This year marks the 9th Clexaweek (more Clexa "Day" now), but the 10th anniversary of the Clexa kiss!
This year is continuing the new tradition from last year: rather than assigning themes to the days, it's a free for all on March 3rd. Post whatever you want! Create something new, or update a Work in Progress. Share and support each other's work, leave comments, share fic recs and reblog your favorite art. In honor of the 10th anniversary of the kiss, feel free to either create new fics, drabble, one shots, art, etc of a Clexa kiss. You can also share previous kisses you've written. Use #10yearsofclexakisses and #clexaweek25 for the tags, and feel free to send me a link on the 3rd if I haven't reblogged yours yet! (shoutout to thatonewherelexasachef for deciding to tag 10yearsofclexakisses. Such a cute idea!)
If you would like to make something new and want a theme - you can send me an ask for a prompt idea, or feel free to check out years worth of prompts here.
Guidelines for posting here.
To view previous clexaweeks, here's a link.
In these times, Clexa remains a light in the dark. Your contributions to the fandom are beyond appreciated. Thank you for keeping Clexa alive with your creations- and giving people something that brings them joy.
Following a skirmish at the contested border between Azgeda and Trikru, an Ice Nation captive is brought before Heda for interrogation. As belligerent and stubborn as she is wily, could Lexa find a use for this blunt instrument?
"I admit, after you left, I felt… inclined to hurry the process along. I do want to give you time to work within your ranks, because I trust you, and I know how capable you are. But also I—” Lexa falters again. Gives the barest shake of her head, her eyes staying glued to the hands held within her own as she visibly forces herself to speak. “Selfishly, I want this conflict finished as soon as possible.”
Clarke can't help the tremble that laces her smile because she knows. She knows. And it's nothing to lean into Lexa in the moment. To press in against the soft hollow of her cheek and dip closer to kiss the corner of Lexa's mouth. To feel Lexa turn into the touch just enough for Clarke to brush the adorable tip of her nose.
She wonders sometimes, in the quiet of such moments, if Lexa really understands exactly how precious she is. Just how beautiful and gentle, beneath the death and the loss and the weight of her blood soaked crown.
Lexa sighs into Clarke's touch, her breath a warm relief to the cold air that spurs Clarke's hands to grip tighter.
Her nose bumps against Clarke's again, seeking more, as Lexa whispers,
“Polis is lonelier without you.”
It's hard for Clarke to keep it together when yet another piece of her heart turns to shrapnel, jagged and deathly in its destruction. It makes old wounds sting like new as she adds the confession to the mountain of sins she cannot fix for them, for anyone, by sheer will alone. Because she would. So many pieces of her scream in duty-bound rebellion with how much she needs Lexa to know that she would do anything to erase the pain of her absence - to wash away the nights spent apart and spare them both.
She would, if only she could.
Clarke hugs her. There's really nothing else for it. There's nothing that feels as right in that moment more than surging closer, stretching her arms to loop around Lexa's neck and pull her in.
“I'm here now,” Clarke says, and seals her paltry offering with a kiss to the column of Lexa's throat.
She ignores her captive's flustered start at the tenderness and tucks into Lexa. Any worry for how she clings more than she means to is left for another day as her arms tighten at the burst of that familiar scent that is entirely Lexa; all forest greenery mixed with the clean scent of her sweat against skin that carries lingering notes of some floral sweetened soap.
The coil of muscle softens into a mass of Commander-shaped jelly when Lexa sags against her, knees seeming to buckle with how fiercely she folds into the hug. Her arms cinch around Clarke's waist so tightly it nearly lifts her onto the tips of her toes; hip bones pressing to hip bones, ribs crushed to ribs.
They hold each other in the creaking silence of the hut so long Clarke's feet pool in pins and pricks, offering little else more than sniffles buried into coat sleeves and armor and the syncing of juddered heartbeats. The buckles of Lexa's coat dig into Clarke's stomach and the pommel of her sword knocks rough against her hip, but she can't bring herself to care. Not when she's this close. Not when every press of Clarke's lips to Lexa's throat is mirrored against her own, tender in its supplication.
