. "Here we are," she said, gesturing towards the quaint building. "Trust me, you won't be disappointed." 

Clarke gave her a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks, Lexa." 

They stepped out of the car and walked towards the entrance. As they entered, the familiar aroma of meat and freshly baked buns greeted them. The diner was bustling with activity, the sound of clinking dishes and cheerful chatter filling the air. 

Lexa led Clarke to a booth near the window, and they both sat down. A waitress soon approached, her notepad ready. "What can I get you folks today?" 

Clarke didn't hesitate. "I'll have a cheeseburger with all the toppings, please. And a side of fries." 

Lexa ordered the same, and the waitress nodded, jotting down their order before hurrying off to the kitchen. 

As they waited for their food, Lexa looked across the table at Clarke. "So, what's the first thing you want to do once you get back on your feet?" 

Clarke shrugged, her expression thoughtful. "I guess just find some stability. Get a job, reconnect with some people I lost touch with. It's been a while since I felt... normal." 

Lexa nodded, understanding the sentiment. "Well, if you need any help, just let me know. I'm happy to assist however I can." 

Clarke gave her a grateful look. "Thanks, Lexa. That means a lot." 

Clarke turned to watch the cars go by on the highway, the fleeting vehicles reflecting the newfound freedom she was just beginning to taste. 

The food arrived, and Lexa couldn't help but watch as the waitress set down their plates. The burgers were massive, with juices already seeping into the buns, and the fries were perfectly golden. Clarke's eyes widened at the sight, a mix of anticipation and disbelief playing across her features. 

Clarke picked up her burger, the weight of it almost comical in her hands. Lexa could see her mouth watering as she brought the burger closer. The first bite seemed almost ceremonial. Clarke's teeth sank into the meat, and Lexa watched as her expression transformed. 

Clarke's eyes fluttered closed, and a soft, almost scandalized moan escaped her lips. The sheer delight on her face was undeniable. It was as if this simple burger was the best thing she had ever tasted, and perhaps, after years without real food, it truly was. 

Lexa found herself smiling, feeling a strange sense of contentment at Clarke's enjoyment. She couldn't look away as Clarke took another bite, her reactions no less enthusiastic. There was something deeply gratifying about seeing someone take such pleasure in something so simple. 

"This is amazing," Clarke said between bites, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I can't even remember the last time I had food this good." 

Lexa chuckled. "I'm glad you like it. This place is a bit of a hidden gem." 

Clarke nodded, her focus mostly on the burger in her hands. "You weren't kidding about these burgers." 

Lexa couldn't help but watch Clarke while she ate. Each movement was captivating, from the way Clarke squeezed ketchup onto her plate to the precise manner in which she dipped a fry and brought it to her mouth. Clarke's eyes closed in pure delight, and once again, a scandalous moan of pleasure escaped her lips. 

Each time Clarke moaned, Lexa felt a surge of fascination and longing that took her by surprise. She hadn't anticipated this reaction, but part of her had hoped for it. Watching Clarke savor every bite with such unrestrained joy stirred something deep within Lexa, making her pulse quicken and her mind race with possibilities. 

As Clarke continued to eat, seemingly oblivious to Lexa's gaze, Lexa's thoughts swirled. The simple act of sharing this meal had become something much more profound, and with each moan of pleasure from Clarke, Lexa felt her own desires intensify, creating a connection she hadn't expected but welcomed wholeheartedly. 

Lexa took a bite of her own burger, chewing thoughtfully, her eyes occasionally flicking to Clarke, who was clearly engrossed in her meal. As Lexa reached for a fry, she noticed Clarke’s gaze had drifted to the diner counter, where a display of pies sat enticingly under a glass dome. Clarke's eyes lingered on a particularly slice of apple pie. 

Without hesitation, Lexa caught the waitress's attention. "Excuse me," she called out with a warm smile, "could you bring us a slice of that apple pie, please?" 

Clarke’s head snapped back to Lexa, surprise evident in her eyes. "You don’t have to do that," she said, though her voice was soft, and the gratitude in her tone was unmistakable. 

Lexa waved off her concern. "I want to," she replied. "Consider it part of the welcome-back-to-the-real-world package." 

The waitress returned moments later with a generous slice of apple pie. She set it down in front of Clarke with a friendly smile. "Enjoy!" 

Clarke stared at the pie for a moment before looking up at Lexa. "Thank you," she said sincerely, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Lexa watched as Clarke took her first bite, the way her eyes widened in delight and another soft, scandalous moan of pleasure escaped her lips. It was worth every penny to see Clarke enjoy herself so thoroughly. Each reaction from Clarke stirred something deep within Lexa, intensifying the unexpected connection that was forming between them. 

Clarke finished her pie, savoring the last bite with a satisfied sigh. Lexa, having finished her burger and fries, took a sip of her soda, enjoying the silence between them. She was about to ask about the quality of the pie when Clarke's voice broke through her thoughts. 

"So," Clarke began, her tone laced with curiosity and a hint of something else. "What do you expect to get out of picking up a prisoner you don't know? Are you looking for something in particular?" 

The question hung in the air, and Lexa nearly choked on the sip of soda she was swallowing. She coughed slightly, managing to get it down with some force before setting the glass back on the table. She met Clarke's piercing blue eyes, the intensity behind them making her heart race. 

"Honestly," Lexa started, choosing her words carefully, "I’m not entirely sure what I expected. I guess... I was curious. I wanted to help." 

Clarke raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You know," she continued, her voice dropping to a low, suggestive tone, "I've heard there are omegas who do this just to get fucked raw by a prisoner who hasn't seen an omega in years." 

Lexa's eyes widened in shock, and she felt a blush creep up her neck, spreading across her cheeks. She swallowed hard, the words taking a moment to sink in. 

Clarke's intense gaze didn't waver. "Ah, I see," she said slowly, a smirk forming on her lips. "So, you were hoping the same thing, huh?" 

Lexa's mind raced, her pulse quickening. For a moment, she hesitated, the weight of the truth pressing down on her. But then, in a bold move, she decided to be honest. "Maybe," she said, meeting Clarke's gaze head-on. "Maybe I was looking for that from a prisoner." 

Clarke's smirk widened, her eyes glinting with amusement and intrigue. "Well, that's interesting," she replied, her voice a mix of surprise and appreciation. "I didn't expect you to be so straightforward." 

Lexa felt her heart pound in her chest, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming. "I figured honesty was the best approach," she said, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her stomach. 

Clarke nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. "Fair enough. It's not often you meet someone willing to be that upfront." 

Lexa smiled, feeling a bit of relief and exhilaration. "So, where does that leave us?" she asked, curious about Clarke's reaction. 

Clarke leaned back in her seat, her gaze never leaving Lexa's. "I guess that depends on where you want it to go," she said, her voice soft but filled with promise. 

Lexa took a deep breath, feeling a sense of anticipation. "Let's see where this takes us," she replied, her tone matching Clarke's. "No expectations, just... possibilities." 

Clarke raised her glass of water in a small toast. "To possibilities, then." 

Lexa clinked her glass against Clarke's, the sound ringing out like a promise. As they both took a sip, Lexa couldn't shake the feeling that this might be the start of something significant, something she was more than willing to explore. 

Lexa raised her hand to catch the waitress's attention and called out, "Can we get the check, please?" 

Lexa quickly settled the bill, leaving a generous tip for the waitress. As she and Clarke made their way to the car, the tension between them was almost palpable. The moment they were both inside, Clarke leaned over and captured Lexa’s lips in a fervent kiss. Lexa responded eagerly, her hands threading through Clarke’s blonde hair as the kiss deepened, their breaths mingling and hearts racing. 

After a few intense moments, Lexa reluctantly pulled away, her voice breathless. "I know a hotel up the road," she said, her eyes locked onto Clarke's. 

"Let's go," Clarke replied, her voice husky with desire. 

Lexa started the engine and pulled out of the diner's parking lot, heading towards the highway. As they drove, Clarke's hand began to rub Lexa's leg, sending shivers up her spine. Lexa bit her lip, trying to stay focused on the road, but it became increasingly difficult as Clarke leaned over and began kissing her neck. 

The sensation of Clarke's lips on her skin almost caused Lexa to lose control of the car. She gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to keep her mind clear. "Clarke," she gasped, "I need to focus if we're going to get there in one piece." 

Clarke chuckled softly, her breath warm against Lexa's ear. "You're right. I'll try to behave," she said, though her hand continued to caress Lexa's thigh in a way that made it hard for her to concentrate. 

Lexa's heart pounded as she navigated the twists and turns of the road, the anticipation of what awaited them at the hotel fueling her adrenaline. She stole a glance at Clarke, who was watching her with a smoldering intensity that made her pulse race even faster. 

Finally, the hotel came into view, and Lexa breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled into the parking lot. She parked the car and turned off the engine, turning to face Clarke with a hint of excitement and nervousness. "We're here," she said softly. 

Clarke leaned in, brushing her lips against Lexa's in a teasing kiss. "Let's not waste any time, then," she murmured. 

