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Lexa made a promise to her brother Aden, to be home for Christmas. However, it seems that the weather didn't agree with that promise and it's making it very difficult for Lexa to fulfill her promise. But Lexa Woods is no quitter and she'll do anything to get home, even if she has to go against a snowstorm herself and on the road she might find some unexpected surprises that might change this Christmas forever.
âYouâre wrong. During the test I sense every part of you.â Lexa, or rather The Judge, stood at a distance, which made Clarkeâs heart ache as she stared at Lexaâs familiar face. âIâm feeling your pain right now.â
A blinding rage overtook Clarke and she moved toward The Judge with her hands pulled into tight fists.
âReally? Then feel my pain holding Lexa as she dies,â Clarkeâs voice cracked, and she hated that she was exposing such raw emotions to someone who looked like her soulmate but was just a shell. It was like someone was taking a knife and running it though her heart each time she heard Lexaâs voice.
Clarkeâs looked into green eyes that had once looked at her with heated anger and more recently gazed in complete love. Now, however, there was only a cold distance that drove the knife even deeper into Clarkeâs chest.
The Judgeâs expression changed, and Clarke couldnât read it. She was so concentrated on trying to figure out what they were thinking she didnât immediately register The Judge moving toward her, closing the space in a few long strides.
The deep green eyes were still locked on her and Clarke couldnât stop the drop in her stomach as they reached up and placed long cool fingers on her cheek. Clarke gasped as the reality around her melted away and was replaced by her own memories.
Lexaâs figure appeared in front of her like a celestial being. They were in Lexaâs private chambers in Polis Tower, before it had been reduced to rubble and ash. The setting sun was sending a radiating warm glow around the room. Clarke knew this moment. She had lived it most nights as she tried to find rest.
Clarke looked down at their locked arms and then back up at Lexa â her Lexa â the green eyes she loved looking at her with warmth and love. Clarke didnât hesitate, she moved in pressing her lips to Lexaâs and unlike in her dreams she felt the pressure of Lexaâs response. It felt so real.
Clarke pulled back to catch her breath and watched a tear roll down Lexaâs face. They were saying goodbye, little did Clarke know at the time, the sands of their hourglass were down to single grains. Before Clarke could move in again, she felt herself being pulled away.
She watched as memories flashed before her eyes. Lexaâs face, Clarke alone in the woods for months, spitting in Lexaâs face, a knife to Lexaâs neck, both kneeling in front of the other at different times, and more intimate and private moments that the two had shared.
Some of the memories lasted longer than others in Clarkeâs mind. It wasnât until Clarke heard the firing of the gun and smelled the gunpowder that she squeezed her eyes shut.
âStop!â Clarke screamed, the word tearing at her throat and wondering if this was her punishment, a living hell of having to watch Lexa die over and over.
Clarke waited and tried to use all her senses to figure out if she was going to open her eyes to Lexaâs shocked expression and dark blood pouring out of a gunshot wound.
She heard only silence and let her eyes flutter open. She was back in the present, the purple and blues of the galaxy swirling around them.
Clarke took a step back, The Judges hand still raised between them.
âYou had no right.â Clarkeâs jaw was clenched, and she felt her throat contracting.
âYou have felt pain.â The Judge finally lowered their hand that was still hanging in the air. âYou have felt injustice and the decisions you have made echo that pain.â The Judgeâs lips pursed, and they looked up closing their eyes.
Clarke looked up into the purple expanse above them, wondering if some being or event was going to happen to signal the end of the test. After a moment that seemed to roll on into eternity The Judge looked back at Clarke.
âThere were choices that were made for you. While we canât give you back time. We are curious, if given the chance, would you make different choices?â
Clarke tilted her head in confusion, but before she could ask a question a blinding light surrounded her, and it felt like her body was melting away again. Her body was warm, not uncomfortable, more comforting like a tight embrace. Clarke wondered after feeling like she had been floating in a white expanse for years, if this was now her reality. Clarke hadnât realized she was holding her breath until her lungs started burning. Maybe that was a good sign, she could still breath and was therefore still alive in some form.
Thankfully, Clarke felt weight come back to her and the harsh light beating against her eyelids started to dim. The smell of salt water and the cool breeze on her face gave Clarke hope she was back in some form of reality. Clarke opened her eyes and tried to get them to focus on her surroundings. She blinked and the world started to come back to her. She was on a beach surrounded by trees. She couldnât be sure if this was real or just another part of the test.
âThere are choices that come with free will and we have learned through our time with humanity that one of the strongest emotions is love. If given a chance at love, would that change our views on humanity?â Clarke heard the voice, like a part of the wind around her, in her mind. âDo not take this opportunity for granted.â
There was a sharp ringing in Clarkeâs head. Almost knocking her off her feet as it interrupted her balance. She shook her head, trying to make it stop. As the ringing subsided, Clarkeâs eyes scanned the shoreline of the beach. Small waves broke along the beach and there were different fallen trees and large rocks dotting the sand.
Clarke froze and her heart gave a painful lurch as she spotted someone sitting on one of the rocks facing the water. They were about twenty feet from where Clarke was standing their back to her.
âLexa?â Clarkeâs voice almost got lost in the waves lapping up on the shore. It was impossible. Wasnât it? It was probably The Judge ready for another test.
Clarkeâs heart skipped a beat as Lexa turned to face her. There were no braids, war paint, or armor. This was the Lexa that Clarke remembered from her private chambers. One of the last times they had been alone together.
The second their eyes locked Clarke knew it was her â it was the real Lexa. It was her Lexa.
Clarkeâs legs were moving before her mind could keep up. She saw Lexa leap off the rock and rush toward her. Clarke felt her feet digging into the soft sand, trying to slow her strides, but it didnât matter â Clarke would force herself to fly if it meant she could get to Lexa faster.
