Thereâs something so sacred about the sound of a heartbeat.
Itâs been years since Clarke slept so soundly. And itâs the first time sheâs ever done so while curled up naked and entangled with the most precious person in the world. Clarkeâs eyes have not yet opened, but her lips curve and she burrows deeper into the warmth, Lexaâs body soft and sticky against hers, the blankets still damp and the rug soaked beneath them. Lexaâs heart is steady and sure beneath her ear, and the sound of it fills Clarke up and reverberates in every part of her.
She can feel the moment awareness settles over Lexa. Her head slowly rises and falls with Lexaâs chest as Lexa takes a deep breath, and Clarke sighs happily, her cheek pressed to Lexaâs heart.
âGood morning,â Lexa hums, voice thick with sleep.
Clarke turns her head slightly to press her lips to Lexaâs heart. âGood morning.â
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.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/6
Fandom: The 100 (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Clarke Griffin & Lexa
Characters: Clarke Griffin, Lexa (The 100)
Additional Tags: Clexa, Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends, Enemies to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Pining, Yearning, Forbidden Love, soft, Cottagecore, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Eventual Smut, period drama, Period romance, Clexaweek21, Day 3, reunited
Summary:
Their love begins as it ends: beneath a tree that bears their names, amidst birds that sing their heartache, and dusted in golden leaves whose fleeting touch is as soft and lingering as their last kiss.
Or: a vague period drama where they have loved one another since childhood, and thereâs only one thing that stands in the way of their happiness: everything.
Stop whatever you are doing, get comfortable for a few hours of blissful reading and feast your eyes, heart and soul with this absolutely gorgeous #clexa fanfic from @deviltakesthewaltz
One of the best fics I have read in this fandom and itâs only 2 chapters in. Achingly beautiful story, prose, angst and heart-dizzying levels of clexa love. I feel like I didnât fully breathe and spent the entire time literally swooning while reading each chapter. A work of art. Truly.
Iâm so so happy that clexa found their happiness in HEWM and that Emerson got his due! I was so worried that Clarke would end up married but luckily that didnât happen. Also moving to an area where it was accepted!? I love that they ended up moving to where gustus was and out of that terrible place with so many memories of loss. I wasnât sure about the tree being gone but it really made it feel like there was nothing left for them there. Thank you for such a beautiful story.
Spoilers in this ask, for those who havenât finished HEWM.
Thank you. It was a difficult decision, deciding to get rid of their treeâ ultimately I felt like it was the last symbol of their childhood and life before, so to speak? So it had to go, and they had to move on. I like the idea that they get a new tree right in their back garden, and that it even holds a piece of their old one, since they planted it themselves. Also wanted it to be that way- them working for this life, fighting for it, growing it themselves. They werenât given it, they made it.
And now they get to spend the rest of their years growing old and grey beneath that tree. I like to imagine that when they pass away, itâs peacefully in their sleep, together underneath it, Clarke leaning up against Lexa, one of Lexaâs arms around her and Lexaâs other hand down in her lap with with two withered, knobby old fingers hooked inside a book.
Another excerpt from my clexa period drama her echoes within me
++
Sheâs overcome, suddenly, by how happy she feels. This is the most sheâs smiled sinceâ well, since two years ago. Since Lexa left. This is the most sheâs spoken, the most sheâs laughed, the most sheâs felt, end stop.Â
Overwhelmed, she takes a deep breath and falls backwards; her legs bend at the knee and hang off the bed, but the rest of her falls flat on the mattress, arms up above her head, eyes closed. She empties her lungs with a long, quiet sigh, and when she finally opens her eyes, her heart jumps as she finds Lexa leaning over her, utter affection writ into every line of her face, softening her crooked smile and her jade eyes that Clarke canât help but look between, in awe of that most beautiful shade of green and grey sheâs been craving with everything she has for two years now.
The light-hearted affection fades as the air between them thickens. Clarkeâs breath catches as she recalls this is not the first time Lexa has hovered over her in a bed. It has her throat running dry, her heart stuttering, her lips parting; Lexaâs gaze dips down to watch, darkening as Clarkeâs tongue darts out to wet them. An insistent warmth crawls over Clarkeâs entire body, draping over her like a blanket, and she is suddenly astutely aware that this is the most alone she and Lexa have ever been for the majority of their lives, save for their time outdoors at their tree. Every time theyâve been in a house...near a bed...family was always around somewhere, or at the very least the threat of them hung in the air. Here, now...thereâs no one to interrupt.Â
Interrupt what?
Clarke has no idea what sheâs doing.Â
She has no idea, but she lies there half beneath Lexa, warm and aching, and she wants to find out.