They both hurried out of the car and into the hotel, the promise of what was to come hastening their steps. 

Lexa and Clarke hurried through the hotel lobby, the tension between them electric. Lexa secured a room quickly, and they made their way to the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, Clarke pressed Lexa against the wall, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss. Lexa responded eagerly, her hands roaming over Clarke's back, pulling her closer. 

The elevator began its ascent to the fourth floor, but neither of them paid any attention. Clarke's hands found their way under Lexa's shirt, her touch sending shivers down Lexa's spine. Lexa moaned softly, her fingers tangling in Clarke's blonde hair as their kisses grew more intense. 

Clarke's lips trailed down Lexa's neck, nibbling and sucking, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Lexa's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. The elevator seemed to be moving agonizingly slow, each second feeling like an eternity. 

When the elevator dinged to announce their arrival on the fourth floor, they reluctantly pulled apart, both breathing heavily. Clarke's eyes were dark with desire, matching the intensity Lexa felt coursing through her veins. They stumbled out of the elevator, barely managing to keep their hands off each other as they made their way down the hallway to their room. 

Lexa fumbled with the key card, finally managing to unlock the door. As soon as it swung open, they tumbled inside, the door closing behind them with a decisive click.  

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Clarke wasted no time. She pinned Lexa against the door, her lips crashing onto Lexa's with a passion that left them both breathless. Clarke's hands roamed freely, exploring the curves of Lexa's body with a hunger that had been building since they left the diner. 

Lexa gasped into the kiss, her hands gripping Clarke's shoulders for support as Clarke's fingers trailed down her sides, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Clarke's lips moved from Lexa's mouth to her neck, kissing and nibbling, making Lexa moan softly. The sound seemed to spur Clarke on, her touch growing bolder, her hands slipping under Lexa's shirt to caress the warm skin beneath. 

Clarke's fingers traced the outline of Lexa's bra, teasingly skimming over the fabric. Lexa's breath hitched, her head tilting back against the door as she surrendered to the sensations coursing through her. Clarke's hands moved to Lexa's hips, gripping them firmly as she pressed her body closer, their heat mingling in the confined space. 

"God, Clarke," Lexa breathed, her voice trembling with need. "I can't get enough of you." 

Clarke pulled back slightly, just enough to look into Lexa's eyes. "Then don't," she whispered, her lips brushing against Lexa's as she spoke. "I want to fuck you, Lexa. Give you what you picked me up for." 

With that, Clarke captured Lexa's lips again, the kiss even more intense, more demanding. Lexa responded eagerly, her hands finding their way into Clarke's hair, pulling her closer. Clarke's hands continued their exploration, every touch driving Lexa wild with anticipation. 

As Clarke pressed against her, Lexa's breath caught in her throat. She could feel Clarke's hardness through the sweatpants, the unexpected sensation sending a jolt of arousal through her. Clarke's erection felt substantial, even through their clothes, and Lexa couldn't help but briefly wonder just how large Clarke was. 

The thought made her pulse quicken, her curiosity mingling with desire. Clarke's fingers, already tracing the outline of Lexa's bra, now slipped beneath the fabric, caressing her skin with a tantalizing touch. Their kisses grew more passionate and intense, the urgency between them palpable. 

Clarke seemed to sense Lexa's reaction, her lips curving into a knowing smile against Lexa's neck. "Like what you feel?" Clarke murmured, her voice husky with desire. 

Lexa nodded, her hands exploring Clarke's back, pulling her closer. "I do," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I want to feel it all." 

Clarke's response was immediate. She pressed her body more firmly against Lexa's, her hips grinding slightly, making Lexa gasp. The friction sent waves of pleasure through her, and she couldn't hold back a soft moan. 

"Then let's not waste any more time," Clarke said, her voice filled with promise. 

Clarke's hands moved with confident precision, unclasping Lexa's bra and freeing her breasts. Lexa's thoughts swirled, her anticipation building as Clarke's touch sent electric shivers across her skin. The combination of Clarke's arousal pressing against her and the skilled caresses on her breasts drove Lexa wild, her curiosity about Clarke's size only adding to the excitement. 

"Lexa," Clarke whispered, her voice a low growl. "I want to see all of you." 

Lexa's heart raced, her body aching with desire as she nodded, ready for this passionate encounter to move further along. 

Clarke's hands slid from Lexa's breasts to her waist, guiding her away from the door and towards the bed. The urgency in Clarke's movements was balanced by a surprising tenderness, and Lexa felt herself being gently maneuvered backward. 

Clarke paused just long enough to strip the comforter and sheet off the bed, tossing them aside with swift, efficient motions. Then, she turned her attention back to Lexa, her eyes dark with desire yet filled with a softness that took Lexa by surprise. 

With a delicate touch, Clarke began to undress Lexa, her fingers working with a practiced ease. She slowly lifted Lexa's shirt over her head, dropping it to the floor before moving to unbutton her jeans. All the while, Clarke's lips never strayed far from Lexa's skin, kissing a trail down her neck, across her collarbone, and lower still. 

Lexa's breath hitched as Clarke's lips brushed over the sensitive skin of her stomach. Clarke knelt, easing Lexa's jeans down her legs, and then kissed her way back up, stopping briefly to nuzzle the soft skin just above Lexa's underwear. Lexa's hands found their way into Clarke's hair, fingers threading through the soft strands as she tried to steady herself against the overwhelming sensations. 

Clarke's hands and lips were everywhere, caressing, teasing, and tasting. Each touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through Lexa's body. Clarke's lips trailed lower, over her hips, and down her thighs, before slowly, almost reverently, removing Lexa's underwear. 

"You're beautiful," Clarke murmured, her voice filled with admiration as she looked up at Lexa. The words sent a rush of warmth spreading through her. 

With gentle yet insistent hands, Clarke guided Lexa onto the bed, laying her down with care. Clarke's lips continued their journey, kissing a slow, deliberate trail back up Lexa's body, leaving no inch of skin untouched. 

Lexa's breathing grew ragged, her anticipation building with every kiss. Clarke's tenderness, combined with the raw desire in her eyes, left Lexa feeling cherished and utterly desired. The connection between them was electric, a charged energy that made every touch, every kiss, feel like a promise of something extraordinary. 

Clarke moved with a fluid grace, settling herself over Lexa, her body a comforting weight. She looked down at Lexa, their eyes locking in an intense, silent exchange that spoke volumes. Then, with a soft smile, Clarke leaned in and captured Lexa’s lips once more. 

These kisses were different from before, not as hurried or heated, but a beautiful mix of tenderness and desire. Clarke's lips moved slowly against Lexa's, savoring the connection with a delicate intensity that made Lexa's heart flutter. Each kiss was a gentle exploration, a reaffirmation of the burgeoning connection between them. 

Clarke's hands cupped Lexa's face, her thumbs brushing lightly over her cheeks. The kisses deepened, but retained that same tender quality, each one a sweet promise. Lexa's hands roamed over Clarke's back, feeling the strength of her muscles and the warmth of her skin, her fingers tracing patterns that seemed to draw them even closer together. 

As Clarke continued to kiss her, Lexa felt a profound sense of being cherished. Clarke's lips moved from her mouth to her jaw, then down to the sensitive spot just below her ear, each touch sending shivers through her body. Lexa closed her eyes, surrendering to the exquisite blend of emotions and sensations washing over her. 

Clarke pulled back slightly, resting her forehead against Lexa's, her breath warm against Lexa's lips. "I want you to feel every moment of this," Clarke whispered, her voice filled with emotion. 

Lexa opened her eyes, meeting Clarke's gaze. "I do," she replied softly, her voice trembling. "I feel it all." 

Clarke's smile widened, and she leaned in to kiss Lexa again, slow and tender, each kiss an affirmation of the connection growing between them.  

Clarke shifted her body, moving slowly and deliberately between Lexa's legs. Lexa's breath hitched in anticipation, her heart pounding in her chest. Clarke's touch was gentle but firm, guiding Lexa's legs apart as she settled herself more comfortably. 

Their eyes locked for a moment, an understanding passing between them. Clarke's lips curved into a soft smile before she began her descent, trailing kisses down Lexa's neck, over her collarbone, and across her chest. Each kiss left a trail of fire in its wake, igniting Lexa's senses. 

Clarke's hands roamed over Lexa's body, caressing her sides and thighs with a reverence that made Lexa feel cherished. As Clarke kissed her way down, her lips brushed over Lexa's stomach, each touch sending shivers of pleasure through the omega. Lexa's fingers tangled in Clarke's hair, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the anticipation built. 

Finally, Clarke reached her destination, her head settling between Lexa's thighs. Clarke took a moment, her breath warm against Lexa's most sensitive skin. Lexa felt a surge of arousal, her body trembling with the need for Clarke's touch. 

Clarke's hands gently parted Lexa's thighs further, her lips placing soft, teasing kisses along the inner edges. Lexa's back arched slightly, her hands tightening their grip in Clarke's hair, urging her closer. 