They met in a tangle of hands and lips. Clarke tasted Lexa and she felt pieces of herself starting to come back together. Her hands moved up Lexaâs arms to her face and Clarke was whole again. She had never really noticed how broken she had been without Lexa until this moment. Lexa was real and Clarke had her in her arms once again.
âHow?â Was all Clarke could manage as they broke apart and stared at each other.
Lexa cupped Clarkeâs face in her hands. She smiled and there was no more burden. Clarke was seeing Lexa as she had always wanted to see her, without the weight of her title on her shoulders.
âThere are parts of humanity that are a choice. We have free will. I was given the choice to give up my place in the Flame as the Commander to live out the rest of my days with you â here.â
âYou have up your birthright to be with me on an abandoned planet?â Clarke couldnât believe the words were coming out of her mouth. None of this seemed possible.
Lexa smiled and leaned in to kiss Clarke. âWe were all given a choice.â Lexa looked over Clarkeâs shoulder. Clarke turned and saw her friends working together to make fires and shelter.
âClarke.â
Clarke turned around as Lexa spoke her name. Even that was something she hadnât realized until this very moment that she had craved. She loved hearing her name on Lexaâs lips.
âWe owe nothing more to our people.â Lexaâs smile widened and she moved her arms down to wrap them around Clarkeâs waist. âThis time is for us.â
Clarke felt her expression lighten. She was lightheaded and knew that if Lexa were to release her, sheâd probably fall to her knees in the sand.
This was it. This was the time that had been stolen for them. They had the chance to finally be together and not have the responsibility of leading armies. They were just two girls in love.
The girl from the sky and the girl from the ground. They had met again.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The 100 (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Characters: Clarke Griffin, Lexa (The 100), Lincoln (The 100)
Additional Tags: Clarke Griffin/Lexa Woods - Freeform, clexa romance, Clexa, lgbt fix, First Kiss, Boxer Lexa, Artist Clarke Griffin, Art Student Clarke, Clarke draws Lexa, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Endgame Clarke Griffin/Lexa, POV Clarke Griffin
Series: Part 16 of Collections B
Summary:
When Clarke goes hiking to get some photos for her art class, she almost immediately regrets it. Ends up being a good thing though, because she gets a lot more than a few good photos out of the trip.
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Clarke is an art student taking a sketching course, but sheâs having trouble drawing portraits for her assignment. She hangs up flyers around campus for a model and Lexa responds.Â
disclaimer: sup kids, this is my first venture into fic writing, probably writing in general i guess. iâve only ever written like 3 or 4 scripts for class so ,,,hope this is decent. iâm kinda used to just writing action and dialogue (in my small handful of works lol) as it happens so like backstory is weird to me idk. anyway, if it seems rushed and rough, it probably is. i definitely didnât reread it! but uh, let me know what ya think i guess. maybe any tips, things i can change in my writing. Â
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âPlease stop.â
âCome on, heâs pretty hot.â
âHeâs not.â
âReally great in bed, though.â
âRaven.â
âHe did this one move the other night Iâve never done before and it felt amazing.â
âI swear to God, I will throw up on you.â
Clarke laughed at her friendsâ antics as she sipped on her latte, not at all phased by the conversation taking place next to her. Raven released a laugh and sat back in her chair. Octavia just tried to keep her lunch from resurfacing. Â
The three of them sat for lunch at the Ark Cafe, a hotspot on campus. Every Tuesday since the semester began, theyâd meet here and catch up on anything theyâd miss during the week. Granted they did all live together, seeing entirely too much of one another in ways you would never want to see your closest friends. But between going to class, homework, jobs, and a variety of other events, itâs difficult to really check in on each other. Therefore, weekly lunch dates at the Ark.
âRaven, ease up a bit,â Clarke says.
âAw, why, come on. Itâs fun seeing her squirm,â Raven grinned.
âI could go the rest of my life without hearing about my brothers sexual encounters and it would still be too soon,â Octavia shivered. She faced Clarke, ready to wipe the mental image of Raven and Bellamy doing, well, anything at this point really.
âSo, moving on to a safer topic. Howâs that assignment going, Griff?â
âItâs⊠real shit right now, thanks for asking.â She sighs.
Being an art major, Clarke liked to think she had some talent. Growing up, she always had some writing instrument in her hand, a brush, a crayon. Sheâd grab something to write with and drew on anything she could find. Sometimes that might just be the walls in her home. Her mother would be furious, but Jake, he never bothered much. Always encouraging Clarke to draw, to practice. So she did. And she got pretty damn good at it. One thing she couldnât seem to fully grasp were portraits. So she decided to hone in on that part of her craft this past year. Currently in an advanced drawing course, one of her assignments was head shots.
Raven lowered her head and looked at Clarke through her lashes. She ran a finger up Clarkeâs arm and said, âIâm always down to pose for you, Griff.â
âTempting, but Iâll pass.â
âIâll make it worth your while, ya know?â It came out huskier than she intended but Raven wasnât one to back down from some good old teasing fun.
âRae, youâve posed for me before and, hate to break to you babe but, not really jonesing for round two any time soon.â
Octavia snapped her head towards Clarke, biting her lip to keep a smile from bursting, while Raven sat back and nursed her bruised ego.
âThat was just uncalled for.â Raven whispered.
Clarke laughed and shook her head, looking down at her latte. âSeriously though, Iâve drawn you guys so many times it honestly does nothing for me creatively now.â Clarke wiggles in her chair, adjusting her position and sighs. âI donât know, I think I need something new⊠fresh, maybe. I feel like Iâm in a rut.â Clarke always felt a less confident about her skills in portraits.
Octavia and Raven both hummed knowingly. Raven snapped her fingers, bolted forward, Clarkeâs sure she has a terrible idea on the tip of her tongue.
