owl127

[owl127]

My Catradora AU where they defeat Horde Prime as a power couple. Don’t have a story written out, but the visual was in my head. If anyone feels like writing a story inspired by the pic definitely let me know! Would love to read it 🥰

#catradora #love this

[owl127]

I never said I wasn't yours is a fave of mine. Would you care to write something from this universe, maybe another parents teachers meeting with Clexa as a couple now. Anything would be much appreciated. Thank you.

Original story here

As morning light broke the grayness of dawn, dew graced the front lawn, and birds chirped the night away. The cat and the dog napped peacefully on the kitchen rug, a pile of fur and soft snoring. Before alarms disturbed the new day, barely a sound could be heard in the house.

But not for lack of trying. 

Lexa bit hard on her palm, muffling her moans as Clarke worked diligently between her legs. One hand was tangled in blonde tresses, tugging and pulling, warning her that it was a weekday morning, but nothing deviated Clarke from her goal.

"Clarke," Lexa begged, unashamed, because waking up to her wife going down on her was great, yes, but in less than an hour she would have to drive four kids to three different schools. Clarke met her eyes with her nose buried in Lexa and lifted her head slightly to say,

"Focus on me, my love. It's just us. "We have a little time." Clarke's chin glistened with arousal, and Lexa bit her tongue. Nodded. She kept a palm over her mouth as her head fell back on the pillow, and Clarke made good on her promise. Lexa came with shudders and a whine, and Clarke kissed the trailing end of it.

"I just need a minute," Clarke grunted, and Lexa spread her legs further, inviting, aware of the time but even more aware of her mate. "Fuck, you feel so good," Clarke moaned as Lexa welcomed her, all warmth and want, and left over after glow. "I love you," she whispered into dark hair, and Lexa met her hips in rushed bliss.

Lexa heard the knocking first, her hips stuttering in their search for momentum. Clarke didn't stop, though, as close as she was, rutting mindlessly into her wife.

"Wait." Lexa’s finger grasped at a bulging bicep. "I think I heard something."

"It's just the cat," Clarke panted, her hips always moving. "Babe, please, I'm—"

There was no mistaking the soft knock now, followed by the tiniest voice. "Mommy?"

Lumi. Their youngest. 

"Shit," Clarke cursed louder than she wanted, and Lexa widened her eyes at her. "Shit, shit." Clarke pulled out, hard and frustrated, and made her way into the bathroom.

"Don't be so dramatic," Lexa whisper-laughed, covering her nudity with Clarke's robe.

"Says the one who's got to come!" Clarke huffed from the bathroom and closed the door.

Lexa opened the bedroom door to a fidgeting five-year-old, her stuffed rabbit being dragged by the ear at her side. 

"Good morning, darling." Lexa picked her up, noticing the frown and pout. "Is everything alright?"

Lumi shook her head and latched her small arms around Lexa's neck. "What happened, baby?" Lexa coaxed her daughter with a peck on the cheek.

"There's something wrong with Serah," Lumi whispered, then pulled back to hug her always-present bunny. "Samson thinks she's sick."

Lexa nodded, making her way down the hallway to the stairs. The twins and Lumi had their bedrooms upstairs, but their just-turned-15-year-old teenager had her own room downstairs. Lumi adored her sister though, and constantly escaped to spend part of the night in the den with Serah. 

There was an edge to Lumi, a concern half-formed, as if the youngling did not comprehend the concept of real worry. Lexa bristled. "Why don't you get changed for school, honey? I'll go check on Serah. We already picked your clothes last night, remember?"

Lumi lit up at that, since changing clothes was one of her favorite pastimes. Lexa only wished she would stop doing it in public. "I'll call you for breakfast."

Samson's head bounced on the carpet as the pup ran back to her room. Lexa tightened the robe's knot around her waist and made her way downstairs. Nuggets and Quiet were at the window, fixated on a neighbor leaving for work, and Lexa opened the door to the den. The bed was unmade, which was not atypical. The bathroom’s door was locked, and she heard faint whining.

"Serah? Are you okay? Open the door," she ordered in her mother tone, knocking twice. "Serah."

"Go away."

Well, at least she was alive.

"Serah, open the door."

"I said go away!" The plea was followed by a low growl, and Lexa bristled at the sound. She gritted her teeth, her jaw aching. Her nose itched with something new, something heavy, and she blinked it away.

"Serah, honey, what’s going on? Please open the door."

"Can you call mom?" The growling from the voice was gone, and all that was left was a pitiful wine. Her daughter was in pain, and Lexa rattled on the doorknob, as useless as it would be.

"Are you alright? Serah, please open up."

"Just call mom!" the teen yelled, and Lexa felt a shiver go down her spine. Heavy steps echoed behind Lexa, and she watched Clarke, her hair dripping from her quick shower, climb down the stairs holding a shirtless Lumi.

"She claims her shirt escaped," Clarke said with a grin, but it morphed into a frown when Lexa looked at her. "What’s going on? Lumi said Serah is sick."

"Samson said it," the young omega corrected, and Lexa picked her up.

"She locked herself in the bathroom," Lexa explained in a whisper, adjusting her daughter on her hips. "She’s asking for you."

Clarke’s eyebrows came together in worry, and she stepped up to the bathroom door. Her button-up was outside her jeans, and she was only wearing socks. Lexa made peace with the fact that everyone would be late that morning, and that was just the way mornings went sometimes.

Clarke knocked on the door a couple times, louder than Lexa did. "Honey, it’s me," she called, exchanging a glance with Lexa. "What’s going on?"

"Is mom still there?" Her voice was small and scared, and Lumi tightened her grasp on Lexa’s neck. "I only want to talk to you," Serah completed, a small voice beyond the wood. Lexa shook her head, and Clarke shrugged.

"Start with breakfast and get the kids ready. I’ll deal with this."

Lexa wanted to protest. She was always overprotective of the kids, and Serah would always have a special place in her heart. Serah was her first; it had been only the two of them for five long years.

"Please." Clarke touched Lexa’s shoulder, her palm warm and steady. "She’ll be okay."

Lexa’s jaw ached, but she nodded.

Clarke waited until Lexa had left the basement before knocking on the door again. "It’s just me."

It took a minute, but the door unlocked with a soft click. Clarke took one deep breath and understood, hiding her grimace with a cough.

"Oh, honey. It’s okay." She opened her arms, and slowly, weary, Serah accepted the hug.

The teenager had on a black t-shirt picturing whatever band was hot on the radio. The cloth was damp with sweat, and the collar tugged and pulled enough to sit loosely at her sweaty neck. She had a towel around her waist, one hand holding it tight.

Clarke checked her red eyes, took note of her heated forehead, and helped her to bed.

"When did it start?" Clarke asked, holding one hand next to Serah but giving her the option to touch it or not.

"Sometime last night." Serah’s voice was rough, all gravel and tiredness. "It just…" She hugged her own belly, sniffling. Clarke tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it away. "It hurts."

"I know." Clarke cleared her throat. "I’m going to get supplies and make some phone calls. Why don’t you take a shower and dress up in something light? No tight underwear."

Serah nodded, defeated, in pain, and ashamed. Maybe a little angry.

Yep, all the signs were there.

Clarke made her way back upstairs to find Lexa filling up bowls of cereal. She left the twins to their breakfast and approached Clarke, still in her robe. "What’s going on?"

"She’s alright." Clarke kissed her cheek. "I’ll take the day off to stay with her. Can you pick everyone up today?"

"Clarke, what’s going on?" Lexa’s cheeks were rosy with either anger or fear, and Clarke looked at the twins—who were focused on their sugary meal—and Lumi, who was making her own mess with a banana. She lowered her voice and said the only thing Lexa did not want to hear. "Serah is having her first rut. The first time it’s just pain and being uncomfortable. It will take her another year or so to mature her knot."

Lexa swallowed dryly, nodding, numb.

Her baby was rutting.

"I’ll pick up the twins and Lumi. Can you call Serah’s high school?"

Clarke nodded, her eyes calm and understanding, and Lexa hated her a little bit because of that.

"I know this is not easy for you—"

"It’s worse for her," Lexa said harshly, making her way to the stairs. "She’s at age. It’s normal. It’s normal, right?"

Clarke nodded, following her wife.

"She’s growing up. And she needs you now."

"Lexa…"

"You’re an alpha, she’s an alpha; you deal with this."

Clarke watched her trot up the stairs. She knew that had been a fear in Lexa’s life when it had been just her and Serah; how would Lexa deal with a rutting alpha teenager? Lexa had an entire plan by the time Serah was three, with Abby and Raven as emergency contacts. Everything changed when they reconnected, but that fear, that feeling of not being enough, was still present in Lexa’s heart.

And the plain rejection earlier did not help. 

"Lexa?" Clarke called, and Lexa’s shoulders rose as she stopped at the top of the stairs. "She loves you. That never changed."

Lexa’s shoulder lowered, but she didn’t stop, walking straight to their bedroom.

Clarke sighed and palmed her pants in search of her phone. It was going to be a long day.

00000

Lexa had a horrible day.

She couldn’t concentrate at work and didn’t add a single development to any of her cases. She constantly checked her phone for Clarke’s updates, but in the end, that was what really bothered Lexa: there was nothing she could do.

Her baby was growing up and didn’t need her anymore.

At least she had another three that would need her for a little longer, she thought, as she parked the car blasting Paw Patrol’s songs.

"Okay, one more time," Lexa said, eyeing the twins and Lumi through the mirror. "What are the rules?"

"We leave Serah alone," the three repeated in bored monotone. 

"Okay, good. Now let’s get inside because your mom made dinner."

The twins look at each other and gag.

"It’s pasta!" Lexa completed, and she watched her boys shrug and run inside. She took her time freeing Lumi from her car seat and followed her children inside.

The house was eerily quiet. 

"In here," Clarke called from the kitchen. "Dinner is almost ready." The twins and Lumi had disappeared upstairs. Lexa pecked Clarke’s lips, noticing her sports bra and shorts. "She’s napping. We went for a run. A long run."

Lexa nodded. "Is she… Is she okay? Is she in pain?"

"I asked the boys not to laugh at the icepack on her crotch and warned them their time would come."

Lexa tasted the boiling red sauce and added herbs from their spice cabinet. "Is she not going to join us for dinner?"

"Probably not. She ate some already." Clarke placed her chin over Lexa’s shoulder, stretching a little to do so. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Busy day."

Clarke hummed, unconvinced. "Let her come to you."

"If she ever does that." Lexa tasted the sauce and added a pinch of salt. She turned to kiss Clarke’s cheek. "Call the kids. It’s ready."

"Don’t take the glory for my dinner."

"It’s canned tomato sauce and pasta, Clarke."

"Which I boiled perfectly to al dente." Laughing, Clarke left to gather their family for dinner. Most of their family, at least.

Serah didn’t leave her room until late in the night. The shower upstairs was running for Clarke. The twins were wrapping up their homework, and Lumi had been asleep for an hour. Lexa scrubbed pasta that had dried in the bottom of the pan, so focused on scrapping the offensive carbs that she didn’t hear the den’s door opening and closing. 

"Mom?"

Lexa stopped her endless scrubbing, turning to see Serah by the door. She hug one arm over herself, curls that were the identical copy of Lexa’s damp from a recent shower. 

"Hi, love." Lexa dropped the sponge and wiped her hands, her heart full and hurting at the dark circles under Serah’s eyes. She made to hug her daughter, but Serah flinched. Lexa tried to hide the hurt, but Serah’s eyes widened in guilt.

"You smell different," Serah explained. "I wasn’t expecting it."

Lexa breathed easier in relief. "A few things will change about how you scent alphas and omegas. It can be a little jarring at first."

"Mom told me." Serah sat at the kitchen island. "I’m not sure I like it." She wrinkled her nose, tired green searching Lexa and then moving away. "Can I feel it again?" Lexa sat next to her and held her hand. Serah approached carefully, her nose sniffling quietly next to Lexa’s neck. "Is that mom’s claim on you?" 

Blushing, Lexa nodded. "Yes. You will be able to tell mated pairs most of the time."

"It’s…" Serah got even closer, her nose brushing Lexa’s skin. Lexa couldn’t resist and kissed the top of her messy curls. "It’s fresh."

Lexa cleared her throat. "Well, I do share a bed with your mother." She felt the heat in her cheeks and watched as Serah pulled back, grimacing.

"Oh my god, am I going to be able to notice when you two—" She fake gagged, and Lexa smirked.

"Not really, and not all the time. But your instincts are wired to notice another alpha’s claim."

Serah closed her eyes and leaned down on the cold marble of the island, her forehead hitting the stone with a soft thud. "This is weird."

"Welcome to adulthood."

Serah turned and looked up at her mom. "I’m sorry about this morning." Her high cheeks were flushed pink. "It was really hurting."

Lexa ran her fingers through her daughter’s hair. She had a fuzzy undercut at her nape that was always soft to the touch. "It’s okay. I was worried about you."

"I’ll do better next time." She straightened up and threw herself into a hug. Lexa accepted it, inhaling the maturing alpha scent from her daughter’s neck. "Do you want to watch a movie downstairs?" 

Lexa hugged her closer. More than a decade ago, they would sometimes fall asleep watching something on their bed. When it used to be just the two of them. "Of course."

As Lexa watched some old animation movie with her daughter asleep on her chest, she realized that some changes are for the better. She wasn’t a single mom fighting to be enough for a rebellious teenager; she had a mate and a wife to help her with that. And no matter the changes Serah would go through, she would always be her little girl. Even if she was taller than Lexa already.

#ask the owl #yours #drabble #fav comeback

[owl127]

Could you write alpha Clarke and omega Lexa struggle trying to conceive a baby?

read on Ao3

The blurred image focuses on a woman sitting down on the single chair in the frame. Behind her is a large window with sleek modern architecture reflecting on tinted glass. She clears her throat, pats her button-up shirt, and an accompanying thud follows her hand.

"You don’t need to touch it," a voice says from behind the camera. "Speak normally, and we get it."

A shade of pink takes over her cheeks under the set lights. She chuckles, tucking blonde hair behind an ear. On the lower left, captions appear: Clarke Griffin, patient #013, 40 years old. Female Alpha.

"Thank you for agreeing with the post-treatment documentation," says the same unnamed voice, a soprano woman. "As we said before, this will only be shared with other future patients."

Clarke nods. "You changed my life. I’m happy to help."

"Can you talk a little bit about how you felt when you were diagnosed?"

Clarke works her jaw back and forth, looking down at her polished shoes then up at the camera again. 

"Well. Basically, it sucked."

0000

The punching bag moved back and forth with each new impact. Clarke’s knuckles ached and her wrist screamed, but she kept delivering punch after punch into the bright red canvas. Pain flared at her joints, and sweat ran down her back, but she needed it to keep her thoughts at bay.

Thoughts of how much of a useless alpha she was.

"Clarke?"

It was the second time Lexa came to check in on her. At first, it was an innocent call for dinner, but now Lexa’s voice had a layer of worry on it. 

"Clarke." 

Clarke didn’t stop the punching. Jab, lower, jab, jab. Her gloves burned with friction, but those jabs were the only thing keeping her from facing her incapacity to—

"I brought you coconut water," Lexa said from behind her. Clarke stopped, wiped sweat from her face, saw how useless that was since she was completely drenched, and shrugged. 

"Thank you." She didn’t look Lexa in the eyes as she accepted the bottle, downing it in three long gulps. Dehydration. Just what her body needed, being this useless bag of meat and—

"Clarke." Lexa placed a hand on her shoulder, coaxing Clarke to face her. Lexa wasn’t angry, which infuriated Clarke more. Lexa should be furious, doing to her what Clarke was doing to that bag. But Lexa wasn’t pitiful, and for that, Clarke was grateful. She wouldn’t be able to deal with pity. "Come up, eat something. You’ve been here for hours." 

Clarke took a deep breath and toyed with the lid of her bottle. "I needed… I needed to—"

Uncareful of her sweat, Lexa wrapped her arms around Clarke. Warm, comforting. This was Lexa, her mate, her wife. The woman she promised the world to—and who she now failed to keep promises to.

"We’ll be alright," Lexa said into Clarke’s messy ponytail, nudging at the scar she left there years ago. "I get that you’re angry. But don’t blame yourself, my love. This new treatment is available, and—"

"We only need that because I’m a fucking failure," Clarke confessed, and Lexa’s hands on her skin tightened their grip.

"Don’t say things like that." She pulled back and guided Clarke to meet her eyes with a hand on her chin. "You’re my wife, and I love you. All of you. Don’t say things like that about yourself."

"It still doesn't change the fact that I'm a half-baked alpha."

"If I were the one with a complication, would you say those things to me?"

Clarke swallowed. "Of course not."

"So please don’t say that." Lexa kissed her cheek. "I love you."

"I’m sorry." Clarke thought the hours of punching and sweating would keep the tears away, but here they were, strong and ugly and burning just like her hands. "I’m so sorry that I can’t be the partner you need." Lexa held her. In the damp air of their basement, Lexa held Clarke and let her cry like the insolent pup she was.

"You’re exactly what I need," Lexa promised. "Nothing will change that."

Lexa was convinced. Clarke admired her for that. If only she could believe it.

0000

The image depicts a bright room with green plants in colorful pots framing the lonely chair in the center. The woman sitting on it is reading a paper, glasses low on her nose.

"Ready to roll, Mrs. Woods?" The soprano voice asks from behind the lenses. Lexa folds the paper, and a blur of a person picks it up from her hands. A similar inscription from before appears on the bottom left: Lexa Woods. Clarke Griffin’s mate and wife. 38 years old. Female Omega. 

"Yes," Lexa says, folding her reading glasses and placing them in her front shirt pocket. "Whenever you’re ready."

"Have you ever dated another Alpha before meeting Clarke?"

Lexa’s facial expression does not change as she says, "No."

"When did either of you suspect something was wrong?"

Lexa sits straighter in the chair, her lips twitching twice before she finally says, "We were mated and married for six years when we tried to conceive." She pauses, crossing and uncrossing her legs. "We had never knotted before, so we had no idea what to expect. But eventually, we realized something was wrong."