With a look of pure desire, Clarke met Lexa's eyes one last time before lowering her head and pressing a kiss to Lexa's clit. The sensation was electric, a shockwave of pleasure that made Lexa cry out softly. Clarke's tongue followed, moving with deliberate, languid strokes that sent Lexa spiraling into a world of bliss. 

Lexa's hips bucked instinctively, her body responding to Clarke's skillful touch. Clarke's hands held her steady, providing a grounding presence as she continued to explore and worship Lexa's folds. The mixture of tenderness and desire in Clarke's movements left Lexa breathless, her moans filling the room as she surrendered completely to the pleasure Clarke was giving her. 

Lexa could feel every stroke of Clarke's tongue, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body. It felt so good, so intensely perfect, that she could barely think, her mind lost in the sensations Clarke was creating. Clarke's tongue moved with a rhythm that seemed to sync with Lexa's heartbeat, each flick and swirl drawing her closer and closer to the edge. 

Lexa's breath came in ragged gasps, her hands gripping Clarke's hair as her hips moved in time with Clarke's tongue. The world around her seemed to fade away, leaving only the connection between them, the building tension that coiled tighter and tighter in her core. 

Clarke's hands caressed Lexa's thighs, grounding her, anchoring her to the moment. Lexa's eyes fluttered closed, her entire being focused on the exquisite pleasure that Clarke was giving her. She felt herself spiraling, the intensity of the sensations pulling her higher and higher until she was right on the brink, teetering at the precipice of ecstasy. 

Just when Lexa thought she couldn't hold on any longer, she heard Clarke's voice, low and commanding, yet filled with a tender urgency. "Let go, Lexa." 

The words were all Lexa needed. With a final, breathless cry, she let go, her body surrendering to the peak of pleasure. The release was overwhelming, a powerful wave that crashed over her, sending ripples of ecstasy through every fiber of her being. Clarke's tongue never stopped, drawing out Lexa's orgasm, making it last, intensifying every moment of bliss. 

Lexa's body trembled, her back arching as she rode out the waves of her climax. Clarke's hands and mouth guided her through it, grounding her even as she soared. When the waves finally began to subside, Lexa collapsed back onto the bed, breathless and utterly spent. 

Clarke moved back up, kissing her way up Lexa's body until she reached her lips. Lexa kissed her back with what little strength she had left, her heart still pounding, her body still tingling from the aftershocks of her release. 

"That was incredible," Lexa whispered, her voice filled with awe. 

Clarke smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from Lexa's face. "You were incredible," she replied softly, her eyes filled with affection. "I’m glad I could give you that." 

Lexa pulled Clarke down for another kiss, feeling a deep connection that went beyond the physical. It was a moment of pure intimacy, one that she knew she would cherish for a long time to come. 

Lexa lay there for a moment, catching her breath and savoring the afterglow. Then, with a playful look in her eyes, she gathered her strength and, with a quick and unexpected move, flipped Clarke over onto her back. Clarke let out a surprised laugh, her eyes widening as Lexa took control. 

Lexa wasted no time. She straddled Clarke, leaning down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. Clarke responded eagerly, her hands roaming over Lexa's back. The kiss was heated, a blend of passion and desire that left them both breathless. 

Breaking the kiss, Lexa began her journey down Clarke's body, her lips trailing a path of fire. She kissed Clarke's neck, savoring the soft gasps that escaped Clarke's lips. Lexa gripped the hem of Clarke's shirt and, with a swift motion, pulled it off over her head. Her kisses moved lower, across Clarke's collarbone and down to her chest. Lexa's hands followed, caressing and teasing, drawing soft moans from Clarke as she continued her descent. 

Lexa's lips found Clarke's breasts, her tongue swirling around each nipple, eliciting a shiver from Clarke. She lavished attention there for a moment, enjoying the way Clarke's body responded to her touch. But Lexa had a destination in mind, and she was eager to reach it. 

She continued her journey, her kisses trailing down Clarke's stomach, feeling the muscles quiver beneath her lips. Clarke's breath hitched, her anticipation growing with each passing second. Lexa glanced up, meeting Clarke's gaze, her eyes filled with hunger. 

Finally, Lexa reached her prize. Clarke's arousal was evident, straining against the fabric of her sweatpants. Lexa's breath hitched at the sight. With deliberate movements, she hooked her fingers under the waistband and slowly pulled the sweatpants down, revealing Clarke's impressive erection. 

Lexa's eyes widened slightly, her earlier curiosity about Clarke's size now answered. She looked up at Clarke, whose expression was a filled with desire and vulnerability. Lexa leaned in, her breath warm against Clarke's hardened length, and placed a gentle kiss on the tip, drawing a sharp gasp from Clarke. 

"You're beautiful," Lexa whispered. 

Clarke's hands found their way into Lexa's hair, guiding her gently. "So are you," Clarke replied, her voice trembling with need. 

Lexa didn't hesitate. She began to kiss and lick along Clarke's length, savoring every reaction, every sound Clarke made. Clarke's hips bucked slightly, her body responding eagerly to Lexa's touch. Lexa's hands caressed Clarke's thighs, grounding her as she continued her actions. 

Clarke's breathing grew ragged, her moans filling the room. Lexa could feel Clarke's body tensing, the telltale signs of her approaching climax. Lexa's own arousal spiked at the thought, her determination to bring Clarke to the same heights of pleasure she had experienced fueling her movements. 

Just as Clarke seemed on the verge of release, Lexa stopped. She shifted, positioning herself over Clarke's length, her eyes locked onto Clarke's as she slowly lowered herself, taking Clarke inside her inch by inch. The sensation was exquisite, sending a shudder through both of them. 

Clarke's hands gripped Lexa's hips, as Lexa began to ride her, moving slowly at first, savoring every moment, every sensation. The feeling of Clarke filling her completely was intoxicating, and Lexa moaned softly, her movements becoming more fluid, more urgent. 

Clarke's control snapped. With a sudden, powerful move, she flipped them over, pinning Lexa beneath her. Clarke began to thrust hard, each movement driving deeper, pushing Lexa closer to the edge. 

Lexa's nails raked down Clarke's back, her moans growing louder with each powerful thrust. Clarke's pace was relentless, her rhythm perfect, driving Lexa higher and higher until she was teetering on the brink of ecstasy. 

"Clarke," Lexa gasped, her voice trembling with need. "I'm so close again." 

"Let go," Clarke growled, her voice husky. "Let me make you come." 

With a final, powerful thrust, Lexa's body shattered, her orgasm crashing over her with a force that left her breathless. Clarke continued to thrust, drawing out Lexa's pleasure, her own release following moments later as she spilled into Lexa, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. 

They collapsed together, breathless and spent, their bodies entwined. Clarke brushed a strand of hair from Lexa's face, her eyes softening. "You're amazing," she whispered, her voice filled with tenderness. 

Lexa smiled. "So are you," she replied softly, her hand cupping Clarke's cheek. "That was... incredible." 

They lay together, bodies still humming with residual pleasure. Clarke's fingers traced lazy patterns on Lexa's skin, as they both caught their breath. 

It wasn't long before their desire flared up again. Clarke's lips found Lexa's neck, her kisses igniting a new wave of arousal. Lexa responded eagerly, her hands exploring Clarke's body with renewed fervor. Their kisses deepened, and soon they were lost in each other once more, bodies entwined and moving in a dance of want. 

Each climax leaving them both trembling and breathless, only to be followed by another wave of desire. They barely paused to catch their breath before diving back into each other's arms, the cycle repeating again and again. 

At times, it was slow and tender, Clarke's hands gentle and caressing, Lexa's lips whispering against Clarke's ear. At other moments, it was frenzied and urgent, their bodies moving with a desperate need to feel as much of each other as possible.  

The hotel room seemed like a cocoon, the outside world fading into insignificance as they focused solely on the pleasure they gave each other. Hours passed, the boundaries between them dissolving as they gave themselves over completely to their passion.  

As dawn began to break, their movements slowed, exhaustion finally catching up with them. Their final time was a slow, languid dance, a celebration of the bond they had forged through the night. Clarke's body pressed against Lexa's, their breaths mingling as they moved together one last time. 

When they finally collapsed, too spent to continue, they lay tangled together, their bodies slick with sweat and their hearts still pounding. Lexa nestled against Clarke's chest, feeling the steady thrum of Clarke's heartbeat beneath her cheek. Clarke's arms wrapped around her, holding her close. 

"You're unbelievable," Lexa murmured, her voice heavy with exhaustion and satisfaction. 

Clarke pressed a soft kiss to Lexa's forehead. "So are you," she replied, her voice a gentle caress. 

They drifted off to sleep, their bodies entwined, the promise of a new day and the deep connection they had forged carrying them into a peaceful slumber. 

Lexa and Clarke woke up to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. Their bodies were intertwined, a tangle of limbs and shared warmth. For a moment, they simply lay there, savoring the intimacy of the morning, but the reality of the day ahead soon intruded. 