âI know!â Raven exclaimed, âYou could post an ad for a model on Craigslist. A girl in my English Lit class did that once - donât look at me like that - sheâs fine! She needed a new roommate!â
Yup, definitely a bad idea.
âYeah, fine,â Octavia huffed, using air quotes around âfineâ. âSheâs probably being held captive somehow without a way out. Next time you see her in class, ask her to blink twice if she needs help.â Raven rolled her eyes and sat back once again. She pushed up the sleeves of her red henley and snatched up her fork, stabbing her lunch. Â
Clarke glared at Raven, âNo way in hell, Rae, and you know that.â
Octavia watched Raven as she played with her pasta, âWhy donât you just, post a flyer on campus?â She turned to Clarke and took a sip of her water. âYouâre bound to get a few chumps call you up to pose for you.â
Ravenâs face lit up, âGriff, imagine the nude paintings you could do. The possibilitiesâŠâ
Clarke let out a breathy laugh. Never one for letting an opportunity turn remotely sexual, Clarke was half expecting Raven to come to that conclusion for her. She knows Clarke would never ask a stranger to pose nude, but of course, it wouldnât be Raven if she doesnât at least suggest the idea.
âThanks, Raven. Iâll throw in a nude just for you.â Clarke runs a hand through her hair and exhales a breathy laugh. She closes her eyes for a moment, thinking about it. âYou know, O, Iâll do that. I mean, why the fuck not, right?â
Octavia and Raven cheered; Raven pumped her fists over her head, quietly chanting Clarkeâs name.
Octavia looked to Clarke, leaned forward and spoke softly, âYou know that youâre gonna do so good on this assignment, right Clarke? Youâre incredible.â
Clarke gazed at Octavia fondly and grasped her hand on the table. She really did love her friends.
___________________________________
Aristotle, Plato, Kant, Bentham. Every single student sat in this classroom could not care less about these dead men and their supposed ideas. They fidgeted with their pens, shuffled in their seats, eager to run out of the room, out into the modern world filled with snapchat filters and ridiculous memes.
But the woman at the front of the classroom, walking from one end to the other while lecturing? This was her one of her favorite places. Commanding a room, discussing one of her favorite subjects in the world, engaging young minds (granted theyâre probably just as old as she is). Here, she was comfortable. She was at ease, and she loved it. Â
âImmanuel Kantâs most notable contribution to moral philosophy is the categorical imperative. I hope you all read up on it. The first formulation of the imperative, also considered the formulation of a universal law of nature, is âact only according to a maxim whereby you can, at the same time, will that it should become a universal law.ââ
She paces the front of the room, hands clasped behind her back. Sleeves rolled up to her elbow of her otherwise pristine shirt, slim slacks and brown oxfords ironed and shined to perfection. Glasses perched up the bridge of her nose, the picture of professionalism. She surveyed the room. A handful of poor souls watched her as she spoke, mostly indifferent.
Lexa sighed and straightened herself at the center of the classroom. She leaned against her desk and brought her hands forward, crossing her arms across her chest. She decided to switch gears for a moment, hoping to revive her students and engage them in, really, anything.
âOkay, take the case of the murderer at the door.â A few students sat up straighter. One boy in the middle had his head down, resting on his extended arm on the desk. He rolled his head around and looked at Lexa, intrigued. She hitched an eyebrow up. Of course, it had to be murderers.
âLetâs say, for example, Max here,â Lexa pointed at the boy with his head rested sideways on his arm, âexcused himself from the class to use the restroom. We all know where he went, right?â
Scattered nods around the room.
âWe can assume he went down the hall, the closest restroom. After a few minutes, we hear a knock on the door.â Lexa walks to the side of the room, knocks on the door. âThereâs a gentlemen behind the door asking where Max is.â
Lexa clears her throat and her voice booms. â'Hello, Iâm looking for Max, Iâve come here to kill him. Do you know where he is?ââ Sheâs turned to them, holds a hand up and forms a finger gun at Max.
Lexa glances around the room at her students. Some laughed at her antics, but thankfully, most of them were paying attention, thank God. Life has been reignited in her classroom.
âHow many of you will lie and say that Max is actually in a classroom in a different building?â The boy in question has sat up a while ago, now looking around the room to see who would inevitably betray him, as if anyone in college is loyal to some kid they only see twice a week and never speak to. Most of those speaking agree, muttered yesâ, not ratting out Max. He releases a breath, nodding. The class has allowed the kid to live another day, safe from Lexaâs finger gun.
Lexa purses her lips, nodding, crossing her arms. She chuckles, knowing the response sheâll receive, âKant would argue that you all just did the wrong thing.âÂ
An uproar among everyone, Max is now lamenting the hypothetical loss of his life because he just had to use the bathroom.
But how could that possibly be the wrong move? The entire classroom just saved Maxâs sad life. He can go home and play Call of Duty in his underwear while shoveling Doritos and wiping the dust residue off his fingers on his chest, if the boy pleases. They did the right thing.
"Professor, thatâs fucked,â was heard, a delinquent in the back of the classroom. Lexa internally groaned.
âMind your language.â she said.
He sank back in his seat and crossed his arms. âThereâs no way that can be the wrong answer to this. We probably saved his life so kudos to us,â he smirked.
âAccording to Kant, itâs wrong,â Lexa says, curt and final. She paces the front of the room again, âhe believes if you know where Max is, you have to tell this man at the door that Max is, in fact, in the bathroom down the hall. Solely because lying is wrong. Itâs always wrong, no matter the situation youâre put in.â
Lexa stops by her desk and glances at her watch. Five minutes to spare. Not bad. âAlright class, seems like a good place to end so thatâs it for today. Please donât forget your next test is soon. I hope youâre all well prepared by then. Have a good weekend.â
The students quickly pack up their bags and bolt out of the classroom. Lexa walks around her desk and begins packing her laptop and lecture notes into her leather messenger bag. A few students wave goodbye and throw small smiles at Lexa as they leave. Some of them blushing when Lexa returns the gesture.