"Was it a mutual realization?"

"Clarke noticed it first. But I don’t think she brought it up until it was unavoidable."

0000

Clarke never knew there was something wrong with her. She never really thought that she might be a little off until Liam. Anya had just started showing, complaining about Clarke's food and everything else. 

"I didn’t know you were planning for a baby," Clarke said, hands soaked in bubbles. "But I’m really glad for you, Raven." They could hear their wives laughing from the dining room.

"Planning?" Raven snorted, shaking the kitchen towel to get another plate to dry. "That kid planned itself. That is, I really wasn’t planning to knot, but it happened, and well, in five months there will be a pup around. Get used to the idea."

Clarke frowned at the fork she was washing and watched the suds drip down the metal surface. "What do you mean you didn’t plan to knot?"

Raven placed a dry plate on the rack. "I was in rut. You know." She shrugged, and Clarke honest-to-god did not know. 

"Do you always knot when you rut?" 

"If I’m not super-extra-careful, yeah. Don’t you?" Raven asked in a laugh, but stopped at seeing whatever was going on with Clarke’s face. "Don’t you?" she repeated. Clarke felt her face warming. 

She looked back at the fork. There was a stubborn piece of potato stuck to it. 

0000

They talked about it. Extensively. They talked about costs, space, and time. But Clarke knew what the decision would be since the day Lexa had seen little Liam—all red-faced and crying his lungs out in Anya’s arms—and some maternal instinct sparked to life in her.

They wanted a baby.

The bed creaked with Clarke’s vigorous thrusts. Lexa met her push for push, her hips seeking Clarke’s in tandem. Lexa was not a passive omega; she took what she wanted, and Clarke loved her for that. She loved her mate, she loved her wife, and now she loved that they would make a new life together. 

"Are you close?" Lexa panted in her ear. 

Clarke nodded, her cheek hitting Lexa’s chin in the process. None cared. "Yeah. I think," she exhaled, slowing their movements to adjust her hips. Lexa moaned. "I’m not sure how long it takes," Clarke breathed, hoping her tone was steady.

"I have no idea." Lexa kissed her neck, licking the mating bite there. "It’s the first time we’re doing this." It should feel exciting. Lexa sounded excited. Clarke wasn’t sure.

Don’t you?

Sometimes she thought about Raven’s puzzled look when she admitted she had never knotted. But her friend had patted her on the back and said that each person was different. Clarke had never really tried to knot, so it was alright.

But right now, in rut, Clarke was actively trying, and Lexa had come twice, and they had changed positions twice as much, and Lexa would get sore, and Clarke could not get her damn knot to work.

"Come back to me." Lexa’s hands massaged the tight clench of Clarke’s jaw. They slowed until they stopped. Lexa sighed, but Clarke continued to pant. "What’s wrong, love?"

Clarke didn’t know. Or she did, and she did not want to voice it, because then it would be real, and Lexa would care, and they would have to go to doctors, and Clarke would be a failure as a wife.

"Clarke?" Puzzled, Lexa leaned back to find Clarke’s eyes, but Clarke avoided them. Clarke pulled out, their gasps mangling for a moment before she left the bed. "Clarke?" Naked and worried, Lexa followed her into their bathroom. The room smelled of sweat and sex. "What’s wrong?"

Clarke splashed water on her face and looked down at herself. Her erection, covered in Lexa, had an uneven swell at the base. She touched it, one large palm pressing on it, but she barely felt it. It wasn't like other alphas talked about it. It was like she was numb. Lexa watched from the door, her arms crossed over her chest. 

"Are you going to talk to me or—"

"I don’t think I can knot."

There. It was real.

0000

Clarke drinks from a water bottle while an assistant runs the mic check. A voice behind the camera mumbles, "We should try asking anyway." A new light turns on at Clarke’s right and she squints at it.

"So Clarke," the same voice from before says, now louder. "How were the side effects of the injection?" 

Clarke takes another drag from her water bottle, her eyebrows rising at the question. She places the bottle next to her chair.

"Like almost everything about this treatment, it totally sucked."

0000

"Fucking hell!" Clarke breathed through her nose, hard and gasping, her hands white with the effort of holding on to their granite sink. "Give me a moment," she gasped.

Lexa kissed her cheek, brushing the sweat away. "I got you," she whispered, always calm and serene during Clarke’s outbursts.

Clarke had been all courage and bravado until the needle—bigger than what it looked like in the doctor’s office—touched her knot. The injection site felt like fire, and every day the pain got worse. She knew it would be like this, at least until her knot inflated for the first time, and hell, that was another headache she wasn’t ready to think about just yet.

"If it hurts like that, it means it’s working," Lexa tried to argue, which did not help with the fact that Clarke’s cock was on fire. "Blood is flowing there for the first time, honey," Lexa continued to sooth, an ice bag in hand, ready for the aftercare. "Most alphas take years to go through what you’re going through in a few weeks. Give yourself some grace."

Clarke grunted, sat back on the closed toilet lid, spread her legs, and nodded. "Okay. Okay. I’m okay." Lexa kissed the top of her head and went for the second injection.

0000

Lexa hisses at something behind the camera, the mic turned off and not catching whatever accompanied the reprimand. The voice-only director clears her throat and says, "Patient 13’s, that is, Clarke’s file says her mate was the one administering the injections. That’s you." Lexa focuses on the right of the camera, sitting taller in her chair in the plant-filled room."How did you feel about that?"

"I’m not medically trained, but the mechanics of it weren't hard." She smiles, a small little thing under lights and makeup. She's aging gracefully. "Clarke was very vulnerable, and she trusted me. I would advise mates to give it a shot if they can handle the whining."

"Whining?"

"I suppose most alphas don’t take kindly to injections on their knots."

There is a chuckle off camera and a loud noise; someone else is yelling, "The mic is down!" and the off-camera voice comes back, "Cut, cut!" while Lexa chastises, "You two get down here!"

0000

Clarke woke up feeling like she had gone to hell. Everything burned. Her sleep shirt was soaked, her pajama shorts drenched, and her hair plastered to her forehead. As she sat up on the bed, she moaned, her muscles tensing. Lexa mumbled something next to her, that little sleepy snort she claimed she didn’t do every time she woke up. 

"Fuck," Clarke gasped, holding on to the wall as she tried to stand up. Besides her entire body burning, her crotch ached with a pain-pleasure mix Clarke was not conscious enough to judge. 

"Clarke?" Lexa asked from the bed as Clarke tumbled to the bathroom, half-awake and limping. Clarke almost fell as she kicked her shorts and sat in the bathtub, turning the water cold.

"Babe?" Wrapped in Clarke’s robe, Lexa remained on the threshold, her eyes suddenly awake. "Is it happening?"

Clarke looked at her and moaned, nodding. "It fucking burns," she whispered, and Lexa approached with caution. 

"Do you want to be by yourself?" she asked, her naked feet silent on the bathroom tiles. 

Clarke shook her head, extending a hand to Lexa. "Can you stay here with me?" 

"Oh, my love." Lexa sat next to the bathtub, kissing Clarke’s burning cheeks. "Always."

0000

Clarke fidgets with her microphone again, and an assistant asks her to stop doing it. "And how did you feel when you could knot?" the director asks as Clarke looks up.

Clarke’s blush is more visible under the lights, and she touches an earring before answering, "Not everything about the treatment sucked."

0000

Lexa wouldn’t stop moaning. She was not always vocal, or at least not carelessly so, but as Clarke felt herself expanding inside her, Lexa wouldn’t stop the cadence of moans. Part of Clarke was worried, but most of her was lost in ecstatic bliss. 

"Lex?" She gasped, her hips slowing as her range of motion was limited by her knot. "Talk to me, love," she insisted, because Lexa was tucked under her chin, an endless stream of incoherent words leaving her lips. As they slowed, spent and satisfied, finally tied, Lexa took another minute to simply gasp for air. Clarke held her, whispering small nothings. She tasted salt on Lexa’s cheeks. "Lex?"

"I’m—" Lexa tried, and they moaned together as she moved her hips. It wouldn’t budge; people were not kidding about that part. "Fuck," Lexa said, the first coherent thing in the last few minutes. 

"That good?" Clarke wiggled her hips, and they moaned again, and Lexa slapped her back. 

"Stop moving for a bit," she hissed. "But yeah, that good." Clarke nudged Lexa’s nose with her own, a delicate gesture like a small island in the middle of a sea of intense love making. "Are you good?" Lexa asked, finally taking a deep breath. Clarke nodded and nuzzled into Lexa’s nose again. 

"I love you."

Lexa kissed her temple, and they shared a breath. "I love you too."

0000

"Why are we here?" the little girl in Clarke’s lap asks, looking up at her.

"To tell our story, baby." Clarke kisses the tops of her dark curls. 

"Hello," the director calls from behind the camera, and the little girl’s attention moves away from Clake. "Hi," she repeats, "what’s your name?"

The girl looks up at Clarke, who nods, and then back at the camera. "Serah."

"How old are you, Serah?"

She proudly shows one hand with all five fingers and another two fingers on her other hand. 

"That’s seven, right?" Serah nods, a missing incisor showing in her smile. 

"She’s our oldest," Clarke chimes in, pulling her daughter a little closer. "The twins are three."

The image cuts to Lexa’s set, with two boys running around her chair as she types something on her phone. It cuts back to Clarke. 

"So you can say, a hundred percent, that the treatment works," the director continues, and Clarke nods. 

"It changed our lives."

The image shifts to a different set, with the entire family present. Clarke has a hand around Lexa’s waist, with Serah reaching up to her belly while the twins don’t get above her waist. Lexa placed each hand behind the twins' necks, keeping them in place. 

"You have a beautiful family. Three beautiful, healthy pups," the voice from behind the says, and both Clarke and Lexa blush. Serah giggles, and the twins start poking each other. A silent conversation goes on between the mated pair, and it ends with a nod from Lexa.

"We’re actually expecting a fourth," Clarke reveals, one of her hands landing on the twin closest to her. The boys stop their poking. 

"Congratulations! I guess three were not enough?"

"They’re definitely a handful," Clarke says as she picks up one of the twins, his blonde hair messed up by his brother’s hands. "This last one kind of… planned itself." She blushed, and Serah giggled again. 

"I guess we finally understood what other couples meant by accidents during ruts," Lexa jokes, and there’s laughter in the background of the set. 

"What’s a rut?" Serah asks, and the laughter increases in volume, even with the director joining in with a chuckle. 

"I believe that’s a cut," Clarke says, grinning at the camera.

The image fades into black, and a centered caption appears.

The Woods-Griffin family had a healthy baby girl.

As expected, she was also a handful.

#clexa fanfic #clexa #ask the owl #prompts #clexa fanfiction #the 100 fantic #drabble #reading an IVF fic and thought of this #abo

[owl127]

Bumbleby Big Bang 2023

My work is on Ao3!

Shoutout to @3nsider and their awesome work with the art <3

"Yang's life is perfect. She's happily married to the love of her life and they are eagerly expecting their first child. However, when her wife, Blake, starts acting strangely with secretive phone calls and late-night shifts at the police station, Yang suspects something is amiss. Her suspicions are tragically confirmed when Blake is kidnapped by an escaped prisoner seeking revenge on the pregnant detective.

Now, with time running out and everything Yang holds dear hanging in the balance, she must confront her own past traumas and find her wife before it's too late.

or

Yang bang-bang-save-your-pregnant-wife tope from the evil hands of bullboy " Fic Link

#bbb2023 #bumbleby big bang #rwby #rwby fanfiction #abo #bumbleby #bumblebee #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #a touch of rosebird becase why not #rosebird #this is why my prompts were late folks #but I'm on it!

[owl127]

Soft bees

#Bumbleby #that little thumb touch #rwby #bumblebee #so so soft #i want to hug it

[owl127]

women stories matter

#oh well #happy monday folks

[owl127]

Dear owl; you don’t know how much I need another alpha alpha clexa post again, I just can’t get enough of those ! I literally think about it like boys think about the Roman Empire, embarrassingly often

Clarke gagged as she picked up the dirty socks from the humid floor and threw them on the rolling hamper.

“This is all your fault, Woods,” she cursed for the umpteenth time, the empty locker room echoing with Lexa’s sarcastic laugh.

“How’s that my fault?” Lexa picked up a muddied jersey from under the wooden bench and threw it at the hamper between them. “Your timing for passing was awful, and your tackles were a joke.”

“You were running as if your parking brake was on.”

“I’m an impeccable wing.”

“Chicken wing,” Clarke mumbled, fishing cleats from an open locker to throw them with the rest of the dirty gear from their home game.

Which had been a series of humiliating losses because Woods couldn’t time her fucking run.

“Oh, shut up.” Lexa kicked the supply room door open, her ponytail uneven since she suffered that ugly tackle on game two.

“I can’t believe I’m stuck with clean duty with you,” Clarke said as the lights turned on when they entered the room. “You’re the one who talked back to the coach.”

“Because she kept you for the third game! You’re messing up our center!” A little vein popped on Lexa’s forehead, which would make her look cute if it wasn’t for the death glare aimed at Clarke.

“Whatever,” Clarke mumbled and dragged the pile of dirty jerseys into the bin for the clean crew the next morning. “You can be such a bitch sometimes, Woods.” Almost a full year after Lexa transferred to their team, and she was as insufferable as day one.

“You watch your fucking mouth.”

Clarke bristled at the threat, because she had been tackled so many times today by strong alphas who put her down hard, and a good part of it was because of Woods.

“Or what? You’re just talk, Woods.”

The wooden shelf behind Clarke shook with her weight as Lexa was suddenly at her face, a tight grip on Clarke’s collar. Lexa had an inch on Clarke, but Clarke had a dozen pounds of muscle on the lean wing.

“Shut up,” Lexa breathed in Clarke’s face, teeth gritted in anger. “I needed this game, Griffin. You know scouts were all over the place and you screwed up our center like the stupid privileged princess you are.”

Clarke felt her face burn with anger. “You’re slow, Lexa, and you know it.” She pushed the smaller alpha away, expected the push back and pressed on until their positions changed and Lexa found herself with her back on the shelf. A couple of balls fell on the floor behind them, bouncing once and rolling next to the hamper. “Stop blaming other people for your own frustration.” Clarke pressed her elbow to Lexa’s neck for good measure, baring her teeth. “You’re not the only one worried about scouts.”

Lexa’s eyes shone gray when they brimmed with tears. Her cheeks, red and puffed, trembled, and she pushed Clarke’s arm away. “Fuck you, Griffin.”

Lexa pushed Clarke with both hands on her chest, and Clarke barely moved as she held her stance. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Clarke said and felt Lexa’s breath. “But cut it out!”

A flash of pink as Lexa licked her lips. Their breaths mingled in the heavy air of the room. Lexa’s eyes moved from Clarke’s stare to her lips, back and forth. Clarke felt the change in the tension a bit too late, a small knot of doubt forming between her eyebrows as the stalemate remained.

Lexa licked her own lips again, her nails digging into Clarke’s biceps.

The motion sensor light of the room blinked off, and in darkness, Clarke couldn’t hear anything but their heavy breathing.

A small voice in Clarke’s brain told her to expect the kiss, but she still gasped in surprise as Lexa attacked her lips with the same urge she ran on the field. After the half second of awareness, Clarke responded to the kiss with equal force, pinning the girl against the shelf with her hips. It wasn’t slow and delicate, or explorative; it was hard, with tongues and teeth clashing for dominance.

“Fuck,” Clarke said when Lexa bit on her neck, a soft tongue licking over her throbbing pulse and sweat. There was a dry click sound between them, and Clarke groaned when she realized it was their groin protectors clashing under their shorts.

“Lexa—” Clarke attempted to say before being swallowed by another hungry kiss, Lexa’s hands already sneaking under her shirt. “Oh, fuck it.” Clarke surrendered as a warm palm cupped her through her sports bra.

----

how should I finish this drabble, oh faithful readers?

#ask the owl #drabble #abo #clexa #fanfiction #alpha/alpha

[owl127]

Korrasami The 100 Crossover

Ao3

Alpha!Korra, Omega!Asami, The 100 crossover, mix of personalities from both fandoms, Commander!Korra, Skaiprisa!Asami

Heavy silence filled the room, an uncomfortable setting as the ambassadors avoided the Commander’s eyes. Hormones picked up and Asami had to use her hand to block the strong mix of alpha musk.

She couldn’t avoid Korra for long, though. Pale blue eyes found her from the other side of the table, steady and dangerous. Fire burned beneath the icy stare, and Asami was one of the few in the war room that could see under the Commander’s stoic mask.

What she saw scared her.

“Leave,” Korra commanded with calm and authority, a flick of her wrist that none of the ambassadors dared to question.

“Heda.” Tenzin, her Fleimkepa, tried to prevent something that Commander Korra might regret later. She didn’t spare him a second glance, and he bowed in understanding.

As people left the warm tent, those haunting blue eyes never left Asami. She knew that the order wasn’t meant for her. The sound of retreating feet echoed from outside, and Korra’s boot scraped the floor as she stood. Like a prey seeing their end at the glint of a sharp canine, Asami stood, unmoving, waiting as Korra closed the distance with precision.

“Why do you do this?” Korra hissed, the words brushing Asami’s lips, but never touching. Black swallowed the blue in her eyes, forcing Asami to focus on the Commander jewelry on her forehead to not lose herself. “How dare you question me like this?” Rage seeped from Korra’s posture and her shoulders sagged like an under watered plant. “In front of the ambassadors, the council …” A flash of anger crossed her face, an unusual color on the Commander’s mask. Heat rose to Asami’s cheeks, and she looked away.

They didn’t touch. Korra didn’t cross that last inch between them.

“They want any reason to kill you,” Korra confessed in an intimate whisper that sent a chill down Asami’s spine. “And you keep giving it to them like a stubborn goufa!”