With a sigh, Lexa pressed a gentle kiss to Clarke’s lips. "We should get up," she murmured. 

Clarke nodded, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what was coming next. They reluctantly untangled themselves and made their way to the bathroom, sharing a quiet, intimate shower. The water cascaded over their bodies, washing away the remnants of their night together, but not the connection they had forged. 

Once they were dressed, they stripped the bed and left the room. The walk to the car was silent, each step a reminder of the inevitable separation looming ahead. Lexa started the engine, and Clarke directed her to their destination with a heavy heart. 

As Lexa drove, Clarke stared out the window, wishing this moment could last forever. She knew where they were going and wished it wasn’t the case. The halfway house loomed large in her mind, a stark reminder of the world she would soon reenter. 

After about twenty minutes, Lexa pulled up in front of a nondescript building. The sign above the door confirmed it: the halfway house Clarke had to check into. They sat in the car for a few minutes, the silence almost stifling. 

Clarke's thoughts raced, wondering what Lexa was thinking. Was this all she was to Lexa? An easy fuck for a horny omega? Clarke’s heart ached at the thought. 

Finally, Clarke found her voice, though it trembled slightly. "Lexa," she began, her eyes fixed on the omega, "will I ever see you again?" 

Lexa turned away, looking out the windshield, and Clarke's heart sank. She knew that look—the distant, unsure look of someone who might not be ready for more. But then Lexa turned back to Clarke, her eyes steady and sincere. 

"I'd like to," Lexa said softly. "I'd like to see if we can maybe build something together." 

Clarke's heart lifted, relief flooding through her. She nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I'd like that too." 

They lingered in the car for a moment longer, before finally stepping out. Clarke took a deep breath and walked towards the building, feeling a renewed sense of hope. Lexa watched her go, her heart heavy yet determined. She knew this was just the beginning of their journey together. 

[hadtochangemyurlquick]

it's really late but here's the fic recs for clextober!!!

Day 1: Spirit Week! 

who are you wearing? by geralehane (@geralehane)

is your classic halloween soulmate au that, thanks to the quality of the writing, hits extremely hard everytime. for a simple concept i have layed awake at night thinking about it.

Day 2: Pumpkin Spice & Everything Nice 

A Bit of Clarity by Aphrodites Law (@aphrodites-law)

is a sweet fall themed supernatural au that I'm sure we all know and love but is always worth giving a shout out. everyone begins to get visions of their past lives and it's a coffee shop au. If you like soulmates, read this asap.

Day 3: Annual Fall Festival 

the river's deep (but I swam it) by isawet (@sunspill)

i love isawet's one shots and this collection of halloween prompt fills written in 2017 is some of my favorite that they've done. highly recommend to anyone who wants to stay in the halloween spirit. mostly modern aus and all absolutely perfectly bite sized while still remaining filling.

Day 4: Magical Nights 

oh where do we begin? (the rubble or our sins) by the_crownless_queen

this is one of those lost in the clexa tag one shots that i always think gets overlooked. i always wished they would continue it, but even as a one shot it is so fantastic to think about and adore, and absolutely worth the read.

Day 5: The Other Side 

breathe into my lips the life i do not have by ur_the_puppy (@ur-the-puppy)

ur_the_puppy's ability to put 40k words into one chapter and still have it be not only coherent but heart wrenching and gorgeous is unparalleled. this one follows clarke in a haunted house, falling in love with her roommate. would highly recommend if you need to cry and also feel joy but in the way zadie smith defines it.

Day 6: Vampires vs. Werewolves 

bleeding love by geralehane (@geralehane)

you know, i try to avoid reccing the same author twice in a rec list, but i could not decide between these two, and i gave up. especially since i'm supposed to be doing a reading rn lol. i can't telly ou how many times ive read this goddamn story and lost my fucking mind. it wouldn't be possible, honestly. young vampire clarke and elder vampire lexa fall in love. trust me.

Day 7: Free Day

Shifters by DreamsAreMyWords (@dreamsaremywords)

damw is fairly (and rightfully) well known in the fandom for specifically their ability with craft in the fantastical genre. I like to pick less well known fics for my free day and i have to say, this one is entirely overlooked. i love a zombie apocalypse and this is a total twist on the genre. the line "birth is always violent" has stayed with me not as just a powerful line but as a mantra to remind myself that becoming will hurt but is worth it. would highly recommend you move it up your marked for later lists.

[raccoonhearteyes]

Part I  | Part II  | Part III | Part IV  | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV

Read on AO3

Epilogue 

March 11th, 2019

“So you’re the girl Clarke has been hiding all these months. It’s great to finally meet you!” Octavia sweeps Lexa into a hug, welcoming her into their home. 

It’s not the first time they’ve met. They’ve actually met several times since Clarke came knocking on her door back in January. But each time, Octavia forgets. Each time, she’s greeted anew. 

Clarke squeezes her thigh under the table, a soft apology for the repetition. They haven’t quite navigated how they’ll deal with this as more and more time passes. Not meeting the new girlfriend when it’s only been a handful of months is reasonable. What happens when it’s years? A decade?

June 12th, 2020

Clarke has a second exhibit of Lexa portraits. 

Lexa grabs a glass from a nearby tray, and sits back to watch her girlfriend work. She loves watching Clarke talk about a piece, the way her eyes light up, the way she moves her hands to show what she was talking about. 

She watches the one person who remembers her listen to and answer questions from some buyer on the other side of the gallery. She looks good, all business focused. This is the same girl who sprinkles cinnamon in her tea, koalas around a warm body in bed, paints Lexa and only Lexa. She’s suddenly struck by just how much she loves this girl. How much happier she has been since watching her stuff appetizers into her purse at some event two years ago. 

By the time Lexa makes it to Clarke, the evening is winding down. 

“How did you like it?” 

“Looking at a room full of my own nudes? It’s a real ego boost,” Lexa jokes, “But seriously. I love it. Even better than the last one. I’m so proud of you, Clarke.”

“Is it weird for you? Coming in on my arm and having no one remember meeting you before?” 

“It is, but I like seeing you work. I like being able to come support you. It’s worth it.” She brushes a lock of hair behind Clarke’s ear and kisses her cheek. 

They’re walking home in the dark, fingers tangled, still buzzing from the excitement of the evening, when a shadow appears from an alleyway. They both think they’re about to be mugged, before they realize they recognize the shadowy figure. 

Lexa steps protectively in front of Clarke.

“You shouldn’t be able to do this,” he sneers, “Your art was mine in our deal.”

“I asked for her in every capacity. That included my art, apparently,” Clarke flaunts, “Careful with your wording next time, dearie,” she parrots the words he used against Lexa so many times back to him.

His eyes glow red again, fuming with anger. He steps closer to Lexa, staring her down, then snaps his fingers, and disappears. 

They both check themselves over again to make sure they’re not hurt. He’s just as bound to his contracts as they are, but he did something, they’re just not sure what. 

Later that evening, Lexa finds her first gray hair, and smiles. He restarted her aging. He’s going to be so angry when he realizes that makes things easier for her.

October 8th, 2020

Clarke has a ring box in her sock drawer. She’s had it for months, but she cannot fathom leaving it there any longer or she’s going to explode. Sometimes she looks at Lexa and her heart feels like it is about to pound out of her chest. She thought you were supposed to grow out of that after dating for so long. Apparently not. 

Being in love used to mystify her. She used to worry about the other shoe dropping. Too afraid to give someone else so much of her heart and trust them not to break it. But she looks at Lexa and all of those worries disappear. She looks at Lexa and sees the woman she’ll grow old with. The fact that that doesn’t terrify her terrifies her. 

She probably should have hidden it somewhere less cliche. She doesn’t even think about it when she tells Lexa to grab a pair of her fuzzy socks from her drawer when she complains of chilly feet. 

When Lexa emerges from the bedroom clutching that not-so-well-hidden box moments later, Clarke’s brain kicks into overdrive. 

“Clarke, what’s this?” Lexa asks.

“Shit, you weren’t supposed to find it like this,” Clarke decides now is as good a time as any. She really should have rehearsed this, written something down maybe. She scrambles to take the box from Lexa’s hands, “Lexa, I have loved you since before I could remember. Literally. We met dozens of times, and each time was new, and each time I fell for you. Even though I couldn’t remember you, I had this gut feeling, this wrenching feeling that I was missing something because I was. I was missing you. You complete me. You make me a better artist. A better person, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” 

If comes out as a jumble of words, all tripping out of Clarke’s mouth at once, but she bends down on one knee, looks up earnestly at Lexa, and opens the box. 

Lexa’s eyes look watery, and then she says the last thing Clarke expected, “Clarke, I can’t,” and Clarke feels like all of the air was sucked out of her lungs. Oh god. Has she misread this the whole time? Clarke stumbles and she snaps the box closed and moves to stand, when Lexa’s words seem to catch up to her own brain. 

“Wait, that didn’t come out right. I would love to, but I can’t.” 

Clarke’s lip wobbles, “That really doesn’t sound any different.” 