A woman clad in black - black leather jacket, black ripped jeans, black combat boots, the only thing that isnât black is the plain white shirt under the jacket - props herself against the doorway, watching as Lexa finishes gathering her things. Lexa drapes the bag over her and moves towards the door.
âYou know, if I were you, Iâd definitely take advantage of the amount of students fawning over you.â
Lexa gasped, her emerald eyes wide, âAnya,â she breathed, âthatâs illegal - donât say that so loud.â
Anya raised her arms in defense, âIâm just saying. Thereâs some pretty hot chicks in your class. Iâm always here to encourage my little sister to get some action.â
âThank you, Anya. Much appreciated. Will definitely take that under consideration. Wonderful to see you anyway,â Lexa rolled her eyes.
Anya smirked. She loved teasing her little sister. It was too easy.
âAlright so, where to, hotshot college professor?â Anya clapped her hands together.
âThereâs a good place near campus, amazing tacos,â Lexa responded.
âSold.â
The two sisters walked through campus. Anya was just relieved of the longest shift of her life at the station, and before heading back home, she decided to check on her little sister.
âAnything new and exciting happen within the last maybe 37 hours since Iâve seen you?â Anya asked.
Lexa sighed and adjusted her glasses slightly. âNot really. Class was alright today. I like my students when they actually participate in discussion. Theyâre smart, they just need a little push sometimes so I did the whole âmurder at the doorâ scenario.â Anya hummed and nodded, familiar with that story. âI got âem talking. But otherwise, you know, same old.â
âHow about you switch it up from the usual same old to something, I donât know, different?â Anya suggested. Lexa has been doing just about the same things for the past few years. She knows that going through what Lexa did was difficult - she wouldnât wish it on anyone. But Anya just wants Lexa to enjoy herself, live a full life like she deserves.
âWhat do you mean, I have fun,â Lexa scoffed.
âReading articles on the space program isnât what most people consider to be fun, Lexa. Neither are documentariesâ
âSending people to Mars is so incredible. I mean can you imagine being able to step foot on a planet? The moon is one thing, but another planet?â Lexa said, arms waving around as she spoke. Once you get her going on anything space related, she can really run with it. âAnd lots of people watch documentaries, okay. Itâs like in style now or whatever.â
âYeah, thatâs really cool, Lex. But I mean more along the lines of this crazy thing called socializing.â She chanced a look at her sister. Lexa sighed. âGoing out. Meeting someone new, sharing a couple drinks and talking. It wouldnât hurt you.â
As they walked past the campus cafe, Anya slowed, looking at the cafeâs storefront. A neon sign flashing above the door, letting the world know theyâre open for business. A list of specials for the day, and a few flyers hung up by students. One of them is for math tutoring, triggering some flashbacks to high school pre-calc and Anya shivers. Math is an abomination and ultimately impossible to understand. Another flyer - an advertisement for a band playing near campus at a bar Anya frequents. She wonât attend that night, thank you flyer. The last one mentions needing a model to pose for an art student, a brief description of a meeting beforehand, along with a phone number.
Anya yanks Lexa back by her bags strap and points at the flyer, âLook, this person needs someone to pose for them for an art project. Why not start there? It seems like itâll be a one on one meeting, and then theyâll draw you.â
Lexa huffs and crosses her arms. She doesnât need this. âItâs fine, Anya. Iâve met people, I socialize.â
âLexa, if you even think about telling me the people you socialize with are the teachers in your department, where you talk about old dead philosophers, I swear on my own grave that I will throw you onto the back of my bike, ride out of town to the highest cliff I could find and throw you off of it into the black depths of that valley.â
Lexa opened her mouth to refute that claim, but closed it and scrunched her face up instead.
Anya nodded, âYeah, I thought so.â Lexa glanced down and shoved her hands in her pocket.
Anya stepped towards her, she spoke softly, âLook, just meet with them, feel it out, and if youâre really not into going forward with it then fine. But I just want to know that you tried. You left behind your comfort in your routine and you did something new and unexpected.â
Anya looked at Lexa, pleading, hoping Lexa would agree to at least meet her halfway on this one. Anya has tried repeatedly for Lexa to try something different. After the incident, she let Lexa heal, take as much time as she needed. But itâs been so long, and sheâs worried Lexaâs going to stay stuck in this rut Lexaâs put herself in.
âOkay. Yeah, okay. Fine. Iâll call them. But if Iâm not feelinâ it, Iâm leaving.â
Anyaâs smile was so wide it reached her ears. "Good. Thatâs all I ask.â
Lexa huffed and pulled her phone out of her back pocket. She took a picture of the flyer, deciding to call them later after lunch. A part of Lexa knew that Anya was right. She had a point, after all, it had been too long since Lexa genuinely did anything of her own volition. Thereâs no harm in trying new things, is there?
The Brew is a quaint coffee shop on the edge of campus where most students pop in on their way to class. Not entirely too large, it housed a few couches for its customers to lounge on, some scattered tables and booths, a handful of paintings and photographs done by some of the students lined the walls while todayâs hits played softly throughout the shop. The employees scattered around behind the counter, taking orders and preparing drinks. It was cozy.
Clarke walks in and heads up to the counter. She orders a small caramel frappucino, hands the barista a bill and picks up her drink at the other end of the counter once itâs been called out.
Clarke picks out a booth in the corner up front. She still has a few minutes to spare before meeting with her potential model. She shifts in the booth, fidgets with her drink and pulls out her phone to occupy herself. Clarkeâs nervous about this chick. They spoke on the phone briefly, set up a meeting before Clarke makes a final decision. But the last thing she needs is to draw a student in her apartment and end up on the floor, gutted like a fish - although as normal as they probably seem here, that could very well still happen. Shit. Am I even sure this is a good idea? What if I just use Instagram models as reference instead? Could that work?