Words died in Asami’s dry mouth. Anger flooded from the woman before her, along an aura of pain and protection that left her in a balance of warmth and fear. She had never seen Korra react so strongly to her actions, so raw and open. Asami had hoped for a reaction after what she did, but she had never expected Korra to sound so ... hurt.

Asami lowered her head in submission. Strong fingers closed around her chin, nails biting at her skin.

“It’s not because I submit to you in private”—Korra’s hold on Asami lessened, and the touch became a shadow of a caress—“it means I will do it in public. Do not question me.” Korra’s other hand joined its companion on Asami’s face, forcing the green of the Skiprisa’s eyes to lock on pleading blue.

“You cannot seem like my weakness,” Korra said against full lips. “Even if you are.”

Asami expected the kiss, but the butterflies in her stomach erupted madly anyway. Korra didn’t push it, like last time; and exactly like last time, Asami searched for her lips as she pulled away.

”I overstepped,” Asami said, voice low. Shame teased the back of her throat. Korra nodded and walked to her throne without looking back.

The rest of the meeting went on without further dramatic events. Asami didn’t challenge Korra again, instead politely submitting to the Heda. A faint blush under a trace of smudged war paint on pale skin was the only sign of what happened between them.

After the conference Asami watched Korra leaving with Tenzin and the generals, supposedly to a more private gathering regarding the Triku defenses. Blue eyes stared at her with a silent longing that intensified Asami’s desire to follow her. She didn’t, though.

She wouldn’t challenge Korra again.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night. Stars hid in a moonless sky when Asami gave up on sleep altogether. The guard at her door spared her a curious look before following her down the hall of the Polis tower.

Two guards blocked Korra’s door, and they didn’t move as she approached.

“I need to see her,” Asami said, annoyed, but neither guard moved. “Please tell her I’m here.” No response besides a sideway glance from the pair of six feet grounders.

Asami huffed, and before she could do anything stupid like fight someone twice her size, she heard steps from the inside and Korra herself opened the door.

“Asami.” Korra’s tired blue eyes lighted in concern at seeing her there. “Did something happen? Are you hurt or—”

“We need to talk,” Asami said before any of the guards could stop her.

Korra nodded, and with a flick of her hand the guards made room for Asami to enter.

Korra spoke in trigedasleng to the guards and closed the door behind them.

The Commander’s quarters were warm, but one look at the bed showed Korra hadn’t been sleeping much either, with furs untouched and cold. Maps and letters filled the table by the farther end of the room illuminated by candles and a fireplace. Asami found Korra’s eyes and there was doubt under the usual softness Korra showed when they were alone.

“I’m sorry about today.” Asami took a step closer, noticing how the muscles on Korra’s arms jumped behind her back.

Korra nodded, a small smile playing on her thin lips. “I accept your apology, Asami kom Skaikru.”

Asami noticed the dark shadow under Korra’s eyes with her skin free of paint. She knew Korra hadn’t been sleeping in the past weeks, but without her armor and war-paint, she seemed younger and exhausted.

A woman with a burden too heavy to carry alone.

”Is there anything you may need from me?” Korra asked, her shoulders tense with her hands behind her back. Asami wasn’t sure if that was a request for her to leave, or, if she may dare to voice her desires, an opening for her to stay.

Swallowing her fear, Asami came closer to Korra, stopping a breath away, like they had been hours before when Korra kissed her.

“Actually, yes,” Asami said, her lips turning into a smile when Korra’s eyes zeroed on her lips. “I bowed to you in public to show my respect.” Roles reversed, Asami was now the predator, and Korra had no other choice than walk backwards until her calves met the wooden bed. “And you evened that for me in private. Now”—Asami locked eyes with cloudy summer skies, Korra’s pupils growing under the dim light—“I bow to you to show my submission.”

Never breaking their stare, Asami knelt in a smooth descent. Korra’s mouth fell open, eyes wide. Asami tilted her head to the side, exposing a long, beautiful pale neck.

They didn’t move for a moment as Korra processed the sight in front of her. Asami lifted her hands to Korra’s thighs, pushing with enough strength to make her sit on the bed, legs spread in front of gleaming green eyes.

“You have problems sleeping,” Asami started with a low tone, hands moving to Korra’s waistband. The tent forming between Korra’s legs was enough indication she wasn’t unwelcomed. “Please let me help, Heda.”

The teasing and truth of the last word broke Korra out of her trance, and she used her elbows to brace herself against the bed. “There’s no need for this,” Korra exhaled in a clipped voice, chest heaving.

“I strongly disagree.”

Korra’s protest morphed into a moan when Asami cupped her through her pants. Encouraged, Asami searched for the waistband again, pulling the string loose. One strong hand closed over hers before Asami could pull it down.

“What is this to you?” The pain and emotion in Korra’s voice surprised Asami. She had never seen Korra exposed and vulnerable. This side of the Commander was well kept, a promise veiled as a secret.

Asami never felt more valued.

She leaned down to kiss Korra’s knuckles over her hand. “Everything,” she confessed, a breath into the cracking fire.

The grip Korra had on her hand loosened, and Asami looked up to see her nodding.

She undressed Korra with a healer’s touch, pulling the rough cotton pants down in calculated motions. Korra watched her, hands fisted on the bed furs. She lifted her hips to help Asami take off her underwear, her erection full and pointing straight at her abs. Asami looked up at Korra for a final consent. Breathing hard, Korra nodded.

Korra’s stare left Asami to close in silent bliss when the omega touched her. Asami wondered when was the last time someone had touched Korra like that. Korra leaned back on the bed, one hand leaving the furs to grasp at Asami’s hair.

A smirk played on Asami’s lips at the sight; Heda Korra of the thirteen clans opened for her in a show of submission, power, and love. Wanting to offer Korra the best she had, Asami lowered her head to capture the tip of Korra’s erection between her lips.

The groan that escaped Korra made a shudder run down Asami’s spine all the way to her panties, dampening them with want. One of Korra’s legs spasmed next to her and she massaged the calf with one hand, Korra’s groan turning into a hiss.

Another hand joined its companion in Asami’s black hair, guiding her to take more of the Commander inside her mouth. Korra was a powerful alpha in many ways, and taking her completely inside would be a challenge , but Asami was determined to try.

Her tongue poked out to explore the underside of the engorged head, and that provoked a moan from Korra. Asami’s eyes searched the Commander’s face to find her craning her neck to look at her, eyes wide and drinking every detail. Satisfied, Asami licked the sweet spot again, moaning along with Korra to help with vibrations. She opened her eyes just enough to see Korra closing her own and abandoning her head on the furs.

“Asami …” The way Korra’s tongue rolled with each vowel was enough for Asami to clench around nothing. Korra was close already, hands shaking in Asami’s hair, and Asami was proud to be the one to give her Heda pleasure.

Her Heda. Sounded better than she expected.

Swallowing once to clear Korra’s cock from the precome, Asami leaned down to take her again, bobbing her head and sucking the alpha. The next words that tumbled from Korra’s lips were a hurried trigedasleng that Asami didn’t understand, but the plea in azure eyes told her what it meant.

The hands in Asami’s hair tightened, unsure if the omega would want to be trapped in Korra’s release. One pale hand closed over Korra’s, and Asami looked up as if to say, It’s okay.

Korra tried to keep eye contact; she tried to watch Asami’s lips running up and down her shaft, but when the omega combinated the vibrating and sucking, she was gone.

A scream ripped Korra’s throat into the quiet room, and she hurried to bite on her lips to not startle the guards. Her cock swelled further in the snug heat of Asami’s mouth, straining to shoot thick jets of come down the omega’s throat.

Asami took what she could, releasing thel twitching cock when her mouth couldn’t handle anymore. Korra’s hip thrusted up in the air to paint Asami’s face with more arcs of come, a strong hand still firm on black hair.

It had been too long, and Korra gave everything she had. She marked her abs, Asami’s face, the furs, and fuck, everything was a stick mess until she finally stopped coming. Asami sneaked up the bed to hold Korra through her aftershocks, though the alpha hid her face behind her elbow.

Asami used the furs to clean her own face, revealing a satisfied smirk. She snuggled close to Korra’s neck, waiting to feel the safe scent of her alpha. However, she found the uncomfortable stench of shame, which made Assim whine in confusion.

Korra moved her arm at that, turning to face a frowning Asami.

“I’m sorry,” Korra said, tucking her face into Asami’s neck in embarrassment.

“Why are you apologizing?”

Korra took a deep breath, her inner alpha preening at smelling herself over Asami’s skin. With heavy, sleepy limbs, she braced Asami and pushed them both further up the bed.

Asami waited for a reply that never came. She craned her neck to see the furious blush covering Korra’s ear and neck.

“Korra,” she started, and Korra buried herself deeper into her. “I enjoyed everything that happened in this room. Don’t doubt that.”

“I couldn’t even …” Korra’s voice muffled into Asami’s skin, hot and heavy. “And I’m terribly spent, unable to reciprocate and—”

“Stop it, okay?” Asami nuzzled the side of Korra’s face. “You’ve barely slept in weeks. Allow yourself the rest and pleasure you deserve.”

Korra huffed against her neck, but it wasn’t a protest. Or at least not a strong one.

Soft exhales evened out on Asami’s skin, and she smiled at the sleeping alpha. She pulled the furs up, molding their bodies together for more warmth.

Asami knew that with her alpha rested, Korra would do more than what they had done. The thought excited her, and she couldn’t suppress a smile when placing her head under Korra’s chin. With their height difference, it’s a position they could only do when lying down, and one Asami appreciated.

“‘Sami,” Korra mumbled in her sleep.

Korra didn’t need to say the words Asami saw in every gesture. She kissed the base of her neck and settled to sleep.

“I love you, too.”

#korrasami #reposting and old old one from a request #pls forgive past writing mistakes #the 100 crossover #i guess i was faster to write some good old smut back then #fanfiction #drabble #lok

[owl127]

Two times Weiss Schnee regretted finding the bees, and one time she did not

"We should wait until morning to cross the bridge." Jaune had a tone of finality when he spoke now. Weiss wasn't sure if that was because of his age or his suffering from loneliness and betrayal. Maybe both. "There are wolf-boar scouts at night in the Dark Acre."

That sounded as confusing as any other threat in this place, and Weiss had learned to respect them. At least a little bit more. She stretched her neck and winced at the knot there, massaging it with a gloved hand. The small clearing they called a camp was damp from rain and quiet with just the three of them. "Hey, are you cold?" Weiss asked Ruby, who blinked and shrugged, but her skin was cool to the touch. "Where's Yang with more firewood?" Weiss didn't ask anyone specifically, but Jaune shook his head anyway. One look around, and Blake seemed to also be suspiciously absent. Groaning, Weiss set out to the task of being the only responsible and mentally stable huntress in their party.

She knew what she would find before she heard the muffled laughter, and Weiss missed home a little bit more, even if the thought of home made her feel sick. But right now she really missed doors with locks.

"I don't mind it." Weiss heard Blake's voice, low and raspy, and she never wanted to hear it again. "It's part of you."

"But don't you think it's too cold? Or too hot? The heat transfer is insane with the metal," Yang responded, giving more information than Weiss was willing to process.

"I'm approaching this area!" Weiss yelled from about ten feet away from the giggling couple. "I repeat, I, Weiss Schnee, perfectly capable of hearing and sight, am approaching this area!" she repeated, to which the giggling increased. The nerve of these dorks.

Weiss crossed a tree line to find Blake's boots just hitting the ground, her jacket rumpled, and Yang's arms still shamelessly around her.

"Heya, Weiss," Yang greeted with a grin while Blake had the decency to blush.

"Unbelievable," Weiss murmured, arms akimbo. "You left a while ago looking for firewood," she accused Yang, who shrugged and pointed to the forgotten heap at her feet. "Ruby's cold," Weiss added with a drop of teasing, satisfied with Yang's furrowed brows. "I know this is exciting and new for you," she continued, "but not everyone is in the mindset to enjoy your honeymoon phase. So please keep your hands to yourselves."

"We were about to head back," Blake offered with a small smile. "Care to give me a hand?" There was a glint in her eyes as she asked Yang, but it took Weiss a second too long to catch up.

"No problem!" Yang responded, detaching her prosthetic while Blake piled it along the firewood.

"I can't," Weiss said before walking back into the tree line without a second glance in the direction of her adorable but insufferable teammates. "And you have a hickey, Belladonna!" she added triumphantly, marching back to camp.

0000

The rain never stopped. It fell mercilessly, and they haven't seen the sun in the Dark Acre for days. Ruby had barely been speaking, and the tension between their group was palpable, like a constant heartburn in the back of Weiss's throat. They had been taking turns watching Ruby, and tonight it was Weiss's time to try and convince their broken leader to eat.

"It's not that bad," Weiss said as she chewed on stale carrot-cheese, offering a piece to Little and another to Ruby. "It's aged cheese, if you think about it."

"Yeah," Ruby answered apathetically, turning her back to Weiss. Impromptu naps were another thing Ruby had started doing, which Little celebrated at first but then understood that it was a problem.

"Rest." Weiss tried to adjust Ruby's hood around her, but the girl shrugged her off. "I'll check on Blake and Yang for more food."

"I'm not hungry."

"I know." Weiss took a deep breath and stood on the moist ground. Her fighting skirt had seen better days, but she was Weiss Schnee, and she patted her thighs with grace and elegance as she set into the task of finding more food. Rain kept its ruthless pace, though as she walked farther from camp, it seemed to slow to an annoying trickle. Her hair was not doing well either way.

She found a tree with fruits Jaune would have to clear for them before eating, and as she spotted another fruitful tree, she heard a sound that made her stop in her tracks.

Not a grimm; not a Jabberwalker. Right now, not even Salem's laughter would make Weiss this instantly mad. Weiss groaned out loud at the sound of moaning.

"What have I done to deserve this?" Weiss expressed to the picked fruit in her hands. She located the source of the sounds, a small cave to the side of a clearing. Part of her wanted to ignore it and bleach her brain, but Ruby was alone and they needed food. Someone needed to knock some sense into those two. She expected such abhorrent behavior from Yang, but pulling Blake into it was too much. She left the fruit outside the cave and took a deep breath.

"Too much, too much." Weiss heard Yang's voice echoing in the cave, followed by a hiss. "Slower, Blake."

Weiss froze on her way inside because there was absolutely no way they were up to that.

"I'm sorry," Blake replied, her voice low and calm. A sound of kissing followed, and Weiss gagged. "I'm going to try again. Try to relax."

Weiss wanted to die.

"But you also need to push a little harder on the way out, or it won't work."

Scratch that. Weiss was dead.

She jumped inside the cave, her rapier in the air as her other hand covered her eyes. "I can’t believe you two are even in the mood for such lewd behavior!" she yelled, brandishing her weapon at nothing. "I’m giving you ten seconds to look presentable before I open my eyes!"

"Weiss, open your eyes," Yang deadpanned.

"Are you both dressed?" Weiss pressed further.

"Yes," Yang confirmed in a similar monotone. 

Weiss opened one eye first, scanning the cave quickly. Both Yang and Blake were indeed wearing pants, and while Yang had her jacket off, intimate body parts were 100% hidden. Yang’s arm was detached, and Blake’s hands were around the base connected to Yang’s scar. 

"It’s been bothering me since I got it back," Yang explained. "I usually need help when detaching the base."

Heat flared in Weiss’ cheeks. "Well, I see you already have assistance." Weiss nodded at Blake, her cat ears betraying the laughter her mouth managed to dampen. "I will be heading back to camp, then."

"What did you think we were doing?" One golden eyebrow was up, followed by a half-smirk. "Weiss Schnee, did you really think Blake and I were having s—"

"You have no limits, Xiao Long."

"How dare you"—Yang placed her left hand over her heart—"I would never."

"Is everything okay back in the camp, Weiss?" Blake asked before the teasing escalated.

"We’re looking for food."

"We won’t take long," Blake amended with a small smile. Weiss frowned at Yang, who grinned innocently as she left.

"C’mon, let me tell her," Yang said once Weiss was out of earshot.

"Don’t you dare."

"It’ll be good for her!"

"Yang, no."

"It was just some hand stuff," Yang said while shaking her prosthetic.

Blake couldn’t hold her giggles, leaning to kiss Yang’s cheek. "I love you… but let’s tone it down around Weiss. She might explode."

"We should set her up with Jaune."

"Yang, no."

0000

Through the sandstorm, Weiss heard the familiar shriek of a Nevermore. Wyvern and Lancers also took the sky, attacking at random intervals.

"Ruby. Ruby, open your eyes!" she begged her unconscious teammate. After using her eye power, Ruby had fallen limply, and it took most of what was left of Weiss' aura to clear the path to her friend. "Ruby!" she yelled, sand entering her eyes and mouth. "Ruby, talk to me!"

"We gotta bounce!" Nora yelled from behind Weiss. "I’ll help you carry her!"

"Wait, where are Yang and Blake?" Weiss asked with Ruby’s arm around her neck.

"They were the ones distracting the big flying chicken."

"The Nevermore?"

Nora shrugged, shooting a flying grenade in the direction of an approaching flock of Wyverns before helping Ruby up from the other side.

"Can you take her by yourself?"

"Weiss, we need to leave!" Nora’s statement was punctuated by Winter’s chilly attack somewhere above them.

"I’ll meet you back at Shade!" Weiss didn’t look back and ran in the direction of the fight.

"Weiss!" She recognized Winter’s voice. "You need to leave this instant!" Her sister had become overprotective since they returned, but there was a layer of fresh desperation in Winter’s voice as she landed next to Weiss.

"Have you seen Blake and Yang?" Weiss held her sister’s shoulders.

Winter’s eyes widened. "Winter?" Weiss insisted, but they had to break apart as a Lancer tried to sting her from behind. As the grimm froze to death, Weiss latched to her sister’s forearm. "What happened, Winter?"

"I saw the moment Yang’s aura broke. Blake was with her, but I haven’t seen them since. Weiss, come back here!"