Lexa slowly leans down, propping herself up with an elbow, carefully lying on her side and leaning over Clarke. âYouâre beautiful,â she says softly, eyes wide and luminous in the candlelight. âI didnât forget that, but seeing you againâŚâ
âI know what you mean,â Clarke murmurs. She should fight this urge to reach up and touch Lexa, but she hasnât the strength nor the desire. She lifts one trembling hand and tucks a loose curl of Lexaâs hair behind one delicate ear before she frowns, tilting her head, studying Lexa more intently. Lexa has only the time to look puzzled before her face clears with comprehension as Clarke reaches up, begins slowly pulling out pins until Lexaâs hair falls loose and wavy, tumbling over her shoulders, the curly tips tickling Clarkeâs cheeks. Clarke drops her arm to hang off the mattress and allows the pins to drop to the floor; they watch each other in the dimness, unflinching as the pins hit the floor one by one, until the last ring fades into the silence. âThatâs better. Now you look more like you.â
Lexa presses her full lips together, not quite able to suppress her smile, though surprises chases it away anyway a moment later when Clarkeâs hand drifts up, her thumb following the seam before catching on her plump bottom lip. Donât hide it, she wants to say, but itâs difficult to speak at all beneath Lexaâs intense gaze.Â
âThere are so many things I wish to say to you,â Lexa whispers, gaze growing somber as she looks between Clarkeâs eyes. âBut now they are things I shouldnât.â
Despite the truth behind Lexaâs words, Clarke canât help but feel a dark, spine-racking thrill, the ache in her heart shifting ever lower, tugging deep and intently in her lower stomach and down even farther, throbbing between her legs. This yearning for Lexa has existed for so long, in so many different ways, and sheâs not at all surprised to feel it so powerfully here now; she longs for Lexa, so badly she shakes with it, and she unconsciously presses her legs together, thighs squeezing as though it can alleviate this insatiable yearning. âWhat sort of things?â
Her breathing quickens when Lexaâs does, when she watches as Lexa wets her lips again and looks down at her like sheâs contemplating them all at once.
âThings like...how I wish I brought a book with me, so that I would read it to you.â Clarkeâs heart aches as she softens, melts beneath Lexa, her hand shifting to cup her face. âOr how I would give anything to share just one more bowl of sugared blackberries with you. To pretend to nap just a bit longer if only to give you more time to work on your sketch of me.â Clarke bites her lip to curb her sad smile. âI long to see you beneath the sun in the orchard. To grow lost in the woods with you again. To hold you beneath our tree, to study the way the light glints in your hair, toââ She cuts herself off, but Clarke can guess the direction of her thoughts by the direction of her gaze dipping down to her mouth again.Â
âTo what?â she urges, because she wants to hear her say it. She needs to hear her say it.
Lexa stares for a beat longer before she blinks, frowns. She pushes herself up and rolls off the bed; Clarke follows suit, sitting on the edge and watching the way Lexa stands there, running a hand through her hair in agitation.
âIt matters not,â Lexa finally says, voice muffled in the hand she drags over her face.Â
Clarke reaches out, grasps her wrist to stop her from pacing. âIt always matters.â
âIt doesnât. Soon youâll be married and then someone else will be kissing youâŚâ
âI donât want anyone to touch me but you.â Clarke clutches her desperately, beseechingly, willing her to see. âYou know that, donât you?â When Lexa just looks at her, eyes filled with sorrow, Clarke stands up, steps closer to Lexa as though eye contact can convince her of the truth. âLexa, I donât want to marry him. I donât want him at all. I want you.â
Lexaâs breath hitches, but she still looks lost as she looks helplessly back at Clarke. âBut it doesnât change the fact that you are marrying him.â
Guilt suffuses the very air Clarke draws into her lungs, but itâs not strong enough to overpower the longing within her, the need for Lexa.
âDarling, I wish I could change the world for you,â Clarke whispers, voice breaking. She cups Lexaâs face in her hands again, wishing more than anything she could wipe her sorrow away. She steers Lexa down so she can press a kiss to her forehead, and when she straightens the tilt of Lexaâs head, she has only a moment to see the faint pink dusting over her cheeks before she closes her eyes, brings their forehead to rest together. She restlessly moves hardly a second later, pressing another kiss to Lexaâs cheek, just at the corner of her mouth. She can feel Lexaâs intake of breath as much as she can hear it; their mouths are so close together, she can very nearly taste her shuddery exhale.
When she opens her eyes, her stomach bottoms out again, because those green eyes are hazy, dark, and all Clarke wants to do is kiss her absolutely senseless.
âI want you. Youâre all I want, all Iâve ever wanted.â
OMG! Chapter 7 is here! You know what, Iâm going to start a re-read from the beginning. I want to get the full story feels again đ Who needs sleep anyway. đŹ Thank you for such an amazing story đđź
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.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
In celebration of recent events, here is a snippet of a clexa fic Iâve been working on, featuring 4k of yearning!Clexa.