Just as Clarke was pulling up Ravenâs contact, the door to the Brew chimed open. Clarke looked up as a woman walked into the coffee shop and her jaw dropped. Donned in brown chelsea boots, ripped jeans, a leather jacket over a dark blue button up, wearing a pair of Ray-Ban glasses with frameless bottoms, the woman took a moment to look around and Clarke held her breath. Sheâs praying this is the girl sheâs set up a meeting with.
The woman spots Clarke in her booth, tilts her head to the side like a puppy and strides over to her hastily. It seems like this womanâs out of breath.
âYouâre the art student, right?â Clarke nods.
Lexa sighs in relief and drops down in front of Clarke, situating herself in the booth.
âIâm so sorry, I hope I made it on time. I donât even know honestly, I just bolted from my classroom over here. I got a little held up by a student who -â
âWait, youâre a teacher?â
âTA actually,â Lexa beamed. âIâm the TA for Professor Gonzalez - ethics and critical thinking. He lectures for the most part and I jump in half the time, when needed, but I definitely grade everything.â
Clarke was impressed. This woman looked about her age, and sheâs teaching ethics to her peers? Honestly, thatâs hot.
âThatâs amazing,â Clarke sighed.
âItâs pretty rewarding. Nothing as amazing as being an artist, though.â
Clarke blushes and waves her off, âPlease. Iâd barely call myself an artist. Thatâs a long shot. A pipe dream, really,â Clarke says wistfully.
Lexaâs features soften, gazing at Clarke warmly, her emerald gaze locked onto Clarkeâs cerulean eyes. Theyâve literally only been in each otherâs presence for all of six minutes and all Lexa wants to do is wipe clean any doubt from Clarke and make her believe she can be the greatest artist of their time.
âI havenât seen any of your work but Iâm sure itâs nothing short of phenomenal,â Lexa assured. She got so caught up just having a casual conversation with this stranger, she completely forgot the sole purpose for their meeting.
Clarke smiled and fiddled with the sleeve on her drink. She makes a mental note to thank her friends for pushing her into doing this.
âSpeaking of, we should probably talk about what Iâll be doing. Probably where, too,â Lexa said.
Clarkeâs eyebrows lift up in surprise and she smirks, âYouâre awfully confident that youâd be my model. And that Iâd take you anywhere, in fact.â A little savage, Clarke.
It was Lexaâs turn to blush. âI didnât - I mean, I donât want to presume anything. You didnât - the flyer didnât really have any specifics and I just want to know what Iâm in for. I - that is, if Iâm -â Lexa rambles, hands waving around as she talks. Completely avoiding eye contact with Clarke.
Clarke lets out a deep laugh and sits back. Arms outstretched on the table, hands cupping her drink still, amused at how quickly she was able to fluster Lexa.
âDonât worry, youâre fine. Iâve heard way worse from this,â a wry smile on her face.
âWell, now Iâve gotta know what youâve been told,â Lexa leaned forward, arms resting on the table.
âIâll save you the specifics but Iâve had a few guys call to ask if this was a nude model position, and whether or not Iâd join afterwards.â
Lexa laughed, âOh Lord, gotta love college boys.â
âYeah, definitely part of why men arenât really in my wheelhouse,â she looked down and shook her head, amused. It took Lexa a moment to realize exactly what she said, and when she did, she looked like a deer caught in headlights.
Clarke perked up at that, leaning forward again and grinned. Oh, if she didnât want to ask this girl out before, she definitely did now that she can guess she has a chance. Wait, thatâs not what weâre here for. Focus, Griff.
âAgreed.â Lexa smiled wryly. âBut, anyway, back on topic,â Clarke narrowed her eyes at Lexa, âthe model thing.â
âYeah, alright, yes, of course. So, what exactly are you looking for?â Lexa cleared her throat, and sighed deeply, relieved to be on a safe topic for a moment. Sheâs never revealed any kind of information about herself so quickly to a stranger before. Sheâs not used to fumbling with her words. Sheâs definitely not used to any blushing around a girl. Itâs a little unnerving for Lexa.
âItâs pretty simple, Iâd hope,â Clarke said. âHereâs the whole situation, really. I have this assignment for one of my art classes where I need to draw a portrait of someone. Not my strong suit honestly, and Iâve drawn my friends so many times Iâve, kind of, gotten used to it? I guess.â She sighs, exasperated at the thought.
Lexa nods, listening intently. âAnyway, I just need someone to sit still for a while, couple hours maybe. Hopefully gather up some fresh inspiration.â Clarke cringed, âthat sounds really boring for you, Iâm sorry. I didnât totally think that through but I promise to keep you entertained.â
âOh, so Iâve got the job then, huh?â Lexa teased.
Clarke rolled her eyes playfully, âYeah, well, it was a tough one - came down to you or some frat guy whoâd, undoubtedly, try to feel me up at some point. So youâre a decent choice, I guess.â
âGlad to know Iâm at the same high standards as some fuckboy,â Lexa joked.
Clarke gasped, âWhat kind of language is that from a college professor, maâam?â She placed one hand over her chest, faux appalled, the other rested on Lexaâs forearm.
âIâm a cool professor, donât you know?â Lexa shot back. She was hyper aware of Clarkeâs touch, making her stomach flutter. Oh, fuck.
Clarke smiled brightly at her, âAlright hotshot, whatever helps you sleep at night.â She had the urge to rub Lexaâs arm gently, but let go before her body decided on itâs own.
Lexa already missed Clarkeâs touch, her arm tingling where her hand has been, craving the warmth, wanting to know how itâd feel to slip her hand into Clarkeâs. She shook the thought away.