“Clarke, my name can’t be on a marriage license. You literally can’t marry me. Your friends and family don’t remember meeting me. How would that even work?”

“It’s not for them. Or the state. It’s for me. And you. It’s for us. Of course I know your name can’t go on a license. I know I reintroduce people to you regularly. The point is that I love you, and I want to be able to call you my wife, even if we do a ceremony of just us in our pajamas at home.” 

“Oh,” Lexa softens, she blushes a beet red and shuffles a bit in her borrowed fuzzy socks, “Is it too late to change my answer then?” 

Clarke slips the ring out of the box and places it on Lexa’s finger. Her eyes are misty and her smile is so bright she can’t help but taste it, but not before whispering, “so stupid” in the space between them first. 

They wear dresses and buy rings and a cake the next month. Saying vows in front of Clarke’s childhood stuffed animal that sits on the shelf in the living room.

September 5th, 2034

By Clarke’s fourth show, she’s earned herself quite the reputation. She’s famous for her portraits, all of the same woman. Only of this same woman. Art critics call her Clarke’s “Secret Muse.” They write essays about how no one has ever met her. There’s speculation of if she’s real or just a figment of Clarke’s creativity. 

“Listen to this one,” Lexa calls from the couch, "As I stand under the largest piece of Ms. Griffin's latest tantalizing exhibition, aptly named, Stranger in Plain Sight, it is hard not to feel as though I should know this woman beyond the void of mere charcoal and bristle. Beyond the beauty and whimsy of such an elusive muse; an ethereal kind of elegance painted in what can only be described as liminal glimpses into her soul. Each canvas serves as a piece of the greater puzzle, an obscure abstraction dangling on Ms. Griffin's ever elusive string, one that makes this particular viewer yearn for the surely sublime knowledge of even knowing this subject's name," Lexa reads with a snort while sitting in a ripped pair of boxers and a T-shirt with a coffee stain. "But, dear reader, I can say with confidence such a void remains between artist and ardent viewer. Where Ms. Griffin has seemingly left no stone unturned with her muse, alas, we woeful patrons are condemned to collect her only in brushstrokes, and the most verdant hues of green."

Clarke giggles from the kitchen table, “It’ll never get old that you have met half of these people and they’re still completely unaware. You shook her hand last year at the Met for god’s sake!” 

“They haven’t made deals with the devil, don’t judge them!” Lexa sassing back. 

There are rumors about why Clarke wears a wedding ring. If the mystery spouse has been the muse all along. Interviewers frequently ask why they aren’t present, and Clarke just answers with a knowing smirk, usually with Lexa on her arm, or at the very least making eye-contact with her across the room.

The mystery adds to the value. 

May 5th 2088 

By the time they’re old and gray, there are hundreds of portraits of Lexa. Her life is captured in glimpses and pieces on canvas. It is the only mark she is able to leave in the world. Lexa feels like every bit of her soul has truly been seen by the world, whether they know it or not. Clarke leaves a big enough mark on the world for both of them.  

In her old age, Clarke begins to forget things. She’ll forget where she is, if she’s taken her pills, the directions to the drugstore. But she never forgets Lexa. Sometimes she’s confused in time, lost back somewhere in her twenties when she sees a painting of Lexa done in their youth.

“That’s my wife, you know,” Clarke says. 

Lexa answers with a fond smile, “Yes, love, I know.” She kisses a wrinkled hand. 

When Clarke passes at 88 years old, Lexa knows for certain that Clarke was the best part of her life, and with her mark in the world irrevocably there, she lets the darkness take her soul. 

[talktomeinclexa]

Mend the Heart You Broke (Heal the Wounds You Caused)

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Panic attack

Status: Complete

Summary: Clarke and Lexa led the perfect life. Married, two children, a big house, a group of reliable friends. Until Lexa cheated on her wife and the idyllic picture was smashed to bits. Three months later, Clarke is still trying to put the pieces of her heart together when Lexa slowly comes back into her life. The path to forgiveness will force the artist on a self-introspection journey that won't leave anyone unscathed. But isn't true love worth the fight?

***

Chapter 1: Broken Hearts

Who do you think you are?

Runnin’ ’round leaving scars

Collecting your jar of hearts

Tearing love apart

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a woman with a battered heart, must drown her sorrows in depressing songs. Clarke muses over the thought as Christina Perri’s ballad voices the pain eating her bit by bit. Outside, rain is drenching the garden and obstructing the windows with thick, endless drops, completing the cliché. It would be almost poetic if it weren’t so ridiculously tragic, and she can’t help but chuckle humorlessly at the dramatic scene.

She stands in front of the sink after lunch, drying the plates, glasses, and cutlery while her children play in their room. The perfect picture of the suburban mom, with shoulder-length blond hair curling at the ends, baby-blue eyes, an attractive figure despite having twins, and close to no wrinkles to mark her almost thirty-seven years on this Earth. A former aspiring artist turned full-time stay-at-home mom whose career is finally taking off now that the kids are in school and she has time to paint. What more could she want?

Distracted by her rumination, she loosens her fingers half an inch too much. The plate, too happy to add insult to her still-opened injuries, slides off the dish towel and comes crashing into the sink. With unmistakable irony, it breaks right in the middle; two parts forever split where they used to be only one. Just like her heart, she thinks, breaking into heavy sobs in the middle of her kitchen.

“Mama? Are you crying?”

Clarke discreetly wipes the tears rolling down her cheeks before turning around to face her son. Her little boy, the one man in her life she loves to the moon and back. She hopes it will be many years before he learns to recognize a genuine smile from the fake one she flashes at him.

“No, honey. I had something in my eyes. What are you doing here? I thought you were playing in your room.”

Keep reading

[asleepingtiger]

New chapter for Love Hurts - After All This Time

Here’s a snippet…

“So what was London like?” Clarke inquires slightly, catching Lexa off guard.

Lexa has to think for a second, being there as long as she was she could just pluck out a simple answer.

“It was difficult at first, time change, everyone was constantly in a rush,” Lexa reels off, “it was like if you didn’t work the economic system would crash. There was no down time.”

Clarke chuckled, “bet you had a shock to the system,”

“I hated it,” Lexa admitted, “I did make a few friends, Luna. Now she’s an interesting character.”

“Oh really?” Clarke sipped her tea whilst still looking at Clarke, “tell me more.”

Lexa rolled her eyes playfully, “she could get you clubbing when you didn’t want to.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to go home and sleep.” Lexa chuckled.

Clarke wanted to ask a question but she knew it wasn’t any of her business.

Lexa watched the clogs turn in Clarke’s eyes, she knew what she wanted to ask.

“Go on, ask.” Lexa smirked.

Clarke shook her head, “it’s fine, it’s none of my business.”

“Clarke, I wasn’t there for a fun vacation. My uncle was constantly on at me to do this, do that.” Lexa took a long sip of her drink before continuing, “I didn’t have time for women.”

Clarke didn’t know what to say to that, it was what wanted to know but it didn’t fully answer her question.

“You were there for a long time,” Clarke pointed out, Lexa stared at her waiting for her to continue but she didn’t, so she gave her the answer Clarke was unable to ask the question for.

“I didn’t sleep with anyone, Clarke.” Lexa sighed, “it came close a few times and yeah, I wanted to but it wasn’t worth it.”

[lexa-griffins]

To your anon:

Yo, I am right there with you. I’m going to share a little bit on my recent fandom experience.

I have never written g!p, and never thought I would even read it. If I’m being honest, it’s something that I was always under the impression was too taboo, fetishized, and typically non-con; which isn’t my cup of tea. To each their own though, for real. It’s fiction. Who am I to judge? (Not to say that it’s all like that, because it’s truly not! Just something I’d always thought was the truth.)

However, I have found myself being really interested in Wanheda’s Dagger ™️ 👀 and Clarke’s BDE with something to back it up.

As a WLW who doesn’t care what is between their lovers’ legs, I’ve found myself stumbling upon some ABO and g!p fics that are honestly really good, and most of the time very well written smut.

All that to say that, I may be submitting something for Wanheda’s Dagger Week 😳

Completely out of my comfort zone. But fuck it. What is fandom if not an experience that you’re enjoying? This is a space for us to be ourselves and share our interests and art.

Thanks for making this space, dude.

Thank you so much for sharing! ☺️☺️ this is so true for just about anything fandom related. Sometimes, you just gotta try and write it! Even if you think you won't do it justice! Because yes, someone else may be able to write it, but what you write is still so unique to you, and your writing is always worth being read!

To be completely frank, I used to feel the exact same way! It felt like it was fetishizing and like I was reading something taboo and that I was bad by reading! And the fact most clexa were g!p Lexa, which I was never a fan off, it was like it comfirmed my bias over those type of fics and how they were uncomfy and bad to write and read!