++
Golden leaves spiral from the sky the first time they kiss.Â
Itâs been a soft autumn, and their love bloomed with the times. Lexaâs father is away on business; Clarkeâs mother is stitching up war wounds at the infirmary across the way. Like most days lately, they found themselves drifting farther and farther from home, which was a relief for Lexa, ever eager to put distance between herself and the cold, empty manor that had served as a roof over her head for all of her life; Clarke, who had shared many a laugh and comforting embrace in the shelter of her small quaint home full of warmth, nevertheless found herself eager to follow Lexa anywhere, but especially the hallowed orchard.Â
It doesnât belong to either of them. They arenât certain who owns these acres stretching farther than the eye could see, beyond the shimmering horizons, some measurable distance behind their own homes, but theyâre always grateful to capitalize on its relative emptiness. Just through the orchard lay a meadow, with naught but a single oak tree to spread its shade, and itâs always there that they find themselves wandering. Clarke has long lost count of how many afternoons theyâve drowned in the comfort of this tree, the usual sharp edges to her outings with Lexa inexplicably softened when the two of them came to rest at its trunk. Itâs been marked with their presence for many years now, a small heart containing their initials they carved in together with the small bowie knife Clarke stole from her father.Â
Clarke is never sure if itâs the magic and mysticism of the tree itself, singular and towering, or the familiar and gentle tenor of Lexaâs voice as she reads softly to Clarke from the various books she could never be found without. Just as when they were children, Clarke would slip into slumber with her head tucked into Lexaâs shoulder, and when she wakes she would always spend the first several seconds pretending she hadnât, if only to remain there just a bit longer, dappled sunshine her blanket, head filled with the sweet scent of her friendâs soft curls just beneath her nose and the sound of Lexaâs heartbeat reverberating in her own aching rib cage. Lexa never seemed to realize when she was awake. She would read on, softly, until Clarke stirred and nuzzled deeper into her embrace, until Lexaâs lips brushed across the top of her head, and her body in its entirety burned with something she could never name.
But she suspects sheâs beginning to discover it.
She has felt this way for as long as she can remember, and when she tries to think back, pinpoint an exact moment, she finds itâs as difficult as recognizing the precise instance in time that her young self learned how to breathe.Â
She feels as though sheâs been built with this yearning, this ache that suffuses every inch of her body, but in times such as these, when theyâre tucked into this haven isolated from the world, itâs hard to feel the usual shame about it- particularly when moments alone give way to a different sort of fear when her monstrous appetite spreads its jaws wide and threatens to swallow the both of them whole. Sheâs not strong enough to resist reaching for her, fingers curling loosely into the wool of Lexaâs dress. The fact that it serves as the only thin barrier between her fingertips and Lexaâs skin is one that tends to haunt her at all times, but admittedly most when itâs late at night.
Lexa tends to have that effect on her.
It was, in fact, only two days ago that their reading led to an epiphany. For years Clarke had swallowed down these strange and confusing feelings, had tried her best to ignore the way her skin lit up with each graze of Lexaâs body, how she seemed to glow even at mere proximity to her. Now the incessant swirling of her stomach felt heavier, fuller, in certain loaded moments where the air felt alive and dangerous, the equivalent of the tension in the sky moments before a storm. She had rattled off excuses for why she oft found her gaze drifting to various features that shouldnât draw it- the soft swell of Lexaâs lips, the sharp angle of her jaw and elegant stretch of her neck; the defined measure of her collarbones and the subtle shadows splayed over her chest from her corset pushing up her breasts, only ever seen in brief stolen moments when they changed near the otherâ sometimes even the curve of Lexaâs backside, the shapely line of her ankles beneath her pleated skirts.
She reasons with herself when she realizes sheâs staring too hard and for too long. When she swallows and quails beneath the pressure of her own swollen, aching heart, squeezing and suffocating beneath the graceful timbre of Lexaâs voice. When she thinks constantly about the clever way Lexaâs mind works, how sheâs so unafraid to speak her mind to Clarke, how she boldly shows her anger in private moments when she raves about her frustrations with her father, the town, the workings of the world. When the very, very few times Lexa has allowed herself to expose the sorrow eating up her heart, Clarke has cried with her, has brushed away her tears and kissed the top of her head and whispered that she is here, she is here, she is here, all for her. When she fantasizes endless scenarios that involve her going much farther than simply holding Lexaâs hands and gifting her the gentle affections any woman would give a friend they loved dearly. When she imagines parting her lips and letting the truth fly free, begging Lexa, confessing she knows not what these feelings are and what they mean, except she knows exactly what they are and why she is overwhelmed with them, and perhaps she is a monster and the universe is corralling her toward certain hell, but if this haven existsâ the orchard and this hidden meadow where everything but time and the two of them ceases to existâ then perhaps she is content with this version of heaven. If this is paradise, sheâs wholly certain whatever lay beyond it pales in comparison.