âAre you free for today?â Clarke asked. Blue eyes gazing into deep green.
âI have absolutely nothing else planned, so, yeah. Iâm free,â Lexa responded, barely above a whisper.
âMy apartmentâs not too far from here so, uh, we can go back there and I can get started, if you donât mind? If itâs okay with you for today, I mean.â Clarkeâs lips twitched up in a hopeful smile.
âYeah, of course. Iâd love to.â Lexa murmured.
Clarke beamed. The two gathered their belongings and headed out. Both of them a bundle of nerves. Stealing glances at each other as they walked down the street, hearts fluttering, yet trying to ignore it.
The walk to Clarkeâs apartment was fairly quick. The two talked about silly things along the way; Clarke told Lexa about her favorite bands, Lexa told her about being on the soccer team in high school. They got to Clarkeâs building and lead the way up the stairs to her apartment.
They reached the third floor and Clarke stopped in front of one of the apartments. 3C in large, faded gold on the outside of her door. Lexa shoves her hands in her pockets as Clarke unlocks the door and steps inside.
âIt might be a mess in here, I share it with my two best friends so I never know how itâs gonna look sometimes,â Clarke chuckled. She placed her keys on the table next to the door and placed her bag on the couch.
Lexa still stood in the doorway, hands in her pockets, rocking back and forth on her heels.
Clarke glances over her shoulder at Lexa, looking nervous as her eyes dart around the room. âDo you need an invitation inside, like a vampire? You can come in, Lexa,â Clarke teases.
Lexa shakes her head and steps inside, smiling at how her name sounds rolling off Clarkeâs tongue. Smooth and soft, like Clarke is the only one meant to say it.Â
âI am, actually,â Lexa places her bag on the counter and starts taking off her jacket. âSo, thank you for the unlimited access to your apartment so I can suck your neck to live.â
Clarke snorted and watches as Lexa hangs her jacket on the highchair in the kitchen, blissfully unaware of what she just said. As soon as hit her, Lexa stopped cold in her tracks, ears burning, eyes wide.
âI didnât - I was just - I mean, vampires do drink blood and they - they bite necks so -â Lexa rambled, hands flying as she spoke.
Clarke pressed her lips together, trying to hold back a laugh as she watched Lexa stumble. Lexa seems so easy to fluster, and thatâs just too adorable. I wouldnât mind if she did, honestly.
âBefore we really go into vampire mythology, how I set up my supplies and you can make yourself at home in the meantime?â Clarke asked.
âYeah! Yes, no problem,â Lexa clapped her hands together. âIâll just, uh, be over here.â She hooked her thumb over her shoulder at the living room and nodded. Clarke giggled to herself and walked over to the corner of her living room where she had some art supplies laying around. Lexa clasped her hands behind her back and looked around the room.
The apartmentâs fairly small, quaint but comfortable. An island counter in the kitchen, a few schedules stuck up on the fridge, a sectional couch in the living room along with a recliner both facing a coffee table and a flat screen. The floors were hardwood, the wall behind the television was red brick, photos scattered around. There was a gym bag thrown in one corner, some scrap metal on the coffee table. She looked over at Clarkeâs little art corner, sketchbooks stacked in a small pile, a box of pencils, an easel pushed against the wall next to a window. Lexa loved it. It felt full of life and love. It felt like home.
Lexa walks over to a collage of photos on the wall, examining most of them, really just the ones with Clarke. Clarke and a group of friends drinking at a party, Clarke with two brunettes dressed up as supervillains for Halloween, Clarke getting a piggyback ride from an older man with similar stunning blue eyes. That photoâs a bit bigger than the rest of them.
Clarke snatches one of her larger sketchbooks and finally grabs a pack of graphite pencils when she notices Lexa. She inhales a deep breath and strides over, stands next to Lexa.
âThatâs my dad,â Clarke says, barely above a whisper. Lexa chances a glance at Clarke, whose eyes are trained on the photo in question. Lexaâs all too familiar with the look in Clarkeâs eyes. She turns back to the photo as well.
âA striking resemblance.â
âI got my good looks from him, Iâll give âem that much.â
âEh, youâre alright, I guess.â
âIâll have you know I won a beauty pageant once because of those good looks.âÂ
Lexa chuckles, âOh, yeah?â
Clarke smiles and turns to look at Lexa, âOkay, I was like six. Either way, it was a beauty pageant soâŠâ
âSo, the age kind of invalidates it, donât ya think?â Lexa teased. She turns her body towards Clarke, smirking. Her emerald gaze meeting Clarkeâs deep cerulean. Clarkeâs smile is threatening to spill as she holds Lexaâs gaze. Lexaâs never felt so at ease with someone else, so quickly, before. Her eyes dart down to Clarkeâs pink lips and licks her own. Her heartâs racing. Calm down, you gay mess.
Clarke watches as Lexaâs eyes dart down for a moment, just a second, and she locks eyes with Lexa again. A heat pools down in Clarkeâs belly as she looks at Lexaâs plump lips. Clarke looks back up at Lexa. Both of them wrapped in the rising intensity of the moment. Neither of them wanting to move from here.
Clarke huffs and closes her eyes for a moment, âAnyway!â she exclaims. She walks around Lexa and waves her arm in direction of the couch. âPick anywhere. Make yourself comfy. It wonât take entirely too long but, still, sit.â
Lexa takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, tilts her head back to look up. She presses her lips together, licks them, and nods to herself. Iâm already so fucking screwed.
She turns and walks over to Clarke, clears her throat, âHe was a handsome guy. You have his eyes.â
A shy, bashful smile on Clarkeâs face. She loves being told all the things she has in common with her father, physical or otherwise. He was her favorite person, her confidant, her partner in crime. And she really misses him.
âThank you,â she said softly.
