May 25, 2020
I haven't watched The 100 since Lexa died
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Japan
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from China
seen from Belgium
I haven't watched The 100 since Lexa died
Clexa Week, Day 3.
Clarke wakes up eight years in the future, where her college best friend happens to be her girlfriend.
“I don’t want to be me,” she confesses, before throwing herself on her small bed, “Not without her,” she sobs, breaking down into tears. Slowly, the darkness creeps in, and Clarke falls asleep.
After losing her love before being about to cherish her, Clarke goes through a lot, cutting off her hair and getting a face tattoo. Only when she wakes up that night, things are different.
Depths of Love
The Pursuit
~7k words, rated M.
Renowned across the frontier as one of the fastest, deadliest guns in the West, there's been no lack of adventure in the life of bounty hunter Lexa Woods. But she gets far more than she bargained for when she stops by the local saloon before taking on her next job.
Because that's when Lexa sees her.
Read on AO3
Clexaweek - Day 4: Roommates
We’re just friends who happen to live together
The fic is from Clexaweek 2017. So are the edits. But tumblr deleted my old post, apparently it was inappropriate, so I’m reposting it. I had fun making them, and I’m mad that tumblr got rid of it so I wanted to share it again.
Roommates AU where Clarke and Lexa live in the same apartment and have been for the past two years. There's clearly something there with them but well, denial's strong. Raven and Octavia have no chill when it comes to "clexa" and this fic is just some things Clarke and Lexa deal with when living together.
read here || other clexaweek works
Clexa Week 2020 - Day 7 - Free Day
(thank you @butmakeitgayblog for beta'ing and cheering me on 🙌 and @dreamsaremywords for helping me avoid the pitchforks and torches)
Read it on AO3.
–
Eventide
“Your Majesty?”
A queen did not start.
A queen did not get distracted while being courted by a handsome foreign duke, either, but Clarke had never been quite like her peers, for better and for worse.
She dragged her gaze from the horizon line and met the kind eyes of Duke Finneas; a boy who meant well but could never be her equal match.
Perhaps he too meant well. Though Clarke’s heart yearned for the kind of devotion he would give, her brain craved a wicked mind like hers. Someone just as brilliant and terrible as her.
Someone else.
“You are distracted today.”
He said it kindly, amusement clear in his voice, and Clarke hated him for it. Still she bowed her head, as she should, and blushed like the besotted girl she was supposed to be.
“My apologies, Finn.” He preened at hearing the sound of his nickname, as he had asked her to call him by it countless times before. “I sent the best of my Queensguard to the border and they are expected to return today. I can barely wait to hear whatever news they bring me. And I am… naturally worried about their safety.”
He smiled softly at her. “Few would be so concerned about the lives of those who are sworn to protect them. You have a noble heart, my queen.”
The irony almost made her smile.
Clarke + Lexa (A Romeo and Juliet AU)
“What is she doing here?”
The air steals from her lungs as her eyes fall to the offender in question, her hand tightening lethally around the stem of her glass. Clarke could do nothing more than clench her jaw painfully as she watched the mortal enemy of her family’s bloodline nod and smirk smugly at a scowling passing stranger.
“I don’t know,” she seethed.
Her heart throbbed with indignant disbelief. Though she shouldn’t have bothered with dubiety at any actions rising from her, knowing quite intimately the ends to which the whole lot would stoop to make a point.
At least she seemed to be alone this time.
“Well I’m not going to stand for it. I’m going to have her removed.”
“No, Bellamy,” she said sternly, lifting a hand to the man’s chest to impede his path. “You will not cause a scene.”
“She’s doing well enough of that on her own.” His emphatic gesture drew her attention back to the interloper, feeling a spark of something dark and unbecoming at the way the woman’s eyes traveled along the bust of a party reveler’s gown.
Gritting her jaw at the blatant appreciation, Clarke drew herself up and continued decisively. “I will go speak with her and remind her that she is… not welcomed in these halls. A moment, please.“
Regally squaring her shoulders, Clarke handed her forgotten drink off to a waiter, folding her hands behind her back as she swept across the floor. She felt her stomach tighten in apprehension and annoyance as a twinkling set of green latched onto her instead as though nothing were out of the ordinary as she watched Clarke approach.
Stopping just short of barreling into the self satisfied woman, Clarke expelled an anxious breath of air through her nose as she struggled to restrain herself. “What are you doing here?”
The cheeky grin she registered before receiving a prim bow only served to raise her hackles and internal temperature just that much more.
Straightening, the woman tucked the tips of her fingers into the tight lapel of her posh looking jacket, an air of self indulgence radiating her every word.
“You know how I love a good party.”