I will always say that realizing I was a lesbian and only getting to explore that part of me more online, i did get fed that idea that lesbians are attracted to vaginas /only/ and of there was something that made me get over that baby gay mentality of that idea was reading g!p and alpha Clarke fics, because Clarke was always a character I felt very attracted too and having Lexa as a lesbian be ok with Clarke made my stupid and incorrect idea of if a lesbian so much as thinks of a dick they stop being one be thrown to the garbage!

I am glad to hear you may be writing something for the event ☺️ fandoms are supposed to allow you the freedom to explore those characters in as many ways as you'd like and have a space where you won't be judged for it! It's about sharing that love for the characters in many forms and sharing your creativity with the people who enjoy them!!

Thank you 🩷 I'm really glad I get to have this little space where me and everyone get to share this little niche side of the fandom ☺️🩷

[ada-purputidi]

Black bird

pt-51 the one who believed in us

But there was one person in this whole story who helped me in that so that I believe in myself and start acting.

Nicholas:Oh my God, Anna….How glad I am to see you, where have you been? Anna:I had nowhere to go, and I need to talk to you, Professor.

Nicholas:They said all sorts of things at work, but you yourself know that I don't believe you killed Erwin, I don't….I've always been and I will be on your side with him.

Anna:Thank you, what should I do next?And is there a chance to return it? It sounds crazy, I know….But suddenly.

Nicholas:The world is already full of surprises and all sorts of evil spirits, I think it's worth turning to them.And it 's better to find Lexa, after everything that happened she lives in the wilderness of the forest, talk to her.

Anna:And where is she?And what happened to everyone after everything that happened?

Nicholas:She was sent to work at Moonwood, to watch the werewolves. Find her, I'll give you her address.You have to save Erwin. and kick Kai's ass.

Nicholas:We'll still go out at your wedding, and we'll babysit your kids.

[thisweekinfandomhistory]

Hi! I just listened to the Match 6th, 2016: #LGBTfansdeservebetter and the spring slaughter. Do you have the list of all the characters that were killed? I could only think of Pussey from OITNB and Charlie from Supernatural. I wonder what other fandoms I was either in or am in now that are on that list.

Love your podcast by the way. Brings back a lot of memories and stuff I hadn't even realized I was a part of until you guys mention it. This is amazing! My mom loved the Star Trek one and it led to me finding out my mom used to get the Battlestar Galactica Zine in the 70s. Keep up the good work! Thanks! Love ya!

Thank you so much -- how cool that your mom used to get a zine! If she still has any copies, you should totally scan them for Fanlore.org :)

The characters killed in the Spring Slaughter included:

Zora (The Shannara Chronicles)

Rose (Jane the Virgin)

Carla (Code Black)

Julie Mao (The Expanse)

Ash (Janet King)

Lexa (The 100)

Kira (The Magicians)

Denise (The Walking Dead)

Nora and Mary Louise (The Vampire Diaries)

Mimi Whiteman (Empire)

Camilla (Empire)

Cara Thomas (Marcella)

Pamela Clayborne (Saints & Sinners)

Felicity (The Catch)

Bridey (The Family)

Mayfair (Blindspot)

Root (Person of Interest)

Poussey Washington (Orange is the New Black)

I (V) would say that the ones that had/have the biggest transformative fandom followings, besides Lexa and Poussey, were probably Root from POI and Zora from The Shannara Chronicles -- they were the two other characters I had seen cross my dash with petitions and stuff when they were killed off. It's also definitely worth noting just how many of these dead WLW characters are also WOC.

[butmakeitgayblog]

randomly stumbled across your AWTR au at 1:00 in the morning and I’ve spent the last hour reading through EVERY post under that tag instead of sleeping…

anyway if you’re still up for prompts I’d love to hear about their wedding! especially their vows to each other 😍

Ok well, 1. I apologize to the fullest extent of the law for so many things in that tag 😔 while I do enjoy hurting your guy's feelings, I'm also sorry for it. Know that 💕

2. Can't believe I've never answered this 🤧

Their wedding is a small affair, given the underwhelming population of their town and everything else involved.

Lexa doesn't have any family other than her father, and it's not as though she had a wealth of friends to fill up her side of the church. She has acquaintances around town, sure. Plenty of regulars that roll through the bookshop. Friendly faces that chat her up after her sessions at Sunday School are done at church. But... no one who she'd really feel comfortable bothering for something as insignificant as her tiny wedding.

So when Clarke made the executive decision that they were just not going to deal with any of that, she agreed with just a twinge of disappointment, but more readily— unmitigated relief. Because if Clarke's not interested in the frills of it all, well then Lexa isn't going to be either, so when they sit down with their pastor and parents, they make it clear that it's just going to be a quiet affair.

And that's exactly what they do.

They have a small intimate ceremony in the morning that is only them, Gus and Abby, right in the same church where Lexa's own mother had said 'I do'.

Lexa wears a simply yellow sundress with delicate flowery embroidery, and her hair pulled back in braids that complement her wild ringlets. Clarke once said she likes it when Lexa wears her hair in ways that show off her neck, so she meticulously found something that worked with her dress and still fit that bill for their big day. Clarke wears a power blue midi dress and leaves her hair down in relaxed waves, because she likes the way her soon-to-be wife runs her fingers through it whenever they kiss.

And that's it.

Or... it was supposed to be.

That had been the entire plan on paper.

Except when Lexa thinks that'll be end of it, just the plain vows in the church and then a quiet ride back home, Clarke takes her for a surprise ride instead. She takes the long way out to the lake where they had spent so many moon drenched nights falling deeper and more recklessly in love. And it's worth it, all the secretiveness and all the planning, when Lexa stares dumbstruck at the grassy field filled with people.

All the people she hadn't thought would want to come. The same ones she'd felt so silly for even thinking about bothering with an invitation.

Clarke had spent the most of the night before with her merry band of delinquents mowing knee-high grass and setting up tent poles, hanging lanterns and slinging up fake, waxy vinery she'd bought on clearance in the city over everything that stood still. It was tastefully understated, she had decided at around 2am when they'd finally called it a night. Classy even... if you squinted and turned your head just a bit to the side.

It was still technically a small gathering. Nothing but friendly faces who had jumped at the chance to show the quiet girl who served them coffee and sang to the little ones that they actually did care.

And Clarke just beamed next to her with a silent nod when Lexa looked at her to make sure it was real. Because she'd spent weeks planning it all out. Had nearly thrown up a few dozen times just getting down the logistics, all while lying to her fiance through her teeth.

A forgivable sin, she had steadfastly decided.

And so under the cheap vinery in the shade of Lexa's favorite reading tree, Clarke and Lexa recited their vows a second time for their friends and extended family.

[katebishopofearth]

20 questions for 20 writers

tagged by @wheelsup-sevenup

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 69 (nice 😏)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 317,923

3. What fandoms do you write for? Marvel (mostly ironwidow) and Our Flag Means Death. I have some Clexa fics from back in the day but haven't written for the fandom in years.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? i'm kinda surprised by these but i guess that older fics and multichapter fics have more time to accumulate kudos? - Something Worth Living For (2498 kudos) - A Night of Drunken Revelry (564 kudos) - iron masks and spider kisses (534 kudos) - Broken (485 kudos) - The Art of Taking a Blade (461 kudos)

5. Do you respond to comments? YES A THOUSAND TIMES YES. I try to reply to every comment because each one is literally the best part of my day.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oof. The shit I've put Natasha through lol. Probably falling. which is Natasha reflecting on her life as she falls to her death on Vormir. dream. is also up there, it's about kid!Natasha learning to love Yelena as a sister.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? "happiest" is not quantifiable lmao. In the context of canon, maybe Something Worth Living For, it was cathartic and healing to give Clarke and Lexa their happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Yup it's happened a handful of times, luckily few and far between, but they always feel like getting a splinter stuck in my skin for days afterwards.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I've written light smut of the sapphic variety. I'm ace so smut is never about the sex for me, it's about character dynamics, power and intimacy. For example, the (non-explicit) sex scene in iron masks and spider kisses is about Toni baring her deepest secrets to Natasha and letting herself be vulnerable with her, and Natasha's acceptance of Toni's scars and past.

10. Do you write crossovers? Nope. My brain doesn't work that way.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I think that some of my very early ironwidow fics have ended up on Wattpad :/

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not that I know of

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yup I've written a few early ironwidow fics for a challenge waaaaaay back in 2014, with the talented @auripigmentum, @kuailongs and SatinSatire. They helped me find my footing with writing ironwidow: Chemical Reaction (Tony gets kidnapped, Nat comes to his rescue), Never Simple (Natasha finds out secrets about her own past, angst ensues), and Good Intentions (speakeasy era AU that still lives in my head rent-free)

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? i'd be lying if i said anything other than ironwidow. It's the ship I keep coming back to for over a decade.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Oh god. The teen vigilante Avengers AU I was writing in 2014. Idk if it'll ever see the light of day but it was my all-consuming pride and joy for months.

16. What are your writing strengths? idk, you tell me. probably putting characters through angsty situations lmao. Also action scenes (thank u Warrior Cats).