âWhat was he like?â Lexa was hesitant, but she wanted to know as much about this girl as she could get. âI mean, if youâre okay with thatâ
Clarke nods, âYeah, no, itâs fine. It was a while ago so Iâve worked through it,â she chuckles. She looks up at Lexa, sees her smiling sweetly. She looks down at her blank sketchbook. She should probably start on that.
âTry not to move too much, by the way.â Lexa nodded, sat back and crossed one leg over the other, her attention completely on Clarke.
She starts sketching Lexaâs face as she speaks, âWell, my dad⊠he has my best friend. I mean, I love both my parents - my momâs great too, we just⊠fight more often. I guess.â A beat. âBut my dad was the peacekeeper. Definitely my biggest fan in every way,â she laughs. âI donât know how long it took me to understand you canât draw on the walls at home and paper is a perfectly acceptable option but, he never got angry, even though Mom did. He always backed me up.â
Clarke absentmindedly sketched while she spoke. An outline of Lexaâs face, her beautiful curls, her blue button-up. She chanced a look at Lexa through her lashes. Lexaâs expression is as soft as ever, her eyes glossy and understanding. Clarke can tell she gets it. She hates that this is something they have in common; a loss.
The two lock eyes and Lexa inhales, âHe sounds like an amazing father.â
Clarke smiles sadly and responds, âYeah. He was.â They hold each others gaze briefly, and Clarke looks back down to continue her work.
âI lost someone special to me, too,â Lexa sighs. âHer name was Costia.â
Blue meets green again, Clarke feels so much for this complete stranger, itâs scary. The momentâs briefly intense, the silence a little thick.
âLong story short, she was in a car accident. It was pretty late, some guy had too much to drink, ran a red light,â Lexa fiddled with the hem of her shirt and shrugged. âYou know the rest.â
âLexa, thatâs⊠terrible,â Clarke says.
âYeah.â She folds into herself for a moment, rubs her hands over her thighs repeatedly, ready to switch gears. Itâs been a few years but, every time she thinks about it, it aches a little more.
âAnyway, that got dark,â Lexa laughs an empty laugh, attempting to change the subject. âI uh - wanna hear about this one time in high school, I was on the soccer team and I wrongly got detention for a week because I accidentally hit my coach in the face with a soccer ball?â
Clarke bursts out laughing, âOh my god, how did that happen?â
Lexa smiles, she tells Clarke all about her rivalry with one of her teammates, Ontari, how everything was made into a competition, how they ended up liking the same girl and their little competition spiraled and Lexa claims she was framed for the missed shot that smacked their coach in the face. To this day, she wholeheartedly believes she was set up. Clarke couldnât stop smiling at Lexa, stealing glances at her, away from her sketch, as often as she could. She was just about finished but Clarke tried to take as much time as possible on it.
âLexa, Iâm sure you werenât framed,â Clarke teased.
âI was! Clarke,â Lexa leans forward, serious as ever, hands clasped together, âThat girl is satan reincarnate. She, no doubt in my mind, framed me.â
Clarke shook her head at Lexaâs antics. âOkay, okay. Iâll take your word for it. I had something similar happen in high school. Well, gym class, at least.â
âOoh, an embarrassing story, is it? Iâm intrigued.â
âRelax, nerd. I just witnessed it, it wasnât me. Trust me, I barely participated in any sport, besides volleyball.â
âVolleyball? Oh man, wish I couldâve seen that.â
âWhyâs that?â Clarke looks up from her sketchbook.
âYou probably looked really good serving up shots during games.â Lexa smirked. Part of her canât believe she just let that slip, but the more she talked to Clarke, she figured, why not? Anya pushed her into doing something new and it led her to a beautiful, amazing girl. If thatâs not some cosmic sign then, Lexa doesnât know what is.
Clarkeâs cheeks turned bright red. She wasnât expecting that.
âSo, howâs the sketch coming? How terrible are you making me look?â Lexa asked.
Clarke huffed, âAre you saying Iâm a bad artist?â
âNo. Iâm probably just a bad model,â Lexa replied amused.
Clarke scoffed, âHow can you be bad at sitting still?â
Lexa rolled her eyes, âJust - can I see it?â she asked gently.
Clarke rose and walked over to Lexa, who stood as well. Clarke bit her lip hesitantly and shoved her sketchbook in Lexaâs hands.
âItâs probably really rough and definitely not my best work, so iâm just apologizing in advance and -â Clarke stopped rambling when she saw Lexa running her finger over the sketch. She was speechless. The slope of her nose, the hard lines of her jaw, the absolute softness and light in her eyes, her full smile and wild hair. She looks full of life. She looks beautiful in a way that Lexaâs never seen herself as. And sheâs speechless.
âClarke,â she whispered, âthis is amazing. Youâre so talented.â Lexa breathed.
Clarke smiled bashfully, heart beating wildly at the compliment. She can tell Lexa means it and it makes her heart soar.
Lexa clears her throat and hands Clarke the sketchbook. Clarke closes it, places it on the coffee table.
âI should uh, get going. Professor Gonzalez got called up for jury duty this week so I should probably go over the lecture for next class,â Lexa said as she gathered her things.
Clarke rung her hands together and nodded, âYeah, of course, no worries. Iâll walk you out.â
Lexa pulled her jacket on and slung her bag over her shoulder. They walked together to the door of Clarkeâs apartment.
âThank you so much for doing this, Lexa. It was a huge help,â Clarke said.
âOf course. Let me know how the assignment turns out, yeah?â Lexa asked, hopefully.
âDefinitely,â Clarke responded. She knows her eyes are blown and she can tell Lexaâs are too. They stand by the door, Clarke rocking on her feet and Lexa fiddling with her bag strap.
âFuck it,â Lexa sighs.
