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Polis Tattoo

Chapter Text

“C’mon Clarke!” Raven cried as she dragged Clarke towards the tattoo parlor. “Just… humor me!”

“Ugh…” Clarke scanned past the shop’s logo, a tall tower with a lit torch atop, and into the shop.

She noticed the sole person behind the counter, a woman, relatively young with long, wavy brown hair, seemingly without any tattoos and… reading a book? Not quite the image she imaged for a tattoo worker- the over stereotyped completly tatted head-to-toe bald man with multiple piercings. So what if she’s never been in a tattoo and piercing shop before.

“Don’t be such a square!” Raven continued and proceeded to open the door open

The miniature bell rung, alerting the brunette’s attention up from the book.

“Hi, welcome to Polis Tattoo. Can I help you with something?”

Clarke was dumbfounded, completely transfixed on the depth of green in the brunette’s eyes. Sure, she had made out with a few girls at bars, but never had a girl caught her attention with such fervor.


“We’re just gonna take a look around,” Raven said. “Thanks!”

“Sure thing,” the brunette nodded politely.

Clarke and Raven wandered to the side of the shop, covered with iconic tattoo designs from tribal designs, nautical references, pin-up girls, Asian styled dragons and koi fish, a myriad of other animals and variations of zodiac signs.

While Raven flipped through the display racks, Clarke couldn’t help but glance in the brunette’s direction, trying to see what book she was reading.

“If you’re looking for something more original, our local artist’s portfolios are here,” the brunette pointed at a small stack of photo albums resting on the front desk that doubled as a jewelry display case.

“Oh, cool,” Clarke replied, taking the offer to meander closer to the brunette, and feigned interest in the photo albums.

She couldn’t help but notice the male dominated names on them- Chris, Dan, Rob, Spike? until she arrived to one titled “Lexa” with a picture of the brunette on the cover.

“Is- um, is this you?” Clarke lightly asked, “Lexa?” Purposefully indulging in the way the name rolled off her tongue.

The brunette looked up, Clarke didn’t notice due to the distance before, but she had a lip ring.


“Yeah, that’s me,” she replied with a small smirk.

Clarke nodded in response and proceeded to thumb through the drawings and photos of Lexa’s art and tattoo work. Clarke barely considered herself an artist, she had an adolescent love for painting that diminished as she got older, but could definitely appreciate Lexa’s style, use of colors and shading. A few pages in, Clarke saw a design of a bird, a small bird, a swallow perhaps, but it was completely mechanical- almost like the skeleton of a watch with gears, inner cog workings, and dials.

“Ohh….” Clarke couldn’t hold back her fondness for the design.

“See something you like?” Lexa looked up.

Clarke met Lexa’s eyes again, this time, almost drooling. Yes. You. Everything.

“Whatcha got Clarke,” Raven walked from behind, smacking in between her best friend’s shoulder blades and leaned up against the counter to see what Clarke was looking at.

“Aw cool! A bird! A raven! Like me- wanna get a symbol of your best friend tatted on you Clarkey?” Raven kidded.

“It’s- um, actually a swallow,” Lexa corrected kindly.

“I uh- I really like it,” said Clarke. “Does someone else have this?”

Raven spun her head, “Oh my god! You’re considering that? I was thinking of a mini heart, that thing is huge, Clarke!”

It wasn’t, the swallow was no bigger than a business card, 3.5 by 2 inches, and the detail was phenomenal. But for Clarke’s ink-virgin skin, it maybe was a large commitment.

Lexa answered past Raven’s radical response, replying directly to Clarke, “No, someone asked me to draw it up, but then bailed when it came time for their appointment.”

“Oh… that’s a shame,” Clarke said, entranced in Lexa’s orbit.

“Yeah, it’s essentially a waste, since I spent quite a bit of time conceptualizing, and then for them to cancel. Happens every now and then though.”

“You seriously are not doing this Clarke, are you?” Asked Raven, “I mean, I said humor me, I didn’t think you’d actually-” Raven shifted her tone, “This is a… a lifelong decision!”

For some reason, Raven’s reaction polarized Clarke the other way, aiding the blonde in making her mind. Immediately.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s a waste… can I get it?”

Lexa smiled, wide and generously. “Sure,” neatly dog-earing her book and stood to pull a waiver for Clarke to sign.

“Um... I’ve never, so do I make an appointment or something?” Clarke continued.

Raven stood, mouth agape, mortified.

“Actually, I… have some time, now?”

“Now!” Raven freaked. “Clarke, you can’t! Your mom! Your dad! They’ll see it!”

“Not if… I get it somewhere they won’t,” Clarke sneered, and answered Lexa. “Now, is good.”

Clarke wore a lot of tank tops, so nowhere along the arms, back or shoulders. But… for some reason, whatever reason, she favored a location on her hip.

“Speaking of which, sorry,” Lexa interrupted. “Actually, can I check your ID’s?”

Raven and Clarke pulled out their IDs, both 21, juniors at the nearby university.

Lexa casually handed them back, “Thanks. You two… students?”

“Yes,” Raven blurted. “Very good students in the engineering department- that don’t get tattoos on a whim…” Raven whispered under her breath at Clarke. Clarke ignored her.

Lexa nodded, “Figured- not in a bad way, we get a lot of students. Engineering huh?” Lexa looked up at Clarke, a clear indication to expand.

“Civil engineering,” Clarke answered. “Raven- my best friend,” Clarke felt it necessary to clarify, “she does mechanical.”

“Cool, so this is at least up your alley,” Lexa said as she pulled the design out from underneath the plastic.

“Um, how long will it be…?” Clarke asked.

“Just about an hour,” Lexa replied.


Raven was freaking balls, texting and calling essentially all of their mutual friends to talk Clarke out of this “life-changing” decision. Though she also knew Clarke was stubborn and would do anything to prove a point.

“Okay Clarke, I get it. Ha-ha, joke’s on me,” said Raven faintly as Clarke scooted back on the black, leathered chair that smelled like a hospital. “I think you’ve gone far enough.”

But Raven might as well have been a murmur in the distance, inaudibly muttering away with Clarke’s eyes glued to Lexa’s.

“For someone who’s a tattoo artist, you don’t seem to have very many,” Clarke commented as Lexa squirted blots of ink into a mini, super mini cup.

“Oh,” Lexa grinned, and proceeded to take off her zip up hoodie to reveal a full right sleeve.

It was gorgeous. A grand tree, vibrant with exotic blue, green, and purple colors- something straight out of Avatar. A glowing earth, but the ethereal tree was also intertwined with a unique tribal pattern that resembled outer space, lines and circles that could be conceived as planets.

“Oh my gosh, that’s amazing,” Clarke gasped, unable to control the urge to reach out and touch it.

She ran her hands up Lexa’s arm, smooth and toned under the ink and Clarke found herself wanting to pull Lexa’s t-shirt off to seek more.

“Thanks,” Lexa said, unabashedly holding her arm out for Clarke to admire. “So, um, you said you were thinking somewhere around you hip?”

“Yeah, my dad’s a professor at the university, so I see him daily and… yeah… a place often clothed would be good.”

“Wait, you mean… Professor Griffin? Jake Griffin?” Lexa tilted her head in curiosity.

She’d just briefly scanned Clarke’s ID and noted the last name, but didn’t think anything of it.

“Yeah, Jake. That’s my dad, are you… a student?”

“Was,” Lexa said, “I graduated, three years ago. I remember Professor Griffin.”

“Oh,” Clarke nodded. “Were you in engineering?”

“Architecture,” Lexa replied, “I just work here a couple evenings on weekdays, I like it,” and reached for the stack of purple gloves. “Oh, are you allergic to latex?”

“No,” Clarke responded with an extra chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing- it’s just, my mom’s a doctor so that probably would have been a nightmare if I were allergic to latex.”

“That would be very ironic,” Lexa said, and very professionally ask. “Can you lightly lift up your shirt and show me where?”

Clarke nodded, lifting her shirt.

“So here?” Lexa, gently brushing the inside of Clarke’s hip bone and Christ did Clarke wish Lexa wasn’t wearing fucking gloves.

“Actually, I was… thinking a little lower?”

“Okay,” Lexa nodded. “Can you unbutton your pants for me? Slide them down just a bit?”


Clarke forgot that she was wearing thong, they were supposed to be going out. And now, here she was, getting a tattoo. Though she wasn’t embarrassed by her underwear choice and proudly caught the edges of Lexa’s ears turn red with an added lip bite; Lexa playing lightly with her lip ring. Jesus fuck. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“Here?” Lexa asked again, touching Clarke lower, sending light tingles down between Clarke’s legs.

Clarke had to stifle a gasp, “That- I- I think that’s good.”

Lexa let off, “Okay,” and proceeded to spray and clean off the area before imprinting an outlined image of the sparrow on Clarke’s inner right hip. “How’s that look?”

Clarke stood, admiring the temporary outline through the mirror. She turned, “What do you think Rae- Rae?”

Raven was outside, pacing nervously on the sidewalk with her phone pressed against her ear, arms wallowing about in anger? Whatever.

“Um,” Clarke turned to Lexa, sitting less than a foot away on the rolling work chair. “Since Raven has abandoned me, what do you think?” Clarke asked, holding her shirt partly up, jeans unzipped with triangular flaps, generously displaying her thong.

There was lace, lots of lace, so much lace.

And Clarke watched the brunette swallow a gulp, clearly eyeing below the tattoo placement, before quickly darting back up to meeting Clarke’s blue eyes.

“I think it’s perfect,” Lexa replied.


The sound of the machine flipping on startled Clarke, unfamiliar with the buzzing of a rapid moving needle.