Nothing could stop Wiess from finding her friends—her family. Hunters ran in the opposite direction, as it was clear they had been called to retreat. They trickled in behind Winter’s line of defense, but none of the hunters were Yang or Blake. She wasn’t going to give up; Weiss would fight wave after wave of grimm to find them.

Winter had taken Weiss by the waist when she heard the familiar sound of a high-caliber weapon.

Ember Celica.

"They’re here!" Weiss yelled before her sister carried her away. "Yang! Blake!"

"Help!" Blake’s voice, followed by more shots. Winter was gone in a flash, flying through the harsh storm in the direction of Blake’s cries. Weiss watched as Blake ran in her direction, with Winter carrying an unconscious Yang above them.

"We need to go!" Winter ordered, grimm’s growling intensifying with the lack of hunters. "Now!"

Weiss took Blake’s forearm, as her hand was occupied holding the left pair of Ember Celica. "You two need to stop running away!"

Blake chuckled a wet laugh, her eyes red-rimmed. "We love you too!"

"I’ll strangle you both once Yang wakes up!"

"Don’t give her ideas!"

"BELLADONNA!" 

#rwby #rwby v9 #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #reblob #weiss my beloved #bumblebly #bumblebee #rwby fanfiction #rwby drabble #drabble #they are in love your honor

[owl127]

Are you working on any clexa fics? I’m Clexa deprived😭

Ao3

Happy holidays!

--

The house was clean, white, and large. Lexa had to crane her neck to see the Christmas decorations hanging from the parapet. Over immaculate paint, silly little Santas danced now and then to music no one else could hear. Around them, a forest of leaves, an innumerable amount of wraths in the tri-color Christmas scheme, and lights as bright as the snow covering a tamed yard.

Lexa was the ugly duckling in that perfect home. Regret warmed her cold cheeks just as the door opened, and warm gold smiled at her.

“Lexa!” Clarke was not good at hiding what she felt, and in that lightly freckled face, Lexa saw exhilaration. It would be good to be as happy as Clarke could be with anything. “Merry Christmas!” Clarke was warm and smelled like cookies. There was a hint of fresh pine under her ear and Lexa allowed herself the small pleasure of Clarke’s skin. “Come on in!”

Lexa’s protest died in her throat, and she nodded. That was Clarke Griffin: no questions asked, and always so, so warm.

The house greeted Lexa with waves of cinnamon, coffee, and Mariah Carey. But besides Clarke’s blabbering of her batch of cookies, the house was empty. The large tree in the living room reigned supreme, but the gifts at its feet were unopened.

“Are you by yourself?”

Lexa regretted the question immediately at the way the excitement drained from Clarke’s face. Clarke took off her santa hat, messing with her curls. “Mom was called in for an emergency, and Dad is out of the country. Somewhere they don’t celebrate, I think.” She shrugged, and her new smile had a sheen of defeat. “Do you want to try my cookies?”

The house and smells could be different, but families were complicated for the both of them. Lexa nodded.

They ate cookies, carved through a flawless turkey (“Mom ordered it,” Clarke explained), and watched new and old Christmas movies on the largest TV Lexa had ever seen. There were no further questions , and Clarke gave Lexa clothes for a hot shower.

Clarke’s room was as immaculate as her house, with multiple closets and shelves lined with trinkets and trophies. Her bed was pristine, and everything smelled like fresh pine. Clarke wasn’t by her desk when Lexa exited the in suite bathroom, the vapors from her long shower following her into the room. 

The closet door opened and Clarke stepped inside, cheeks flushed and hands full of partially folded underwear.

“I forgot to give you one of these.” She showed her offering of Christmas-themed boxers.

Lexa chuckled and lay on Clarke’s enormous bed. “I’ll wash your joggers before returning them to you.” Clarke’s eyes did that dance when she tried to check Lexa out discreetly, and it only made it more obvious. It was cute, and Lexa swallowed at the rush of blood through her body. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Clarke said, and joined her on the bed. They didn’t touch. Whatever they were, they hadn’t talked about it yet. Friends? Teammates? Fuck buddies?

Another rush of blood.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Clarke asked, breaking the silence.

“Us?” The word tickled the back of Lexa’s throat.

“I meant why you showed up at my place on Christmas morning, but if you’d rather talk about us…”

“My parents fight a lot,” Lexa said. “Anya isn’t home, and I needed a break.”

“I’m sorry.” Clarke touched her hand. Her palm was warm, and Lexa held it against her chest.

“I’m sorry your parents aren’t here,” Lexa said.

“They do that sometimes.” Clarke snuggled closer, their bodies touching. There was no hiding Lexa’s arousal, not without a boxer. Clarke touched her thigh, and the tent in Lexa’s pants twitched in encouragement. “Is this why you came?”

Lexa breathed hard through her nose, grasping at Clarke’s forearm. “Not really,” she said. “I was alone, and I wanted to see you.”

“I think that’s the sweetest thing you ever said to me.”

Lexa kissed the spot under Clarke’s ear that smelled like an inviting forest. “I’m not good with words,” Lexa confessed to soft skin. “Can I show you instead?”

Their kiss tasted like hot cocoa.

#clexa #ask the owl #fanfiction #Christmas little fic #abo #omegaverse #drabble

[owl127]

The Three Cs (M)

Read on Ao3 (update on Clexa one-shots)

Every piece of clothing was gathered from the floor, the bed, and the desk. Books lined up on shelves; discarded cups had been brought to the kitchen; shoes rested where they belonged on the shoe rack; and all in all, Lexa had done a pretty good job cleaning her room.

She dropped her dirty piles of clothes at the laundry room and searched for the box of those flower-scented wipes her mom used to clean the floor, finding them in the cabinet on top of the dryer. She ran back up the stairs to her room with the wipes and air freshener, just in case.

"Okay, what the hell is going on here?" Anya, laundry basket on her hips, stopped by Lexa’s door, suspiciously scanning the room.

"What are you doing here?" Lexa asked from the floor, where she was making sure the light wood laminate was not smelling like last week’s noodles or Snickers’ playground.

"I came for the weekend. Kara drove me from campus. But focus: why are you cleaning your room? I didn’t know you did that."

"Ha-ha." Lexa trashed the used wipe and pulled out a clean one. "Kara’s in town, too? Don’t you guys have a game on Monday?"

"Home game; we’ll be back on Sunday." Anya changed sides as she balanced her laundry basket, her frown in place. "Lexa, for real, why are you cleaning your room?"

Heat flushed on Lexa’s cheek, and she ignored her sister to wipe the floor at the side of her bed, finding a forgotten shoe in the process.

"Oh my God," Anya exhaled in a laugh, and Lexa cursed under her breath. "You have someone coming over!"

Lexa shushed her, pulling her sister inside her room by her arm and closing the door behind her, eyeing the hallway as she did so. "Can you keep it down?"

"Mom and dad are working; you thought you had the house for yourself... Lexa Woods!" Anya slapped the side of her sister’s arm, the stinging slap making Lexa blush even further.

"It’s not like that." Lexa wriggled with the wipe in her hands.

"Who is it?" Laundry basket forgotten on the floor, Anya pushed Lexa to sit on the bed and followed, the mattress bouncing when she sat down. "Anyone from senior year? You’ll be in college in a few months, so you’re partying now?"

"It’s not like that," Lexa repeated, discarding the wipe in her hand. She ran a hand over her hair, blowing out a long breath. "It’s kind of new, and I don’t want to jinx it."

Anya considered her sister, looking her up and down. Lexa worried her lips, her eyes fixing on anything but the searching look on Anya’s face.

"It’s Clarke," Lexa blurted out, and Anya’s eyes widened.

"Oh my God, that’s so cute; you guys are like childhood sweethearts!" She smiled down at Lexa, too sweet to be genuine.

"I’m serious, Anya, and you can’t tell Kara."

All jokes dropped from Anya’s expression. "Oh no, Kara ." Realization hit, and Anya held both of Lexa’s hands, squeezing them tightly. "You can’t screw this up, Lexa. I just made varsity; you really can’t screw this up." 

Lexa swallowed dryly at the thought of the very athletic, very protective alpha, who was no one else but Clarke’s older sister.

"Oh no." Anya closed her eyes. "You guys are not fucking, are you?"

"Jesus, Anya," Lexa whispered, eyes on the door. "No! Not yet. I mean, we made out a couple times, but..."

"You can’t screw this up, Lexa. I’m serious." Anya used her older sister's voice, which, granted, used to work better when Lexa was younger.

"Don’t you have somewhere else to be?"

"I’m going for dinner with Kara, yeah." Anya stood up, picking up her laundry basket. "Don’t worry, I won’t tell her that my baby sister is tonguing her baby sister."

"Thank you." Lexa’s tight smile dripped with irony.

Anya made it to the door, but stopped and looked back over her shoulders. "Has dad talked to you about the three Cs?"

Lexa’s entire face heated up in embarrassment. "Yep. Now go!" Lexa stood up and started pushing her sister outside her room, kicking the door open.

"Mom is going to get really pissed if you stain the covers."

"We’re not going to have sex!"

"Don’t forget the three Cs!"

Anya’s laugh filled the hallway as Lexa shut the door. One glance at her watch showed she still had twenty minutes before Clarke arrived. Knowing Clarke, they would end up doing some actual studying, but after making out behind the gym and in the omegas’ locker room last week, Lexa was hopeful they would get some action whenever the omega would allow a break.

Soon enough, Lexa heard Anya leaving the house, her obnoxiously loud keychain echoing in the living room. Sooner than she hoped to be prepared, she got a text from Clarke, who biked there from her house a few blocks down.

They should be studying. Senior year was almost over, and they indeed had an essay to finish by Monday.

But how can an eighteen-year-old study when their crush for a good part of a decade sat on their bed and looked up with shy blue eyes? Lexa honestly tried to keep their study session going, but how could she when Clarke was smiling like that?

"We should finish this paragraph before..." Clarke’s voice trailed off, lost in a sigh, as Lexa kissed her cheek.

"We have the entire weekend to work on that," Lexa said, her smirk in place when Clarke took a deep breath but didn’t pull her away. "C’mon, Clarke, we’ve been at this for almost two hours now."

"One hour and a quarter, which does not qualify as almost—" Her breath caught in her throat as Lexa went for another kiss, this one on the sensitive skin right under her ear. "Lexa," the omega pleaded, her eyes darting to the door, hands in a tight grip on her book.

"My parents are not home, and Anya is out for dinner with Kara," Lexa explained, her mouth working on Clarke’s neck as she turned to offer more skin. Lexa moved her full, dark blonde hair from her neck to explore it thoroughly.

"Kara was babbling about some special pizza." Clarke closed her eyes, her book hitting the floor when she moved to give Lexa more room.

"Which means they will stay there for a while and we have the house for ourselves," Lexa whispered against the reddening skin and placed one hand under Clarke’s chin, gently pulling her for a kiss.

"Did you plan this?" Clarke asked when they parted after a quick, sweet kiss.

"To the detail," Lexa confessed, leaning for another kiss that lasted longer.

Lexa enjoyed this. She enjoyed the feel and touch of Clarke’s body and the heat that emanated from every inch of her. The way Clarke’s hands would tangle in her hair, asking for more without words. They had done this a few times before—and the kiss when they were ten did not count—and each time Lexa pushed a little further, just a little.

Or a bit more than a little, as Clarke exhaled once her back hit the mattress, and Lexa snuggled between her legs as if that was the natural order of things.

"This okay?" Lexa asked after wiping her mouth on her hoodie sleeve; she had never kissed someone as much and as deeply as she had Clarke, and she loved every minute of it.

"Yeah," Clarke breathed, pulling her down by the hoodie’s strings, their teeth clashing in a deep kiss.

Lexa wasn’t sure who started it, but soon their legs were tangled in a push and pull that got her blood going south. Clarke’s hips lifted from the bed at every breath, meeting Lexa’s growing erection through both of their pants. It was messy, uncoordinated, and fun, and Lexa did not want it to stop.

However, focusing on both the kissing and this new hip-moving-clashing-humping was proving to be a challenge, so Lexa latched her mouth on the base of Clarke’s neck and focused her energy on dragging her proud hard-on right where she hoped Clarke wanted it.

Clarke’s legs spread wider at the welcomed touch, the omega exhaling loudly against Lexa’s hair. The hands on Lexa’s back dug their fingers into the covered muscle there, just enough to show appreciation, and Lexa sped up her tumbling hips.

Gosh , she was hard. Could people come from this? Was that a thing? Clarke responded to each move with a thrust of her own hips, so she must be into it too. The feeling of warm pressure on her core, the friction of her jeans against Clarke’s, how hot it was where their bodies touched. Clarke’s scent, heady and ripe, was sliding its way through Lexa’s mind until all she could think was Clarke, and all she could do was Clarke and—

Warm, clumsy hands pulled Lexa from her spot on Clarke’s neck so their lips could meet in a kiss that was all at once reinvigorated, desperate, and searching. Lexa moaned into Clarke’s mouth, letting herself be guided into the kiss as her hands gripped on Clarke’s jeans, pulling her closer, closer, desperately closer, so Lexa could figure out why Clarke’s legs were so deliciously warm.

And that was the moment her phone decided to buzz with a shrill cry of a call, Anya’s special ringtone filling her room.

They shared a breath, panting, gray-green eyes blown in clear arousal as Clarke’s steel blue was light and attentive.

"Do you need to get that?" Clarke’s voice was high, and it broke halfway, forcing her to clear her throat.

The phone stopped ringing and started again, insistently.

"It’s Anya," she said, rolling off the warmest spot she had been in her life and pulling her hoodie down to cover her obvious erection. She reached for the phone and watched Clarke’s eyes zero in on her pants before widening and searching for anything else in the room. "What?" Lexa hissed into the phone.

"Lexa, my darling sister," Anya started.

"Anya, now it’s not the best—"

"Just calling to let you know Kara is giving me a ride home and we’re bringing leftovers! And we’ll be there in, like, two minutes. "

Lexa had to give it to her: Anya had her moments as a good sister.

Like now.

Clarke jumped from the bed first, adjusting her shirt and combing her hair with her fingers.

"Guess you heard that," Lexa said mostly to herself, throwing the phone on the crumpled bed. "You okay?" Lexa stood up, stopping Clarke’s fingers with her own to kiss her knuckles gently. "With what we did, I mean." Lexa’s eyes searched Clarke’s face, watching the red mark on her neck, her kiss-swollen lips, and the way her breath hadn’t gone back to normal. The young alpha gulped.

"Yes," Clarke said shyly, leaning down to kiss her blushing alpha. "You know I’m okay with exploring things with you. I haven’t done a lot, but—"

"Me neither," Lexa blurted, her hands gripping Clarke’s harder. Clarke laughed, the tension between them dissipating into a comfortable warmth.

"I’m okay with figuring things out with you," the omega confessed, her thumb caressing Lexa’s palm.

Whatever Lexa was going to say got lost in a groan at the sound of the front door opening. The familiar booming of Kara’s laughter, followed by Snickers' barks, reached all the way upstairs.

"Are you okay with..." Clarke’s blush deepened as she pointed to Lexa’s pants, still painfully tented.

"Oh." Lexa looked down at herself and coughed, scratching the back of her neck. "The fear I feel for your sister’s lacrosse stick hitting my head is doing wonders to cool me off."

"Okay." Clarke didn’t correct Lexa, which made the alpha gulp.

She could indeed picture Kara in her full lacrosse gear, face painted for war, ready to destroy Lexa’s face. Or at least her nose; Kara has done that to many girls in her years playing in high school and college. The girl was unstoppable.

"Lexa?" Clarke’s tone was concerned, and Lexa shook her head at the image of Kara basking in her blood. "You okay?"

"Yeah, good." She looked down; her problem was not so visible anymore. "See? Already working. Let’s go down."

They found Anya in the kitchen putting the pizza box on the counter, and Kara spread on the kitchen floor, giving Snickers, the Woods’ beagle mix, belly rubs. Or Snickers giving Kara belly rubs; one of the two was happening.

"Hey, guys." Lexa aimed for casual, reaching for a pizza slice, while Clarke blushed, kneeling down to caress the dog too. "How was dinner?" She asked while perching on the stool next to the counter.

"Pretty good. How was your dinner?" Anya, that little shit.

"Dinner was awesome!" Kara spoke from the floor, lifting the beagle in her arms as she stood. "Murphy gave us an extra pizza as good luck for the next game!"

"Which I insisted we should share." Anya pointed to the slice on Lexa’s hand.

"Can I put these in the car? It wasn’t fun biking here with four books," Clarke asked, and Kara threw her the keys without looking. Clarke opened the front door, and Snickers jumped from Kara’s lap, running for the door as if his life depended on it.

"I got him!" Anya said to anyone in particular, running after the always-excited beagle.

"Sorry!" Clarke yelled from the door but continued to the car parked in front of the suburban house.

Without Snickers elaborate breath, the kitchen was quiet. Kara, tall, blonde, and poised as all Griffins were, hummed low in her throat and drummed her fingers on the counter.

Without knowing why, Lexa started to sweat.

"How’s the scholarship program going? Think you’ll make the team?"

Lexa nodded, taking another bite from her slice. "Yeah, Coach thinks I can make it."

They heard the triumphant yelp from Anya outside and Snickers’ disappointed whine.

"Lexa, I need to tell you something." Kara fidgeted with her glasses, blue eyes moving from the ajar front door and Lexa.

Lexa swallowed her pizza, familiar steal-blue eyes zeroing in on her. Lexa’s hair in the back of her neck stood on end at the dominant alpha scent that spiked from Kara.

"If you hurt Clarke, or touch her the wrong way, or say something that makes her cry, or basically if you fuck things up with her," Kara said each word without blinking, taking a step closer to Lexa, who just stood there, pizza slice in hand, mouth open. "I will break your legs." Kara punctuated her sentence with a light touch on each of Lexa’s knees.

"Got him!" Anya announced from the living room, carrying Snickers while he licked her face. 

"Awesome!" Kara’s tone was suddenly light again, and she walked to the living room to side hug Anya and pat Snickers’ head one last time. "I’ll text you on Sunday," she said before closing the front door.