17. What are your writing weaknesses? actually writing lmao. It's hard to get into the mood/mindest for writing. Also writing multichapter fics – my attention span isn't built for anything longer than a 5+1.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I rarely do this because I know that code-mixing (mixing two or more languages when speaking) is incredibly nuanced, varying depending on language, context, and individual speakers. I pretty much only do this when the character canonically code-mixes in speech, and I try to stick to how they would speak, in order to sound as natural as possible.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Warrior Cats when I was about 12 on deviantart. Good times.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Oh MAN. It's hard to choose a favourite child. I don't think this is my most well-written fic, but the question is asking for a favourite fic not a well-written one, and it's probably iron masks and spider kisses. I loved exploring fem!Toni, and her relationship with her gender and femininity. It's a specific flavour of ironwidow that I haven't found in many other fics (tho there are a couple out there that definitely influenced how i wrote this fic). It's also truly a labour of love – I started writing this around the time Endgame was coming out, and wrote it over a time of enormous change, angst and upheaval in my life.

This was so much fun! I love talking about my writing haha and sharing older fics.

Tagging: @queeenpersephone @autumnwoodsdreamer @missmacfire also i'm realising that i don't remember which of my mutuals is a writer (it's 1 am u can't blame me for this) so if you're a writer – especially if you're on the OFMD fic server – consider yourself tagged!

[bellamysgriffin]

Requesting one simple fluffy love confession for Bellarke please?

i have no excuse for this taking as long as it did or being as long as it is but here it is! tbh the fluffiest love confession i wrote for them is probably in my fic take this sinking boat and point it home, so this in turn, turned into more of a rumination on what love means to them. the love confession itself is post 6.10 <3

reminder: i am currently accepting blarke fic requests! i mainly write canon, but am open to AUs, i also mostly write angst with a happy ending. other than that, feel free to request whatever you desire <3

read on ao3

If you ask Bellamy when he first began to love Clarke, he wouldn’t know how to begin to answer the question. But if you ask him when he knew he loved her, well, that would be easy. It started so long ago. Six years, give or take a century, a lifetime, or perhaps, just one, long moment. 

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

It starts like this: a flash of blonde slips into his periphery, and before he has time to react, arms are around his neck and hair is in his mouth and his brain is saying how? and thank god and I thought you were dead and I was going crazy without you and the words I love you float up among it all and he’s so stunned by the truth of those words that he doesn’t even think about saying them out loud. 

He does think about it later, though. Bellamy has never been in love, he realizes, as he watches her sleep, the fire flickering over her face. He’s not quite sure what to do about it. He could tell her. He could do that, it’s an option. But Clarke doesn’t love him. She loves Spacewalker, even if she won’t admit it. And does she really need to know? He doesn’t want anything from her. He doesn’t need anything to change. It’s just there now, this love, closing around his heart like a fist, and that’s all.

So, in this way, Bellamy becomes well-trained in the art of holding his tongue. 

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

He thinks about saying it before he leaves for the mountain. But she looks at her hands like she can still see Finn’s blood on them and the Commander’s at her side like a shadow and in the end he just tells her to be safe. 

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

When the fire from the explosion almost swallows him whole, his only thought is whether or not his charred and burning body could crawl to the radio in time to hear her voice one last time, to tell her – 

And then he survives, and the thought evaporates, floating away above his head like smoke.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

If there was ever a moment Bellamy might have told Clarke the truth, it was after the mountain had fallen. He had thought she didn’t love him, but now he’s not so sure. 

And then she says she’s leaving and the words wither and die inside of him like leaves in the winter. He could say, “I love you, don’t go,” but the words would be a weapon to use against her. It would be the same as holding a gun to her head and ordering her through the gates.

And he can’t do that. And he won’t do that. He won’t let his love be cruel, because it’s better than that, it’s worth more than that. After all they’ve been through, it has to be.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

I’ll tell her when she comes back, he decides two nights later. Only she never does come back.

And then there’s Gina and Lexa and ALIE and just when they think they’ve saved the day, everything’s over and how can he tell her now?

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

So it changes. I’ll tell her if the world doesn’t end. Then, I’ll tell her if we make it to the ring.

But the world does end. And she doesn’t make it to the ring.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

The words I love you weigh on his tongue like stones in the pocket of a body in the water. There is no one left to hear his confession, but he makes it anyway. A month after her death (a concept he still can’t wrap his head around, Clarke and dead, Clarke and gone, Clarke and never coming back), he stands by the window and says, “I love you,” in a whisper. He looks at the Earth as it burns and says, “Clarke.” Again, “Clarke. I love you. I have always, always –”

And then he stops. Because he has to.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Clarke doesn’t think about telling Bellamy she loves him until the world has ended. No, she dreams about it instead.

I love you, she says, and he’s bleeding out in her arms.

I love you, she says, and there’s a knife in her hand and in his gut.

Sometimes it’s I love you, she says, and he holds her as she’s dying and Clarke likes those dreams better.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

She knows she loves Bellamy when she sends him to the mountain. Clarke has never been a superstitious person. But her decision not to tell him is like a protective charm, a forcefield, a blanket of safety she wraps around his shoulders like a child being put to bed. 

Or rather, to tell him would be to place a curse upon his head because 

I love you – and her father’s body floats in space forever because

I love you – and Finn’s body slumped against a pole, her saliva still wetting his lips

I love you – and who knows what will happen to Bellamy now? If she doesn’t say it, if he never knows, then maybe it’s not really goodbye. 

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

She falls in love again with the very woman who took her first love, with the very woman who sent death and destruction Clarke’s way before she ever knew horror, before she ever knew blood. She falls in love with a woman so fierce and powerful and magnetic, so broken and solemn, with caverns inside of her stretching deeper than Clarke could ever hope of seeing.

Her love for Bellamy does not fade. It’s lodged under her heart like a rock. It is a safe place for it to be. 

She does not tell Lexa she loves her. Not until the end, anyway, when she knows that she will never see her again. 

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

And then the world is ending, and every time her heart wants to tell him, she is chastened by a brain that reminds her of Lexa Dad Finn Wells Lexa Dad Finn Wells Lexa Dad Finn Wells – over and over, a never-ending loop. People she loved. People she lost. 

And no, she won’t tell him. She won’t tell him because every time they part ways, she wonders if the world might end before she sees him again, and by not telling him, somewhere she is convinced that she is ensuring them just a little bit more time, the guarantee of one more moment, one more touch, one more look even if it’s only a look. 

It’s not until the death wave is roaring above their heads that she tries to tell him but of course, he doesn’t want to hear it. Because he knows what it means. 

“I just want to say…” 

(I love you.)

(I’m in love with you.)

(I have always been in love with you.)

But the ring hovers over their heads like a dream, and if she doesn’t say it, then maybe she can get there. 

“Hurry.”

She doesn’t say it.

And she doesn’t get there either. 

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

“Bellamy,” Clarke says into the radio, a month after the death wave, when the lack of food and water are getting to her and her brain is swimming through a warm fog, “if you can hear me…” She trails off. “Bellamy. I love you.”

She’s not afraid to say it anymore. Because it’s not goodbye if he’s already gone. 

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Bellamy had promised himself that if they survived the end of the world, he would tell her how he felt. And they did survive, both of them. By some miracle, she endured the fire and came out the other side, as beautiful as the day he left her to burn. 

But Bellamy breaks his promise.

Because there is Echo. And she is real. She is not Clarke, but she is not nothing. She is family, in the truest sense of the world. If the Bellamy who stood by the window and whispered the truth to a version of Clarke that could never hear him was here now, holding her on the bed of a prison ship, six years after the end of the world, he would be whispering the words into her ears, over and over, for as long as she would let him. But that Bellamy is not here. 

He loves Clarke, or he loves the memory of Clarke, or he loves what Clarke used to be, or he’s learning to love what this Clarke is, or however you want to say it. He feels the fist around his heart, weakened, but still gripping tightly. 

But make no mistake. What he has with Echo is different and quieter and softer and weaker. But it is absolutely love. 

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

In the end, of course, it’s no match for Clarke. It never was. It could survive a love affair with a dead girl, but here? Now? On Earth? His love for Clarke grips tighter and tighter around his heart, leaving no room for anyone else, until finally, Bellamy is convinced (as he kneels, hands bound, on the floor of the fighting pits) that his heart has been ground to nothing but dust. 

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

And then he sees her again. And Madi tells him about the radio. And there it is, ever-so-slightly, as if waking up from a long and dormant sleep, the sound of his heart as it beats. 

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Does Clarke think about telling Bellamy? Of course she does. And then he kisses Echo in the sunshine and he kisses Echo in the firelight and he kisses Echo in front of her and when she’s not looking she knows that he’s holding her and he buries his face into her hair as if he never wants to emerge and Clarke thinks that maybe everything would have been fine if she never had to see what she wanted being given so freely to someone else.

Does Clarke think about telling Bellamy she loves him? Why tell him something he so clearly doesn’t want to hear?