“I don’t presume to know what you do and do not enjoy, Ms. Montague.”
Tipping slightly forward, the woman smiled devilishly. “Now, Clarke… We both know that simply is not true.”
Feeling the flush explode across the apples of her cheeks at her regret of her choice of words, Clarke’s eyes darted around to register those whose steely gazes lingered on them through the exchange. “You have to go, Lexa. They’re already unhappy with your presence here.”
“Fortunate for us all that I am not here for their enjoyment, is it not?”
“Lexa-”
“You lot can be unbearably no fun when you want to be… Very well,” she conceded airily, holding her hand up in a show of surrender. “If you say I must go, then I shall leave.”
“Tha-”
“But it will be you who must show me out… If for nothing other than to save us both a scene at the rough hands of others.”
Words dying on her tongue, Clarke floundered a moment, miffed with herself for not having seen that coming. She knew the games, the never ending battle of wit between them quite well enough by now. How she’d walked right into that checkmate of reasoning…
Eyes doing a final lap of the ballroom, Clarke nodded discreetly as she stepped forward and gripped Lexa by the arm. “Do not make this worse than it already-”
“Unhand me!” Lexa exclaimed with a smile as she very much willingly allowed herself to be dragged from the room.
Rolling her eyes deeply, Clarke realized she should’ve seen that coming too.
___________________________________
“Why must you do this every time?” Clarke sighed and then moaned, hands gripping fistfuls of brunette locks as lips trailed over the swell of her breasts.
“My eyes screamed for the chance to see you in this gown, what would you have me do,” Lexa mumbled into the giving flesh. “When I spied it hanging in your chambers, I knew neither God nor the stars above could stop me from making an appearance.”
Grunting annoyedly, Clarke gently pulled the woman back up, cupping her jaw as she panted against kiss bruised lips. “You can’t keep doing these things. They’re going to hurt you one day-”
“I’d very much like to see them try,” Lexa grinned roguishly, her chin lifting defiantly as her hands continued to wander.
“Why must you tantalize them with offerings of conflict?” Clarke asked between pulls from primrose and champagne bubbled lips. “So I or you both may be caught in the crossfire? You’re perfectly content with such thoughts, Lexa?… My family, like yours,” she emphasized for what felt like the hundredth time, “have generations of hatred between them-”
“And yet I love you… With every breath of my lungs.”
Melting into the woman currently pinning her to the wall of the small drawing room, Clarke rested her forehead against her lover’s, needing a moment to clear her mind from the words and suppleness of her kiss. “… This peace, this truce… it is fragile… If they begin warring again-”
“I will side with you,” Lexa pulled back with a small serene smile. “The absolution of that you must hold within your heart, Clarke. The surety of my love and devotion… The sun will rise each morning, the tide will surge and retreat, and I will denounce the very sound of my name, rather than live a life without you.”
“You cannot say such things,” Clarke whispered with pained solemnity, hands cupping the face looking upon her in adoration. “I will not survive should anything happen to keep you from me. And they would plunge heaven and earth asunder at the very whisperings of you and me.”
“That will not happen… My heart is yours. Nothing beyond that matters.”
“Your family-”
“Is stubborn,” Lexa cut in softly, trailing fingers over the cleft of her jaw and chin. “And foolish. And blind for not seeing how beautiful the vowels and consonants the name Capulet can feel upon the tongue.”
Clarke could only fall deeper into the woman, shuddering with baited breath with each declaration, touch, and kiss.
“We will wait for our time. For when I am the head of house and crest… And when that day comes? Family name will no longer matter… As yours and mine will be the same-”
Lexa’s words cut off as their lips crashed together. Strong hands ever steadying as Clarke’s heart swelled beyond her ribs, beyond her body, at the promise and need to reciprocate in kind. She very nearly wanted to cry with it all, imagining a someday that only felt real within the safety of those arms.
And then she heard a knock.
A small gasp burst from her lips as she pulled back with a pop.
They stood frozen, staring flushed and slack jawed at each other for the longest beat of a moment. A smirk began to pull at the edges of plump lips, blue eyes flashing dangerously in warning to whatever ridiculous thought was playing through that infuriatingly gorgeous mind.
A second knock sounded, effectively kicking Clarke’s brain into action. “Go,” she whispered in a frantic rush, unceremoniously shoving Lexa toward the window. “Go, go, go.”
“Ow,” Lexa chuckled under her breath, steps stumbling across the room under urgent hands. “Here I stand dousing you in sweet nothings of devotion, and I receive naught but a boot to the backside in return.”
“You’ll receive much more to your backside if they find you locked away with me,” Clarke hissed, flipping the latch and throwing open the window. “Now go.”