Lexa reaches up, grabs the back of Clarkeâs neck and kisses her. Clarkeâs a little surprised, but she quickly melts right into the kiss. Itâs soft, Lexaâs lips are soft and full. And Clarkeâs lips taste like her lip gloss, strawberry flavored. Lexaâs lips parts beneath Clarkeâs and the softness is gone. At the feel of Clarkeâs tongue, Lexa releases a pleased sound, deep in her throat, and it leaves Clarke wanting to make Lexa do that again, wanting more.
Clarke digs her hands into Lexaâs jacket and Lexa cups her hands over Clarkeâs cheeks, a thumb brushing over the curve of her jaw as Clarkeâs tongue presses against Lexa. This time, itâs Clarke who groans.
Lexa comes up for air, moves back slowly, eyes still closed. She rubs her nose against Clarkeâs and sighs.
Clarkeâs eyes are still closed, too, and she smirks, âBeen wanting to do that since I saw you walk through the cafe.â
Lexa laughs, âWanna keep doing that, maybe, over dinner this Friday?â
Clexa âYouâre so fucking hot when youâre madâ
This ask is from 2019, buuuuut let's make it work for the "Under the Neon Moon" storyline :D
If you haven't read it, you can find it here: Under the Neon Moon
(This little snippet also provides a little education in how alcohol is supplied and distributed in the US. Thank you, Prohibition, for the three-tier system and hurdles that come along with it!!)
---
Three months into their relationship, the balance was holding. Lexa split her time. Two weeks in Kentucky, two in New York, so that she could be both Commander and girlfriend. Everyone in the office knew they were together, but the lines at work were neat, professional. Clarke kept the machine humming, Lexa set its direction. After five, different story.
This morning, though, the glass walled conference room had everyoneâs attention. Lexa sat across from a representative from Ice Kingdom Ltd, one of Trikru Bourbonâs largest distributors. Anya was at the table too, spine straight, arms folded, expression unreadable.
Clarke had seen the documents at breakfast. Invoices where Ice Kingdom had hiked Trikruâs wholesale price by nearly 25%, forcing retailers to push shelf prices higher. The impact was obvious. Drinkers paying more for the same bottle, thinking Trikru had gotten greedy.
It was a betrayal. And Lexa didnât forgive betrayal.
Inside, pleasantries had evaporated in seconds. Lexa slid a folder across the table, a single sheet facing the rep. âDo we agree these are your invoices?â
The man tugged at his tie. âWeâve had some⊠market pressuresâŠâ
âDonât insult me.â Lexaâs voice was low, but it carried like a knife unsheathed. âYour contract is clear. Your costs didnât rise 25% overnight. You saw an opportunity to fatten your margin and you took it. On our name.â
Anya leaned forward, tapping a manicured nail against the sheet. Her tone was deceptively mild. âWe tracked it to twenty-nine accounts across two states. Thatâs not market pressure. Thatâs strategy.â
The rep swallowed. âSome stores wantedâŠâ
âThey wanted margin,â Lexa snapped. âAnd you gave it to them by burning our loyalty in the process. Do you understand what happens when a drinker pays thirty-nine last month and forty-nine this month for the same bottle? They blame us. They stop trusting us. They walk.â
Her voice rose, no longer cool but edged, filling the room. Heads throughout the office turned like sunflowers.
Clarke felt her chest swell with pride. That sharpness once would have rattled her, now it lit her up from the inside. She reached for her phone without thinking, thumbs flying:
Youâre so fucking hot when youâre mad.
The message sent before she had the chance to second-guess.
Inside the conference room, the Ice Kingdom rep stammered. âWeâve had a long relationship with Trikru. Iâd hate for this to-â
âYou soured it the moment you broke trust.â Lexaâs chair didnât creak as she leaned forward. âHereâs what will happen. You will issue credits for every overage. You will personally explain the âerrorâ to those twenty-nine retailers. You will sign a written assurance this will not happen again. And Anya,â she flicked her fingers toward her colleague without breaking eye contact, âwill have the right to audit your sell-in without notice for the next twelve months.â
âThatâs⊠excessive,â the rep protested weakly. âIt implies distrust.â
Her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced down mid-sentence, mid-breath, and Clarkeâs heart skipped as she realized Lexa had seen her text.
For the first time, Lexa broke cadence. She looked up, eyes finding Clarke through the glass. For half a second, the Commander mask shifted. One corner of her mouth twitched, and she gave Clarke a slow, deliberate wink.
Clarkeâs breath caught. She ducked her head quickly, cheeks flaming. Raven, two desks over, made a strangled noise. âOh my God,â she hissed. âWhat did you text her? No, donât tell me. No, actually tell me.â
Octavia elbowed her. âShut up. Let them have their corporate porn moment.â
Clarke buried her grin in her notebook, pulse thrumming.
Inside, Lexa looked back at the rep as if nothing had happened. âBy four p.m., I expect a written summary of the credits youâll issue. If it isnât on my desk, we start an RPF for new distributors in the two states you tried to screw us in.â
The rep blanched, sweat dotting his hairline. He looked to Anya for mercy. She gave him none, only her cool, steady gaze. âBetter get writing.â
Lexa stood, sharp and precise, gathering the papers. The meeting was over.
The rep scrambled to his feet, mumbling something about making it right. Anya didnât bother to rise. She just jotted a note on her pad. âIâll draft the retailer comms,â she said.
âGood,â Lexa replied, already moving for the door.
The glass opened, closed. The office exhaled.
Clarkeâs phone buzzed in her lap.
Tonight. Your place. And youâre explaining that text in person.
Clarke bit her lip, smiling helplessly at the screen. She typed back:
Gladly. But professional me says the Amber Room is booked at 3, so you better clear out of there, Commander.
Three dots blinked, then Lexaâs reply came fast.
Girlfriend me says letâs order Thai. And wear that look you just gave me.