Still, when it came to matters of intimacy, she would at times feel that heavy dread in her stomach that accompanied the flutters of warmth. Generally she reasoned with herself, in those weaker moments. This must be an anomaly. An abhorrence. A test of her will. Fight it.
But then it happened.Â
Two days ago.
And Clarkeâs world would never be the same.
It was a day like any other. They woke, finished their chores in haste, and snuck away with a book tucked beneath Lexaâs arm. Spoke and laughed as they made their way to this spot, to this place that belonged to them, stole their fruit and settled against the tree, swathed in its reprieve, and spent the next hours with only Lexaâs soft voice and the occasional birdsong breaking the silence.Â
"Whenever you tell me your story, it will be made up chiefly of some one great romance."
Clarke had been dozing lightly, drifting in that cherished limbo somewhere between awake and asleep, Lexaâs words guiding her like a safe harbor.Â
And then her next words, spoken with uncharacteristic hesitation followed by a gruff clearing of her throat, changed everything.
âShe kissed me silently.â
Clarkeâs eyes had flown open. She peered down from where her head was propped on Lexaâs shoulder, her heart stuttering in her chest as she focused on the words printed on the paper moments before Lexa said them aloud.
"I am sure, Carmilla, you have been in love; that there is, at this moment, an affair of the heart going on."
"I have been in love with no one, and never shall," she whispered, "unless it should be with you."
How beautiful she looked in the moonlight!â
Lexa paused when Clarke took an audible, sharp intake of breath, and Clarke cursed herself for a moment because she didnât want Lexa to stop. But she could feel the weight of her uncertain stare, so she tilted her head, craning back to meet her gaze, and a thrill wracked through her when their eyes met. It was a calm, breezy day, barely a cloud in the sky, but suddenly it felt as though thunder could rumble and lightning strike at any moment.
âWhat?â Lexa said, voice small.
âShe kissed her,â Clarke said dumbly, cursing herself for her lack of wit. Her face warmed, touched with embarrassment.Â
Lexa swallowed, green eyes flitting between each of Clarkeâs as though searching for something. âYes.â
Clarke paused, her heart thundering. She struggled to control her breathing. âThey...they are both women, are they not?â She may not have paid as much attention to this book as she could have in favor of napping, but she was fairly certain of this.Â
Lexa swallowed again, and Clarke was enchanted and besotted by the dusting of pink on her cheeks. âYes.âÂ
She kissed her.
Clarkeâs gaze drifted, as it was already wont to do, but typically not so openly. Lexaâs lips were full and pink and beautiful, and Clarke had felt their softness on her countless times before, however fleeting. Kisses to the top of her head, to her hand, even on occasion to her cheeks. But never on her mouth. Her body seized and burned with the ache coursing through her at the thought, the need. She realized all at once that Lexa was still staring at her, and panic struck high in her chest; she promptly dipped her head down, hiding her face in the curve of Lexaâs neck, shaking in response to the hitch of breath Lexa gave.
For a long moment they were silent, still, uncertain, until Clarke couldnât stand the tension in the air any more.Â
âKeep reading,â she whispered.
It took another moment, but Lexa did. Cleared her throat first, and quietly read out, âShy and strange was the look with which she quickly hid her face in my neck and hair, with tumultuous sighs, that seemed almost to sob, and pressed in mine a hand that trembled.â
Clarkeâs face burned against Lexaâs skin, and Lexaâs wild curls tickled her nose. She couldnât stop herself from pressing her trembling hand to the one Lexa had clenched in a fist atop her thigh. She could feel Lexaâs whole frame shaking against her, and without thought Clarke tipped her chin up to press what was meant to be a soothing, placating kiss to any part of Lexa she could reach; she landed on the column of Lexaâs throat, and her heart thudded at the fact that she could feel Lexaâs pulse thrumming wildly just beneath her flesh.
Lexa continued to read, her voice rough, lower than Clarke had ever heard it.
âHer soft cheek was glowing against mine. "Darling, darling," she murmured, "I live in you; and you would die for me, I love you so."
The words echoed within Clarke, rebounding in the confines of her skull, singing out a chorus in the caverns of her chest. It was instinct, the way she pressed more firmly against Lexa. The way she sought out more of her, nose trailing the arch of her neck and the hard line of her jaw, the hollow high of her cheek, and finally, the soft tip of her nose. All Clarke could hear was the rushing in her ears as she struggled to open her eyes; when she did, all she could see was Lexa, less than an inch away and closer than Clarke had ever been to her, her brow creased with something akin to desperation, her lips parted, rapid breaths puffing warm over Clarkeâs lips.
She kissed her.
