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Oh no I have this Clexa Christmas storyline stuck in my head where Clarke and Lexa are in the same friend group and have started to date but haven’t told anyone yet, because they’re just testing the waters and just want to see where things are going.
Due to whatever circumstances, they both couldn’t make it home to their families for the holidays and end up staying at Lexa’s over Christmas Eve and Day and indulge in movies and food and drinks and each other. Clarke asks Lexa, a self-proclaimed “Grinch” to get a tree and lights and other not-so-subtle decorations, and Lexa submits to it because it’s Christmas and it’s Clarke and she has those pretty blue eyes that Lexa is such a sucker for.
It’s the day after Christmas and Lexa wakes up to an empty bed and a text from Clarke saying that her streak of not getting a page from work has ended, her being “on call” for the holiday week is now in full swing. Lexa walks into her living room and decides to tackle the mess later—empty takeout containers, bottles of wine, and wrapping paper that housed all of their gifts (mostly gag gifts like toilet paper with Trump’s face printed on it).
She slumps down onto the couch and covers herself with the blanket that Clarke had gifted her with (they both know that the gift was actually for Clarke—the blankets in Lexa’s apartment were more for decor, not for comfort), turns on the TV to flip through the channels, and decides that she’d get up in fifteen minutes to clean out the French press and make some fresh coffee.
She doesn’t realize she fell asleep until she hears her front door opening. From her horizontal position on the couch, she lets out a “Thank god you’re back. Is it bad that I miss you already?”
The lack of answer causes her to peek her head over the large arm of the sofa and what she sees makes her want to crawl under the large throw and never emerge.
Her cousin, Anya, is standing in her entryway with a bag of wrapped presents (likely sent from Anya’s parents and younger brother from her quick trip home for Christmas). She cocks a brow at her cousin on the couch and slowly walks into the living space. Lexa, the group’s self-proclaimed “neat freak” was surrounded by quite a mess and quite the mixture of festive decorations—something none of her apartments were ever adorned with.
“It looks like the Bryant Park Holiday Market threw up in here,” Anya says as she places the bag of presents at the foot of the tree, “What the fuck is all this?”
Lexa looks around the space, her eyes following Anya’s around the room, “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” Anya laughs, “There’s a ten foot tree in your living room. With lights. And ornaments.” Her eyes wander to the far side of the room, “And two stockings hanging from your bar cart?”
“For presents. That’s what Christmas stockings are for,” Lexa rolls her eyes, but deep down inside she really wants to shrivel up and die.
“Right. Presents,” her cousins nods, “So I’m assuming the second stocking is for the person you thought I was when I walked in?”
Lexa hesitates, “Uh, sure.”
“Spit it out, Lex. Who have you been holed up in here with this week?”
Thankfully (or not-so-thankfully), they were interrupted by the sound of keys in the front door. Both women quickly turn their attention to the door when they hear, “Babe, can you believe they fucking sent me home after only being there for four hours? I grabbed you a coffee and some breakfast–”
Clarke stops in her tracks when she realizes it’s not just her and Lexa in the apartment, “Oh.”
Anya looks between the two, “OH.”
Lexa lifts the blanket and drapes it over her head, “Shit.”
(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.
It’s Clexmas time, and we are rollin’ with Holy Clexmas 2019 this year!
Last year we did 12 Days of Clexmas, but after thinking about how busy we all get during the holidays, I decided to cut it down to 7 days. It will still have a Clexa Winter Wonderland vibe, so anything goes. Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Ōmisoka, New Years… You want to celebrate/represent it, go for it!!!
How To Participate:
Fanfics, fanart, moodboards, photo manipulations, fic recs, fanvids, anything that jingles like Clexa, let’s see it!
Holy Clexmas 2019 will start on December 19th, 2019, so make sure you’ve finished all your shopping before then.
Below are the themes for Holy Clexmas. I will post a detailed list of the themes very soon in case anyone needs a little help getting those gears turning, so be on the lookout!
Holy Clexmas! 7 days of all things Clexa?!
Dec. 19: Winter Wonderland
Dec. 20: Cocktails and Candy Canes
Dec. 21: A Christmas Carol
Dec. 22: Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!
Dec. 23: Naughty or Nice
Dec. 24: Under The Mistletoe
Dec. 25: Christmas Morning/Free Day
Reblog or send this post out to anyone you think will enjoy! Send out ideas/prompts to your favorite writers and artists! This year’s tag will be:
#HolyClexmas19
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