“What? No farewell kiss to tide me and my aching heart over?”
“Lexa,” she grumbled, fisting a hand to the front of her velveted jacket, feeling the stiff embroidered stitching of the Montague crest that stood as a bane on her heart and happiness. She smashed their lips together for a fraction of a second, resolutely ignoring the vibrating laughter against her mouth.
“My word,” Lexa grinned when Clarke pulled away. “Contain yourself, m'lady.”
Huffing quietly, Clarke pushed her to the edge of the sill, holding one hand to steady the woman as she lifted herself over to the ground outside. “The garden should be clear of the party by now, take the rose path to the servant gate. Now, go-”
“Wait,” Lexa interrupted, hands landing on the door of the window to stop it before it could close. “… Shall I come to you tonight?”
“Lexa.”
“Honorably, of course. If only to help free you from the intricacies of your gown.”
Snorting indelicately at that blatant lie, Clarke shook her head. “My dress? I’m sure.”
“If the occasion should arise that you require my hands in other matters?” Lexa whispered into the air between them, leaning until their lips were a mere breath apart, “I would joyously be at your service… However you should need me.”
The sigh escaped her before she knew what she was doing, neck stretching forward to chase the mischievous smirk as it danced just out of her reach.
“Tonight, my love,” Lexa grinned, releasing her hands from the window and beginning to walk backwards toward the path.
Correcting herself from where she had swayed in pursuit of contact, Clarke glared at the glinting green eyes that shone brightly under the hang of the moon. “You will be the death of me.”
“Strange. Within me, you breathe only life.”
Rolling her eyes at the saccharine words, Clarke shook her head and eased the windows closed. “Goodnight, Lexa.”
“Until tonight,” she emphasized through the darkness that had already fallen, finally turning away at the edge of the small grassy patch that lined the sprawling home to take off down the path as Clarke had instructed.
As she snapped shut the latch on the folded shut window, voices filtered in from the hall to her ears. “Clarke?” came the call along with another knock before the handle turned and a head looked in. “There you are,” Bellamy breathed a disgruntled sigh of relief. “Octavia, she’s here.”
“Where have you been?” the younger Blake sibling demanded lightly as she hustled past her brother in the doorway. “We’ve been searching for ages. Why are you hiding in here? What did that wretched girl do?”
“What?” Clarke asked, feeling a slice of anger at the descriptor. “She did nothing. I asked her to leave and she did.”
“Then why the lack of answer when we first passed this room?”
“Not that you are owed an answer from me,” Clarke frowned, drawing herself up with a haughty air of elegance, “but I wished to take a moment for myself. These parties are taxing on the sensibilities as it is… An… annoyance such as that woman’s presence only adds to my distaste for it all.”
She felt sick at the words, the lies coating her mouth thicker and more acridly than normal with the ghost of soft lips and hands still fresh on her skin. She loathed the mantle of feud defined propriety she was forced to maintain. But life was what it was. And her name was unerringly Capulet, so the lies were a hideous necessity to her life, as well as the safety of the fleeing figure who commanded the very beat of her heart.
A hand softly landed on her arm, her gaze shifting up to caring brown eyes. “I’m sorry the party was ruined by her, I knew I should have stepped in myself.”
“Don’t be silly, Bellamy,” she lightly assured, patting his hand warmly before pulling away toward the door. “She is nothing I cannot handle.” Clarke’s heart tripped over that decidedly more pleasant falsehood, smiling to herself at the cunning, sharp face smirking frustratingly within her mind’s eye.
“Well, let us all forget that unpleasantness for the time being and try to enjoy the party,” Bellamy said jovially as the siblings followed shortly behind her out into the hall.
“Yes, let us enjoy what’s left of the festivities.”
“I have a feeling the night is going to turn out much more pleasurable than we’d originally anticipated.”
Clarke didn’t bother to temper her smile at the man’s offhand statement as they reentered the great hall.
‘Yes… More pleasurable indeed.’
and it’s a bittersweet (symphony)
“My name’s Clarke Griffin,” she says, and it’s professional despite how self conscious she feels when in reality it should be the opposite. She isn’t the one trapezing about New York in red and black spandex, and yet, somehow, face to face with this person she feels awfully small. “I work at the Ark.” Clarke pauses. “You haven’t told me yours.”
“Spider-man,” the woman says, and Clarke can hear the smile in it. Somewhere behind that mask, something small and gentle and warm. “Spider-woman as my friends like to call me. Or at least they would if I had any friends.”
The corner of Clarke’s lips quirk, and she tries to stop it but the resulting grin is inevitable. Her grasp tightens on the tape recorder in her hand and oh. This is bad. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
or that spider-woman!Lexa au (read here on ao3)