Anya washed her hands in the kitchen sink, sitting on the opposite stool from Lexa.

"Okay, spill, what happened? You look like you saw a ghost." Anya dried her hands with the towel on the counter, then went for a pizza slice.

Lexa, still a bit frozen, blinked a few times to process what had just happened. "Kara said she would break my legs if I hurt Clarke."

Anya shrugged, biting a large piece from her slice. "I think she could actually do that," she said with her mouth full.

"Anya! You’re supposed to defend me!"

"Okay, I wouldn’t let her break both of your legs."

Lexa groaned and put her head down, her forehead hitting the cold counter. "That answers if she knows."

"You did notice that Clarke has a hickey, right?"

"What!" Lexa pulled her head back, eyes wide. "Really?"

"What did you think was going to happen when you sucked her neck?"

Groaning again, Lexa’s forehead hit the counter once more.

"So, are you dating?"

"We haven’t talked about it," came Lexa’s muffled reply, her face against the cool marble.

"So you have time to suck her neck but not to make her a proper girlfriend? Lexa."

Lexa groaned at the slight admonishment.

"The Griffins are close to our family, to Daddy." You can’t just fool around with Clarke and treat her like any girl."

Lexa mumbled something against the counter.

"What was that?" Anya tapped the counter next to her sister’s head. "Speak up."

"I want to date her!" Lexa lifted her head, her loud yell echoing in the kitchen. "I want to date her!"

"Jeez, I heard it the first time." Anya grabbed another pizza slice, ignoring the fact she just came back from dinner like any young alpha. "Why don't you just ask her?"

"It’s not that simple."

"You’re making it complicated. The poor girl let you, of all people, kiss her, so she will probably agree with having you hanging around like a keychain."

Murder dropped from Lexa’s eyes as she glared at Anya. "Our height difference is not that much."

"Sure champ. So, you guys are having sex or..."

"No, I told you." Lexa rolled her eyes. "We’re still figuring things out."

"But if that happens, you know what to do and stuff?"

Lexa lifted her head to find Anya’s eyes fixed on her nails and the faintest of blushes on her high cheekbones. Lexa squinted at her sister.

"Look, I’m just making sure you’re prepared, okay?" Anya rolled her eyes, one hand pulling her hair to the side. "Do you have condoms? Do you know how to put it on and all?"

Lexa’s ear felt warmer, and she shook her head. "I don’t have any, but I suppose putting it on is not that much of a mystery."

"It’s not, but watch a YouTube video or something to be sure. C’mon, let’s get you something so you can be ready if anything happens." There was a small smile on Anya’s lips, a rarity when it was directed towards Lexa lately. With both sisters being alphas, they usually ended up in arguments and fights wherever Anya visited.

"What did you do tonight?" As they headed upstairs to Anya’s room, the teasing came back to her voice. "You looked like you had a little fun."

"Anya!"

"Hey, I’m helping you out here!"

"I know. Thanks."

"So, second base?"

"Anya!"

0000

Lexa wasn’t sure how things escalated.

Or maybe she knew exactly how it happened but didn’t want to complain. She would never complain as long as Clarke’s tongue continued to do that almost ticklish but nonetheless arousing swirl right under her jaw that made her knees buckle.

She came to the Griffins to study, and they were indeed doing that in the living room—Abby was home and Lexa did not plan on making any moves with Clarke’s sire so close—but Clarke said she needed to get a book from her room, and Lexa followed because, well, what if she needed help carrying a single book , and hey, here they were, making out next to Clarke’s overflowing bookshelf, her room door unlocked on a Thursday night.

Lexa bit her lower lip to hold a whimper as Clarke’s tongue continued to explore the delicate, oh-so-thin skin of her neck. She was hard, her hands gripping Clarke’s waist to press her closer, the omega purring softly at the consistent contact.

It was too much; it was not enough. Lexa wanted more.

The first warning came when Coffee, the family cat, rudely strolled into the room and pawed at Clarke’s legs as if watching her human with her tongue on someone else’s throat was ordinary. The low meow came, and Lexa looked down to watch the black cat paw at Clarke’s shins.

"Not now, Coffee," Clarke whispered, but she didn’t move to push the cat from her leg. She took a step away from Lexa, picking up the fluffy feline, much to Lexa’s protest. "Did mom forget to give you dinner?" Clarke held the cat from under its armpits, his tail sneaking on her arm in a sign of affection. She gracelessly put Coffee in Lexa’s hands, who just held him from behind, his yellow eyes focused on Clarke.

"Why do you always do that?" Lexa complained, keeping the cat at arm’s length. "You know I’m a dog person."

"He likes you." As if to agree with Clarke, Coffee meowed in Lexa’s arms, wriggling his butt to make his opinion known.

It turned out Coffee was a godsend, a beacon of light in the dark, because the next thing Lexa knew, Abigail Griffin herself was opening the door, reading glasses on, holding a purple pamphlet.

"Clarke, is Kara’s next game an away game or..." The older alpha stopped on her tracks, moving down her reading glasses to see Clarke, blushing a beautiful shade of plump, next to Lexa, who held Coffee—the little hero—in front of her, covering any possible signs of what they were doing before.

Coffee meowned.

"Lexa, hi. I thought you were downstairs," Abby said, a small smile in place as Lexa felt her ears warm.

"Yeah, we just came up to get a book," Clarke explained, her eyes going around the room to land on the discarded book at her desk.

Abby hummed, unimpressed, and used her feet to open the door completely. "Doors always open when you have visitors, honey," she said, and Lexa knew what it meant and what she had figured out. Lexa might be in trouble.

"Yes!" Clarke replied, her cheeks an oh-so-lovely pink.

Abby looked them in the eyes, Lexa gulping and Clarke sweating, and walked the few steps inside to open Clarke’s bedroom window.

Lexa was mortified.

Coffee meowed again, and Lexa could swear the cat was smugly enjoying her torture. His tail flicked happily, and he licked one of her fingers.

Clearing her throat, Abby left the room.

"I’m dead," Lexa said once they were alone. She finally freed Coffee on the floor, and the cat wasted no time walking a slow figure eight around her legs.

"It’s not that bad; I’m eighteen," Clarke argued, but they both knew it was indeed bad.

"We need to tell them." Lexa sat on Clarke’s desk, her legs shaking. "We need to tell our families that we’re dating."

"Wouldn’t it make it official?"

Lexa’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. "You don’t want it to be official?"

"No, no, it’s not like that." Clarke moved next to her, one hand on Lexa’s shoulder. With Lexa sitting down, she towered over the alpha. "You know this is important to me."

"So why not tell? Kara knows. Your mom probably has an idea." Lexa waved her hand at the open window. Abby must have scented them. RIP Lexa. 

"She barely saw anything."

"I had to use Coffee to cover my—" she pointed to her pants. "I’m so sorry, Coffee," she apologized to the cat, who meowed at the sound of his name.

"Okay, first, don’t you ever do that to Coffee again. He’s innocent." Clarke leaned down to scratch in between the cat’s ears. "Second, I just don’t want everyone to know about our business."

"We don’t need to make an announcement or anything... We can just be honest. I don’t think they will make a big deal out of it."

Clarke took a deep breath, tucking some of Lexa’s curls behind her ear. "Okay. I’ll talk to mom and dad."

"Anya knows too."

"I hope you’re right about them not making a big deal."

Lexa hoped so too. But after they finally finished working on their assignment and Lexa was all packed up and ready to walk back home, Abby offered to drive her with the cheap excuse that she needed to talk to Gustus about something at work.

And that was how Lexa found herself next to Detective Abigail Griffin, walking to her own house's front door as the older alpha did not say a single word on the short drive. Lexa had a worrisome idea that she was about to make a big deal of it.

Abby was polite, made some small talk to Gustus and Indra, and asked Gustus to follow her back to the car. Lexa sneaked to the window, watching her dad nod his head as Abby talked to him. Her dad’s expression was light until it wasn’t, and he frowned deeply and looked at the window, his eyes catching Lexa’s. Lexa ducked. 

"What are you doing?"

"Jesus Christ!" Lexa yelled at the voice right behind her ear, completely falling to the floor. "Are you insane, Anya? What are you even doing here?"

"I don’t have classes tomorrow," Anya said as if it explained everything. "Why are we spying on dad? And why is Abby here?"

Lexa, from the floor, her cheeks burning, saw the moment the pieces fell together in Anya’s mind, her brown eyes lighting with excitement.

Too excited for someone whose sibling might soon die.

"Oh…" Anya’s lips froze in a comic ‘o’ shape as she prolonged the single syllable. "Did Abby catch you guys? You’re in so much trouble."

"Anya, please—"

"Lexa." Gustus’ tone was not one for games. "A word in the study, please?"

Anya had a megawatt smile as the door closed behind Lexa.

Gustus’ face remained impassive, not giving away his emotions. "Help me clean the knives." It wasn’t much of a question than a request, and Lexa nodded. She usually enjoyed helping her father clean his weapon collection, but as Detective Gustus Woods lined his knives on his desk and Lexa watched, she felt she was in trouble.

"You know Abby and I were partners for a long time, right?" he started, eyes on his knives and the cleaning cloth as Lexa pulled out the oil to hydrate the wooden handles. "I’ve had her back, and she had mine, and we’re still like this today. We were there for each other’s weddings. Anya’s first toy was a gift from the Griffins," he continued, focused on the task at hand and not meeting Lexa’s eyes.

"When Kara was born, we made a pact that only intensified after Anya. If anything happened to me, Abby would help your mom and take care of my girls as if they were her own." He finally looked up, his dark eyes unreadable as he met his daughter’s stare. "And I would do the same thing for Jake and her girls. Do you know what that means?"

Was that a rhetorical question? Should Lexa actually try to answer that?

"It means." Gustus saved her from the mental dilemma. "It means that I love Abby’s kids just as much as my own. Which makes it very hard to hear from her that you and Clarke have been sneaking around."

"Dad…"

"Let me finish." Gustus used the oiled cloth to polish one of his knives, a hunting knife made of red cedar and deadly sharp. "I didn’t raise you to sneak around unmated omega’s bedrooms. But especially not Clarke’s, Lexa."

"We’re dating," Lexa blurted out, hands on the desk, eyes wide. That made Gustus stop and raise an eyebrow at his youngest.

"Are you and Clarke dating?"

"Yes. It’s a bit new," she explained, heat rising to her cheeks. She did not want to upset her dad, as he held a deadly weapon.

"Does Abby know?"

"Clarke said she would tell them."

Gustus hummed, his eyes on his knife again. "And are you being intimate with her?"

"Dad!" Lexa placed her head on the desk, a habit she never quite grew out of whenever shame lit up her face.

"I just told you Clarke is an important girl, Lexa. Do you remember the three Cs?"

"Yes, I do, but we’re not there yet," she mumbled against the desk.

"Do you have condoms?"

Lexa lifted her head at that, her blush somewhat under control. "Anya gave me some."

"Traitor!" came Anya’s voice from outside the office, and Gustus laughed quietly.

"Get inside and close the door, Anya."

The oldest Woods did as her father requested, widening her eyes at Lexa, who simply shrugged.

"So you both have condoms," Gustus said as both his daughters sat opposite him in his office.

"Yes, daddy."

"Yes, dad."

"Anya, are you getting STD tests done after every partner?"

Anya blushed so deeply. Lexa could see freckles that usually just came out in the summer. "Yes, they have a clinic on campus."

"Good. And you"—he looked at Lexa, eyes squinting, lips lopsided—"are ‘not there yet' but are prepared nonetheless."

Lexa nodded. She just wanted to disappear and get this over with. At Anya’s expression, she suspected her sister shared the thought.

"And you both remember the three Cs?"

"Consent, caress, and condom," they repeated together, somewhat lamely, but it pulled a smile from Gustus nonetheless.

"Good. Now get out of here; you two are growing up too fast." Gustus dismissed them, and Lexa was the first to bolt to the stairs.

"Hey!" she called for Anya before she could shut the door to her room. "Have you had many partners?"

Anya shook her head. "Not really. Two." 

"Did you date any of them?"

"I would’ve told you if I had."

Lexa nodded, her hands behind her back. "Thanks for the help downstairs. I don’t think I would have survived another talk about the three Cs by myself."

"He’s right, you know. Clarke’s important."

Lexa’s cheek felt hot all over again. "Yeah. I know."

Once in bed, she texted Clarke.

Your mom told my dad, and I had an impromptu sex talk with dad and Anya.

Clarke’s response came a couple minutes later.

My dad only stopped crying after I told him I was a virgin. Apparently he’s emotional about his "baby growing up too fast."

My dad made sure I had condoms.

Lexa just realized her mistake after the message was sent.

Oh. I guess these talks are easier for alphas. Dad wants me to get birth control. Mom is not a fan.

Taking a deep breath, Lexa felt a rush of blood in her pants. The idea of Clarke taking birth control because of her because one day they would have sex—wow, it was a bit too much. And also not enough.

At least Kara wasn’t there.

I might have told her. Sorry! I needed help on how to talk to mom and dad. 

She will kill me if I make the team.

Anya will protect you.

No. Anya will team up with her to beat me!

That’s actually very possible. But don’t worry. I’ll be there to give you band-aids.

And kisses to make me feel better?

Yeah. Lots of kisses.

A heart emoji followed the text for good measure, and Lexa’s heart accelerated, fluttering happily in her chest.

Her phone buzzed again, and her smile faltered when she saw it was Anya’s text.

Kara just told me you molested their cat.

Lexa rolled her eyes, replying to Anya's text with a selfie showing her middle finger.

Her phone lit up, and she saw Clarke’s message. 

Apparently, you’re my girlfriend now.

I’m okay with that.

Good night, then, girlfriend.

Good night. Girlfriend. 

#drabble #clexa #abo #fanfiction #all this talk about older sister anya reminded me of this one #i love their vibe here

[owl127]

Loved the captain's daughter prompt! Would love to see lexa lovingly getting the monster strap. Also next morning Indra going like "Lexa why are you walking weird" and then proceed to glare at Clarke the whole day at work. Let's say it wasn't a particularly pleasant day for Clarke.

(Previous) (Next)

"I got you, I got you," Clarke whispered into the downy hairs on Lexa’s nape. Her skin was damp with sweat, and the room was brimming with the scent of sex. Lexa moaned into her pillow, her teeth leaving wet marks on the once impeccable linen. "You good?"

Lexa nodded, her hair a complete mess between Clarke’s fingers.

"Babe, I need to hear it." Clarke gritted her teeth, stopping the slow but constant push of her hips. Lexa had spread even further on the bed, her thighs trembling around Clarke.

"Fuck," Lexa moaned again, balancing on her hands just to fall back on her elbows with a gasp. "It’s too big," she whimpered, and Clarke caught the beginning of a sob.

"I’m pulling out." Clarke had only started to move back when strong fingers grasped her thighs.

"Don’t you dare." Lexa glared at her over her shoulders with tear-filled eyes. "Just give me a minute."

"Lex." Clarke caressed her back and her ass, massaging away the tremble in her thighs. "It’s alright if you’re not up to it tonight. We have other toys and—"

"Clarke, stop talking." The order clicked Calrke’s jaw shut, and she waited, her hands giving Lexa the comfort her words were failing to provide. "Give me the bullet." Clarke obeyed, passing the small vibrator to Lexa’s searching hand.

Clarke had to admit, though, that watching Lexa on her knees taking the ridiculously-sized monster strap Clarke had bought almost as a joke was the sexiest thing she had ever seen. The base thumbed softly against her clit at every thrust, and the quaking in Lexa’s muscles showed how much she wanted it. But Clarke was always careful, and she knew that wasn’t a toy for every single day.

Lexa was stubborn, though.

Lexa moaned and pushed back, catching Clarke by surprise as she braced herself on her moving hips.

"Keep going. Slow, but don’t stop." Lexa’s voice was muffled by the pillow and the increasing vibrating speed between her legs. "I want to feel you."

Clarke bit on her lip and let her nails dig into Lexa’s skin.

"Yes, ma’am."

0000

"Hey, baby!"

Lexa hugged her dad at the entrance of the restaurant, his strong arms lifting her up from the ground. She welcomed the familiar smell of his cologne and let herself be treated as the princess he thought she was.

"Alexandria." Her mom offered a simpler hug, made formal with her uniform, but Lexa knew that was her way of showing love.

"Are you working today?" Lexa said as she slowly sat at the table the waitress assigned to them, hoping her sunglasses would cover her grimace. Iandra looked her up and down, and Lexa double-checked that her shorts were long enough to cover the bruises Clarke had left.

"We have training this afternoon. I’ll supervise." Indra had her analytical mask on, making her unreadable.

"What are you having, Dad?"

"I don’t even know why I check the menu if I always order the same thing," the man said, passing his menu to Indra. "But what about some margaritas today?"

"I’m working."

"I obviously meant me and the kiddo, darling." Gustus leaned down to place a kiss on Indra’s cheek. "They have something with coconut, I think," Gustus said, picking up the drinking menu from the table.

Lexa felt sweat gathering at her temples as Indra kept her eyes focused on her. She drank her water and hoped her mom would ignore the fact that Lexa was almost limping because of that stupid but also marvelous toy Clarke had left at her apartment.

Earlier that morning, Clarke had started the laundry and left a note before she left, and Lexa could still feel the kiss on her forehead, followed by a whispered-- 

"Alexandria," Indra said, and Lexa blinked from her daydream. "Were you with Clarke last night?"

Gustus lifted his eyes from the cocktail list, his thick eyebrows coming together. "Who's Clarke?"

Lexa swallowed her water.

"Alexandria has been seeing someone."

"Mom."

"Oh, who is this Clarke?" Gustus leaned his elbows on the table, occupying most of it with his frame. "Why didn’t you invite them to brunch?"

"We’re taking things slow," Lexa justified, drinking more water.

 Slow, but don’t stop.