It was as easy and natural as anything else Clarke had ever done by instinct. As simple as breathing. She didnât know who closed the gap, but one moment they were both breathing one another in and the next, their mouths were pressed together. Lexa was impossibly soft against her, warm, and Clarke realized all at once that she was wrong about breathing being easy before. She felt as though she had never breathed properly until this moment, which made little sense considering how much difficulty she was having sucking air into her lungs, but she would happily remain here like this, motionless, pressed into Lexa, propping herself up with one hand on Lexaâs knee and the other clenched tightly over Lexaâs fist, their mouths fixed perfectly together.
But all too soon, the need for air won out, and she and Lexa broke apart. They remained close for a while longer, ragged breaths mixing, foreheads resting together, until Clarke managed to force her eyes to open and she found Lexa already watching her with a particularly dark shade of green Clarke had only ever seen on a handful of occasions. She very nearly kissed her again, except then Lexa blinked, and blinked once more, before drawing back and putting space between them. She pulled her arm free from beneath Clarkeâs grip as she hauled herself to her feet, bracing against the tree trunk when she swayed uneasily.Â
âWe, um. We.â She cleared her throat, shaking her head as though to clear it. âWe should probably head back, itâ it will be dark soon.â The sun had yet to even set, but Clarke couldnât find her voice. âWe can, um. We can read more tomorrow.â She blinked; her face had gone from red to pale, drained of all color, and uneasiness curdled in the pit of Clarkeâs stomach. Sheâs not quite sure what happened, except sheâs squirming beneath the uncomfortable sensation that something that felt so right should have felt wrong, and there was perhaps wrong with Clarke for not knowing that. âIf you...if you still want to, that is.â
The uncertain implication behind those words coupled with the terror in Lexaâs face as she said them had Clarke propelling to her feet. âOf course I want to.â She tilts her head, mouth suddenly dry as fear trickles through herâ fear that they had ruined and destroyed everything. âDo you?â
âOf course,â Lexa said quickly, and it provided enough relief Clarke felt weak in the knees.Â
The relief was short-lived, however. They remained standing in silence thick enough one could not so much as cut it with a knife, and the longer they stood there, looking anywhere but at the other, the more Clarke burned. She shifted her weight on her legs, dazedly noting sheâd never been lost under such tumultuous emotions, a verifiable maelstrom that crashed into her with all the strength and ferocity of ships wrecking into the rocks at Polaris Cove.
âWeâŚâ Clarkeâs voice trailed away as dizziness flooded her again; she could scarcely believe what just happened. Despite the anxiety that was itching at the bottom of her spine, there was an exhilarating thrill thrumming like the wings of a hummingbird in her chest. She looked at her friend in an entirely new light, and realized the light wasnât actually new at all.Â
âNaught happened,â said Lexa quickly, and Clarke blinked, jarred and taken aback. Her denial brought Clarke back to the ground with an abrupt jolt, for she had been at risk of surely floating right up off her toes and sailing clear into the very sky itself.
âLexaâŚâ she began helplessly, but Lexa shook her head at once.Â
âDonât.â
âWe kissed.â Saying the words aloud was frightening, but this was Lexa; this was her dearest friend, the person she trusted most in this whole entire world. A girl who was always so fearless, whom Clarke had once watched stand tall and proud against her father, jaw set and eyes blazing, despite the imminent belting she would undoubtedly receive as punishment for her failure to complete her chores in favor of accompanying Clarke and her mother to town. A girl Clarke had once spent a tense afternoon huddled in the kitchen with, tending to her bloody, bruised knuckles after a tussle with John Murphy, a low-born boy who had tried one too many times to pester Clarke by attempting to lift her skirts to display her shins for all the world to seeâand another belting from her father lay waiting for her then, too, which was perhaps why she seemed so reluctant to leave Clarkeâs care, watching her quietly as sheâd bandaged her up with the clumsy hands of a child, and thanking her with a blush when Clarke gently kissed her knuckles to urge them to heal.Â
For as long as sheâd ever known her, back when they were wee babes and Lexaâs wild mane of hair was nearly as big as her entire scrawny body, Lexa had been bold. So larger than life in her fierce spirit and unyielding confidence.
Yet now she stood before Clarke looking so shaky and willowy she appeared in danger of being knocked over by even the gentlest of breezes, and her eyes were filled with more trepidation than Clarke could ever have imagined her capable of feeling.Â
And Clarke was tempted for a moment, by guilt and her own fear, to follow Lexaâs initiative and let it go.Â
But her lips tingled and everything about that kiss was magic, and she knew if they didnât discuss it now then they never would. And if there were one thing Clarke was known for, it was her mettlesome relentlessness.Â
âStop.â
âWe kissed,â Clarke persisted. Her entire body bloomed with warmth at the mere words. âIt just happened, I can still feel you on my lipsâ how can you deny it?â
âClarke, stop.â Clarkeâs heart twisted into a hard, painful little knot, and she had never known such devastation as watching Lexa shake her head in dismissal. âYou donâtâyou donât have to say anything. I understand.â There was a split second of blinding pain as those two little words sank in. Lexa understood? She understood but she didnât feel the same way, she was rejectingâ whatever this is? But then Lexa continued, âYou were justâŚcaught up in the book.â Clarke blinked, not connecting the words until Lexa lifted the thing in her hands, gave it this small, pitiful gesturing wave.