The hands that hold her feel restless against her back. Constant in their moving, gentle in their caress. They rub languid circuits from her shoulders to the tops of her hips, as though Lexa can't quite control the need to touch her as much as humanly possible, and it's only when Clarke opens her eyes just to see that face again, that she loosens her hold and slowly, so slowly, inches herself away.
Lexa doesn't let her go far. Keeps Clarke right where she wants her with a dig of fingertips against leather and spine, temple resting against temple and cheek against kohl smudged cheek, as she fills all the spaces Clarke has missed her touch. Heat traces over her skin in Lexa's shaky exhale as the snuggle-inclined warlord nuzzles closer, drifting the plumpness of her lips along Clarke's chin, across her mouth, until Clarke doesn't know where one breath ends and another begins. Eyes sparkle under the hang of lashy, hooded eyes when Lexa sways further into her.
“May I?”
The vulnerability of it stings with just how small she sounds - as though she still doubts this. As though Lexa has no idea that the memory of her mouth, and her taste, and the sweet bite of her teeth were the only things that has kept Clarke sane in her misery for all of these weeks.
Clarke's mouth tugs into a smile at the question. Even more as their lips brush when she speaks.
“Please.”
The word is barely out before Lexa is the one surging forward in a tidal wave of emotion, taking Clarke's mouth in a kiss so blisteringly gentle it makes her rock on the heels of her feet. Her lips mold to Clarke's on a sharp inhale, one that liquifies into a sigh of relief; it's the same relief that ripples through Clarke's chest like an electric bloom of confetti.
Clarke chases her mouth. Bends and reshapes herself to the mold of Lexa's body every time she dares to pull back even an inch for a gasp of air. It's too dizzying being this close to her. Reclaiming her. Letting their lips slant together in more configurations than she can keep count, each one letting Clarke relearn the taste and feel of her.
She tries and fails to let Lexa set the tempo. Entirely too enamored with reacquainting herself with how soft and luscious those lips are for it to be anything but a lost cause. How could she be expected to control it when Lexa makes this sound. This sound, so feminine and so devastatingly fucking light. Not a whimper or a moan, but something in between, and it only makes Clarke need to hear it more as she cups Lexa's cheeks, keeping her close, keeping her steady, as she changes the angle to dive back in.
The first brush of tongue makes Lexa whimper, and Clarke feels the tremble of Lexa's lips on the next breath she takes - feels the way it makes her hands turn greedy. She mumbles a curse around the lush bottom lip caught between her teeth when palms slip down, smooth over her ass and grab her. Their hips bump with restless intent and Clarke is barely able to pull her attention away from the languid sweeps of Lexa's mouth long enough to feel the nudge of a knee against hers. She stumbles just enough to let them fall open. Just enough for a muscled thigh to press in tight, answering the rocking of her hips that Clarke hadn't even noticed through the fog of Lexa's kiss.
But then the world feels empty and life loses all meaning and she's not even being dramatic because the taste of those intoxicating lips is wrenched away without warning.
A clexaweek2025 snippet (because they deserve a soft epilogue, exactly a decade after the events of 3x07)
May these words be the first to find your ears
The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here
Though your eyes will need some time to adjust
To the overwhelming light surrounding us
- Light, Sleeping At Last
Lexa feels it before it’s fact.
It is not physical. Her body knows too well the setting pain and discomfort of change; there is no sensation of fullness either that alert her of the shift within herself. It is a more primal feeling, a voice unlike those in the flame that echoes inside her head that brings her the news. Something deep within her soul vibrates her entire being, telling her that life grows inside of her, like sunshine bursting through the high windows of the tower and filling her with love from inside out.
Her past lives were not kind; forged in the same blood and violence as she was, their destruction and mistakes are burnt in Lexa’s mind as if done by her own hand. Her own life has been a quest to redeem them, to try and do better, be a better leader, build a brighter future her people can take pride in. Perhaps, what she has accomplished has finally been enough; the destruction brought by her ancestors finally attenuated and she thanks whoever is out there to listen for allowing her such a gift; to create a life after being forced to take so many, for allowing love into her existence where before it has been forbidden; for allowing it to grow and multiply.
She lays close eyed in bed, bare body wrapped in furs and naked limbs when realization sinks in all at once, like the sky crashing down on her all over again. She is slow to open her eyes, afraid that once they are opened the feeling will vanish. She takes in the soft moonlight that paints the room, her hand gently sliding down to her stomach where her lover’s already rests, a silent prayer to god she does not believe in for their latest trip to Arkadia to have worked and allowed them to have what they both yearned for so dearly.
A gasp leaves her, desperately, the heaviness in her lungs like she is breathing for the first time, the tears she had been holding finally making their way down her cheek in a silent cry. The feeling of euphoria over what their future will bring threatening to overtake her in a way she had never experienced before and Lexa finds herself instinctively clutching Clarke’s hand like a lifeline.
At the feeling the sky girl’s eyes snap open, immediately seated and alert, sleep escaping her in an instant. Erratically, her gaze studies the room around her, the peace that thrives between clans for the better part of a decade not enough to erase her war-filled first years on earth as her sporadic nightmares evidenced.
Another shaky gasp leaves Lexa’s mouth as she tries to compose herself, and she knows the moment Clarke turns to her, sharp eyes softening at the sight of her shaky breaths, that she will interpret her state as distress instead of the happy one she was in.
“Hey. It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here.” A gentle thumb wipes away her tears and a smile of reassurance grew in the face that Lexa so adores, bringing a smile to her own features.
She sluggishly stretches her arms in Clarke’s direction, a silent request to be held, allowing herself to be pulled on to her lover’s lap, finding her home in Clarke’s arms and warm chest as she pulls her body impossibly close to hers, a kiss placed on her forehead with such care that it quickly brings renew tears to Lexa’s eyes.
“Lexa, is everything okay?” The words are whispered into Lexa’s hair, concern painting every word and Lexa cannot help but leave a kiss on the exposed collar bone. It still warms her like a blanket, this gentle concern Clarke has for her, the love and worry always present in her every gesture. It had taken time and effort on Lexa’s part to learn to accept it completely and yet, she has never once regretted doing so.
Breathing finally under control, Lexa lifts her head from the warmth of her wife’s neck, leaving another kiss in her wake before her lips find Clarke’s for a whisper of a peck. She takes a moment to study her face, beautiful features coated with sleep and worry yet ever so patiently awaiting for Lexa to speak up about her misgivings.
“I think this is it Clarke.” Lexa whispers so quietly she isn’t quite sure the words ever left her mouth, or instead simply spoken inside her mind. She fears if she says it too loudly, if she dares share her happiness above a whisper someone would try and rip it away from her again, ghosts of a bullet being shot and her own blood coating her fingers crossing her mind.
Confusion paints Clarke’s expression at her words, sleep still fogging her mind, but quickly understanding washes over her like a lightning bolt, blue eyes wide, mouth gaping with a tremble of the lip.
“Are you sure?” A begged question, fear and hope mixed in every syllable as if the world might cruelly trick her into believing they had finally conceived and it being a lie.
A smile bloomed on her face as she nodded because Lexa has never been so certain of anything in her life as she is about this, “Sha niron, I can feel it in my blood.”
Before she knows it, Lexa’s entire body was being assaulted with adoring kisses and worshiping touches. It had been a new feeling when Clarke first kissed her like this, showing her a love beyond Lexa’s imagination; it had felt shameful, misplaced, cries from Lexa about being unworthy of being loved in such a way. Now she relishes in it, loves every second of being loved, every second of loving, sees in it the strength she once believed to be weakness. How could any of this be anything other than strength?
Once Clarke’s lips find the scar that adorns Lexa’s skin right above her stomach, she pauses. It’s a grim reminder of everything she has almost lost and of all the scars she carries, the circular star shaped is the one she wishes the most she could make disappear. She remembers very little of that time, flashing in and out of consciousness during most of it, an entire month of her life gone as she fought for her life. Nine years after the fact, Lexa is still awoken by the violent memory of the gunshot more often than not but she is here, alive, breathing and loving, so eternally grateful for the life she is allowed to continue living, alongside Clarke and the child that will join them.
“What does it feel like?” The wonder and love are ever so present in Clarke’s voice, speaking as if Lexa is otherworldly, a goddess amongst men for doing something as human as carrying their child.
Lexa has never felt so human as she does right now.
"Like there is light inside of me."
[...]
All it takes is a cry. A cry and her world is sunshine filled.
For so long Lexa deprived herself of love, living in shadows and dark corners. Love came in the form of small flames of adoration from her people, fragile flames that one simple blow could extinguish the moment she opened the wrong door.
Clarke had opened a window of love in her life. One Lexa had barricaded with metal and nails, the brief sunlight it once allowed in burning her flesh and made her fear that one more ray would burn her beyond repair. And now it felt like the sun was shining directly in.
She is radiant; a beacon of light. Magnificent beyond any words Lexa's familiar with. Powerful small lungs push out screams of life, alerting the whole coalition of her mighty arrival. In one swift move, the midwife places the small bundle in her arms and Lexa holds her breath as she takes in her daughter, safely tucked in her arms.
She is light, bright and beautiful, blinding Lexa with love.
Small wisps of brown curls so identical to her own adorn her head, her rosy cheeks crimson from announcing her grand entrance. Her eyes open ever so slightly to take in her nomon, the loving blue the exact shade of the ones Lexa is already so enamored with.
In her awe with her daughter Lexa forgets the rest of the world around her. Any sound and movement that is not her daughter's, passes her by like it does not exist. Warm lips find her sweaty forehead and the world starts spinning around her once again.
“She’s so beautiful Lexa.” Her wife’s voice brings her back down from the heavens and Lexa wonders how does so much love fit inside a heart that denied it for so long.
“Ain soncha.” Lexa whispers gently as the small babe screams against her skin, the pinkness of her flesh lost in the redness of Lexa’s own burning skin.
Beside her, Clarke draws out a shaky breath at Lexa’s first words towards their child and Lexa looks at her with new eyes as she watches the woman who she has loved for a decade now fall in love with the small human Lexa just brought into the world, “Oso soncha, ain niron”
Clarke nods, now unable to keep the tears held back, her lips finding the still fragile little fingers of their daughter’s hand, “The world is so much brighter with you in it Elaina.”
The beer is gone and her whiskey has been watered down to nothing, and both of them have a hazed look in their eyes, the world becoming softer with its blurred edges.
“How about two shots for a dare?” Clarke says, her breath hitting Lexa’s cheek with how close she is, and Lexa frowns as she tries to understand what she means. Her brain is far from sharp by now. “I’ll propose a dare, if you don’t want to do it, you take two shots.”
Lexa shrugs and nods, taking it upon herself to pour each of them another shot, getting ready to drink both of them because she is not about to dance on top of the table or go flirt with someone else - which she’s pretty sure is where Clarke is going with it.
But when Clarke decides on what she wants Lexa to do, it almost gives her whiplash with how sharp of a turn her brain has to make to keep up with it, “I dare you to kiss me.”
A beat.
Lexa turns her body until she’s facing Clarke, sparing one look at her lips before closing the distance between them, pressing their lips together. In her drunken haze, Lexa finds her hands moving on their own accord, sneaking up to sink into blonde hair, gripping a slim waist and pulling their bodies closer, closer, closer.
Her tongue drags across Clarke’s bottom lip, her fingers tighten around her hair, and she deepens the kiss. She feels more than hears the way Clarke moans softly against her and Lexa finds herself answering in kind, her own desires, overlooked for so long, coming up to the surface.
It’s shameful, how easily Lexa sinks into Clarke’s touch. But the way she tugs at her jaw to keep them close, the way her hand slides down to grip at her thigh, the way her tongue swipes on the roof of her mouth - it’s all too much.
They break the kiss a moment before it becomes uncomfortable for everyone else in the bar and Lexa stares at Clarke’s plump lips, still wet from her own lips.
“I live up the street,” Clarke murmurs, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, the invitation clear in the way she drops her hand to Lexa’s stomach.
clexa drafts inspired by the book One Hundred Years of Solitude, by Gabriel Garcia-Marquéz.
on naming a first glimpse
When asked to tell their story, neither of them knew how it started. It only happened. "She was at the village since ever and I don't remember a single day of not seeing those blue eyes following me", Lexa would say under her breath, years later, still looking after them with the same passion from years ago. Strands of grey hair falling through her features as shooting stars in the woods of dark brown locks.
But the truth is that the first time they saw each other, they were kids. Clarke was a little girl, full of energy, always giggling about things that did not had a name that time. It was easier, as a matter of fact. You would see a thing and name it as you wanted. Clarke was way good at this game. She would run around the village distributing names - and drawings of her newest achieviments to proof her ultimate decision.
Once then, running through the forest, Clarke saw a thing that she didn't recognize at first. Another child, a few inches taller. She seemed afraid, hiding between the bushes while following the girl with the same bewilderment. Vivid green eyes met piercing blue. Once adult, Clarke would not remember although she keeped her childhood drawings of Lexa, but she would draw those gree eyes as the forest itself could fit inside them.
They stood facing each other for an almost lifetime of seconds.
Clarke spoke first.
-- Woods. Your name is woods.
The other child seemed bothered, frowning. She stood out of where it was hiding cautiously, with light steps of an wild cat.
-- No. I do have a name. My nomon gave me and it is Lexa.
Lexa.
Clarke would grow old, and by the time of her death, she would barely recognize where she was, but, since that first time she heard that name, it remained engraved in her mind forever.
The blonde toddler smiled widly, besides the lack of one front tooth.
Okay, she could agree with that name. Lexa, lexa, lexa. It felt good in her tongue. It felt right for that one little creature standing fierce towards her.
In honor of Clexa's ten year anniversary of their first kiss, @thatonewherelexasachef is sharing some favorite Clexa's kisses from their own stories (from the greats like Quality Ingredients, Might as Well, Slopes, and Rock & Roll).
I think this is a fantastic idea, so I hope Melissa doesn’t mind me jumping on the bandwagon and sharing the first kiss from my story Sonraun Rein Kiken (A Life Worth Living)!
- - - - - - - -
“Please do not carry this guilt anymore,” she whispered. “We have apologized to one another and moved passed it.”
Lexa’s care brought on more tears. This woman, who carries so much, was now trying to alleviate Clarke’s burdens. The fierce warrior who people cower in front of stood before her with such great care and kindness, only wanting to make Clarke feel better.
Ever respectful, and receiving no response from Clarke, Lexa lowers her hand to step away. The loss of the hand spurs Clarke to move, as she reaches up and places Lexa’s hand back onto her face and takes a step forward into her space. A hint of surprise flashes in Lexa’s eyes, but she doesn’t move, except for a quick glance towards Clarke’s lips.
The slip confirmed everything Clarke needed to know. Reaching out with her right hand, she pulls Lexa in by the waist before closing the distance and pressing her lips to Lexa’s. The movement is slow as Clarke waits for Lexa to register what is happening and reciprocate. Lexa doesn’t deepen the kiss, but Clarke can feel herself getting pulled in closer by the hand on her face.
Nervous that she misinterpreted the flirting and increasing touches, Clarke pulls away to check on Lexa. Frozen on the spot, the only signs of Lexa being conscious is the tear rolling down her cheek and the quivering of her chin. Her eyes finally catch Clarke’s and widen before looking back down at her lips and up again. Lexa opens her mouth, maybe to ask a question, but Clarke can read the “is ‘yet’ now?” in her eyes. Clarke nods and it’s all the confirmation Lexa needs to kiss her again.
This time, there is no hesitation on Lexa’s part as she pulls Clarke into her embrace; her lips crashing into Clarke's. Clarke enjoys the feel of Lexa’s hands holding either side of her head and pulling her closer. Her heart is racing faster than it was when they were doing warmups, and this time it’s worth it. Lexa’s lips are soft, her kiss almost too delicate for what Clarke needed. Wanting to keep the moment going, Clarke pressed into Lexa more.
When Lexa eventually pulls away, Clarke realizes she has never seen a more beautiful sight. Lexa’s eyes, still covered in a sheen of tears, are a bright, almost emerald green. The unbidden smile on her face is beaming, and try as she might, the woman can’t seem to stop it. All Clarke can do is smile back.
“I still want to go over a few things for you to practice on your own.” Lexa said with some remorse to her tone.
“Ooorrr… we could,” Clarke stopped short before pushing a fallen strand of hair behind Lexa’s ear. As much as she wanted to learn how to protect herself, she had found a new, more exciting hobby