“You okay?” Lexa looked up with another tongue swipe of her lip ring. Is that a tongue ring too?!?!

“Yeah,” Clarke nodded a little nervously and chuckles. “It’s my first time.”

Lexa winked. Fucking winked. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”

Lexa leaned forward towards Clarke’s crotch, spreading the skin gently with her left hand and right arm practically between Clarke’s legs. This time, Clarke had to take her own lower lip between her teeth at the image.

“Ready?” Lexa asked.

Just as Clarke nodded, Raven bursts into the parlor. “Oh my god, it’s happening! I can’t be here for this. Your parents are going to kill me, I can’t support this,” and quickly pivoted back out the door.

“Uh…” Lexa looked back at Clarke, “Did you still want me to…?”

“Go ahead,” Clarke nodded in confidence despite Raven’s frantic actions.

“Okay, just let me know if it gets to be too much. I can stop and we can break, ‘kay?”

Clarke nodded again, lightly shuddering at the arousal increasing between her legs.

Lexa leaned in closer, eyes inches away and began to draw the first line with the inked needle.

Clarke winced with a light hiss. It burned, a hot sensation, but it wasn’t terrible. She found it easier to just watch Lexa, continually playing with her lip ring and yes, there was a tongue ring. Sometimes the tip of Lexa’s tongue would just rest outside her lips with her added concentration.

Clarke doesn’t know if she’s ever been so turned on in her life. Sometimes Lexa would switch her weight, leaning deeper in and press against the apex of Clarke’s legs. And Clarke tried hard, so hard not to just grind against.

Forget about the burning needle piercing her skin a thousand times a minute. The burning sensation between her legs was overwhelming. She’s sure she’s soaked and at least found reassurance in the thickness of her jeans.

Lexa shifted again, angling her elbow a little higher and it was too much to bear.

“Mmm…” Clarke lightly moaned, she couldn’t help it.

Lexa immediately lifted off, “Sorry, are you okay? Did I hit a sensitive spot? Do you want to take a break?”

Goddam right she hit a sensitive spot.

“Um- uh, how much longer?” Clarke was barely able to squeak.

At this rate, she’s going to pass out from overstimulation (or lack thereof), or jump Lexa and maybe ride her pretty face into the ground.

“I’m almost done,” Lexa replied. “Maybe ten more minutes, just some shading… which will be less intense. You’re doing really well,” Lexa encouraged.

“Thanks,” Clarke said, slightly breathless, though unsure why.

“And you should… remember to breath. Ready?” Lexa said softly as she rubbed the cooling ointment on the reddened, newly inked skin. God, Clarke couldn’t think of a time when she was more ready.


In less than ten minutes, Lexa’s finished, and Clarke can’t tell whether she’s relieved or disappointed. Relieved to not be at the mercy of Lexa’s touch anymore, but disappointed because she wanted more.

“Oh wow…” Clarke exhaled, looking at the detail through the mirror. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” Lexa replied kindly. “Here.”

Lexa held up what looked like household plastic wrap with taped edges. Clarke turned and Lexa pressed the clear wrapping over the tattoo with perfect pressure, lightly palming over Clarke’s abdomen. It caused Clarke to suck in another gasp.

“Keep that on for 24 hours,” Lexa said while snapping off the gloves. “And no pools or swimming for two weeks, got it?”

Clarke nodded as she lowered her shirt and gently buttoned up her pants that sat just over the fresh ink.

“So, um, how do we settle this, cash or credit card?”

“Oh,” Lexa punched a few buttons the register, rang it open, and immediately shut it. “Don’t worry about it, this one’s on the house.”

“What?” Clarke eyed in surprise.

“The person had essentially paid me for the design and since they never came back for it, their loss and your gain,” Lexa smiled.

“No…” Clarke trailed, “I can’t just, a tip?”

“How about you buy me a drink?” Lexa said, and handing Clarke a business card that read ‘Trikru Architects’. “Tomorrow night?”

“Uh…” Clarke happily accepted with a cheesy grin on her face. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Great, my cell’s on there.”

Chapter Text

Clarke pulled her keys out and entered the apartment she shared with her best friend, Raven Reyes, along with Octavia Blake. She wasn’t expecting Raven to be home after storming off during her first tattoo session, but sure enough, Raven was up, sitting patiently on the couch as if she were Clarke’s own mother, ready to scold her.

“Oh my god, you’re home!” Raven shouted.

“Of course, I’m home Rae, where else would I go?” Clarke replied, tossing her keys into the community bowl and shedding her out coat. It was mid-March, though not snowing, still chilly enough outside to warrant a thicker jacket.

“Honestly, I thought with 100% certainty you were going to elope with the tattoo artist.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, though Raven wasn’t far from truth. If Lexa got down on one knee and asked Clarke to marry her, Clarke probably would have said yes… and consummate their marriage. Right there.

“Clarke!” Octavia stormed out of her room. “Is it true!? Rae said you were getting a ginormous tattoo!? Let’s see it!”

“It’s true!” Excitedly, Clarke pulled up her shirt and unzipped her pants partly down to reveal her new ink, though still covered in plastic wrap.

“Awesome!” Octavia leaned into get a better look. “It’s not big at all Rae,” Octavia turned her head at Raven. “You made it sound like a giant mechanical osprey across Clarke’s abdomen. It’s so cool!”

Raven hopelessly dropped her head back, “Of course you would support her!” And looked back at Clarke, “I cannot believe you actually went through with it!” Raven exclaimed. “Just because you had the hots for that girl.”

Octavia shot Clarke a quizzical look. This was the first time Clarke’s interest in men was truly questioned.

“What, wait… since… when did you actually like girls?” asked Octavia.

Clarke had never shown real interest in women. Sure, she had several open make-out sessions at bars with other girls, Octavia herself included, but it was always in the cutesy, girly, drunken fun way. Not an actual pursuit of a romantic relationship.

“I—I don’t know. I just… really like her. Does it matter?” Clarke replied.

Octavia shrugged as she stood, “Nope, don’t care as long as you keep paying rent on time!”

The apartment was owned by Octavia’s older brother, Bellamy, who gracious sublet the place to his sister at a reasonable price because Octavia was family. And, Clarke and Raven were lucky enough to room with Octavia after meeting their first year at the university as floormates.

Clarke smiled, “Look,” and held up Lexa’s business card. “I even got her number.”

“Shut up!” Octavia snatched the card from Clarke’s hand. “Clarke, you know this is for an architect company, not a tattoo artist, right?”

“Obviously. Lexa said she only works at the shop a few nights a week but is an architect by day.”

“Lexa,” Octavia echoed Lexa’s name. “Well, if you do go out with this girl, I want a discount on my first tattoo!”

“What is this world coming to!? Tattoos and piercings!” Raven cried, dropping backward on the couch as if it were the end of the world. “Great, not only are Clarke’s parents going to kill me, but so is Bellamy if I let you get one too O!”

“Oh, Bellamy’s always been overprotective of me,” Octavia brushed off and returned the business card to Clarke.

“Thank you much,” Clarke accepted. “And Raven? Not a word to my parents or I’ll tell them you lost your virginity on my couch.”

Raven had grown up down the street from the Griffin’s and routinely brought her high school boyfriends to Clarke’s place to fuck. Since Clarke’s mother was a doctor with rotating graveyard shifts and her father taught evening classes, Clarke was often home alone and let Raven hang out with her boyfriends in the living room.  

Raven huffed in response, “Fine. I hate how much shit you have on me.” And turned her attention back to the television screen, unpausing.

Clarke walked past and headed for her room. “Yep, love ya too Rae!”

Politely closing the door on her roommates, Clarke emptied her pockets on her night stand; cell phone, some loose change, a grocery receipt, lastly topped by Lexa’s business card.

Other than the tattoo, it was a routine Wednesday night and Clarke opted for a quick shower before going to bed. She stripped down, eyes never leaving her hip in the mirror, unused to the dark ink image that reflected. Clarke wanted to remove the plastic film, blotchy with a little bit of dried blood and ink bleed. But Lexa said 24 hours, and Clarke hesitantly obliged. She scanned the rest of her body, pale from the winter, and pondered the location of another tattoo. Yes, she was already thinking about it. Maybe one to match on the opposite hip, or along the rib, or even mid-thigh?

Ideas bursted and Clarke was spending entirely too much time staring at herself in the mirror, mentally placing her tan marks and whether or not she’d want the tattoo to reveal partially or fully while in a bathing suit.

Before she stepped into the shower, Clarke wasn’t sure if she was allowed to get the tattoo wet at all. Lexa said no pools or swimming. Clarke could easily guess probably no direct spray and confirm through Google. But what fun was that?

The question gave Clarke reason to contact Lexa right away, though it had been less than an hour since she left the tattoo parlor. She was planning on texting Lexa the following morning, but this gave her a somewhat legitimate reason.

So, she retrieved Lexa’s business card, taking a moment to admire the card’s design. It was simple, neat and attractive with a basic design of treehouse in tree along with a faint, watermark-like symbol of a cog lingering in the background. The card read vertically.

Trikru Architects.

Lexa Woods, Licensed Architect.

It was followed by a business address and a set of seven numbers. Clarke quickly punched in the digits with her thumb, creating a new contact and opening a new text message.

Nervously, Clarke must have tried eight or nine variations- typing, deleting, and retyping before finally hitting send. She wanted to sound casual despite the neediness swelling in her chest.

Clarke: hey its clarke from earlier today. i know you said no pools or swimming, but can i shower tonight?

It took less than thirty seconds before Lexa was generating a reply. Clarke anxiously awaited the three dots with a goofy smile on her face.