Lexa froze when Clarke gave an angry scoff before marching over to her and snatching the book right out of her hand. Lexa cried out in protest when Clarke promptly flung it away; it hit the tree trunk and fell with a final thud to the ground.Â
âThe book, the book! I donât care about the book! That wasnâtâ that wasnât why I kissed you.â
Lexa looked at her, struck dumb, her exquisite countenance a mixture of dread and heartbreaking hope that seemed so unfamiliar on her features yet the longer Clarke looked at it, the more she realized how often Lexa wore it when looking at her.
âI kissed you because every part of me has ached to for as long as I can remember,â Clarke said, voice hushed, her heart thrashing wildly and her hands trembling violently at her sides, desperate to reach for Lexa, who stood there shell-shocked. âIâI donât know how this is possible, or what it means. All I know is that you are my favourite person, and the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, and I canât take my eyes off you for fear youâll disappear as Iâve imagined you up because you are so...you are so precious and perfect to me.â She swallowed hard and Lexa echoed it, green eyes wide and glossy and filled with fear and awe that Clarke was sure was reflected in her own. âAnd all I may do is pray that you can understand even a margin of all this Iâm telling you. That youâthat perhaps you kissed me back, and your own reasoning had little to do with the book as well.â
Silence, save for her heart pounding. Lexa took a shaky breath and exhaled it, once, twice, before swallowing again, and whispering, âI feel as if I can no longer remember a time when I did not want to kiss you.â
Warmth bled through the shock that stilled Clarkeâs body, the relentless, fervish hope that wracked her spine. There was a time to worry about what all this meant, Clarke knew. A time to be struck with terror at how cruel life is, to love someone in the dark, forbidden, stuck in a world where they could be killed for it.Â
But right then, they stood in their meadow, the orchard just behind them. It was sunny and warm, a gentle breeze ruffling their hair. Lexaâs cheeks were pretty and pink and Clarkeâs heart was so swollen she was sure it could burst.Â
Lexa took a deep breath, her eyes shining with that hope again, and Clarke felt it spread its own wings ever wider in her chest. âMay I kiss you again?â asked Lexa, voice soft but hopeful.
Clarke bit her lip to curb her beaming smile, already tilting her face up expectantly. Just before their lips met, she paused, and Lexaâs brow knit in concern, previously half mast eyes lifting in renewed alarm. âFor future reference, you can assume the answer to that question is always an unequivocal yes, so as to avoid wasting any unnecessary time asking me that, and skip right to the kissing.â
Lexaâs lips quirked in Clarkeâs favorite crooked smile. âIs that truly preferable, my lady?â
âIt truly is, my lady.â
Lexaâs eyes lowered again, dark, focused on Clarkeâs mouth, and Clarke couldnât help the way her own gaze drifted to lips she now knew were every bit as soft as they looked. âThen it will be done. As you know, I follow no oneâs orders but your own.â
âLexa.â
âYes?â
âPlease kiss me already.â
âAs you wish.â
When their lips met again, it felt like coming home. Clarke shivered under the onslaught of emotions rushing through her, leaving her weak-kneed and trembling. And just when she thought it couldnât get any better than this, Lexaâs mouth opened beneath her own.Â
Their tongues didnât yet meetâClarke was too shy to broach that far forward, and Lexa must have felt the same. But Clarke could still smell the fruit from the orchard on her breath, knew she would taste of it, burned to find out. But she didnât. Couldnât. Not yet.
Clarke had no idea what she was doing, but she seemed to be faring fairly well all things considered. She moved on instinct, her hands clutching Lexaâs forearms, fingers twisting into the fabric and gripping, pulling despite the fact that it was nigh impossible for them to be any closer than they were, hips aligned, breasts and stomachs flat together, so close she could feel the wild beat of Lexaâs heart keeping time against her own.
Their lips moved with a whisper of movement, languid and soft and slow. Though a part of Clarke was roaring, aching and urging her to drive recklessly forward, to tangle her hands into Lexaâs rich curls and kiss her with abandon, another part of her purred, content to remain here in this perfect bubble she never, ever wanted to leave. The gentle breeze stirred golden leaves from the tree and they floated down all around them; the birds sang a beautiful tune that wrapped around her heart. Lexaâs lips were soft and warm and Clarke had never known something so perfect could exist.
By the time they parted for air and Clarke opened her eyes again, the world around them was considerably darker. The sun was inching lower over the horizon, and the sky behind them, towards home, was as dark as the pupils focused on Clarke. Lexaâs eyes were wide and dark and luminous, and her hands no longer shook so violently as they squeezed around Clarkeâs own. They stared at one another for a second longer before they each split into breathless, giddy grins, delirious with one another.
âYouâre so beautiful,â Lexa whispered, and if Clarke did not blush at the words she most certainly did when Lexa reached up to tuck a curl of Clarkeâs hair behind her ear. âThereâs so much I want to tell you. So many thoughts Iâve kept to myself all this time.â
âI have the same plight but I fear there are not enough hours in the day,â confessed Clarke, grinning more broadly when Lexa gave a breathless laugh. She joined in a moment later, their sweet laughter echoing around the meadow, before they finally sobered, eyes shut and foreheads tipped together, gentle smiles curving their lips.
She could stay here forever. Truly, Clarke would be happy to. To forget about the lives that wait for them outside of this place, full of endless responsibilities Clarke didnât even want to think about facing. One day she and Lexa both would move on from their duties of caring for their fathers and instead care for their eventual husbands and children. The thought moved Clarke to nausea, but she swiftly pushed it out of her mind. That is then, and this is nowâ and right now, Lexa was in her arms.Â
But the day was ending, dusk was approaching, and Clarke couldnât bear it if Lexa was punished for being late.Â
âWe need to return home,â Clarke sighed, wrenching the words free.Â
Lexaâs face crumpled with devastation, hanging her head and shutting her eyes as though sheâd never heard such terrible news. Clarke hid her smile by kissing her again, chastely, resisting the urge to sink into it.Â
âYou know we do. Your father already fears I am too much trouble for you, and you arriving home late again wonât help matters.â
Lexa still hadnât opened her eyes, but her lips quirked as she tipped her forehead against Clarkeâs, arms wrapping around her shoulders. âYou are trouble for me, Clarke Griffin.â
Clarke hummed, loving the feel of being in Lexaâs arms. Loving the way it feels to have Lexa in her own, as she winds her arms around Lexaâs slim waist. âAs if you donât go looking for it on your own.â
âI would always go looking for you.âÂ
The sincerity broke the teasing, and Clarke expelled a shaky sigh, her heart fluttering, tightening her arms to hold Lexa close. Lexa returned the embrace, the both of them burying their faces in one anotherâs neck and hair, breathing each other in.Â
And then, as all things do, their time had to come to an end.
Lexa gathered her book and took the hand Clarke held out for her. They made the whole journey back, some twenty minute walk, with their fingers entwined, walking in a comfortable silence filled with shy smiles and furtive glances.
By the time they emerged from the woods, the sun was nearly completely gone, dousing the world in shadows. They dropped one anotherâs hands and their smiles slipped away when they neared their houses. Titusâs carriage was pulled up the drive, and the house windows glowed from the lit lanterns.
Clarkeâs heart sank as she turned to see Lexaâs grim face.
âWe can lie. I can fake an injury, a limp, and weâll say you helped meââ
âYou know that doesnât matter, Clarke.â Lexaâs shoulders were rigid and stiff, even as she sighed. âItâs nothing new. Iâll be fine.âÂ
Clarke opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything, Lexa turned to fully face her, and Clarkeâs mind went blank beneath Lexaâs full attention. She found it difficult to meet her eyes when her own kept dropping to Lexaâs full lips.Â
Lexa clearly noticed, if the way a corner of them quirked up was any indication.
âIâll see you tomorrow,â she said seriously, her voice low. She glanced over her shoulder, ensuring no one was around, before grasping Clarkeâs hand and lifting it to her lips. Clarke smothered a quiet gasp, her heart thudding ever faster, and wished for nothing more than to push Lexa back against the wooden fence they stood beside and kiss her senseless. âWe can go to the meadow and finish Carmilla, if youâd like.â
âAlways,â Clarke answered, gaze still fixed on those damning lips. âOr,â she added, voice slipping into a lower octave, one that has Lexaâs grip on her hand automatically tightening, âperhaps we could find something else to do.â
She would happily have almost all of her company with Lexa be spent kissing, if she had it her way. By the brightening of Lexaâs eyes and consequent smile, she felt the same way, and that more than anything had elation soaring within Clarke. She half wondered if the moment Lexa stepped away, she truly would just float off into the sky.
âGoodnight, my lady,â whispered Lexa as she stepped back.
âGoodnight, Lexa.â
Clarkeâs arm remained extended though she stayed standing where she was, loathe to lose contact with Lexa, but Lexaâs slender fingers moved across her palm, down her own fingers, and then skimmed over her fingertips, until there was naught but air and Clarke had no choice but to lamely drop her arm, watching, speechless and enamored, as Lexa walked backwards a few steps, maintaining intense eye contact before giving her one last soft smile and turning to enter her house.Â
omg enemies who are sinning and yearning for each other I havenât even read it yet but like RIP ME OMFG đĽşđĽľ
Theyâre so different too though. Itâs fun to write.