"Well, are you happy, baby?" The smile under Gustus’ beard was real and honest, and Indra rolled her eyes when Lexa nodded. "That’s enough for me. Invite him next time."

"Her," both Lexa and Indra corrected.

"Invite her next time," Gustus added with a broader smile. "I’m liking this already."

Family brunch went on without further revelations until Indra offered Lexa a ride back to her apartment, which she accepted while her dad went to work with his own car.

"You usually prefer walking," Indra noticed during their short drive.

"It’s a little chilly today." Lexa didn’t meet her mother's eyes.

"Are you alright, Alexandria?"

There were only so many lies you could tell a trained police captain. "I pulled a muscle in pilates yesterday; nothing bad."

Indra side-eyed her as she stopped in front of Lexa’s apartment complex, humming in the back of her throat.

"Was Clarke at your place last night?"

"Mom," Lexa warned, closing the passenger door and leaning in at the window. "Thanks for the ride. And please stop picking on Clarke. I think I really like her."

Indra squinted her eyes, her lips pulling at the side. "Have a good day, Alexandria."

Lexa thought about warning Clarke. Maybe a text or something.

She went upstairs and promptly forgot to send the text.

0000

Lexa woke up from her nap with her phone vibrating on her nightstand. "Yeah?" she mumbled into it, not checking the caller.

"What did you tell your mom?"

Clarke’s voice was strained and heaving. It sounded like she had run a marathon.

"Clarke? What’s going on?"

"Your mom is making me run all the rookie trails," Clarke said, stopping to cough. "Multiple times. Even the rookies are pitying me. I’ve puked twice."

"Oh, babe, I’m sorry."

"I’m pretty sure my car won’t be waiting for me at the garage. Can you pick me up?"

"Yes, of course."

"But what happened, Lexa? What did you tell her?"

Lexa bit her lip. "I was a little sore from last night. Mom might have noticed during brunch."

Clarke’s elaborate breathing stopped. "Oh. Okay. Yeah, I deserve this."

"Clarke?"

"I’d do worse if it were my daughter. Yeah, alright, I've gotta go. I’ll probably need CPR by the time you’re here. Just, FYI."

"Noted."

Lexa hung up with a smile. If Clarke was willing to suffer through Iandra’s rage, she must really like her. She plopped back on her bed, the new sheets smelling like the softener Clarke had used. She closed her eyes and touched her cheek where Clarke had kissed her that morning. Her heart picked up at the thought that Clarke would spend the night again, though thoroughly bruised and possibly incapable of moving. Still, Clarke would be there.

Lexa shook herself awake and decided to stretch. Just in case.

(Next)

#clexa #drabble #clexa fanfiction

[owl127]

Bees first time in Vacuo;

Yang heard the familiar clicking of Blake’s heels and sat up straighter against the balcony railing. She watched Blake’s smile bloom and fade as she turned the corner of the long hallway and spotted her.

"Yang?" Blake’s pace slowed as she approached, and the simple gesture tugged at Yang’s heart. She stopped before reaching closer, one hand holding her elbow, her eyes cast down. "Do you want to be by yourself?"

Yang smiled—a tired pull of her lips—and beckoned her girlfriend closer. Blake’s ears perked up at the invitation, and she sat down, laying her head on Yang’s exposed shoulder.

"It’s okay if you need time for yourself." Blake searched for her hand, and Yang let her hold it. "There’s nothing wrong with that."

The tight vine around Yang’s heart eased, even if by a little. She had to remind herself that yes, she was worthy of this woman who chose to love her. Maybe one day she would learn to love herself like Blake loved her.

"I wanted to get away from the crowd." Yang relaxed her shoulder against Blake. "At this point, there’s no more planning we can do."

"Tell that to Weiss."

Yang chuckled and lifted their hands to kiss Blake’s knuckles. The nights in Vacuo were hot, and Yang had reached the Academy’s third-floor balcony in search of a reprieve from the heat. She wasn’t very successful, but it was cooler than the main floor, where most hunters and huntresses planned their defense against Salem’s approaching army. It went unsaid that, for a lot of them, this would be their last night.

Blake didn’t tell Yang that everything would be alright; that was a lesson learned from the Ever After: sometimes it was better to sit down and silently share the heavy feelings instead of trying to spin them in a positive way. Blake couldn’t make any promises tonight, so instead, she was present, offering what she knew to be true.

"Did you talk to Ruby?" Blake asked as she played with Yang’s fingers. A cooler breeze wafted from the small oasis garden below, and Blake shifted closer.

"Yeah. She’s alright. Working with Crescent Rose."

Blake hummed, her chin rubbing lightly on Yang’s shoulder. There was a warmth there—not the suffocating heat from Vacuo’s desert, but a small spark of desire that Yang swallowed in her dry throat.

"Do you think we could—"

"There you are!" From the same corner Blake had come from, Weiss approached the couple with a confident stride, eyes hazed with tiredness and something else Yang couldn’t put her finger on. "Have you seen Ruby?" Weiss lowered herself to the floor with grace, her skirt flowing around her as she sat in front of her teammates.

"She’s tinkering with Crescent Rose," Yang said, touching Weiss’ knee. "Is everything alright, Weiss?" She winced at her own question. Of course, not a single thing was alright, and Weiss' deadpan stare proved it. "All things considered," Yang added, and Blake lifted an ear.

Weiss rolled her eyes but didn’t push Yang’s hand away. "I talked to my mom," she confessed, and she saw both Yang and Blake take a breath and hold it. "It went… well." They still held their breaths, eyes fixed on Weiss. Weiss exhaled first, long and bleary. "She was sober. Has been for a while. She mourns him, and I cannot comprehend why, but talking to her made me feel lighter. And—oof!" Yang’s arms were the first around Weiss, and Blake’s followed.

"What are you two doing up here?" Weiss asked while surreptitiously pushing a single tear away with a gloved hand.

"It was too crowded downstairs," Yang explained. Blake shrugged. "Did you also want to escape?"

"I was looking for Winter, actually. One of the Shade professors was asking for her. Something about the last line of defense." Weiss’ words were heavy with the knowledge that their defenses would have to fight beyond the last line.

"I saw her leaving with that professor... What was her name?" Blake touched her chin in thought, and Weiss pursed her lips.

"Giovanna?"

As if on cue, one of Blake’s ears peaked up, and she turned to the garden below them, a beautiful oasis on the grounds of the academy. "Found them," Yang said as they saw Winter and the Shade Professor walking in the garden. Under the moonlight, Giovanna’s wings shone dark, a stark contrast to Winter’s pale bun.

"Ugh," Weiss complained from her spot with her chin perched on Blake’s shoulder as they all watched from above. "I can’t stay for this." Weiss pulled back, her face flushing.

"What do you mean?" While one of Blake’s ears remained focused on the women in the garden, the other turned to Weiss. "Is there a story here?"

"You have no idea." Weiss chewed on her lip but smiled when she looked up. "I’m not one to partake in rumors"—two pairs of impassive eyes stared back, and Weiss rolled her eyes—"alright, less judgment, please."

"They know each other, don’t they?" Yang looked from her shoulders at the way Giovanna walked next to Winter, a step behind, her head inclined in honest interest as Winter spoke in a low tone. On heels, Winter didn’t reach Giovanna’s shoulders, and the faunus’ wings curled in her direction in the same way Blake’s ears did when she was curious.

"Winter’s team back at Atlas Academy was called Wings. Like, W-N-G-S. Guess who was the 'G'?"

"Kinda on the nose, that one... or should I say, kinda on the back?" Yang tried for a joke, and while Blake chuckled, Weiss mumbled, "No."

"I was young, but I’m almost certain they dated. Or sort of. You know how Father was."

Yang turned to check on the couple below. "What happened?"

"Giovanna went back to Vacuo while Winter chose to serve in the military."

"And now they have the chance to reconnect after years apart," Blake added, her fingers closing around the railing.

"I’m not sure if it’s that dramatic, but sure," Weiss concluded the story, shrugging. "I don’t think Winter dated anyone after that, unless you count the Qrow debacle."

"The what?" Yang hissed, wide eyes looking back at Weiss.

"More like a rival's encounter than anything romantic," Weiss explained. "My siblings and I are trained to be codependent on alcoholics; it’s a whole thing." Weiss stood, balancing herself on the railing and dusting off her immaculate skirt. "And that’s my cue to leave." She pointed down at the garden where Giovanna—Gio, as Yang remembered her peers calling her—had beckoned Winter on a tree, and their faces were dangerously close. "Please don’t engage in voyeurism," Weiss warned, and before she turned to go down the open hallway, she eyed Blake’s hand in Yang’s. "Ruby and I won’t be back in our quarters until sunrise, Belladonna." Weiss didn’t wait for a reply and walked away with the same pose she had arrived.

"What was that about?" Yang laughed quietly but frowned at Blake’s darkening blush. "Blake? Why did Weiss tell you that about the room?" Warmth prickled at Yang’s chest, a trickle of heat pooling there.

Blake’s cheeks flared a beautiful pink, and Yang gulped.

"I think she wanted to let us know the room would be empty." Blake didn’t meet Yang’s eyes as she spoke, one hand playing with her hair.

The heat in Yang’s chest made its way up to her neck and cheeks. "Oh."

"Yeah," Blake said with a small laugh. "We don’t have to do anything; I mean, there’s no need to—"

"Hey." Yang leaned down to kiss Blake’s cheek. "I know we don’t. Not if you don’t want to," she added in a whisper, one arm around Blake’s waist.

"Yang?" Blake’s voice was barely a breath, her eyes widening as she looked at Yang’s eyes, then back at her lips. Yang swallowed nothing and turned her head to the side, her sight landing on the garden.

"Oh, damn."

Blake followed her line of sight and gasped, one hand over her mouth. 

Against one of the few trees in the oasis, Gio had Winter pinned, the Maiden's legs around her hips, as they shared a long, passionate kiss. Winter’s bun seemed to have crumbled a while ago, and from their higher view, they could see Gio’s muscles—a flash of dark skin—flexing as she held Winter up.

"Can she hear us?" Yang, blushing furiously, whispered to Blake.

"Bird faunus are not known for their hearing. They’re known for their sight."

Gio chose that moment to break the kiss and turn her head in the direction of Blake and Yang. Winter, kiss-swollen and breathless, squinted her eyes up. Gio’s hazel eyes shone bright in the night, frowning.

"Oh, damn!" Yang repeated as she scrambled to her feet, a giggling Blake hurrying behind her as they fled. They heard the murmur of voices and the unmistakable flap of large wings taking flight.

In a burst of barely contained laughter and giggling, Yang pulled Blake inside the quarters team RWBY shared, shutting the door behind them with a bang, which only made them laugh harder. Blake hid her burning face in Yang’s neck while Yang’s back rested on the door, their chests heaving.

"Do you think they saw us?" Yang asked when she could catch her breath.

"They saw us." Blake lifted her head to take a full breath, sharing it with Yang. Kissing came naturally for them now, a manifestation of feelings bottled up for too long. Yang opened her mouth to welcome Blake’s tongue, their gasp filling the quiet room.

"Should we invite them here so that we’re even?"

"Yang, no," Blake muttered over smirking lips before catching them again. Their chests touched as Blake pressed Yang against the door, and Yang spread her legs to welcome Blake’s hips. "May I?"

Yang agreed without knowing what the request was and felt nimble fingers probe at her bandana, exposing her neck to a warm breath. Yang exhaled loudly as Blake latched on to the soft skin under her jaw, licking the trembling rush of blood there. Yang shifted her thighs to adjust, but ended up lifting her girlfriend off the ground for a brief second. The kiss broke with a soft whimper.

"You okay?" Yang’s voice was hoarse and tight, and the blush on Blake’s face had taken over her neck all the way down to where her skin hid under her jacket. The zipper at her neck had started its great descent, exposing a soft throat that bobbed with words Blake was not finding.

Blake took a long, deep breath, her eyes closing. She hissed it out, tucking her hair behind one ear and taking a step back. "Yeah."

Yang shortened the distance between them again, placing her hands on Blake’s elbows to pull her close. "Talk to me," she pleaded, searching Blake’s eyes. Blake shook her head and fumbled with her jacket’s zipper.

"It’s not bad."

"What?" There was no stopping Yang, and they both knew it. So Blake took another steading breath, her nostrils flaring as she took in Yang’s scent, her body heat, and her touch. One hand landed on Yang’s cheek, red from heat and love. The hard lines on Yang's forehead softened, and she leaned into the caress. "What?" she mumbled into Blake’s palm.

Blake’s eyes were dark in the dim room as her breath fanned over Yang’s mouth. "That really turned me on." For a second, Yang stared at her, eyes wide. "Is it too much?" Before Blake could take another step back, Yang held her close to her chest.

"No, not too much. I like it. But." Yang’s heart ran wild in her chest, a seed of doubt fighting the growing warmth in there. "I’m scared."

"About tomorrow?"

"Yes, but…" Yang looked around the room before settling on Blake’s serene stare. "About tonight, too."

"What about tonight?"

Yang’s skin felt as hot as if she had activated her semblance. "Don’t you want to be with me?"

Blake's hands were tender on her cheeks. "We don’t have to do anything just because tomorrow... we really don’t."

"No, Blake, I want it." The air was thinner as Yang spoke, her heart doing its best to escape from her thundering ribcage.

"I need you to be specific, Yang." Blake’s nose was warm at the soft spot under Yang’s chin. "What do you want?" She breathed the question, followed by a kiss on the same spot as before, right on Yang’s pulsing heart.

"I…" Yang took a deep breath, and Blake pulled back to find her eyes. "I want to have sex with you." Yang gasped at the way Blake’s pupils dilated.

"Does it scare you? Being with me?"

"I don’t have a lot of experience. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you."

"That’s impossible," Blake reassured her with another kiss to Yang’s neck.

"Blake." Yang laughed quietly, closing her eyes against the furious blush heating her cheeks. "You date a huge virgin bimbo."

Blake’s soft laughter was like spring water on a summer afternoon: calm, comforting, and refreshing. "And I love her." Her laughter faded, and Blake stared at her own chest. "Does the fact that I’m more experienced bother you?"

"What? No!" Cool, metallic fingers touched under Blake’s chin. "Hey, Blake, look at me. Everything you went through made you who you are today. And I love who you are. I love every part of you." Yang leaned in for a kiss, and Blake accepted it, welcoming her inside her mouth. "I love you," Yang repeated. Fingers threaded through Yang’s hair, bringing her down to deepen their kiss. In a break for air, Blake placed Gambol Shroud against the lower bunk bed and shrugged off her jacket. Yang watched, her chest heaving. "You’re beautiful," Yang said.

Blake blushed a shade darker, one hand lowering the zipper on her neck all the way down. Yang watched its descent; the sound was sharp and thin, reverberating in her head. She shrugged off her overalls straps without thinking, kicking her boots and the entire thing in one swift breath. Ember Celica clicked on the ground, discarded. Blake, still working on her zippers, startled at Yang, who now stood in front of her in a white top and underwear.

"A little eager?" Blake said with mirth, sitting down on the bed to remove her shoes. Bouncing on her feet, Yang nodded.

"You have no idea."

"Come help me, then." Blake kicked off her last shoe and crawled back onto the twin bed. Yang thought about jumping on top of her, but she had real concerns about whether the bed rails would survive, so instead she placed one knee on the bed, then another, and her finger found another zipper to undo. Blake, bless her soul, helped Yang remove her shirt and pants, and soon Yang found herself with a warm, solid weight on her hips as Blake straddled her.

Vacuo’s heat had nothing on Blake.

"Can I?" Yang asked, her lips tingling from kisses. Blake nodded, leaning closer so Yang could fuss with the clasp of her bra. Blake massaged the tension knot between Yang’s eyes as she fumbled behind her back. But the little sigh of relief that escaped Blake at the snap of tension was addictive, her arms tracing a graceful arc as she let the garment slip.

Yang didn’t speak when presented with a topless Blake, her fingers digging into her thighs instead, her lilac eyes wide.

"You good?" Blake prodded, one finger lifting Yang’s chin, and even like that, it was hard for Yang to find her eyes again. Yang nodded, swallowing.

"You’re gorgeous," Yang whispered as if it were a prayer, eyes closing. "Can I touch you?"

"Gods, yes." Warm fingers were back in Yang’s hair, and she traced Blake’s torso to cup a soft breast, her prosthetic holding steady on Blake’s hips. Blake whimpered at the touch of a thumb on a hard nipple, moving her body so she found pressure on Yang’s abdomen. "Yang!" Blake gasped when a mouth replaced Yang’s hand, a curious and warm tongue wrapping Blake in a soft kiss.

"Down," Blake demanded, and she pushed Yang to lay on the bed, with only minor protests leaving Yang’s mouth at being denied her new-found favorite activity. But Blake caught her pouting lips in a kiss, wild and feverish, ready to devour her whole. "Can I see you? All of you?"

It took Yang a moment to process the words, her mind threading through molasses at all the new ways her body could shiver. "Yes," she agreed, but only when Blake probed at her bandeau did she understand and lift her arms. Blake was delicate, her fingers leaving trails of heat on Yang’s skin as she freed Yang from the tight compression.

Yang’s first reaction was the need to cover herself, but Blake’s ears were high and twitching, her face and chest blooming in pink, and her lips opened, but no word came out. "Blake?" Yang asked in a small voice, her hands gripping Blake’s hips.

"I should not be surprised with the way you never quite hid them—"

"Hey! I run hot!"

"But Yang," she leaned down to lick a hot, wet path from Yang’s collarbone to her jaw, "you’re marvelous."

A sound escaped Yang’s throat, high and embarrassing, and her hips canted, bouncing Blake above her. Blake responded with a whimper of her own, her wet breath tickling Yang’s ear. "Can I kiss you?" At once, Yang knew she wasn’t asking about her mouth. And also at once, Yang nodded with vigor, her chin bumping Blake’s cheek. "Let me take care of you, babe," Blake whispered on warm skin, leaving traces with her nails and mouth. "Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" The phrase sobered Yang from the stupor of want that had taken over, and she nodded with the certainty that there was no one else she trusted more than Blake.