Lexa: hi clarke

Lexa: yes, you can shower, just no direct water spray

Clarke wondered if that was all Lexa was going to say. Answer only in professionalism. But, the text ellipsis reappear, and Clarke squirmed with anticipation. It seemed like Lexa was replying with a longer answer or maybe she was typing and deleting. Clarke could only hope it was for the same reason she was feeling.

Lexa: i didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. I

I what?

Why is there a pause?

Who pauses like that?!

Lexa: sorry, hit send on accident

Lexa: I’m glad you texted

Clarke anxiously paced around her room, still naked and unwilling to put down her phone, engrossed in the “conversation”. Clarke wanted to reply somewhat quickly, didn’t want to keep Lexa waiting too long and sent a weak reply back.

Clarke: me too

Me too? That’s it? That’s all Clarke could muster and continued to pace, stopping to impatiently dig her toes in the carpet and tip-toe up and down. Lexa was replying.

Lexa: thanks for the mental image btw

Lexa: of you, in the shower that is [smiley face emoji]

Clarke almost freaked out, she got a smiley face emoji! From Lexa thinking about her in the shower!

Feeling bold and unafraid.

Clarke: oh, I can do you one better

And proceeded to take a naked selfie through the mirror.

Clarke had no idea where the courage came from, she had never sent anyone as much as a picture of her cleavage, let alone an entire naked selfie. But something about Lexa invigorated her, set her afire with audacity and dare. It gave her courage to go through with the tattoo and was giving her courage now.

Standing in a slightly angled profile, tattoo clearly in the image, Clarke took the picture with her forearms barely shadowing her nipples and frame just above the apex of her legs.


Lexa: I am still at work. I could be fired for viewing porn on the clock

Clarke: just tell them you’re following up with a satisfied customer

Lexa: customer, yes

Lexa: though I’m not convinced about your satisfaction

Clarke has never sexted before, but Clarke has also never gotten a tattoo before and evidently, this was a very special Wednesday night.

Clarke: tell me, how are you going to satisfy me?

Lexa: considering you’re already naked and about to shower

Oh my god Lexa’s playing along. Who is this stranger!?

Lexa: I’d start by pushing you into the shower

Clarke practically ran to ensure her door was locked and in that time span, Lexa had already let several text strings fly.

Lexa: kiss you until you’re dizzy

Lexa: let my hands roam across your body, hot and wet

Lexa: trail my lips down your neck

Lexa: drag my tongue down your chest

Goddam Lexa was a fast texter, Clarke could barely keep up and felt a rush of arousal spike from scanning the words.

Lexa: take a nipple in my mouth, swirl my tongue around it and suck

Lexa: hard

Clarke fumbled the phone in her hand and it smacks her foot. “Ow, son of bitch!” She quickly retrieved it and practically dove under the covers of her bed before daring to reopen the text box.

Lexa: do you want me to stop?

Clarke: no

Jesus Christ was Clarke just as turned on as she was while at the shop.

Clarke: keep going

Lexa: how wet are you?

Clarke could feel her slick arousal emerging between her legs and lightly coating her inner thighs. Would that be super wet? So fucking wet? What are the categories!?

She was completely over thinking it and maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to be so brash, barely able to keep up with what she initiated. Actually, Clarke wasn’t keeping up at all, felt helpless, though in the best way possible.

Lexa: why don’t you reach down and check for me

Clarke impatiently drove her dominant hand down while doing her best to prop her phone up on the pillows and covers to continue reading.

Lexa: spread your legs

Lexa: wide

“Ohhh…” Clarke silently whimpered, immediately reaching for a pillow to stifle what’s to come.

 Lexa: because if i were there

Lexa: my hand would already be between your legs

Lexa: stroking where you want me

Clarke did as Lexa typed, followed the text strings like directions.

Lexa: circling with my fingertips

Lexa: make you whine my name while i kissed you

Lexa: tease you until you ached

Lexa: craved

Lexa: burned

This time, Clarke groaned into her pillow while her chest heaved, and body began to sweat.

Lexa: wet enough for me now?

“Yes, please!” Clarke actually shouted into the dead of her room waiting for more.

Lexa: that’s not a rhetorical question

Clarke quickly grabbed her phone and fumbled a reply with her right hand.

Clarke: yes

Clarke: so wet

She held onto her phone, waiting on bated breath for Lexa’s directions.

Lexa: good

Lexa: because just as you’re least expecting it

Lexa: as i explore your mouth with my tongue

Lexa: cup my hand under your breast

Lexa: I’ll slip in with

Lexa: one

Lexa: two

God if there was an award for suspense in sexting, Lexa would get it.

Lexa: three fingers

Clarke thrusts three of her own fingers in and she’s practically there. Unbearably turned on from sitting in the shop earlier and now this; fully captivated in thinking about Lexa’s fingers in her while she fucked herself.

Lexa: fill you FULL

Lexa: and DEEP

Clarke dropped her phone, coming. She turned her head and screamed into the pillow. Lexa’s name might have even spilled from her lips. She can’t remember coming so hard and fast from masturbating ever before. Was that like five seconds? It’s slightly embarrassing. Okay, very embarrassing. 

Pulling her fingers out, Clarke flopped back like a starfish, arms and legs boneless and splayed out as she caught her breath.

Suddenly, her phone began to buzz next to her head. Clarke almost immediately hit decline with the assumption that it was anybody but Lexa.

Except it was Lexa.

Calling her.

Clarke didn’t exactly want to decline the call, so there was just one thing to do. Swipe right.

“Hello?” Clarke said as confident as possible.

“Hi Clarke,” Lexa replied, sounding impossibly cool and composed as if there weren’t just doing what they were doing a minute ago. “You didn’t answer my last question and I thought it might be a good time to call.”

Why on earth would it be a good time to call?! Lexa was pulling her leg.

“Uh- um, I- uh, your last question?”

For some reason, Clarke could feel Lexa’s smile across the line, full of play and mischief. Clarke didn’t realize she was dealing with fire. She was unprepared. Oh, so unprepared.

“Yes. Are you interested in something a little earlier than drinks tomorrow night, dinner perhaps?”

“Uh- yeah! Yes, absolutely.” Clarke replied, still a little flustered as she rolled to the right side of her bed with phone pressed on her right ear... left hand... drying. 

“Great. Let me know if you have someplace specific in mind. Shoot me a text?” Lexa said plainly.

Clarke really wasn’t sure how Lexa was doing it.

“Of course, I’ll- I’ll um, text you in the morning?” Clarke replied.

“Okay, I’ll… let you get back to your shower now.”

Clarke swore Lexa said those words with a wink.

“Have a good night Clarke.”



“Bye,” Clarke hung up with a smile on her lips.

She placed her phone down, but continued to grin like kid at Disneyland and slowly rose for her now overdue shower.

As she stepped into the hot water, Clarke was still feeling high and light from her orgasm.

High on Lexa.

She began to imagine Lexa again; eyes, face, hair, everything. She was undeniably beautiful, with vibrant green eyes, high cheek bones, defined jawline, and full lips. But god, when Lexa touched her, even though it was through latex gloves, it had sent chills throughout Clarke’s body.

Venturing further into her imagination, she wondered what it’d be like to touch Lexa, kiss Lexa, hear Lexa’s voice and feel the brunette’s breath on her. Clarke felt another sensation of rouse spark between her legs and bit her lip at the urge. Hesitantly, Clarke finished herself, again, while in the shower.

Ready for bed, Clarke checked her phone one last time and smirked to find a final text from Lexa with a photo attached.

Lexa: for my contact photo

It was a tattoo, a simple and easy infinity symbol. But, the placement was difficult to discern. Somewhere on soft skin that didn’t see a lot of daylight, chest or ribs perhaps. A special place on Lexa maybe Clarke would be lucky enough to find out tomorrow night?

Chapter Text

Alarms are offensive. Period.

After last night’s sexting, Clarke’s mind continued to run with thoughts of Lexa, which barred sleep. The anticipation of their date paired with the adrenaline cycling through her veins, Clarke twisted and turned. And alongside that adrenaline was pure fear. Because it was no ordinary date, but Clarke’s first date with a woman. Lexa was so hot, Clarke forgot that she’d never been with a woman and the panic was beginning to build.

Lexa left the decision of dinner to her—for Clarke to suggest a place. This proved to be a decision Clarke found impossible, second-guessing what type of food Lexa liked. Something Asian like Chinese or Thai? Or generic like burgers? What if that was too boring? Should it be fancy and romantic, Italian or French maybe?

After silencing her alarm, Clarke checked her phone, hopeful for a morning text from Lexa, but only found disappointment.

Rising, Clarke exited her room with toothbrush-in-mouth to seek some roommate advice.

“So um,” Clarke said, “either of you two have any advice for like a dinner... thing?”

Raven was on her laptop, sitting at the kitchen table and typing like a robotic scribe, she had a paper due at noon, and Octavia about to blend a morning shake.

Bizzzz! Octavia started the blender. “What?!”

“Do either of you have ideas for a dinner date!?” Clarke shouted over the mixer with toothbrush shoved in the corner of her mouth.

“With Alexa?!” yelled Raven from the table.

“It’s just Lexa!” Clarke replied.

Their Amazon Alexa on the kitchen counter (the three had pitched in for it this past Christmas) lite up and began to speak. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t hear you. Please—”

“Alexa!” Octavia yelled to end the device’s automatic response. “Shut the fuck up!” Octavia stopped blending and poured the greenish-brown mixture into a glass cup. “I swear that thing is more of a pain in the ass than anything else.”

“Hey, leave her alone!” Raven defended, the biggest Alexa fan in the room and, without fail, read all of Amazon’s emails on Alexa’s features and capabilities. She knew all the jokes, all the games and frequently, Clarke and Octavia would come home to Raven having a full conversation with the cylindric device.

“Okay, can we get back to my problem?” Clarke said, but then pivoted to exit the room to spit and stow her toothbrush.

“What about Jasper’s?” Raven said without peeling her eyes from the screen.

“I do love me some of Jasper’s jumbo pizza, but it’s kinda like a hole in the wall.”

“Why, is she fancy?” Asked Octavia.

“I have no idea, she’s a tattoo artist.”

“Well, did you talk to her while you were sitting there for over an hour?”

“Uh… no, not exactly,” Clarke said, recalling her aroused state under Lexa’s hand.

“City of Light?” Raven chimed.

“Nah, that place is fake as shit,” Clarke said.

“Camp Jaha?”

“No, they closed that place down, remember?” said Clarke.

“Oh, what’s it now?” asked Raven.

“Something called Arkadia,” Octavia replied, “I haven’t been, but heard it was good.”

Clarke returned to her phone to check the most recent reviews for restaurant Arkadia. With four stars, two money symbols, and 103 reviews, the place looked promising on Yelp.  

Decided, Clarke copied and shared the restaurant link with Lexa.

Clarke: have u been here before?

Clarke smiled at the immediate returning ellipsis.

Lexa: no, i haven’t, been meaning to

Lexa: what time works for you?

Clarke: my class ends at 4 today, so anytime after that.

Lexa: great, 6?

Clarke: okay

Lexa: okay, see you then


“Dress or skirt with the leggings?” Clarke held up the two articles of clothing for her roommates to help decide.

Clarke had spent the entire day thinking about what she’d wear—didn’t recall a single word from either of her classes. She was worried about her impression from last night’s sexting, Clarke didn’t want to appear too… promiscuous. Because she wasn’t. Clarke had only been with two people in total—a boyfriend in back in high school, and a boyfriend she broke up with last year. That was it.

Now that it was time to get ready, Clarke was rummaging through her closet like a mad woman.

“I like the dress,” said Octavia.

“I actually like the skirt better,” said Raven.

Clarke huffed, “Ugh, or neither? Maybe I should go with pants?” And ran back into her bedroom. She had every variation of jean color spread from light blue to black and grabbed two for another roommate poll.

“Black jeans or grey?”

“I still like the dress better,” said Octavia.

“Aren’t you meeting her at six?” Raven looked at the clock, the time read 5:42 pm. “At this point Clarke, you’re going to be late than anything else.”

“Goddammit,” Clarke cursed.  

Clarke wasn’t typically late, and Raven was right. The restaurant was less than a mile away and Clarke had initially planned to walk. Rushed, Clarke tossed the jeans on top of a growing heap on her bed, simply kept her leggings on, put on a lengthier button-up shirt from the pile, and was out the door.

It was 5:58 pm when the Lyft dropped Clarke off at the front of Restaurant Arkadia and Clarke couldn’t remember if she had ever been this nervous about a date.

As she entered through the grey double doors, she spotted Lexa along the right side of the restaurant by the windows. The ambiance was nice. The dim lighting afforded a spaceship type look with black chairs, grey walls, and dark wooden-stained tables. All polished with hanging globes of terrariums and dangling LED bulbs.

“Hi, welcome to Restaurant Arkadia, how many?” the host greeted.

“Actually,” Clarke gestured forward, “my date is already here.” She smiled as she said it. Her date—the hottest person Clarke had ever laid eyes one.  

Clarke’s smile widened as they made eye contact. As she approached, Clarke felt a light blush fill her cheeks—last night’s sexting curbing her thoughts.

Automatically, Lexa stood to pull a chair out for Clarke and Clarke caught sight of Lexa’s outfit; black shoes, light fitting jeans, and her hair sat perfectly on a white t-shirt. A fucking t-shirt and yet Lexa looked remarkable. Anyone who made a plain white tee look that good should be a god.

“Hi, Clarke.”


Lexa’s eyes held an extra sparkle despite the low lighting.

“You look really nice,” said Lexa.

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Thanks—but you have no idea how much time I spent deciding, and then ran out of time, and just kinda threw this on.”

Clarke tended to babble at times of nervousness and no doubt, this was one of those times. “And then my roommates, of course, weren’t any help, neither of them could agree on a single choice I gave them. So, I continued digging through my closet—”

“Clarke,” Lexa said with an emphasized look. “Like I said, you look really nice.”

Embarrassed, Clarke exhaled acknowledgment and took a sip of water.

“How was your day?” Clarke asked.

“Fine, a fairly normal day at the office. And when I say office, not the tattoo parlor, but my office.”

“Oh right, you’re an architect. So what kind of design do you do?” Clarke asked.

Lexa let out a small, amused exhale.

“What?” Clarke said. “Is that a weird question?” Clarke feared she said or asked something stupid. Though she was sure architecture was split into various design categories.

“No. Not at all.” Lexa made a brief, dismissive nod. “I not much of a traditional architect. Buildings or whatnot.”

“Then what?”

“I predominately do tree houses.”

Clarke choked on her sip of water.

“Did you say, tree houses?”

How does one make a living designing treehouses? Clarke didn’t consider herself an architect after one basic class, but she was sure there’s not much needed for the design. It’s a box. On a tree.

“Yes,” replied Lexa.

Clarke stared at Lexa in attempt to gauge the brunette’s seriousness. Maybe Lexa was the joking type. But Clarke was only met with honest eyes. Large, almond green eyes. Gosh, they looked pretty.

Clarke nodded. But, before she had a chance to ask Lexa to expand, the waiter stopped at their table.

“Evening ladies.”

“Oh, hey Monty,” Clarke said. Monty was in one of Clarke’s computer programming classes last semester and also worked at the register at Jasper’s Jumbo Pizza. “I didn’t know you worked here. Did you um… quit at Jaspers?”

“Hey Clarke,” Monty replied. “No, I still work there. But picked up a few shifts here on Friday and Saturday nights. School isn’t free,” Monty quirked an eyebrow.

“Right,” Clarke nodded, except she couldn’t say the same for herself. With her father as a professor at Polis University, Clarke was eligible for the tuition assistance program that paid for the majority of her tuition minus room and board.

“Can I get you started with a drink and appetizer?”

“Actually…” Clarke looked down at the menu and realized she hadn’t paid it any attention and now unprepared. “Um, do you have any recommendations?”

“Well,” Monty began with a winning smile, “drink specials are on the back, bottles of wine are half off. And for the appetizer, I recommend the avocado fries. They’re really good.”

“Avocado fries?”

“Yeah, they’re cut like french fries, coated in a light batter, fried and served with our secret house sauce.”

Clarke shrugged with approval and looked a Lexa for hers.

“Sure,” said Lexa.

“Okay, we’ll do an order of those and for drinks…” Clarke looked up at Lexa expectantly.

“Would you be opposed to sharing a bottle of wine?” Lexa asked.

“That sounds nice,” Clarke replied.

Though, Clarke’s knowledge of wine was limited to two-buck-Chuck from Trader Joe’s. And it only came in two flavors—red and white. In an attempt to dodge embarrassment, Clarke deferred to Lexa yet again. “Do you uh, have one in mind?” Clarke said as she flipped the menu around, reading wines as if she knew what any of it meant; merlot, cabernet, sauvignon blanc, chardonnay, and pinot noir.

“How about the La Crema Chardonnay?”

Lexa either had no idea how confused Clarke was or saw directly through her. Clarke suspected it was the latter.

“Sounds wonderful.”

Lexa winked. Just like she did in the parlor the night before.

“I think you’ll like it,” Lexa said.

Definitely the latter.

“Great,” Monty said, “I’ll get your app started and be back with the chardonnay.”

“So,” Clarke took a deep breath in, “treehouses huh?”

Lexa nodded with a certain omniscient look in her eyes. “I know what you’re thinking, it’s also not the traditional treehouse you’re imagining.”

Clarke was eager to hear more about Lexa’s apparent unconventional treehouse building when Monty returned with their wine and a small basket of bread.

“Here you are ladies,” he popped the cork and poured the golden liquid into two stemless wine glasses. “And some bread to start you off.”

“Thanks, Monty,” Clarke said.

Clarke took the first sip of her wine. It was crisp, lightly sweet with a hint of oak and finished with a smooth, buttery impression. Lexa was more than right, it was delicious, and Clarke loved it.

“Mmm, god that’s good…” escaped from Clarke’s lips.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s wonderful. Nontraditional huh?” Clarke took another sip, a more generous one this time and let the liquid slowly coat the back of her tongue. She wondered how much the bottle was, hadn’t paid it any attention. Even at half off, it couldn’t have been cheap. “So, you build like what, million-dollar treehouses?”

“Yes, actually,” Lexa replied.

Clarke choked; precious buttery goodness dribbled from the corner of her lips, and she had to dab her mouth with a napkin.

“Are you okay, Clarke?”

Nodding, Clarke cleared her throat. “I just… million-dollar tree houses?” Clarke repeated.

“Yes. Treehouses have become quite popular, especially during the summer season. With AirBNB as the newest host environment, people are looking for more unique places to stay other than standard hotels. And well, as the demand for treehouses increased, I decided to capitalize on that and tailored my business accordingly.”

It was a mouthful and Clarke came to one conclusion: Lexa was smart. Really smart. And it cranked Clarke’s attraction for the woman she already beheld through the roof.

Taking a second to digest what she’d just heard, Clarke did her best to generate a response of at least some substance. “Tailored your business? Your own business?”

Lexa nodded. Very nonchalantly for a young entrepreneur—with a side job at the tattoo parlor.

Who is this person?

“Soooo, you didn’t always do treehouses?”

“No. I initially started with cabins. Still do, just less.”


“Yeah, from small to large. Vacation rentals, lakefront homes and whatnot.”


Clarke was so impressed, it spanned to the point of stupidity. As if she were an adolescent in pre-algebra sitting across from Einstein.

Thankfully, Monty came to the rescue. “Here you are, avocado fries,” he said and placed their appetizer on the table and pulled out a small notepad. “Do you two ladies have any questions about the menu? Or already know what you’d like to eat?”

“I’ll take the portobello gnocchi please,” said Lexa.

The what?

“Sure,” Monty replied as he wrote, “and any additions of chicken or shrimp to the dish?”

“No thanks.”

Monty looked at Clarke.

“Um, I’ll do the…”

Clarke was considering a plain and simple cheeseburger. Can’t go wrong with that, right? But based on Lexa’s order, Clarke worried Lexa was a vegetarian, which had Clarke second-guessing her order. So, she decided on something she could both identify and pronounce.

“Uh, how about the pesto angel hair.”

“You got it,” Monty jotted and stepped away.

“Are you a vegetarian Clarke?”

“Oh no…” Clarke said as politely as possible, and timidly asked, “are you?”

“No,” Lexa said. “But I do tend to try and eat less meat.”

“Need to maintain that figure of yours?”

Lexa smiled, meeting eyes with Clarke at her brief bravery to tease.

“No,” Lexa said, which shifted Clarke’s concern that she might have said the wrong thing. But Lexa continued to explain her positioning. “I have mixed feelings about meat; the treatment of livestock first and foremost—though there’s always the organic, free-range, natural death options, but that doesn’t nearly broach the issue that our country has an obsession with cheeseburgers and the number of resources, water, for instance, needed to grow alfalfa to raise cattle is a strain on the planet.”

Holy shit.

Clarke’s jaw dropped to a slight agape. The wealth of knowledge spilling in its opinionated form from Lexa’s lips had Clarke’s neurons firing in all directions.

Lexa must read her and mitigated her next next response. “I end up picking and choosing my battles. And as Obama said, “I am not a vegetarian.” What about you Clarke?”

“Um—piglets and calves are really cute. For sure.”


That was all Clarke could muster and had never felt dumber in her life.

“Chicks too.” Clarke managed to polish her evident lack of conversational depth as if Lexa’s gravity sucked everything she knew right out of her brain. “Oh god, did I just say that? I meant— chicks as in baby chickens. You know, the ones that hatch out of eggs.” And here was the nervous rambling again. “Not chicks—as if I refer to women that way because you know, I’m obviously one... haha... or think or objectify them, or you, in— that… that way. But it’s least not to say I don’t find you unbearably attractive and—"



Lexa gave her a deep stare. A penetrating one with so much earnestness, it was intimidating.

“Clearly I like you. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have given you my number.”

“Right…” Clarke pursed her lips.

“Relax. I don’t bite. Well…” Lexa gestured her head left and right, lightly weighing the truth in her last statement. “Not… uninvited, at least.”


Lexa held her gaze without fear, without shame, “A discussion for another time, perhaps?” Lexa said, actively leading Clarke away from the conversation; Clarke was clearly unprepared for.

As if on cue, Monty came swooping in with their orders.

“I have a pesto angel hair,” he seated the plate in front of Clarke, “and portobello gnocchi.” He picked up a block of Parmesan cheese and miniature grater. “Cheese?”

Clarke nodded as did Lexa, and Monty shredded the block leaving a clean dust of Parmesan on each of their plates. “Anything else I can get for you ladies?”

“No thanks, Monty.”

“‘Kay, just holler if you need me,” Monty said and stepped away.

Clarke and Lexa each turned to their dinner with light smiles on their faces and polite glances.

“How are your classes going, Clarke?”

“Pretty good.”

“Are you in any of your father’s courses? Curious.”

“Not this semester, but I was last.”

“Is it weird?”

“Initially, I thought it would be, but no. My dad’s a pretty cool and laid-back guy, it was totally fine.”

“Mm,” Lexa nodded.

“So… you mentioned you graduated two or was it three years ago?”

“Three years ago.”

“So that would make you… twenty-five,” Clarke said with a squinted eye. She didn’t want to presume, but considering Lexa’s successes, was very interested in her age.

“I’m twenty-four actually.”

“Wait, that doesn’t make sense…”

“I graduated a year early,” Lexa explained. “So, I could spend a year abroad with the Peace Corp, building homes.”


Lexa apparently also had a heart of gold.

“Where um, where did you go?” Clarke asked.

“Cambodia and Indonesia.”

“Did you like it?”

“Loved it, stayed an extra year actually.”

Clarke hummed in admiration. There was a broad smile on Lexa’s lips as she spoke the country’s names.

“If you loved it so much, why did you come back to Polis?” Clarke asked.

A pause. Which seemed odd for Lexa.

“I—As much as I would have loved to stay, I couldn’t live abroad forever,” Lexa said, and looked up from her food. “We all have… responsibilities to attend to in reality, do we not?”

It was a rhetorical question. And as vague as Lexa’s answer was, it was sincere. Clarke left it at that. “How’s your food?”

“Good. Yours?”

Clarke nodded with strands of pasta between her lips, slurping slightly to control the noodles.

“So, any cool projects at work?” Clarke said, as much as she hated small talk, a vastly unordinary answer came from Lexa with each ordinary question.

“Not yet. Winter’s typically a little slow—where I get to catch up my personal agenda. Hobbies, such as time at the parlor.” Lexa quirked an eyebrow. “Though I anticipate pick up quite a bit in the next few months. Spring and summer are the busiest, everybody wants their treehouses and cabins view in time for the autumn leaves.”

“Ooo, I bet that’s pretty.”

“Quite.” Lexa took another sip of her chardonnay. “Maybe um… come this fall, I could take you out to one of my projects?” Lexa said, treading casually.

A smile played on Clarke’s lips, Lexa was already thinking ahead, and a raw flutter of excitement whirled in Clarke’s belly. “I’d like that.”


Clarke nodded and replied with a bit more confidence. “Yeah.”


With cleaned plates, Lexa was pouring the last of their wine when Monty came by. “Can I interest either of you in a dessert menu?”

“Clarke?” Lexa looked at Clarke for an answer.

“Oh um… I’m okay, actually. No thanks, Monty.”

“No problem,” he said easily and cleared their plates. “As for the check—would you like me to split it or—”

“I’ll take it,” Lexa said.

“Are you sure?” Clarke asked.


Lexa paid with a very fancy looking, silver colored card. Or was it platinum? Either way, Clarke tried to sneak a glance at the bill, but Lexa signed too quickly.

“Ready?” said Lexa.


Together, they stood, and Clarke put on her peacoat, pulling her hair out from underneath the collar. She watched Lexa do the same, except under a neat blazer.

“I don’t live far from here,” Clarke said. “Would you care to walk me home?”

Her question generated a broad smile from Lexa. “I’d love to.”

Lexa held the door on the way out, and Clarke felt a gentle brush at the small of her back.

Melted snow berms lined the sidewalk, and the concrete was dark and wet. It was chilly outside, and Clarke hissed a slight shiver as the evening air made itself know.

“You sure you don’t want to take a Lyft?” Lexa asked, who didn’t appear cold at all. Maybe her blood ran warmer.

“I’m sure,” Clarke nodded. “It’s just a few blocks from here. I meant to walk earlier, but… as you know, didn’t want to be late.”

Automatically, Clarke shoved her hands in her pockets. They strolled in silence and Clarke watched small puffs of moisture escape from Lexa’s lips. It drew her in; they bumped elbows, which didn’t go unnoticed. Clarke watched as Lexa took an added step to her right and extended her arm out as an invitation. Graciously, Clarke slipped her left arm through and repocketed her hand.

As they crossed the street, Clarke let herself snuggle into Lexa’s shoulder—cheek brushing on the edge of the warm blazer, and Clarke caught a whiff of Lexa. Whatever Lexa was wearing, cologne or perfume, Clarke couldn’t tell, but it was one thing for certain. Deadly.

“Mmm…” Clarke slipped a pleasured hum.

It caught Lexa’s attention. “Did you say something?”

“Oh um… I was um, just wondering what you’re doing tomorrow?” Clarke improvised.

“Tomorrow… Friday. I can’t. I’m busy on Fridays.”

“Then what about the weekend?”

“Actually, I’m working at the parlor this weekend.”

“I thought you said you only worked on weeknights.”

“Usually I do. But I have a friend who can only meet during the day on weekends. You’re more than welcome to stop by though.”

“Sure, what time?”

“Anytime, I’ll be there all day. Probably eight to five, maybe six.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll for sure stop by.”

Lexa smiled, and Clarke felt Lexa give her a light tug and squeeze of the arm. “Good.”

They reached Clarke’s apartment complex entirely too soon. Walking up the two steps on her porch, Clarke was reluctant to part. Clarke gave a long exhale and shifted her hand out of her pocket to unhook. Lexa caught it; interlaced her fingers with Clarke’s and the skin-to-skin contact of their mere hands made Clarke gasp.

“I had a really nice time Clarke,” said Lexa, gently swinging their hands.

“Me too,” Clarke replied, almost in a squeak.

It was that time—time for a departing kiss and Clarke didn’t know what to do with herself. In an instant, her heart was thumping upwards, pounded its way to the back of her throat. Clarke wanted to lean in—oh so badly, but she was as frozen as the snow berm they walked along, numbed by Lexa’s presence.

She felt Lexa’s hand give a light tug, pulled her in and if Lexa kissed her know, Clarke wasn’t sure she wouldn’t be able to reciprocate.

As Clarke’s eyes widened in fear at the realization, lips inches apart, Lexa tilted slightly and kissed just above the corner of Clarke’s mouth. Her cheek.


Unexpectedly, Clarke let out a sigh of relief. Lexa had read her this entire time—diffused her ratcheting tension with a simple press on the cheek.  

“See you on Saturday Clarke?” Lexa said with a squeeze of her hand.

Clarke swallowed, “Yeah—see you on Saturday.”

“Great, I can check up on that sparrow of yours too, make sure it’s healing okay,” Lexa’s eyes dipped down. “You know, only if you want to unzip your pants for me again.”

Clarke blushed, hard. Lexa had a way, something indescribable that rendered Clarke useless.

“Goodnight Clarke.”

“Night Lexa…”

Despite the parting words, their hands remained linked. Clarke didn’t want to let go and fidgeted her fingers between Lexa’s.

This time, Clarke was able to muster the courage to lean in. Just a little bit, hoping Lexa would meet her halfway, and just as she did, the door of her apartment flung open. Instinctively, Clarke took two steps back and unlocked hands.

“What flavor did you want again O!?” Raven yelled with her head turn, “Phish food or mint chip—oh hey! Uh, Lexa!”

Lexa nodded in Raven’s direction, “Raven right?”

“Yep… uh… sorry, clearly I—”

“Who are you talking to!?” Resonated from down the hallway, and from behind Raven popped Octavia. “Oh my god! Is this the tattoo artist!?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, embarrassed by her roommate’s reaction. “Octavia, this is Lexa. Lexa, Octavia.” Clarke gestured.

“Hi,” Lexa extended hand.

“Ohh cool! Hi! Oh my god! I was just asking Clarke, does this mean I get a roommate special on some new ink?!”

Octavia,” Clarke said through gritted teeth.

Lexa let out an amused, but flattered smile. “I told Clarke, but I’ll be at the shop all day Saturday. You’re more than welcome to stop by, check out something you might like.”

“Oh, awesome!” Octavia’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! For sure.”

“Great,” Lexa said. “Well, I should get going now. G’ night, and good night again, Clarke.”

“Good night, Lexa.”

Chapter Text

Clarke managed to limit herself to three texts to Lexa yesterday, Friday. Although Lexa’s texts were fairly short with somewhat long spouts of silence. In fear of seeming too desperate, Clarke refrained from texting Lexa first thing the following morning. Clarke had never crushed so hard on anyone like this before. She wanted to know what Lexa was doing—constantly—learn the answers to questions like: How does Lexa like her coffee? What shows does she like? Yellow or brown mustard? Does Lexa have any siblings?

A text chimed in and drew Clarke’s attention.

Lexa: Good morning

A big, daft smile spread across Clarke’s face.

“I know that look!” Octavia shouted from the couch. “Are we going to the tattoo shop soon?!”

Clarke: morning

“Yeah O, I’m texting her now.”

Clarke: was just going to see when’s a good time to stop by

It was late morning, 10:27 A.M.

Lexa: like I said, whenever is fine

Octavia walked herself across the living room, eager and excited. “I wanna go right now, ask her if we can come now.”

 “Gosh, I swear you’re more impatient that I am.”

 Clarke: now?

“You know how long I’ve been wanting a tattoo and I can’t believe you, Clarke Griffin, of all people beat me to it.”

Raven cracked a laugh from the couch, “You got that right O! It’s Clarke ‘the square’ Griffin, who never once snuck out of the house, drove past the speed limit, or drank before she was 21.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, “That is not true Raven, I do… stuff.”

“Nah… sorry Clarke, I know I haven’t known you as long as Raven, but you are kinda… vanilla.”

Before Clarke could respond, Lexa texted.

Lexa: sure

“Is that Lexa again? What’d she say?” Octavia asked.

“She said sure,” said Clarke.

Octavia jumped with enough joy for the both of them. “Awesome! I’m gonna get ready quick, Rae you coming?”

Raven shrugged, impassive.

“Oh c’mon Rae,” Clarke added. “This was all your fault in the first place, you should at least come to join us. It’ll be fun.”

“We can stop at Grounder’s Coffee?” Octavia said.

Grounder’s Coffee was the best coffee shop in town and Raven’s favorite. Not only did they offer nitrogen pressed coffee, but known to pair it with homemade ice cream for coffee floats and shakes. Raven turned an ear.

And I’ll pay,” Clarke seconded Octavia’s offer.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Octavia said in quick spurts.

“Okay fine,” Raven replied.


They venture to downtown Polis, where Grounder’s Coffee was just a few blocks from the tattoo parlor.

Clarke: stopping grounders, want anything?

Lexa: that’s very thoughtful of you, yes actually

Lexa: black cold press with cream

Clarke didn’t know if Lexa was being modest; it was a very simple order when Grounder’s offered caramel turtle, double dark chocolate Frappuccino’s (Clarke’s favorite) or various other flavors that rivaled Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.

Clarke: got it [smiley face emoji]

Grounder’s was a cool place, selling small gifts, spunky cards, and cutesy jewelry from local artists. The interior was adorned with brown leather sofas, several coffee tables, and art for sale as well. The line was its usual—partly out the door, but service was fast.

“So what kind of tattoo you want to get?” Clarke asked Octavia as they waited for their drinks.

“I have no idea, I just want to go check out. Though I always liked tribal designs, they’re super cool.”

Clarke nodded as the three grabbed their coffees and made the short walk to the tattoo parlor. Except, as they approached the parlor, the closed sign was still displayed. It wasn’t opening until noon. Curious, Clarke peered in through the glass and spotted Lexa tattooing someone’s back, a lot of his back. Clarke gave a light knock through the window and caught Lexa’s eyes. Lexa gave her a head nod to enter and the same little bell rung as Clarke pushed through the front door.  

“Hey Clarke,” Lexa greeted.

“Hey,” Clarke replied.

From what Clarke could tell, the man getting the tattoo was nothing but strength and muscle. The buzzing of the needle stopped as Lexa took her foot off the machine’s pedal, laid the needle down and began to pull off her gloves.

“Take a quick break Linc?” Lexa said.

“Sure,” the man said. “I can definitely use a stretch,” and did a push-up movement to raise himself off the table.

Octavia’s jaw hit the ground. “Hel-lo American God.”

Clarke would have noticed Octavia’s reaction, but her own eyes were focused on Lexa. She was wearing a cut off tee today. Lexa’s arms looked great.

“Hello again, Raven, Octavia, Clarke,” Lexa said to the trio. “This is my friend, Lincoln.”

Lincoln shook each girl’s hand with kind eyes and an earnest smile.

“Oh um,” Clarke held out Lexa’s coffee. “Here you go, cold press with cream.”

“Thanks, Clarke,” Lexa replied. “Wanna grab a seat?” And shifted her gaze to one of the couches.

Octavia’s attention remained glued to Lincoln while Raven rolled her eyes.

 “So um, do you also… own this place?” Clarke asked, unfamiliar with tattoo shop logistics.

“No, I’m just one of the artists. But also, helps to be good friends with the shop owner.”

In the short distance, Octavia was now tracing one of Lincoln’s tattoo on his chest.

“How was your day yesterday? Sorry, I was limited with my responses,” Lexa said, which helped to diffuse much of Clarke’s nerves from the day before.

“Good, just the normal stuff. Class, some homework. Octavia and Raven went out, I stayed home and caught up on Netflix.”

“Do you not enjoy going out, Clarke?”

“Oh, no—it’s not that. I’m just… not a huge… partier,” Clarke replied with trepidation, worried she’d seem to “boring” for Lexa.

“That’s understandable. But, well…”

“Well, what?” Clarke panicked, afraid she’d already said the wrong thing.

“I was perhaps going to invite you out tonight? To Reapers.”


Miraculously, Octavia’s head spun away from Lincoln. “Did someone say Reapers?!”

Reapers was an all-exclusive nightclub in Polis, only accessible to members and VIP. It was a college student’s dream to make it into the club, but none were ever successful past security, who maintain a well-guarded list.

“Take it you’ve heard of it?” Lexa replied to Octavia.

“I mean, yeah, def, who hasn’t?” Octavia said in a duh tone. “My brother Bellamy is always talking trying to get in. Never once made it.”

Lexa turned back to Clarke, “Would that be a yes then?”

“Clarke you better say yes!” Raven shouted. “Wait, does that include us too?”

Lexa glanced at the new audience she had acquired. “Your friends are welcome too. What’d you say?”

“Yes,” Clarke said. “That would be really awesome. Are you some secret VIP I’m not aware of?”

Lexa let out an amused exhale. “Let’s just say I know people,” and gave Clarke a brief wink, which made Clarke blush bright red like a tomato. Slowly, Lexa leaned in closer, whispered, “You’re adorable, Clarke.”

Clarke giggled and pressed her face into Lexa’s chest. “Stop it…” Clarke said and brushed a strand of her own blonde hair with the bite of her lip.

Except Lexa only nuzzled closer into Clarke’s ear, “Do you really want me to stop?”

The entry bell interrupted their flirt-fest as a woman with a tattoo on her face walked in. A dragon tattoo. It was literally a girl with a dragon tattoo.

“Hey Anya, you’re here early,” Lexa distanced herself from Clarke, but not awkwardly either.

“Well of course, when you told me you were coming in to finish Lincoln’s back, I didn’t want to miss the finale. Need some new promo photos for this place.”

Lexa stood, “Anya this is Clarke. Clarke, Anya—the shop owner… and my cousin.”

“Clarke,” Anya extended a hand.

“And these are Clarke’s friends, Octavia and Raven.”

This time, it was Raven’s jaw that hit the ground.

“Oh my god,” Raven reached out and touched Anya’s face—her dragon tattoo. “Did that hurt?”

Anya was slightly caught off-guard with Raven’s reach, but not terribly perturbed. “Yes, it hurt. Never gotten a tattoo I take it?”

“Uh no, no, never,” Raven mumbled.

“You should stop by again sometime, I’ll give you a discount.”

“Uh yeah—yeah, definitely.”

As Clarke watched her two roommates drool over their respective interests; Clarke felt a lot better about her own situation.

“Hey,” Lexa gave Clarke’s hand a light brush. “Now that the ‘boss’ is here, I gotta get working on Lincoln again.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Clarke replied.

“So, Reapers tonight, meet there at 9?”

“Yeah, see you then.”

“Great,” Lexa said with a smile. Her eyes gleamed so green Clarke swore she was about to swoon.

“Oh, wait,” Clarke made for a brief grab of Lexa’s hand. “Would you um, mind checking my tattoo. It’s been itching.”

“Sure,” Lexa said and eyed Clarke’s pelvis.

Clarke smiled back as she pulled the waistband of her jeans down. She took a steep gulp as Lexa knelt before her for a closer look.

“Itching is normal in the healing process,” Lexa said, “but let me give you a different ointment that’ll maybe help,” and stood. It was over before Clarke wanted it to be.

“Thanks, Lexa. See you tonight.”


The questions from Clarke’s roommates were endless as the three were getting ready for Reapers.

“Is Lincoln going to be there?”

“Is Anya going to be there?”

“Do you think he’s single? Will you ask Lexa if he’s single?”

 “Oo, ooo, ask Lexa if Anya is single too?” said Raven.

“Oh my god, you guys,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “With all these questions I’m never going to finish getting ready.”

Clarke: octavia wants to know if lincoln is going to be there

Clarke: and also if anya is going to be there, raven is interested

Lexa: linc will def be there

Lexa: let me text anya

Clarke: and if they’re single…

Lexa: yes, theyre both single

“Okay, Lexa said definitely for Lincoln and she’s texting Anya now,” Clarke said to her roommates. “And yes, they’re both single.”

“Oh my god! He is single! And he’s going to be there? Then I’m definitely going with the red dress,” said Octavia, bursting past Clarke to change for the fifth time.

A mass of make-up, hairspray, curling iron and straightening irons sat across the bathroom counter as the three readied themselves.

“Clarke!” Octavia yelled.


“Can you ask Lexa if she can get two more in?”

“Ugh! You guys! I like… barely know her, who else?”

“Sorry, Bellamy wants in with his new girlfriend,” said Octavia.

“Oh yeah, what was her name again?” Raven asked.


“Okay… okay, let me text Lexa again.”

Clarke: can you get two more ppl in? octavias brother and gf

Lexa: should be okay, but that’ll be the max

Clarke: okay, sorry!

Lexa: np, and yes, anya said she’ll be there later, around midnight

Lexa: she has close the tattoo shop at 11:30

Clarke: thanks!

Lexa: see you soon

Reapers was on the north side of town and the three split a Lyft ride that dropped them off at the front. A long line zig-zagged its way down the block with a large red-neon REAPERS sign illuminating the street overhead.

Expectedly, standing at the entrance was Lexa dressed in fitting black jeans and a sportcoat over a vest. Although from what Clarke could tell, just the vest served as Lexa’s top with no shirt underneath and her long, chestnut hair sat comfortably on her shoulders. Lexa looked amazing.

“Wow…” Clarke couldn’t help but exhale. “Hey, Lexa, you look… great.”

“Thanks, you look great yourself,” Lexa said nonchalantly and looked at Octavia and Raven. “Ladies. So, we’re waiting for two more is it?”

“Yeah,” Octavia said. “My brother and his girlfriend, the should be here soon.”

“That’s fine,” Lexa replied. “We can head in, leave their names at the front.”

“Cool, is it that easy for you?” Octavia replied.

“Well, not necessarily me,” Lexa said as they made their way towards the entrance.

It was then that Clarke understood how they were getting into the club. She recognized the bouncer from earlier today. It was Lincoln.

“I’m sure Lincoln would be happy to accommodate your brother,” Lexa said, smirking.

“Well, good evening ladies,” Lincoln greeted. “Nice to see you again,” and gave Octavia an added wink.

Clarke swore Octavia’s knees buckled.

“So, the two names I’m adding to the list…?” Lincoln asked.

“Uh,” Octavia struggled to remember her brother’s name. It was comical for Clarke and Raven to see Octavia so flustered. “Bellamy Blake and… Echo… shit, I dunno her last name.”

“No problem,” Lincoln replied with all suave. “I’ll just jot down Bellamy Blake plus one.”

“Thanks, so much,” Octavia said, now teetering on her toes. “Will you um—will I see you inside?”

“Yeah,” Lincoln said. “I rotate inside in about an hour.” And with that, Lincoln unclasped the rope behind him and gestured them in. “Enjoy your night, ladies.”

Dance music welcomed them in as they entered through the dark hallway, getting louder as they approached the main floor. Swirls of red lasers clashed like battling lightsabers through pockets of replicated smoke. Though they entered from the ground floor, the interior gave the club an underground feel with an opening atrium through the center of the club, which was several stories high. The most astounding aspect, a giant tree stood tall and grew up into the atrium of the building. Clarke followed it up to an all glass ceiling.

“Woah…” Clarke said.

Clarke felt Lexa’s hand slip into hers and cocktail of feelings swirled in Clarke’s stomach: apprehension, excitement, and fear. Thankfully, the thump of the bass masked Clarke’s racing heartbeat. Clarke licked her lips with a shuddering inhale, gripping onto Lexa’s fingers for assurance. Not only was Clarke in the best club the city of Polis had to offer, she was here with the most gorgeous woman she’d ever seen. Clarke felt entirely out of her league.

Lexa tugged lightly on Clarke’s hand and leaned in. “Do you want something to drink?”

Clarke nodded, “Sure. Vodka soda?” and turned quickly to Octavia and Raven. “Either of you want anything to drink?”

Raven shook her head. “No! O and I are going to hit the dance floor! It’s awesome in here!”

Clarke watched her two roommates disappear into the crowd of moving bodies, while Lexa led her to one of the surrounding bars.

“Lexa!” The bartender exclaimed, immediately recognizing Lexa and leaned over the counter to give the brunette a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, Luna!” Lexa shouted over the music. “This is Clarke, Clarke, Luna.”

Clarke gave a brief nod of acknowledgment, feeling trepidation rise as she felt more and more out of place in what could only be described as “Lexa’s world” and “Lexa’s people.”

“What can I get you?” Luna asked.

“Two vodka sodas.”

Luna nodded, tossing the towel over her shoulder and pulled two glasses for their drinks.

“Here you are, two vodka-sodas,” Luna said, serving up their drinks with a wedge of lime. She turned to Clarke, “And hey, Clarke. Take care of my girl,” Luna said. “She’s a keeper,” and winked.

If someone told Clarke a week ago she’d be going out to Reapers with a woman clearly from her dreams, she would have laughed in their face. But this was no joke, and while Clarke hadn’t thought far of their relationship, wanted to know everything there was about Lexa being a keeper.

“Of course,” Clarke managed to reply, taking her drink.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Lexa said, leaning close to Clarke’s ear to primarily vocalize past the blasting music. “It’s a little bit quieter!”

Clarke nodded with hands still linked to Lexa’s, who lead them to a stairwell circulating up to the second and third floors. There was another bar upstairs along with several tables and booths. Couples were making out in some of the booths, while others lingered along the rail that looked down on the dance floor.

Lexa gestured at one of the booths and Clarke slid onto the black leather upholstery, feeling a slight chill as the material made contact with her bare, lower thighs, exposed through her dress.

“You okay, Clarke?” Lexa asked, momentarily breaking their handhold to tuck an errant blonde strand behind Clarke’s ear.

“Uh—yeah, yeah, fine. Just… a little overwhelmed,” Clarke muttered, taking another sip of her drink.

“Do you want to leave?”

“No, no, not at all. Like I said, I don’t normally go out much and to be here, at Reapers is kind of a lot.”

“Well, if you prefer to go, just let me know. It’s not a big deal. I have Netflix at my place too, you know?”

Clarke smiled, felt the heat of her blush in her cheeks. “I’m fine, really,” Clarke said, giving Lexa’s hand an extra squeeze.

“Okay, well, just promise me one thing then?”


“If and when you’re ready to leave, you promise to tell me?”

“Okay,” Clarke nodded, now twiddling her fingers inside Lexa’s hand.

“What do you think of Reapers so far?”

“It’s super cool, I honestly wasn’t expecting there to be a real-life tree inside.”

“Do you like the tree or think it’s stupid?”

“I absolutely love it. Whosever idea it was, it’s amazing.”

A broad smile spread across Lexa’s face—a proud smile. It was telling.

“Wait,” Clarke began to link Lexa’s primary occupation with where they were. “Was this… were you the architect of this place?”

“I told you I knew people.”

“Oh my god! You built this place!”

“Well… I, per se, didn’t build it, contractors built it. But I received the winning bid for the design,” Lexa replied. “It was a shot in the dark, almost two years ago, when I heard they were taking open design bids for this place. I didn’t think I’d actually get it. But it was this initial project that helped kickstart the company I have now.”

“Is that why you know everybody here?”