DTTW:
âShh. Stay quiet.â
Lexaâs eyes are wide and dark, just visible peeking up above the hand Clarke has wrapped around her mouth.
âThey canât see us,â whispers Clarke, shoving her hand down Lexaâs pants again. They both exhale an unsteady breath when her fingertips glide along velvet folds before probing into wet heat. âBut they can hear us. So be very, very quiet. Do you think you can do that for me, baby?â Lexaâs eyes roll and flutter shut. Clarke doesnât know if itâs at the pet name or the way sheâs touching her, but it pulls an ache deep in the pit of her stomach regardless.
âDoes it worry you?â she whispers, teeth tugging on one delicate earlobe. âKnowing how risky this is? If I lose focus for one second, I could drop my shield. I could make us visible again. Everyone could see us here, see me fucking you.â She leans in even closer, breasts pressing into Lexaâs, dragging her wet fingers up to pinch at Lexaâs clit, pulling a strangled whimper from her throat. âThey could see how desperate you are to come. How wet you get for me.â
âClarke,â whimpers Lexa, hips bucking. Clarke pushes them down with her own hips, pinning Lexa against the brick wall.
âShh, baby. Do you want them to hear you?â She stops rubbing her clit, making a lazy trail back down to push two fingers into Lexa with an unmistakable wet slurp. Clarke relishes it, wordlessly pumping her fingers for a moment just to listen to the proof. âFuck, can you hear that?â Lexa barely has the wherewithal to nod, her head tipped back against the wall and her eyes squeezed tightly shut. âGod. That makes me so wet.â Lexa shivers, whether at Clarkeâs husky tone or the way she bites her ear again, or maybe both. âI want you in my mouth. I want to drop to my knees right now and taste you. I want to eat your pussy until youâre screaming so hard they can hear you from fifth street.â
âFuck.â Lexa gasps, brow furrowing and mouth dropping open as her hips buck again. Her chest rises and falls heavily as she pants.
âDonât make me gag you,â Clarke warns her. Still, the way she skims her mouth down the underside of Lexaâs jaw isnât urgent. She sucks bruises over the veins bulging in Lexaâs neck, down the strained column of her throat, across sharp collarbones and above tantalizing cleavage. Clarke has certainly developed a healthy appreciation of Lexa wearing an open coat. She hums in satisfaction against her flushed skin, reaching up with her right hand to wrench her shirt and bra down, shoving the coat half off one shoulder to push the strap of her bra down with it, and gives no warning before she dips her head to close her lips over a soft nipple that quickly hardens against her tongue. Lexaâs gasp bites off into a moan as she writhes against her.
Vs HEWM:
âRun away with me.â
Lexaâs smile is sad, soft, and does not reach her eyes. âWe have a duty to our people, Clarke.â
âI think we have a duty to love, do we not?â
âIf the world was based on love, I imagine we would all live very different lives.â
Clarke looked at her curiously, propping herself up on her elbow. âWhat life do you imagine you would live?â
Lexa is silent for a moment, but Clarke can see the gears in her head turning, contemplation sparkling behind thoughtful green eyes aimed at the heavens.
âI imagine to be with you,â Clarke whispers, nose trailing the line of Lexaâs jaw. âOne where we can freely express ourselves without fear of reprisals. Where we have lie-ins every day, even the birds quieting outside the windows to let us sleep, before their soft songs carry us awake. Where the first thing we do is kiss and hold one another. We stroll to the markets hand in hand, buy ourselves a small breakfast we eat as we wander the stalls, and I could kiss you in plain view of everyone, taste the sugared crystals clinging to your lips and naught a soul even spares us a second look. We spend the warmth of the afternoon beneath our tree, and IâŚâ She cannot bear the intensity of Lexaâs soft gaze any longer as she lowers her voice to utter her next words; looks down at the traitorous tremble in her hands as she smooths her fingertips along the curve of Lexaâs neck, feels her pulse quickens as she says, âI am free to spend hours kissing you, and...touching you, wherever you please.â
Her fingers dip as Lexa swallows, her throat bobbing. Clarke ignores the flush of her own face, focusing instead on how Lexaâs skin seems to warm beneath her hand.
Her breath catches in her throat when Lexa suddenly reaches up and grasps her arm, slender fingers encircling Clarkeâs wrist, and guides her hand lower. Clarke struggles to maintain steady breaths as Lexa places her hand on her chest, so dangerously close to her breast, palm pressed above her heart, and then tips her head up to capture her lips.
âYou are the reason it beats,â Lexa murmurs between slow, gentle kisses. âI am so filled with you.â
Hello! I hope you're doing well! Do you think we'll have hewm's last chapter soon? :D
Perhaps! Life has been busy, and Iâve been putting off finishing it up because Iâm not quite ready for it to be over...but I donât want to make people wait any longer, even if I did end this latest chapter on a good note for once.