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

In the end, she forfeits all rights to those words. To those words, and to everything else. In war, we all have to choose a side. It’s the first time since they set foot on the ground that she hasn’t chosen his.

(It doesn’t matter that she changed her mind. Not to Raven, not to Murphy, not to Echo, and not to anyone else.)

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

The ground was a fresh start. Maybe this can be too, Clarke thinks. And the way Bellamy smiles at her, the way he laughs, even jokes. “A little pathetic, maybe,” he says, “but not crazy.” It feels like having him back. She finally feels it. What she dreamed of all those six years. She finally feels like he’s home. 

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Bellamy knows those six years are never coming back. But he looks at Clarke smiling in the Sanctum sunshine. Bruises in the shape of his fingers still ring around her neck. His left knee aches from the knife she stabbed it with.

And yet, none of that seems to matter. And that’s how Bellamy knows that maybe, just maybe, he might be ready to tell her. 

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Clarke hasn’t been so happy in longer than she can remember. So she’s not surprised when the rug is pulled out from under her again. The blue dress that she hoped Bellamy would like her in brushes against her ankles but she can’t even feel it. Instead, Russell Lightbourne’s face looms in front of her. The last thing she thinks before it all goes dark, as selfish and cruel as it is, is that she hopes that when Bellamy finds out, he’s devastated. She hopes that, in spite of all she’s done, in spite of her betrayals, he still loves her enough to mourn her. 

And then she thinks of nothing, nothing, nothing… 

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Of course, he’s not just devastated. He’s furious. His blood is made of fire, and his eyes have gone dark. When the rope is around Russell’s throat, it feels easy, too easy, like the years and the promises of doing better and making peace have fallen away and turned to ashes. He is again the boy who walked into a mountain filled with death and decay simply because Clarke asked him to. He is again the boy who dressed up like a grounder and walked among enemies who would gladly have had his head on a suicide mission to keep her safe. 

He would do anything for her. Anything. He only lets go because he thinks that she would want him to. 

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

He thought that moment was the worst it could get, the moment where he looked into her eyes and saw someone else looking back. But it’s not. Because when her heart stops beating and her breath lies frozen in her chest, it’s worse than Praimfaya, and it’s worse than Josephine, because it is in front of him, it is fact, and there is no room for hope or confusion, or maybe-she-isn’ts, or maybe-I’m-wrongs, there is only the gaping, yawning mouth of grief growing wider and wider inside of him. 

He kept waiting, all these years, for the right time to tell her, but maybe it’s not about him. He saves her in the end, because of course he does, he has to. But she could have died without knowing he loved her, and a person deserves to know that someone loved them. A person deserves to know that they were loved.  

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

(Of course, she does know. She’s known for a long time. Just as he knows too.)

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Josephine is gone, nothing but an empty chip and a pile of dead code. But the battle is not over, and Clarke is about to head back into the heart of it. And despite everything in him crying out against him, Bellamy knows he has to let her go. They stand outside Gabriel’s tent. He will stay here, and she will go to Sanctum. They will both do their part. Bellamy swallows, and it gets caught in his throat. “I already brought you back to life once this week. I’m not sure I’ll be able to do it again.” If he was trying to sound casual with this half-hearted joke, he failed abysmally, but Clarke doesn’t care. 

“You stay safe, too.” 

Gabriel is standing thirty feet away, and she turns to go to him, but Bellamy grabs her hand. “Wait, Clarke…” He doesn’t know how to say it except to say it. “I love you.” It’s strange that it should be so easy after all these years. But it was not telling her that was the hard part. Telling her now may be the easiest thing Bellamy has ever done.

And Clarke wants to say it back. She opens her mouth with the words on her lips, but then she hears, “If something happens to me.” She hears, “I was just gonna say.” She hears, “If I don’t see you again.” And she can’t bear saying goodbye. 

So, instead, she says, “After this is over, we’ll get out of Sanctum and build that compound.”

She’s worried about breaking his heart, but Bellamy knows her, he knows her better than anyone ever has, and he knows what she’s saying. “We’ll build houses,” he whispers.

She nods. “One for us. You, me, and Madi.” 

He smiles, then. One that strikes Clarke straight to her heart. “We’ll have chickens in the backyard,” he says, though he knows it’s impractical and improbable and in all likelihood impossible. But when he says it, he believes it. 

“A garden that would make Monty proud,” she whispers, thinking of the berries she tasted after Praimfaya, wishing he could taste them too. 

“We’ll have windows made of real glass and everything,” he says, and though he has no idea how glass is made, he can see them there, shielded from the elements outside. Safe. Happy.

“And we’ll be together,” Clarke says, meaning it in every sense of the word.

“Together.” An echo, but it’s not just an echo of her voice just now. It’s an echo of her voice then, of all the times she’s said it and all the times he’s said it back. It’s a promise. One that this time he intends to keep. 

Clarke looks over her shoulder at Gabriel. He’s letting them have their moment, but she can see in his face that it’s time. “I have to go,” she says.

Bellamy closes his eyes. He believes in that dream, but he knows it’s fragile too. Just the day before she was dead in his arms. It could happen again. That’s the thing. Bellamy and Clarke know that it could always happen again. “I know,” he whispers. “Just…” 

Clarke takes his hand. “I know.” As she drops it, she fully intends on leaving. On never looking back. But Clarke knows what it’s like to live a life full of regrets. She will always live with them, always. They will always haunt her dreams. But this one doesn’t have to. Before she gets the chance to change her mind, she grabs Bellamy’s shirt in both her fists and pulls him to her, kissing him deeply, fervently. His lips taste of salt and his beard is rough against her cheek. For a moment, he is surprised and then his arms are wrapped around her, and he’s kissing her back, and Clarke knows that even when she pulls away, this moment will last forever. That she will always be here, somewhere in her heart, kissing Bellamy under the Sanctum moon, with a promise of the future still fresh on her lips. 

She pulls away and turns before either of them have the time to say anything. He watches her go until she disappears into the forest, with hope tending more towards faith, that he’ll see her again.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

(Clarke waits until the battle is over to tell Bellamy she loves him too.)

[rivertalesien]

All the show they could bring back why freaking Warrior Nun? I liked where it ended tbh never got Avatrice at all. None of the shows hit it tbh.Where's Xena?? A Lexa spinoff??

I think we can let people be happy for the small wins that come around. They're not exactly common.

I would love for someone to pick up Motherland Fort Salem and give it a proper restart with at least 16 eps per season. Or to make a graphic novel series so that world can be fully explored. Something.

No one's tastes are going to be the same, but one thing is pretty certain: the industry isn't going to give one penny for queer content if they don't have to. Queer stuff got dropped faster than anything else; if WN can survive a little longer, that's a good thing.

I've also got my gf's word on this that Xena fans spent two decades now trying to bring the show back, it almost happening once or twice, but ultimately, Rob Tapert didn't want to do it and quashed the last attempt. Doesn't explain why they couldn't have any anniversary offerings or celebrations, but if there is one property out there that has been massively pissed away, it's probably Xena.

A Lexa spinoff was never going to happen. Aside from JR being one of the worst decision makers allowed to ruin a series, he also has rights to Lexa, the character. Nothing could be done with her without involving him. And who wants to involve him? Fans have made her a far more intriguing character than the show did, anyway.

I'm happy for WN fans, though I still think all of this is a long ways off. I hope the strikes will lead to some serious change in the industry that will mean even more opportunities and better values in the system.

if it means all of them can come back in one form an another, it's worth waiting for.

[lexadovah]

Maybe I should finally introduce myself here lol..

Hi, I’m Lexa!

I’m yet another Twitter runaway as the ship crashes and burns, (I’ll still be over there until the bitter end though, same handle @ exohlexa)

The basics:

I’m 31, married, have a toddler that keeps me very busy, and a degree in psychology that I’ll probably never use

I’ve always loved fantasy, and am a sucker for complex magic systems, dragons, good vs evil, political intrigue, and a good character-driven story

I mostly play rpgs and especially love games with horses and dogs because they are best boys and girls. Also games where you can pet the animals are *chefs kiss*

I love reading, and mostly read high fantasy YA/NA but I do enjoy reading some true crime and memoirs about people I find interesting

My dream job was always to be an author, and although I don’t think I’ll ever do that full time I do have a goal to one day get at least one of my original works published💕

Main Fandoms: dragon age, mass effect, game of thrones/house of the dragon

Some other favourites worth mentioning:

Video games: assassins creed, red dead redemption 2, the sims 2&3, animal crossing new horizons, stardew valley, fortnite, immortals fenyx rising, pokemon, the witcher, tomb raider, greedfall, fable, grand theft auto

Books: acotar, realm of the elderlings, the hobbit, lotr, a song of ice and fire, the tide child, the bone witch, priory of the orange tree, fourth wing

TV shows: stranger things, the sopranos, jersey shore, doctor who, the walking dead

Movies: armageddon, titanic, lotr trilogy

ANYWAY that’s basically me in a nutshell, I’m super awkward and shy but love screaming about my current hyperfixations😌

btw here’s my pets: