Older Mommy Wanda coming home extremely frustrated from work to find you in her favourite pair of dark red lingerie. You’re kneeling on the bed, legs spread just enough for Wanda to immediately spot the wet patch in your panties.
“Awh honey, did someone miss mommy?” She exclaims while coming closer to your kneeling form, as you try to be a good girl as much as possible. Wanda is delighted to have such an obedient girl, while also confused about your lack of attitude which usually came with her late working hours. “Come on mommy’s lap, baby. I just wanna make sure your little hole is alright and untouched.” She says in the sweetest voice while pulling you into her lap on the bed.
While you sit across her lap, her fingers trace patterns on your thighs, making you whimper and ache for more, before she finally pulls down your panties to reveal your glistening pussy. It’s immediately clear to her that you had been thinking of her a lot today, as if your needy messages hadn’t already given that away.
Wanda slowly enters your tight hole with one finger, making you moan and whimper in her lap. Even if Wanda already trained you for bigger dildos, she still enjoyed keeping you tight enough to make you claw at her back when she entered you with merely two fingers. Especially since your pussy was extra sensitive today, she’d have no issue making you cry by the time her second finger entered you. “You poor thing, you really went all day being desperate and didn’t touch yourself. Mommy is so proud of you.“
If possible, her words made you even wetter and your pussy clenched involuntarily around her finger. Even if Wanda hadn’t said much yet, it was clear that you wouldn’t be using words tonight, so putting your mouth to some better use might just be more helpful. “Suck on mommy’s nipple bay, I know it’s what you need. I’ll just keep touching you down there while you stay like that.”
Reader who is obsessed with bunnies and has like three bunnies in the house and Ellie hates it because it’s too many animals but she secretly likes all the bunnies around. (I have a bunny so I thought of this)
──── 0.8k ୨ৎ just one more! ◞ 我 ࣪ ִ gf! els x gf! reader.
“els, baby—!” you squeaked, holding up another bunny in your arms as you entered the little farm house you and your girlfriend had bought a couple months prior. ever since you closed, you couldn’t help but start bringing in stray animals.
the farm house came with a lot of land, and your girlfriend had promised to fill it with some animals for your liking. though, ellie never agreed to indoor animals. maybe except for a cat. she was found of cats. they took care of themselves and she didn’t have to do much when it came to looking after them.
bunnies, on the other hand, we a completely different story. however, she just couldn’t say no to you. so, she relented and let you buy yourself two bunnies to take care of. a little white ball of fur you named—snoopy after your favorite character, and a small chocolate brown coat she named scotch—after her favorite drink.
you took care of them on your own. ellie simply went out and bought whatever you asked for. cages, play pens, toys, hay, food; whatever it was you needed, she got. she enjoyed seeing you happy after all, but she wasn’t too fond of all the attention the bunnies got from you. she had felt rather.. neglected seeing you spend so much time with them.
and now, you were standing in front of the screen door with another tiny bunny cupped in your hands. it lacked fur, was pinkish, and very tiny. she quirked up an eyebrow, standing up from the sofa where she had been cleaning her rifle. she had been hunting that morning with a couple friends and just came home to see you weren’t there.
she tilted her head, “don’t tell me—“
“isn’t it soooo cute?” you drawled, southern accent twanging in your tone. your smile was contagious and she couldn’t help the little smirk that had begun to crawl onto her face. despite her annoyance at the presence of yet another bunny, she couldn’t help but find your excited expression cute.
ellie took tentative steps towards you, striding across the room with ease. “is that what i think it is?” she questioned, crossing her arms.
you pursed your lips softly, the bubble gum pink lipgloss glinting against the sun. you thought about her question for a moment, and you could see a hint of teasing behind her eyes, but you were still a little nervous.
“if it is..?” you murmured softly.
ellie chuckled, shaking her head. she took a few more steps and glanced down at the tiny baby bunny. her green hues observe the little rabbit, watching the way its nose scrunches as it sniffs around and the way it cuddles into the warmth of your palms.
she sighed. yeah, there was no getting out of this now that you had already brought it home. her eyes flicker back up to yours, “this is the last one.” she said softly, but you could tell in her tone that she didn’t really mean it. your lips curl into a small smile.
a breathy laugh leaves your lips as you step forward and wrap one arm around your girlfriend. being careful of the baby creature in your hand, you hug her tightly, peppering kisses across her face. ellie scrunches her nose as she chuckles, relenting to your endless pecks.
“thank you—“ you kissed her cheek, “my pretty—“ another kiss to the corner of her mouth. “baby.” you giggled as you kiss her lips finally. ellie groaned, her hands finding your hips as she kissed you deeper, mindful of the bunny.
she pulls back and looks down at it again, her fingers rubbing circles through your frilly shirt. “what’re you gunna name it?” she asked.
glancing down at the bunny, you gazed at its multi colored fur. it was still a little baled, and you couldn’t tell what color it was going to be once it got bigger—it looked white, brown, and a little caramel. you thought for a moment, still unsure.
“what should we name it?” you emphasized cutely.
ellie chuckles again, her hands coming to scoop the bunny from yours. she takes a look over it, tilting it from side to side. she smiles intently, examining the creature and you take a moment to stare at her. even despite her not liking the amount of animals you had, you knew she actually enjoyed them at heart.
after all, she’d play with them when you let them out into the living room for supervised play time. and she’d quietly scold one if it ended up mistaking her finger for a carrot.
your girlfriend cradles the baby bunny to her chest and gives it a little scratch on the head, “what about nutmeg?” she suggests. your ears perk up in surprise. nutmeg? you smiled, snaking your arm through her’s and pressing your cheek to her shoulder.
“i think it’s perfect, babe.”
ellie smirks, scratching the bunnies head again. “it looks like you.” she said.
The tension in the apartment was high. It always was after you and Ellie fought. This time it was even more stupid than usual.
On Wednesday, you had written up a meal plan for the next week, taking into account your different gym days, the fact that your period was meant to start that Sunday, and that you needed quick, easy meals for the days where one or both of you were working late.
Then, on Thursday, Ellie had gone to the shops, completely forgetting that meal plan.
It was small, an insignificant, tiny thing that doesn't really matter. It's not like the food Ellie bought is terrible. But, it could've been easily avoided. Very easily. All she had to do was remember the list.
So, when you had come home from a long, grueling shift at the travel agency you write at and opened the fridge to begin cooking dinner, seeing all the completely wrong things, you had kicked off.
Now, after a long shouting match filled with accusations that Ellie "didn't even care" about what you wanted, and that you always expected Ellie to "read your mind", it's safe to say that the atmosphere is... awkward.
"Hey... look," Ellie mutters, coming into the living room where you're perched on the sofa, squished right up in the corner. "I'll go back to the shops... I got the mince, and practically all the veg on this list," she says, holding out your previously written shopping list, "I can go back and grab pasta and that Thai paste you like... all the shit on the list. I'm sorry."
You look up at her, a pout firmly fixed on your lips. "It's fine really... I can make do with what you bought. Even the weird courgette... We don't have the money to do two weekly food shops in one week, Ellie."
"Right, yeah. Okay... if you're sure," she mumbles.
"I'm sure."
Silence. Pure silence. Absolute silence.
Until...
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
"Really. I am."
"Ellie. I know."
"Are you mad at me?"
"No."
"Are you upset with me?"
"A little."
"Can I do anything?"
"Make me dinner with whatever you bought," you say, unable to mask the joking tone in your voice.
At the sound of your smile (which Ellie doesn't even have to look at you to notice), she feels a little better. "I can make you dinner, baby. Of course I can."
"You fucking better, Ellie Williams, or I might just beat you up with that stupid courgette you got."
Ellie lets out a guffaw of laughter, loud and unexpected. "It's not stupid. It's highly nutritious..."
"What are you gonna make with it?"
"I was gonna put it in pasta..."
"It's stupid."
"...okay yeah it's stupid. But you have to try it first, alright?"
"...fine. Now go cook."
"Yes, ma'am," Ellie salutes you before walking back towards the kitchen, still pathetically holding the shopping list.
Then, after a few minutes of chopping and frying, you appear in the doorway, calling softly into the room. "Els..."
She turns around, tilting her head as she responds, "yeah?"
"...I'm sorry. For shouting at you."
"I know. It's fine."
"And overreacting," you continue, walking towards her.
"It's okay, sweetheart."
"You sure?"
"Yes. I'm sure," she steps closer too, her hands finding your waist.
"Good," you whisper, looping your arms behind her neck as you pull her in, your lips connecting in a soft, kind, apologetic kiss.
You can feel Ellie's smile against your lips, growing as you stay pressed together for a second, just basking in the forgiveness.
Then, you pull away, smirking at your girlfriend. "Make my dinner, Els...
"You okay?" You yawn out, leaning against the bathroom door. Looking at your lovely girlfriend staring in the mirror.
"Of course, baby. Why wouldn't I be?" She plants a fake smile on her face and turns to face you.
"Maybe 'cause' you're staring at yourself in the mirror like you're trying to make sure you're still human?"
You can see her tense up a little from where you're standing.
"I'm not judging," you try to reassure her, although it's hard to tell exactly what she's thinking. "I just..worrying so much isn't good for you."
"I'm not worried. It's more like a compulsion. I don't always feel right."
"I know." You both pause. You're not sure how to help her. "Come here." You grab her hand and lead her back to your shared bed.
You get back into bed, under your many layers of blankets, and cuddle with your girlfriend. You know it's easier to have more serious conversations when you're not sitting face to face.
"I won't try to say I understand because I don't. But from everything you told me, it's okay. Y'know, you got the cure. If anything were gonna happen, it would've by now."
"Yeah. I try to remind myself of that but it's hard. I don't know how to stop feeling like something is inside of me. Like it's changing things."
"It's not a bad thing. Anyone would probably feel like the exact same, I just- I hate that you're feeling like this. And there's not exactly a known way to fix it." You absent mindly start running your finger over her arm.
"It's not just that though. I've felt like this since before I was infected. Ever since all this started."
"Honestly, I'd be worried if you didn't deal with at least some aftermath of it all."
"Yeah. I know it's reasonable but it doesn't feel like it. Maybe it's my guilt manifesting."
"Could be." You shrug in agreement. It's a little difficult with the way you're laying but it feels necessary at the moment.
"Sorry. I know you're tired. I should let you sleep."
You are very tired and laying with her only adds to it. You're almost laying side by side but your head is leaning into the crook of her shoulder.
"I'm okay. I don't want you going to sleep with anything on your chest."
"It's not like it's anything you can fix."
"No but I can listen. You shouldn't keep things bottled up. Especially with the things you do."
"You don't wanna hear about the things I do."
"Of course I do. Honey, if you're constantly checking yourself in the mirror, there's something going on."
"Yeah," Jill chuckles, "It's called PTSD."
"With a sprinkling of survivor's guilt."
"Exactly." She lets out a deep sigh. "I know what it is, I don't know how to fix it."
"We'll figure it out." You yawn again.
She grabs your hand under the blanket, linking her fingers with yours.
"I love you." You feel her smile from your place in the crook of her neck.
"For listening?"
"For everything."
"I love you for everything too."
You both go silent after that. Relaxing your bodies into each other even more. A silent promise that you'll figure it out, together.
i want someone that can actually make me cum. not a lousy fuck that makes me play with my own clit while she’s eating my pussy. no, give me a girl who ties my hands behind my back so i can’t use them as she eats me like a woman starved. give me a girl who bends me over a table and fucks me so good i don’t even have to think about getting myself off.
sorry this is out of the ordinary but i feel very passionate about it
"Mmmm" you moan into her mouth as she sucks on your lips in a fashion so desperate, so passionate, that a stranger would have sworn she was incapable of being gentle, being passive. You didn't care, though. You didn't have the chance to care before you felt her hand snake around your waist, casually dipping beneath the fabric of your shirt and leaving a trail of goosebumps as her cold hand touches your torso, warm from the heat of your interaction.
It was hot. She was hot. Your ears were hot, still, from all the dirty talk from a few moments ago.
"Keep making those pretty sounds for me, beautiful girl," she coos, or at least tries to, but her hunger and desire are evident in her deep and rough tone. Your back arches, pushing you against her front, as her icy hand inches upward toward your shoulder, still disregarding the fabric that would be in contact with your skin if not for her hand prying it away.
You're not innocent either with one arm slinged around her neck, desperately holding on, and the other playing with the top of her pants, more and more inclined to slip underneath the fabric and touch her everywhere that you could only feel in these private moments.
Her lips pull back in a momentary truce after her brutal attack on your lips. She can see how disheveled you look and how hooded your eyes are and she loves it. It fuels her on. Her free hand moves to caress your cheek in a show of tenderness and love as she smiles at you warmly before bring the same hand down to your chin and tilting it upward, bringing her lips to kiss the area right beneath your chin.
You let out a long and pleasured breath as you feel her kisses trace down your neck, some longer and rougher than others, surely leaving small red marks. Her hand drags back down your back and rests on your butt, squeezing it lightly as she chuckles into one of her kisses. She's enjoying herself.
"I can't wait to make you feel good, baby girl. Let's take it to the room and I'll give you your real birthday gift," she whispers to you with hooded eyes and a dry throat and you moan softly at the mere thought of what's to come.
(where clexa are snowed in and neither is too pleased about that but then they bang)
December 21st, 7:28 p.m.
It’s been snowing for two days straight. Today’s the third, and so far there’s no sign of stopping. Clarke doesn’t really mind. Sure, she’s not a fan of snow and cold, but that’s exactly why she’s hiding inside, with a warm blanket and hot cocoa and countless tv shows to keep her company.
And, of course, Lexa, who’s trapped with her and who honestly could’ve left the first night but chose to stay. Clarke can’t say she’s unhappy about it. Quite the opposite.
Strong arms snake around her waist from behind, and Clarke smiles when she feels Lexa nuzzle her neck. “Morning.”
“I think you mean evening. We slept all day. It’s already dark outside.”
“As long as I’m with you,” Lexa murmurs into her hair, “I don’t care.”
Her reply is a slow, lazy kiss.
December 19th, 4:13 p.m.
“Well, it’s official,” Clarke announces, not looking up from her phone. “The city is closed down. Pretty sure power’s about to go out soon, too.”
“Great,” Lexa mumbles, running a hand through her hair. “Just what I needed today.”
This time, Clarke does look up from her phone to squint at her. “Is the idea of spending time with me that horrible to you, Lexa?” She’s not going to lie. It stings. It really fucking hurts, truth be told. And, okay, maybe it is kind of her own fault, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it.
Lexa sighs - and the way she does, tired and weary, only serves to agitate Clarke further. “You know that’s not what I meant, Clarke. I have things to do. I planned to be home by six. Obviously, that’s not happening now. And…” She takes a deep breath, and Clarke has a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’s pretty sure she’s not gonna like whatever it is Lexa’s about to say. “It’s not that terrible - spending time with you. But - I believe I would be speaking for both of us when I say it is uncomfortable given our history.”
Clarke flushes angrily before stomping on it, swallowing the truth down like a bitter pill that it is. Lexa’s right. It is uncomfortable. But it seems they have different reasons.
It’s difficult for Lexa because Clarke’s hurt her. It’s difficult for Clarke because she wants her. Story that’s been told countless times over and over; and Clarke can’t believe she’s one of those stories now.
A love loved and a love lost. How tragic and entirely cliche.
She swallows. “I thought we agreed to stay friends.”
Lexa’s emerald eyes are dark and unreadable. “We did,” she quietly says. “But back then I didn’t count on being - um. I wasn’t ready for spending so much time with you in such close quarters.”
“You mean you didn’t know you were going to be stuck with me,” Clarke says.
Lexa stays silent, and it makes everything worse.
December 21st, 8:13 p.m.
“You totally cheated!”
“What? No I didn’t!”
Lexa huffs, and Clarke really wants to kiss her. “We already dealt ace of hearts. There’s no way it was in the deck. You took it from the other pile.”
Clarke really wants to kiss her, and so she does. Lexa’s lips are warm and eager on her own, and when she breaks the kiss, leaning back, Lexa stays there, eyes still closed, a small smile on her face. “Okay,” she says quietly. “Now you’re really cheating.”
She chuckles. “So what if I am?”
This time, it’s Lexa who leans in and gives her a gentle kiss, making her melt.
December 19th, 6:39 p.m.
“Costia must be worried sick,” Clarke comments out of blue, taking another sip of her wine. She wonders if that second glass prompted her to speak up. She wonders if she wants to hear what Lexa has to say about her surprising choice of topic of conversation.
Lexa clears her throat and doesn’t look at Clarke when she answers. “I doubt it,” she says. “We haven’t spoken in months.”
Clarke is really proud of herself when she manages not to drop the glass when her heart leaps into her throat. Come on, she scolds herself. Really? Lexa went through a break-up and you’re happy? Some friend you are.
But that’s the thing, she replies stubbornly to herself. I don’t want to be her friend. It’s not enough.
It’s never going to be enough.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she says out loud. “I mean - are you okay?”
She watches Lexa shrug and stare ahead. “I think so.” She looks down at her glass of wine, still untouched. “It was - we disagreed on some things, and she left. She did let me know she found a place to stay and her brother came by to get her stuff two weeks ago so I know she’s alive and well. It is weird without her there, but… I’m okay. I think.” Lexa’s words are as jumbled as Clarke’s feelings.
It’s still snowing outside, and Clarke swallows as she discreetly studies Lexa’s profile, illuminated by candlelight, the lines of her face sharp and gorgeous. “And what things did you disagree on?” She asks, surprised at how dry her throat has become.
Lexa smirks, bitter and humorless. “Some things,” she repeats herself. “Mostly my feelings.” She doesn’t clarify further, but Clarke doesn’t need her to.
Their gazes meet, and the unspoken ‘for you’ hangs heavily in the air between them, ready to fall and shatter.
December 21st, 9:35 p.m.
“Fuck,” Clarke pants. Her heart is fluttering madly in her chest, and she revels in that feeling. Revels in feeling Lexa’s naked skin slide against her own, slick with sweat. Basks in Lexa’s confident smirk that borders on arrogant. It used to infuriate her. Now, she finds it endearing.
She finds it endlessly sexy.
“I take it you liked it,” Lexa teases, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Clarke’s lips and let her taste herself, heady and tangy with lust. She laps it all off Lexa’s mouth, eager and greedy for more.
“You don’t have to be an ass about it,” she laughs when Lexa gently breaks the kiss. “Of course I liked it. I loved it.”
Lexa’s green eyes are soft and smiling. “I love you.”
“Sap.” Another kiss, barely there, tender and light. “I love you, too.”
December 19th, 8:00 p.m.
“I never once said I didn’t have feelings for you,” Clarke fires back, feeling the familiar burn of anger course through her veins. Lexa doesn’t look like she’s feeling any better. Her cheeks are flushed, whether from anger or alcohol, Clarke’s not sure; and her eyes are narrowed and focused.
“Yes,” she mockingly agrees with Clarke, her glare steady. “And you never once said you did have them, either.”
“That’s not true,” Clarke says, knowing perfectly well just how true it is. But - she was so many things back then. Fresh out of a year-long relationship, scared, unsure if she was ready. Insecure and terrified and - was it Lexa she liked, or was it the idea of Lexa?
It was Lexa. Of course it was Lexa, but she was too busy with all the shit that was happening in her life to really see that, and when she did, it was too late.
Except - Lexa never gave her a second chance, did she? “You never gave me a second chance,” Clarke voices her hurt out loud.
Okay, maybe saying that wasn’t a wise decision on her part. Seems like she’s all out of those lately.
She can almost feel how hot Lexa’s glare is on her skin. “I never gave you a second chance,” Lexa repeats lowly. Clarke cringes. She hates when Lexa gets like this. Her quiet, cold rage is so much more terrifying than any screaming. “You said you weren’t ready, and I respected your wishes for months. You weren’t ready alright. For me. You were very ready for Finn, were you not?”
Ah, and so they’ve arrived to the worst mistake of her life. She sincerely hopes that’s the last one she makes. At least with Lexa.
She can’t hurt her like this ever again. “It didn’t mean anything,” she whispers. “Lexa, I swear, it didn’t mean anything.”
Lexa’s eyes shine, and for the first time since that awful, horrible night, Clarke is allowed to see the hurt dulling the emerald green again. “Did I ever mean anything?”
“I’m so sorry,” Clarke chokes through her unshed tears, “I’m so sorry you even have to ask that.”
“Well,” Lexa swallows. “I do.”
December 21st, 11:25 p.m.
Lexa’s abs quiver under Clarke’s wet, slow kisses as she climbs back up to drop her final kiss on plump lips, happily sighing into them.
“That was amazing,” Lexa whispers to her when they part. “Thank you.”
“Lexa,” she laughs, plopping down next to her and sighing again when Lexa gathers her in her arms. “You don’t have to thank me every time I go down on you. Just putting it out there.”
“Ah, yes, you did put out quite a lot today.” Lexa laughs when Clarke slaps her shoulder. “I’m sorry! You walked right into that one, you have to admit.”
“Whatever,” Clarke huffs. “Kiss me.”
Lexa does. “Just so you know,” she whispers. “I don’t mind you putting out. Quite the opposite, actually.”
“You’re an ass.”
“Yes, but a great one.”
Clarke squeezes said ass when Lexa rolls them over, situating herself between Clarke’s legs, her gaze alight with purpose. “I hate that I can’t disagree with you on that one.”
“You love it.”
“I love you.”
December 19th, 8:32 p.m.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Lexa rasps, and Clarke immediately stops kissing her neck, only for Lexa to grab the back of her neck and press a demanding kiss against her mouth. “That doesn’t mean I want to stop,” she points out.
Clarke shakes her head, trying to clear it of Lexa-induced haze. “Maybe we should,” she says, as weak as her knees. “Maybe we should talk first.”
“We talked plenty,” Lexa disagrees before lapping at Clarke’s mouth, seeking entrance that Clarke immediately grants, moaning at the feel of Lexa’s tongue against hers, wet and hot. God, she’s been waiting for it for so long. Hell, she’s been dreaming about it practically every night, longing for Lexa’s touch. But not quite like this. Not when she’s still mad at her.
“Lexa,” she breathes. “We should talk. Please.”
Her heart squeezes in her chest, sharp and painful, when Lexa blinks at her. “Is there anything to talk about?”
She hates this emotional rollercoaster. Her tears taste of salt when she swallows them down. “Yes. Of course there is something to talk about. Us. My feelings for you.”
“Oh.” Lexa's expression grows unreadable once again. “I guess I misread this.” It's not like Clarke can blame her, really. One second they are yelling at each other, another they are tearing each other’s clothes off. Easy to become confused. Except Lexa wasn't confused. She was pretty happy shoving her tongue down Clarke's throat just a second ago without thinking of any complications.
Clarke's so intent on discussing her feelings for Lexa - but what about Lexa's feelings for her? Or, perhaps, lack thereof?
Because maybe that's all it is. One first and last taste of what's it like to be with Clarke before Lexa finally and truly moves on.
Her tears are hot and unwelcome on her cheeks, and she can't control them.
December 22nd, 01.30 a.m.
“Snow’s stopped,” Clarke mumbles sleepily into Lexa's shoulder, tightening her arm around her waist. Her reply is Lexa's soft snores, and she grins, nuzzling at the naked skin of Lexa's back. She wouldn't have pegged Lexa for little spoon, but she's made a lot of surprising discoveries during the last two days. For starters, Lexa is a cuddler. She's also a talker, and things she says in bed… Clarke feels herself clench when she recalls some of the filthy words Lexa's whispered to her while buried deep inside her cunt.
Lexa's a generous, sweet lover. She also can be rough when Clarke needs her to be. She can be anything Clarke needs; but she really only needs her to be hers. And she needs to be Lexa's, too.
Lexa mumbles something and rolls over, nearly squishing Clarke in the process. She scoots away just in time to see green eyes slowly flutter open, confused and disoriented at first, sleep not quite gone from them yet.
“Clarke.”
She smiles. “Go back to sleep, baby.”
“I don't wanna,” Lexa slurs, reaching for her and tugging her closer. Her embrace is warm and tender and it's so perfect Clarke wants to laugh and cry and yell from the rooftops just how much she loves this woman.
She settles for a smile and a deep kiss for now. “Let's go back to sleep together, then.”
Lexa's smile is shy and sweet. Clarke kisses it off her face, wanting to keep it to herself forever, drink it all in until it's all she knows. “Okay,” she whispers. “Good night, Clarke.”
Clarke whispers her love in Lexa's neck as she drifts off to sleep in her arms.
December 19th, 8:40 p.m.
“I never fell out of love with you, Clarke.” Lexa's words are strong and sure despite her voice being quiet and soft, but to Clarke, it blooms in her living room, reverberates through her chest and settles in her heart, vibrant and full of hope. “I tried. Trust me. Nothing worked.”
“I was so stupid,” Clarke whispers, cradling Lexa's warm hands in her own, cold and trembling. “I was an idiot. I wasn't ready for anything serious and I knew that you… You weren't going to be something casual. You could never be something casual to me.” When she looks at Lexa - this is exactly what falling in love feels like. Only with her, it’s infinite. She keeps falling deeper and deeper and she doubts it will ever end.
She doesn't want it to.
“Weren't?” Lexa, ever the shrewd one.
“Aren't. You aren't something casual to me.” Clarke swallows, her throat dry. “I -”
“You don't have to say it just because I did,” Lexa interrupts.
“That's not why,” she reassures her, squeezing her hand. “But this - this is part of the reason I love you. You constantly take care of me, even when that means you'll have to disregard your own feelings.”
Lexa's eyes are wide and shocked and confused and Clarke really wants to kiss her. “You love me?”
“That's what this entire conversation has been leading up to, and you're still surprised?”
December 22nd, 07.04 a.m.
“This is way too early to be conscious,” Clarke grumbles. She still accepts the steaming mug of hot cocoa. It's Lexa's secret recipe and it's as delicious as Lexa herself, so there's no way Clarke would ever turn it down. Even if it means sacrificing her precious sleep.
“Come on, grumpy cat,” Lexa chides gently, hugging her close and draping a blanket over her shoulders so that they are sharing it. “I want to watch the sunrise with you.”
“Romantic, but you don't have to woo me, Lexa. I'm already yours.”
“What are you talking about? I'll never stop wooing you.”
Clarke groans.” Oh no. Does that mean we’ll have to get up this early every time I have sex with you?”
Lexa tries to pretend to pout, but her giant smile doesn't let her. “I'll look into wooing methods that don’t require being up before noon,” she promises laughingly, pressing a tender kiss to Clarke's temple and making her let out a contented sigh.
“You do that.” She distances herself slightly so she can look her in the eye, growing serious. “I meant what I said, you know. I'm yours.”
Lexa's smile is soft, if a little stunned, still slightly disbelieving at having Clarke say it so freely and readily. “And I'm yours too.”
“Good.” She cuddles up close to Lexa again, careful not to spill her cocoa. “Also, you owe me at least three orgasms for waking me up before lunch.”
She hears Lexa's smile in her voice when she replies. “Noted.”
December 19th, 10:41 p.m.
“I get it,” Lexa speaks up suddenly, rousing Clarke from her light slumber. “I think. It doesn't hurt any less, but I get why you slept with him.”
Clarke cringes inwardly. God, if she could go back… “I don't think I get why I slept with him,” she says honestly. “I was drunk, he was there. Story, end of.” She sighs, turning in Lexa's arms to face her. Slowly runs her fingers down her cheeks, to the strong line of her jaw. Stops at the unbuttoned collar of her shirt.
“Did it make you feel better?”
“It was supposed to.” She lets out a heavy breath. “But it didn't. You know it didn't.”
“Because I walked in,” Lexa clarifies pointedly. Clarke shakes her head.
“Not only that, although that was the worst part.” She'll never forget the look on Lexa's face. She deserves to remember it.
“You didn't owe me anything,” Lexa says quietly. “You still don't. I guess what I'm trying to say is… I'm sorry for reacting the way I did. Shutting you out and making you feel guilty for something you shouldn't have felt guilty about. It's not like you cheated.”
“It felt like it.”
“Yeah.” Lexa's eyes are sad, and Clarke hates that she doesn't know how to fix it. “It did. But it's not fair to you. So I'm sorry.”
“I hurt you. I'm the one who's sorry.”
Lexa's hands are heated on Clarke's skin as she slides them over her bare arms, down to her sides, tentatively plays with the hem of her shirt. “How about we stop being sorry tonight? This one night.”
Clarke's heart is lodged in her throat. “Only this one night?”
Lexa reads right through her, and her gaze grows warm. “One night with you will never be enough for me,” she says earnestly.
“Are you sure about this?”
Full lips quirk in a small smile. “It's been more than half a year,” she says. “I've been sure for a long time. Unless - if you're not-”
Clarke cuts her off with a tentative kiss.
December 22, 10:34 a.m.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” The question is asked nonchalantly while Chandler and Joey hug on Clarke's screen, and it's so unexpected she almost chokes on her popcorn.
“Um,” she clears her throat. “I thought - wasn't that implied?”
Lexa looks at her like she's grown another head. “Well, yeah, but I wanted to make it official.”
Clarke squints suspiciously. “Official. You're not planning on proposing tomorrow, are you?”
“Would you say no?”
She blinks. “You know,” she starts slowly. “It might be those five orgasms talking, but I'm not sure I would.”
“Cute.” Lexa's kiss is quick and familiar. “It was six, though.”
Clarke frowns, trying to remember. “I meant this morning. Pretty sure it was five.”
“Oh,” Lexa drawls, and her smile is bad in the best way. “Well, technically, it's still morning. So, technically, I can still prove you wrong.”
Clarke's laugh is loud and full when Lexa playfully tackles her on the couch, peppering kisses all over her face and neck.
And yes, it might be way too early and it might be a terrible idea, but right now, with Lexa murmuring her love and gently claiming her all over again, she can't imagine herself ever saying no if she saw Lexa on one knee, be it tomorrow or in a year.