If Yang wanted to remain quiet, she failed miserably, panting loudly at each inch Blake covered with kisses. There was no air in her lungs when Blake finally found her breasts; her tongue was diligent in showing Yang how much she was loved.

Yang took a deep breath when Blake halted her journey down, but it got caught in her throat when she saw the golden eyes between her legs; that wasn’t the cat faunus Belladonna. Those were the eyes of a wild being—a predator ready to pounce. Yang shuddered, desire dripping from her.

Blake guided the hands that had been fisting the bedsheets to her head. "Watch for the ears," Blake warned in a tone too casual for the way she eyed Yang’s underwear, her cat ears twitching in response to Yang’s tentative touch. "May I?" Yang’s hand trembled against dark hair as she nodded, lifting her hips to let Blake slide down her panties. The air was cool against Yang’s heating skin, but too soon it was hot and wet again, and Yang’s head hit the pillow as she moaned, loud and unabashed. Blake smirked, and Yang felt it, her hips responding to meet tongue.

Like everything else she did, Blake was excellent at taking care of Yang. She responded to Yang's little sighs, the push and pull of her hips; when Yang failed to muffle a curse, Blake latched on the spot, her ears flat in utter concentration. Her fingers splayed on Yang's thighs would leave marks, and that idea alone made Yang hotter and the air humid and heavy.

It was good. Great, even, like she had never felt before. It was a lot, and Yang tried to keep up, muffle some of the sounds, and not pull on Blake’s ears. That intensity was new—that kind of shared heat, burning and growing, the endless tightening of her muscles. Something was about to happen, and Yang was approaching a cliff, looming closer with each ragged breath. It was good, so good, and then it was too much. She needed to breathe.

"Blake?" Yang said, her voice hoarse and clawing its way out of gritted teeth. "Blake, stop," she panted, her right hand over her thunderous heart while the other tugged firm on Blake’s hair.

Predatory gold met her and morphed into concern, with Blake climbing her way up to cup Yang’s cheek. Yang wasn't sure if she should feel embarrassment or relief. "Yang, open your eyes," she asked softly. "Please."

The never-ending tightening in Yang’s belly receded, and sweat ran down her temples. Blake’s hand was hot on her clammy skin.

"Just breathe with me." Blake embraced her, reading the comfort Yang needed. "There you go." Yang could smell herself in Blake’s breath, and the sense of possession was new and exotic, like a tropical fruit exploding in her mouth in the dead of winter.

Yang’s heart didn’t really slow down, but it took a break from its escalating panic attack. She did as Blake instructed, breathing in and out, in and out, until she couldn’t feel her heart in her throat and yet only the solid warmth of Blake on top of her, around her, holding her.

"There you are." Blake kissed her nose when Yang opened her eyes, hazed with tears. "Yang, did I hurt you?"

"No." Yang hid in the crook of Blake’s neck. "It was overwhelming. I never felt it that intense before." Yang nuzzled the spot there, taking a deep breath of Blake. "It was good, but then it was too good? Does that make sense?"

With hands that were always warm and soft, Blake coaxed Yang from her hiding spot in her neck. She kissed the tear stains, her nose snuggling into Yang’s cheek, until she smiled.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, I’m… I’m okay."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No. Do you?"

A little sigh escaped Blake, and she kissed Yang on the mouth. "No. Why don’t you show me how you prefer it?"

"How I—"

Blake’s fingers spread between Yang’s, a small push downward. Yang felt the tight feeling in her belly peeking its head again, adjusting against the single pillow and spreading her legs. Blake bit her lips and nodded, their foreheads touching.

"Better this way?" Blake asked.

"Yeah. Stay with me," Yang added without thought, her right hand grasping the bedsheets. She could see Blake’s eyes and the tenderness in them. And also the focus as their hands traveled down through Yang’s quivering stomach, past her hips, until—

"It’s me. Yang, I’m here." A gasp trapped itself in Yang’s throat, and she nodded, bracing herself for the heat. "It’s me."

It was Blake, and Yang could trust her. When Blake felt for what made Yang moan, she leaned down to kiss her mouth again, the earthly undertone in her tongue making Yang slightly dizzy. "Here?" Blake asked on quivering lips, and Yang nodded, another moan escaping her as Blake moved their fingers in circles. Yang guided Blake's hand instead to an up-and-down slide, their digits teasing her wetness only to crawl up with more pressure. "This way, then? Up and down?" Yang's thoughts in Blake's lower voice were the sexiest thing Yang had ever heard. She nodded, her heart galloping strides. "I thought so." An afterthought affirmation came on Yang's neck, Blake's hand setting a pace between her legs as she held on to Blake's waist, letting her do what she wanted. Yang felt the familiar growing sensation in her abdomen, but when it threatened to tip the limits of what she could take, Blake would slow down, kiss her, and whisper how much she loved her. "You're doing so well," Blake purred at an increase in pressure, and Yang's legs spread further on the covers, one foot rubbing against static cotton, the friction good but not the friction making her gasp Blake's name.

"Blake," Yang warned, her fingers digging into Blake's biceps, eyes wide. "I feel it. I, I feel it." It was like a strong leather band had been fastened over her stomach, crushing the muscles into spasms, tighter and tighter, and Yang felt herself spiraling again.

"I'm here." One hand guided Yang's face to meet calm gold, and the intervals between Yang's desperate pulls for air elongated. "It's me, love. Let it come to you."

Yang's hips thrusted of their own volition against Blake's hands, the valley between her breasts flowing in rivulets of sweat.

"Blake, Blake." She heard the name but didn't realize it came from her own lungs; her attention was solely on Blake's eyes, never flickering from her. The tightness increased, and suddenly Yang arrived at the cliff, boundless, hurling toward it, impossible to stop. A drop of sweat ran down Blake's temple and lingered, suspended, at her chin, like Yang felt: suspended, waiting for something, immobile, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Yang saw the words forming on Blake's lips, and she knew them; she had heard them before, but the ringing in her ears overtook the voice she craved. Her mind, now having heard it many times, filled the deaf emptiness: I love you.

The tight band around Yang's torso snapped, stealing all her air.

Her back arched from the bed, lifting Blake with her, the steady rhythm between her legs failing as Blake struggled to balance, but the broken sequence only amplified the white heat wave crashing on Yang. She threw her head back, felt it hitting the bunk bed post, and didn't care about it in the least. She smashed Blake in a hug, their hips rolling together, and throwing herself over a blissful cliff had never felt better.

For how long Yang fluttered like a lost fish on land over the bed, she didn't know. But Blake was there the whole time, holding her, coaxing her to another sequence of tremors, licking the sweat from her neck, kissing the quivering of her lips—Blake was everywhere, and it was all Yang ever wanted.

Her throat was hoarse as she gasped for breath, and Blake was panting just as hard above her.

"Yang," Blake insisted, her strong fingers closing around Yang's cheek. Seeing her concerned gaze, it wasn't the first time she had called her back from her haze. "Are you okay?"

Blinking took a tremendous effort, but Yang blinked once, twice, adding the herculean effort to nod. Gods, yes, she was alright.

"Good?" Blake probed, concern melting into something akin to prideful desire on her face.

"So good," Yang whispered in a long exhale, throwing her arms around Blake to keep her sheltered against her chest. "I can feel it in my toes." She buried her face in black hair, nuzzling the twitching ears there. "I love you."

Blake released a long breath on Yang’s skin. "That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen." The shine in Blake’s eyes betrayed nothing but truth. "Gods." Blake’s voice broke at the word, and Yang felt her moving on her thigh, a wet slide pressing over Yang’s muscle.

"What can I do?" A bout of strength awoke Yang’s mind, and without thinking, her hands helped Blake glide over her. Blake had lost her underwear at some point, and the thought that what was touching Yang was raw, pure Blake made her mouth salivate.

"Flex your thigh for me." The order made Yang shiver. "Yes, like that."

Yang's jaw ached as she gritted her teeth, her forearms bulging as she helped Blake grind over her skin, back and forth, like a retreating and cresting wave. "Yang?"

Yang moved her fixed stare from where Blake’s legs embraced her to pleading amber. "I want you to touch me." Yang had never heard that tone in Blake's voice—an unveiled restraint of want, revealed by nails biting her shoulder.

When Yang didn't move, Blake held her left hand and brought it to her mouth. Blake closed her eyes as she sucked two of Yang's fingers, and whatever brain cell was left in Yang's mind declared retirement at that sight. So, thoughtlessly, Yang let Blake guide her hand down and watched in awe as Blake lifted herself enough so Yang could finally know what heat felt like.

"Yang?" Blake's shoulder trembled as she hovered over Yang, desire dripping on Yang's wet fingers, her eyes darting between their bodies and Yang's face.

Yang nodded, the now-familiar tightness in her center increasing.

And then Blake lowered herself, and Yang froze for a moment before catching up, her fingers finding something, and Blake gasped, and her hips met Yang's, and Yang was—by the gods—Yang was inside her, and her brain cells reanimated, sending the only command she could follow: move.

She would never forget the way Blake moaned her name as she moved her fingers and watched Blake establish a pace, her body dancing over hers in a rush to find her own cliff.

And Yang would be the one bringing her there.

Part of Yang wanted to ask if Blake was okay, if it was too much or too slow, but Blake commanded her without words, her body molding Yang to what she needed. Breathing hard, Yang followed the little sighs and quiet confessions, her wrist burning but burning good.

Blake’s hips increased the pace, her chest bouncing, her muscles shimmering with fresh sweat.

"Touch yourself." Yang met Blake's widened eyes with the same surprise at hearing herself say it. She swallowed, repeating, "Touch yourself, Blake."

Ears flat on her head, Blake nodded and moaned, one hand leaving Yang’s shoulder to hide between their bodies.

"Fuck," Blake whispered, eyes tight, hand faster than their hips, and Yang smiled, bright and alive.

Blake’s body tensed, and she leaned over Yang, her breath wet on her cheek. Yang hoped she was close, her own brain in overdrive. Her right hand landed heavy on Blake’s back, their movements sloppy and desperate between their glistering bodies.

"I got you," Yang whispered, and she meant it now; she meant it tomorrow under Salem’s onslaught; she meant forever. "I got you, Blake."

The sound that ripped from Blake’s throat was something Yang had never heard before. It was a new part of Blake reserved for her and her only, a trust that had taken Blake years to place on anyone again.

Blake tensed, the tendons in her neck tight in climax, her entire body shivering, and she fell.

Yang didn’t stop until a shaking hand begged her to, and slowly, she pulled back, allowing a panting Blake to fall over her. Yang was panting just as hard, her ears ringing with how visceral the experience of watching Blake Belladonna come—to make her come—had left her breathless.

They could only breathe for long, long minutes, their tangled, damp limbs sprawled on the twin bed as if they had defeated a Nevermore by the sheer power of shouting at it.

Yang’s right hand tangled itself in Blake’s hair, opening and closing, nails light against a soft scalp. Blake’s hum of contentment might as well have been a purr for the way her entire body vibrated and relaxed.

"Good?" Yang found her voice, and a grin broke across her face.

Blake chuckled, their bodies shaking in tandem. "Very good."

"I want to do it again."

Blake lifted an ear but didn’t move her head from Yang’s chest.

"Maybe not now," Yang amended, "but after."

"After," Blake repeated, kissing a collarbone.

"After." Yang slept with all her senses full of Blake, the weight on top of her a warming comfort.

"I won’t open that door."

"Weiss, please."

"I’m not doing it, Ruby!"

Yang blinked awake, groaning at the kink in her neck. Her nose itched when ears moved below it.

"She’s my sister." A discussion continued outside team RWBY’s door. "Imagine if it were Winter in there."

"That’s low." A tired sigh.

Three knocks sounded on the door, and Blake stirred next to Yang.

"It’s Weiss; I’m coming in," Weiss said as she opened the door. Blake must have coaxed Yang into pajamas because she was wearing the tan, oversized Shade Academy shirt, and a similar shirt covered Blake’s torso. Under the blankets, they had nothing else.

"Really." Weiss’ voice was cold. "In my bed?" She ruffled, making a show of opening the window. Early morning light strode inside. "I’m picking up dust for me and Ruby. We need to go otherwise we’ll be late for breakfast."

"Good morning, Weiss," Yang croaked, limbs heavy.

The door closed with a pompous hmf.

"Do you think she knows?"

"She knows, Yang."

Yang hugged Blake closer in that early morning, feeling a good soreness in her body, like the endorphins of a well-done exercise. She kissed Blake’s hair, smiling at the muffled yawn on her neck.

"When it’s all said and done," Yang kissed the spot between Blake’s ears, "let’s go to Menagerie. Just chill at the beach."

"Is that going to be our happily ever after?"

"For a while."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Her dad is 6’11," Weiss said from the other side of the door, to which Yang froze.

"Ignore her," Blake said with a kiss on her cheek.

"Is he, though?"

"And a panther faunus. Sun told us!" Ruby completed from outside, and Yang gulped.

"Maybe we should go to Patch first."

"No, you have that horrible creature."

"Zwei is adorable!" Ruby defended from the hallway.

"Really? You think Zwei is a threat? Your dad can shred me to pieces."

"He probably would have if he had smelled this room!" Weiss said from the other side of the door.

"Can you two just go to breakfast!"

They heard Ruby and Weiss’ voices echoing down the hallway. 

"Blake?" Yang kissed her head again.

"Yeah?"

"They know.”

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #bumblebee #bumblebly #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #weiss schnee #weiss the beekeeper^TM #also on ao3

[owl127]

Ur mysterious dream girl is pulling on a push door

#every time #portuguese speakers suffer a lot

[owl127]

Loved the captain's daughter prompt! Would love to see lexa lovingly getting the monster strap. Also next morning Indra going like "Lexa why are you walking weird" and then proceed to glare at Clarke the whole day at work. Let's say it wasn't a particularly pleasant day for Clarke.

(Previous) (Next)

"I got you, I got you," Clarke whispered into the downy hairs on Lexa’s nape. Her skin was damp with sweat, and the room was brimming with the scent of sex. Lexa moaned into her pillow, her teeth leaving wet marks on the once impeccable linen. "You good?"

Lexa nodded, her hair a complete mess between Clarke’s fingers.

"Babe, I need to hear it." Clarke gritted her teeth, stopping the slow but constant push of her hips. Lexa had spread even further on the bed, her thighs trembling around Clarke.

"Fuck," Lexa moaned again, balancing on her hands just to fall back on her elbows with a gasp. "It’s too big," she whimpered, and Clarke caught the beginning of a sob.

"I’m pulling out." Clarke had only started to move back when strong fingers grasped her thighs.

"Don’t you dare." Lexa glared at her over her shoulders with tear-filled eyes. "Just give me a minute."

"Lex." Clarke caressed her back and her ass, massaging away the tremble in her thighs. "It’s alright if you’re not up to it tonight. We have other toys and—"

"Clarke, stop talking." The order clicked Calrke’s jaw shut, and she waited, her hands giving Lexa the comfort her words were failing to provide. "Give me the bullet." Clarke obeyed, passing the small vibrator to Lexa’s searching hand.

Clarke had to admit, though, that watching Lexa on her knees taking the ridiculously-sized monster strap Clarke had bought almost as a joke was the sexiest thing she had ever seen. The base thumbed softly against her clit at every thrust, and the quaking in Lexa’s muscles showed how much she wanted it. But Clarke was always careful, and she knew that wasn’t a toy for every single day.

Lexa was stubborn, though.

Lexa moaned and pushed back, catching Clarke by surprise as she braced herself on her moving hips.

"Keep going. Slow, but don’t stop." Lexa’s voice was muffled by the pillow and the increasing vibrating speed between her legs. "I want to feel you."

Clarke bit on her lip and let her nails dig into Lexa’s skin.

"Yes, ma’am."

0000

"Hey, baby!"

Lexa hugged her dad at the entrance of the restaurant, his strong arms lifting her up from the ground. She welcomed the familiar smell of his cologne and let herself be treated as the princess he thought she was.

"Alexandria." Her mom offered a simpler hug, made formal with her uniform, but Lexa knew that was her way of showing love.

"Are you working today?" Lexa said as she slowly sat at the table the waitress assigned to them, hoping her sunglasses would cover her grimace. Iandra looked her up and down, and Lexa double-checked that her shorts were long enough to cover the bruises Clarke had left.

"We have training this afternoon. I’ll supervise." Indra had her analytical mask on, making her unreadable.

"What are you having, Dad?"

"I don’t even know why I check the menu if I always order the same thing," the man said, passing his menu to Indra. "But what about some margaritas today?"

"I’m working."

"I obviously meant me and the kiddo, darling." Gustus leaned down to place a kiss on Indra’s cheek. "They have something with coconut, I think," Gustus said, picking up the drinking menu from the table.

Lexa felt sweat gathering at her temples as Indra kept her eyes focused on her. She drank her water and hoped her mom would ignore the fact that Lexa was almost limping because of that stupid but also marvelous toy Clarke had left at her apartment.

Earlier that morning, Clarke had started the laundry and left a note before she left, and Lexa could still feel the kiss on her forehead, followed by a whispered-- 

"Alexandria," Indra said, and Lexa blinked from her daydream. "Were you with Clarke last night?"

Gustus lifted his eyes from the cocktail list, his thick eyebrows coming together. "Who's Clarke?"

Lexa swallowed her water.

"Alexandria has been seeing someone."

"Mom."

"Oh, who is this Clarke?" Gustus leaned his elbows on the table, occupying most of it with his frame. "Why didn’t you invite them to brunch?"

"We’re taking things slow," Lexa justified, drinking more water.

 Slow, but don’t stop.

"Well, are you happy, baby?" The smile under Gustus’ beard was real and honest, and Indra rolled her eyes when Lexa nodded. "That’s enough for me. Invite him next time."

"Her," both Lexa and Indra corrected.

"Invite her next time," Gustus added with a broader smile. "I’m liking this already."

Family brunch went on without further revelations until Indra offered Lexa a ride back to her apartment, which she accepted while her dad went to work with his own car.

"You usually prefer walking," Indra noticed during their short drive.

"It’s a little chilly today." Lexa didn’t meet her mother's eyes.

"Are you alright, Alexandria?"

There were only so many lies you could tell a trained police captain. "I pulled a muscle in pilates yesterday; nothing bad."

Indra side-eyed her as she stopped in front of Lexa’s apartment complex, humming in the back of her throat.

"Was Clarke at your place last night?"

"Mom," Lexa warned, closing the passenger door and leaning in at the window. "Thanks for the ride. And please stop picking on Clarke. I think I really like her."

Indra squinted her eyes, her lips pulling at the side. "Have a good day, Alexandria."

Lexa thought about warning Clarke. Maybe a text or something.

She went upstairs and promptly forgot to send the text.

0000

Lexa woke up from her nap with her phone vibrating on her nightstand. "Yeah?" she mumbled into it, not checking the caller.

"What did you tell your mom?"

Clarke’s voice was strained and heaving. It sounded like she had run a marathon.

"Clarke? What’s going on?"

"Your mom is making me run all the rookie trails," Clarke said, stopping to cough. "Multiple times. Even the rookies are pitying me. I’ve puked twice."

"Oh, babe, I’m sorry."

"I’m pretty sure my car won’t be waiting for me at the garage. Can you pick me up?"

"Yes, of course."

"But what happened, Lexa? What did you tell her?"

Lexa bit her lip. "I was a little sore from last night. Mom might have noticed during brunch."

Clarke’s elaborate breathing stopped. "Oh. Okay. Yeah, I deserve this."

"Clarke?"

"I’d do worse if it were my daughter. Yeah, alright, I've gotta go. I’ll probably need CPR by the time you’re here. Just, FYI."

"Noted."

Lexa hung up with a smile. If Clarke was willing to suffer through Iandra’s rage, she must really like her. She plopped back on her bed, the new sheets smelling like the softener Clarke had used. She closed her eyes and touched her cheek where Clarke had kissed her that morning. Her heart picked up at the thought that Clarke would spend the night again, though thoroughly bruised and possibly incapable of moving. Still, Clarke would be there.

Lexa shook herself awake and decided to stretch. Just in case.

(Next)

#clexa #drabble #clexa fanfic #fanfiction #the 100 #clarke griffin #lexa the 100 #clexa the 100 #some weekend reblog

[owl127]

Could you write another alpha Clarke and omega Lexa chapter in your fic? I think it would be cool to see their first time together

Read on Ao3

Lexa hated Azgeda. 

A necessary headache, Titus would say, to preserve the Coalition. Lexa understood the logic: Azgeda was the largest northern clan, with thousands of seasoned warriors and an established mining operation and wool production. A useful and important ally.

It didn't change the fact that Lexa despised them.

"Heda," mumbled a short boy serving her wine, her personal server for the night's celebration. Her drink was bitter, and she hid her grimace with another gulp. 

With Azgeda, the Coalition—Lexa's dream—was complete. There would be sleepless nights to argue about treaties and new alliances to form, but tonight, under the heavy and humid skies of Polis summer, Lexa's Coalition celebrated the integration of their last, most stubborn, and one of their most powerful members. 

Fucking Azgeda. 

Lexa stared at Nia and her pitiful entourage. Nia gorged herself on wine and salted meats, berry juices running down her pale chin as she called for her son to bring her more wine. Nia was everything Lexa despised in an alpha: public debauchery, loud threats that other people would have to fill for her; a sickening air of forced superiority, as if the world needed to know about her cock.

Lexa hated her.

"Behave," Anya warned from her side, and Lexa could swear her old mentor was teasing her. 

"I'm not doing anything," Lexa complained into her cup, adjusting her seat on her throne. 

"So you were not about to challenge Nia to some stupid party game simply to publicly humiliate her?" Anya eyed the knife on Lexa's hand, knowing her commander had a penchant for throwing it at parties. Mostly for fun.

"In any case, she'd name a champion. The woman never does anything herself." 

"She's their chosen leader, Heda."

Chosen. An old-fashioned way to select a leader. A true leader had intelligence and strength, like Lexa. A true leader proved their way with a blade. 

Lexa would never name a champion if challenged by that pitiful woman. 

Spirits, how she hated them.

0000000000

When wine was low in cups and laughter was high on cheeks, Lexa knew it was the moment she could escape the celebration. She waited for that moment and not a second longer, with Anya like a shadow behind her as they headed to her tower. The festivities spilled from the central market to the tower, with most ambassadors hosted on the first floor. Lexa refused the requests for liquor and dancing, thanking Floukru's representative and trying not to laugh at Sankru’s joke about Nia's dick, or lack thereof. 

She made her way around the main lobby, aiming to reach her private elevator, but stopped at the sharp sound of a slap. It came from a dark corridor that led to the ambassador's quarters. Anya touched her knife, but Lexa raised a hand. There would be no bloodshed tonight to honor their new Coalition member. Instead, Lexa headed to the corridor, the unmistakable sound of whimpering filling the air.

Nia's hand was red from the slap, and she shook it ungracefully. On her knees, the woman Lexa knew to be the Azgeda general shook her head, a trickle of blood brimming on her cheek. Nia's ring had left it there.

"Don't you ever question me," Nia hissed, inebriated and angry. Her crow was crooked on her pale curls, and she looked like everything Lexa thought of her: a small, scared woman.

"My queen, she's to be your ambassador. You asked me to appoint her, and she deserves respect," the wounded general said, eyes cast down.

Between them, still whimpering, another woman kneeled, tears overflowing from her lowered chin. Her dress was torn, carelessly so, and the omega in Lexa snarled with recognition.

"Is there anything you need, Queen Nia?" Lexa's voice boomed in the corridor, not matching her serene, small smile. Nia startled, her fury melting in surprise. She stood taller, shaking her head. 

"I appreciate your hospitality, Heda, but my general and ambassador were simply lost. If you may direct them," she said with the easy pride of someone used to giving orders, but her speech was slurred and she was not in a position to give orders to Heda Lexa.

Anya growled from the shadows, but Lexa stopped it with a flick of her wrist. "A guard will assign them a room. Have a good night, Queen Nia."

That was as much as a dismissal would be, and Nia slammed her doors once inside, like the pup she was.

The general stood up and helped the distressed omega, exchanging short and sharp words. The omega bowed her head to Lexa and disappeared at the end of the hallway. 

"I appreciate your kindness, Heda Lexa," the general said, as if her cheek wasn't still bleeding, "but please refrain from interviewing in Azgeda's internal politics."

Anya took a full step out of the shadows to threaten the other woman, who lowered her head and continued, "I mean no disrespect. But Nia is a proud leader and will not take kindly to looking weak."

"You talking to your queen doesn't make her look weak." Lexa pulled a handkerchief from her coat pocket, extending it between them as a peace offering. "Your queen trying to rape her newly appointed ambassador, on the contrary, does make her look weak."

The general, all hard lines on pale skin marked by scars and weather, looked Lexa up and down before accepting the cloth. She placed it on her cheek, and it slowly turned scarlet. It made her eyes darker in that dim hallway. 

"I appreciate your concern," the general said, tilting her head in half a bow, her voice clipped. 

"I haven't seen you at the festivities," Lexa found herself saying, her mind intent on deciphering the puzzle that seemed to be the Azgeda woman. 

"There are other priorities besides celebration."

A hard worker. Maybe Nia had half a brain to have someone like that at her side. 

"Will the ambassador need any more assistance? Or will you be with her through the night?"

Lexa felt the confused look Anya shot at her back.

The general's eyebrows rose to her hairline, and she shook her head. "The ambassador will be taken care of," she said, her hand covering half her face with a bloody cloth, but Lexa saw the beginning of a smile. "Even if not by me."

Lexa nodded and continued on her way to the elevator. 

Anya's smirk showed her teeth as the doors closed in front of them.

"Oh, shut up," Lexa said in their native tongue.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it."

"Maybe you are the one with a vivid imagination."

There might be something good in Azgeda after all.

0000000000

Her name was Clarke. 

Unlike Nia, she acquired her position by personal merit while leading Azgeda's army against invasions from the frozen north.

She was also an unmated alpha, but not like Lexa was paying any attention.

On their month-long visit to Polis, Clarke was the only Azgeda warrior who visited the training grounds every single sunrise. It simply happened that Lexa did the same. And it was because of this coincidence that Lexa found herself able to act on her hatred for Azgeda in her daily combat training with their most revered general. It was almost an even battle.

Clarke's back lifted dust in the training grounds as she fell. She grunted with the effort to roll out of Lexa's wooden spear, jumping to her feet to avoid another blow from the commander's weapon. Her blood mixed with the orange and copper dust as she spit on the ground.

"Again," she asked, and Lexa nodded, her spear fast and accurate.

When they stopped, the sun had risen completely—a new summer morning in the capital of the Coalition. They drank water in silence, with Clarke perched on the training fence while Lexa rested her hips against it. 

"Why do you insist on fighting unarmed?" Lexa voiced the question that had been nagging her since the general had inquired if they could train together.

"It's what I need to develop." Clarke's voice was always low and gravely in the mornings. Not that Lexa talked to her at any other time of the day, but she liked to imagine that voice was for her ears only.

"But you carry a weapon. The Azgeda sling."

Clarke chucked. "Azcaretha. Please don't call it a sling."

"What is it, then?"

"A traditional weapon crafted by Azgeda specialists."

"In the format of a sling," Lexa completed, and Clarke snorted into her cup.

Watching them, Anya squinted her eyes. Lexa was getting very good at ignoring her pointed looks.

Clarke picked up her azcaretha from the side of the training grounds, crossed the dusty arena, leaving her empty cup on a post, and walked back to Lexa. Lexa raised an eyebrow in challenge, and the other woman smirked. Clarke looked at her target, took a deep breath, and raised her left arm in an arch, twisting the soft leather of her weapon in a continuous flow until it spun once, twice, and three times, and a rock Lexa had not even noticed was there flew with surgical precision and hit the metallic cup across the arena. It fell with a loud ring.

For the first time, Lexa saw a side of smug alpha in the general. She was able to control her face with nonchalant approval, but when Clarke smiled triumphantly at Lexa’s silent praise, there was no stopping the heat surging low in her belly. Just a little.

0000000000

The Azgueda entourage had a lightness to them without their queen. Laughter bubbled easier and mead went down faster, scarred faces broken into grins around their blonde circle.

Polis welcomed the start of the fall harvest with a festival, which coincided with the Azgeda general's last days in Polis. Lexa would miss their morning training, though she would never admit that. She saw the general put her hand around the Azgeda ambassador's shoulders, the two of them a perfect pair of scars and wheat hair, and whatever she felt about it, it wasn't good. Lexa would not admit to that either. 

"Heda." 

Lexa straightened her shoulders and took another sip of her mulled wine. It tasted sharp and sweet, with a touch of spice that overwhelmed her tongue. It came from Azgeda, and she wondered if everything from there tasted sweet. And that was another thought for the secret box. "What, Anya?" Her own general stared at the Azgeda group with a tilt to her chin that Lexa immediately disliked. 

"It’s the Azgeda general’s last night in Polis," Anya said casually, in a way she didn’t say anything. Anya was not casual; she was purposeful and direct.

"Speak your mind." Lexa took another sip from her cup. Sweet, sweet Azgeda wine.

"You won’t see her again. It won’t be a problem for the coalition."

"Spirits, Anya, what are you—"

"Spend the night with her." Anya shrugged at Lexa’s frown. "It will do you good."

Clarke chose that moment to turn and find Lexa’s eyes, waving from the other side of the Polis Tower room. The candles made her eyes flash darker, giving Lexa a steely focus. Lexa’s cheeks warmed, and she hoped it was the Azgeda wine and not the Azgeda alpha. 

"Do you approve of her?" Lexa challenged, aware of Anya’s overprotectiveness. 

"I said spend the night with her, not join her under the Spirits," Anya mumbled, crossing her arms. That was as close to an approval as Lexa was ever going to get. What had the general done to convince Anya? 

Lexa rose from her honorable table, nodding to the Floukru Ambassador, who had too much of the mulled wine. She glanced back at Clarke and held her gaze. Clarke raised a pale eyebrow, and Lexa nodded. The way the alpha licked her lips was satisfying. Lexa’s commander emblem itched on her forehead as she excused herself to the kitchens, apparently in search of wine. Anya stopped by the door and didn't follow.

Thin layers of dust covered the caskets in the tower's wine cellar, an underground room accessible by a simple hatch with a single window to the lower gardens. The hatch was left unlocked, and no servant would follow the commander. New, clean casks with Azgeda-burned symbols rested next to the entrance, and Lexa lifted a lid to smell the richness of what was becoming her favorite beverage.

A minute passed, then two. Five. Ten. 

Maybe the general wasn't as sagacious as she had expected, or maybe that wasn’t a good idea at all, because flirting on the training grounds was one thing, but acting on her impulses was another. She should, as Heda—

"Bloody chicken hell!" The exclamation was accompanied by a loud thud in the quiet room, the small garden window shaking in its rusty frame. Lexa, a glass of wine in hand, walked to the lump of a warrior on the ground: a mess of blonde tresses and swears.

"There is a door," Lexa pointed to the hatch above them, her lips curling in unsuppressed amusement.

Clarke dusted herself off and stood up with what was left of her dignity. Her cheeks flushed a beautiful pink, a stark contrast to the scars that painted her face. "I was under the impression you wanted me to be discreet."

"Did you accomplish that?" Lexa raised an eyebrow at the ajar window, music and laughter from the celebration invading the cellar. 

Clarke made a small noise at the back of her throat, the pink in her cheeks turning a shade of burgundy. "Well enough."

"And what do you plan to do now that you're here?" Lexa abandoned her glass on top of a forgotten cask. She took a couple steps further into the room, away from the few candles and the only door. 

Clarke seemed to know an invitation when offered one. 

The cold from the stone room vanished when the Azgeda warrior—fully recovered from her window stunt—stepped into Lexa's personal space, close enough for them to share heat. 

"I have an idea or two," Clarke whispered as she took in Lexa's scent, her nose dangerously close to a pulsing neck. Lexa placed her forearms on the general's shoulders, liking how comfortable they felt there. Clarke leaned in, their hips meeting, sharp Azgeda leather and the commander's sash entwining. Lexa's forefinger followed the line of a long scar, a silver drawing that curled on Clarke's temple and climbed down a pink cheek to meet her chin. Lexa shared a breath with Clarke, who closed her eyes and sighed under Lexa’s touch.

"So at least two?" Lexa challenged, and her stomach filled with butterflies at being lifted, a playful growl leaving Clarke’s lips. 

"That’s a promise." 

Lexa nodded, their noses meeting in a feathery touch. "Show me, then. General." It was whispered with reverence. 

The kiss was not what Lexa expected. Azgeda was hard ice, cold, fierce, and unforgiving. But all she found on Clarke's lips was warmth and softness. Lexa welcomed Clarke closer, her legs spreading to allow more heat, more access, and more Clarke.

And who would know that wine wasn’t the only sweet Azgedian export. 

#clexa #drabble #prompt #azgeda!clarke will always have a soft spot in my heart #the 100 fanfic #abo

[owl127]

bumblebly drabble - rwby v9

Blake’s fingers are long and delicate, most calloused where they meet the softer palm. Her nails are clean and cut short, and Yang loses herself in the feeling of the smooth keratin sliding into skin and back to fingernails. Yang’s touch is light in the dark hut, and the night birds coo outside in tandem with Jaune’s snores. Her left fingers trace patterns on Blake’s hand, as delicate as Yang can be, following tendon lines down to the knuckles and once more all the way to the tip.

"Can’t sleep?"

Yang’s fingers freeze and her eyes widen at the whispered question, gulping at being caught. Blake breathes a chuckle and interlaces their fingers. "Sorry," Yang whispers, but she doesn’t let her hand go. "Did I wake you?"

"I’ve always been a night owl, anyway." Blake snuggles closer to Yang, as if their sleeping bags hadn’t been touching. "You okay?" There’s nothing new in the worry in Blake’s voice, but the tender touch on Yang’s cheek is new, enticing, and a little scary. Yang closes her eyes at the warmth rising in her cheeks.

"Hard to sleep with the day we had," she confesses into the semi-darkness, her lips brushing Blake’s cheek. "I can’t stop thinking about you."

Blake traces Yang’s cheek and jaw, a feathery touch that makes Yang want to float, to scream, to do anything but go to sleep.

"That’s pretty standard for me," Blake says, her voice a secret. "I’m usually thinking about you every night."

Yang's cheeks flare with emotions she cannot name. "How can you say things like that so easily?"

"Because it’s the truth."

Yang rolls on her back, an undignified grunt leaving her throat. "This is not going to help me sleep."

Blake rests her head on Yang’s shoulder, finding her hand over a beating heart. "What can I do to help?"

"Stop saying you’re thinking about me every night, for starters."

"You loved that."

"I did. And I love you." Yang leans down for a chaste kiss, and Blake hums into it as their lips part.

"I love you too," she murmurs and goes for another kiss, deepening it with a pass of her tongue.

"I love you both"—Weiss’ voice cuts through the night, and both Yang and Blake stop moving—"but I will kick you out to sleep with the magical reindeer if you don’t stop right at this second."

There’s shuffling from Ruby and Weiss’ side, and Yang purses her lips. "Sorry," she says, and Weiss responds with,

"If I hear kissing again, I’m kicking you out."

Blake’s ears twitch as Yang pulls her closer, their legs bumping. "Do you really think she would—"

"Yes," Blake answers before Yang can try for another kiss. "But I’m still here. Like I promised."

Yang lifts Blake’s hand to her lips and leaves a kiss there. "I know."

"Good night, Yang."

"Good night, Blake.” After a beat, Yang adds, “Good night, Weiss.” 

"For the gods, just shut up, you two."

#rwby #rwby v9 #rwby fanfiction #rwby fanfic drabble #drabble