Lexa nodded, “Yeah, simple as that,” and took another sip of her drink. “I like to come a few times a month, see how the tree is doing. People’s reaction when they first come inside,” Lexa continued with a slight nudging lean into Clarke’s shoulders.

Smiling, Clarke leaned in the brunette as Lexa draped her arm over Clarke’s shoulder and brought the blonde in close. Lexa smelled great, and Clarke nuzzled closer into Lexa’s neck. Clarke thought it would be odd—the lack of stubble—but found herself wanting to trace the delicate skin that awaited inches from her lips. Slowly, Clarke ran her right hand up the center of Lexa’s chest, around Lexa’s neck and threaded her fingers into the back of Lexa’s hair. It was soft and silky, and Clarke watched the bob in Lexa’s throat as the brunette swallowed—the closest sign that Lexa was nervous. This knowledge, that Clarke had this effect on someone as confident as Lexa fueled her courage.

Braving her doubts and ignoring her inexperience, Clarke brought her lips to Lexa’s neck and kissed the underside of Lexa’s jaw. Lexa clenched her teeth and Clarke felt victorious, grinning like an elf, and planted a second kiss on Lexa’s jawbone. Clarke could feel the smile emerging on Lexa’s face as her lips ghosted down Lexa’s jaw until their noses brushed.

Despite their lack of physical movement, Clarke was panting in deep, breaths of nervousness. Lexa’s mouth hung slightly agape, large green eyes turned black and Clarke felt Lexa’s gaze penetrate her soul. Lexa tilted her head, brushing their noses once more and leaned directly into Clarke, closing the last of the air between them for their first kiss.

Lexa was slow. Lexa was patient. She let Clarke lead, who parted and returned at a different angle for their second kiss. Then a third until Clarke dared to slip her tongue out, swiping at the plush of Lexa’s lower lip. Lexa chased, catching Clarke’s tongue with her own and gliding past into Clarke’s mouth.

“Mmmm…” Clarke moaned into Lexa’s mouth.

“C’mere beautiful…” Lexa whispered between breaths and shifted to pull Clarke onto her lap.

Clarke expected to feel dirty, to feel promiscuous in her public straddle over Lexa’s lap. Clarke only recalled doing this once with her ex-boyfriend in the confines of his apartment. But something about Lexa emboldened her—she felt safe in Lexa’s embrace. Deft hands ran up her back and held her with assurance.

This position gave Lexa better access to Clarke’s neck and Lexa no doubt took advantage, peppering kisses across Clarke’s jaw before meeting lips again. Clarke swore everything about Lexa was meant for her, because everything she did, Lexa matched beat for beat. From the languid skating of tongues to roaming of hands, it was perfect pacing and not once did Clarke feel rushed.

Although, after what had to had been at least an hour of making out, Clarke started to notice the churn of arousal between her legs and resisted the urge to rock into Lexa’s black pants. Except Lexa was making it extremely difficult as hands found purchase on Clarke’s hips, encouraging Clarke with smooth gripping fingertips.

“Oh god…” Clarke moaned. “Fuck…”

Lexa nuzzled into Clarke’s ear, kissing. “You okay, baby?”

“I um—I just—” Clarke leaned up and looked at Lexa. “Can we go?”


Chapter Text

Reluctantly, Clarke slid off Lexa’s lap, tugging down her skirt as they prepared to leave club Reapers.

“Ready?” Lexa said.

Clarke nodded.

The upstairs had filled considerably since their arrival and Lexa threaded their way past with hands linked. As they descended the stairs and bypassed the main dance floor, someone grabbed Clarke’s freehand, which drew her attention.

“Oh my god, where have you been?!”

It was Raven, still dancing with a light gleam of sweat across her brow. “C’mon!” She yelled and yanked Clarke into the crowd.

Clarke’s opposite tug signaled Lexa, who looked back to find Raven attached to the other end. And past Raven, was Anya. Turning, Lexa followed the short train onto the dance floor. Evidently, they would have to finish what they started upstairs later.

Raven lead them deeper until Clarke was greeted with familiar faces: Octavia, Anya, Bellamy, Echo, and lastly, Lincoln standing off to the side “monitoring” the dance floor with eyes mostly glued to Octavia’s.

“Hey, Clarke!” Bellamy shouted, with fists pumping in the air next to his girlfriend, Echo. “I can’t believe you got into this place! This is awesome!”

“Thank, Lexa!” Clarke replied, and tilted her head at Lexa. “Bellamy, this is Lexa. Lexa, Bellamy and his girlfriend, Echo!” Clarke shouted over the music.

“Sweet ink!” Bellamy said, pointing to Lexa’s sleeve.


“Where’d you get it?!”

Lexa smirked at this question, “Polis Tattoo!”

Bellamy nodded, “Cool!” And turned to Clarke, “So, how’d you two meet?!”

There was a brief pause of amusement between Clarke and Lexa, smiling at each other.

“Bell—Lexa works at the tattoo shop!”

“Ohh!” Bellamy nodded in realization, chuckled, and continued dancing.

With introductions aside, Clarke turned her attention to the brunette before her. Crammed in the middle of their friends, they didn’t have much choice but to dance.

What started as a casual group dance with Clarke rotating between Lexa and her friends, turned into Clarke solely with Lexa. And, admittedly, doing more grinding than dancing when Lexa slotted a knee between Clarke’s legs and pushed. Clarke stifled several moans, thankful for their proximity to the speakers, and resisted the urge to throw a leg around Lexa’s lower back for a better grinding angle.

Their foreheads were tipped together, and brows dewed as they bounced to the music. Clarke let her hands roam, from embedding her fingers deep into Lexa’s lush hair to fist grabs of Lexa’s sexy vest. Eventually, Clarke found herself backed against the wall and Lexa’s lips ghosting over her pulse. Lexa nipped and nuzzled, running her lips down Clarke’s jawline and swooped in for another kiss. Licking into Clarke’s mouth and reacquainting tongues.

God was Lexa a phenomenal kisser. Not slobbery, but smooth. Not smothering, but stimulating, leaving Clarke on the chase each time Lexa parted. Clarke could have remained there, kissing Lexa for the remainder of the night, but a shocking splash of cold hit them both across the shoulders. And from the smell of it, a sweet flavored alcoholic drink.

“Oh, shit, sorry!” shouted the stranger. “I’m so sorry.”

 The late of the night was complimented with increasingly drunk dancers, bumping into one another and other inebriated by-passers, which had caused one to spill their drink on the couple.

“It’s okay,” Lexa said.  

In search of napkins, Lexa took Clarke’s hand and lead her to the bar, grabbing a stack from the counter to dab their necks and chests.

“Oh hey, look who came up for air.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at Raven’s voice behind her, coming up for air was not by choice. Before Clarke could respond, the bartender, Luna, returned with a handful of drinks Raven had ordered.

“Oh, put those on my tab, Lune,” Lexa said.

“Got it,” replied Luna.

“While we’re here,” Lexa turned to Clarke. “What something to drink?”

“Sure, another vodka soda?”

Lexa nodded, “And two vodka sodas, Lune.”

“Clarkey!” Bellamy boomed and nudged his way onto the bar. Octavia’s brother was clearly a little tipsy with a goofy smile on his face, hands linked with an equally tipsy Echo.

“What are we doing?” Bellamy mumbled. “Are we doing shots?!”


“Let’s do some shots!” Bellamy shouted. “Shots on me!” And then, waved his hands floppily in the air. “Shots for everybody!”

Luna was pouring across a row of shot glasses before Clarke could say no. In addition to being a light drinker, Clarke was extra cautious to be drunk around Lexa in fear of vomiting. Clarke did not want the night ending with Lexa holding her hair back over the toilet. But, surrounded by her closest friends, Clarke was not immune to peer pressure.

After two additional rounds of shots, the group returned to the dance floor and moved in sync with the intoxicated crowd. Clarke, too, found herself leaning a bit sloppily on the brunette while bumping and grinding. Lips met again, laced with traces of liquor, and Clarke acted on the liquid courage, unbuttoning the front of Lexa’s vest until the brunette’s bra and stomach were exposed.

Lexa didn’t seem to mind, smiling between kisses, as Clarke ran her palms up Lexa’s abdomen and across her sides. Sweat trailed down Lexa’s spine and Clarke found herself running her hands up Lexa’s back. For Lexa’s lithe frame, her back felt muscular with a pronounced dip along her spine and dimples at her traps. Wanting more contact, Clarke practically stripped Lexa on the middle of the dance floor, pushing Lexa’s vest over her shoulders.

Laughing, Lexa caught her vest before it fell to the floor. “Do you um,” kiss, “want to take this somewhere else?” Lexa asked.

Clarke nodded with eyes closed and lips, brushing. The alcohol in her system served as a catalyst and Clarke was becoming impatient. Plus, they were on their way out hours ago.

“Okay,” Lexa nodded along with her. “Do you need to go to the bathroom, or anything, before we leave?”

“No, I just want to go.”

Successfully, they sneaked their way off the dance floor, exiting the club and Lexa pulled out her phone for an Uber.

“Did you want to just go home, Clarke or…?” Lexa raised an eyebrow to suggest otherwise. “My place?”

The night wasn’t young, well past midnight, but it wasn’t old either and Clarke felt it too early to be going home.

“Um, your place sounds nice…” Clarke squeaked, somewhat timid to be going to Lexa’s place within barely a week of knowing the brunette. But there was entirely alluring about Lexa. A magnetism Clarke could yet to explain, and Clarke was reluctant to part.

“Okay,” Lexa nodded and proceeded to set a single location for the Uber.

As they waited, the cool night air cut directly across Clarke’s sweat, wicking a shiver through her body.

“Cold?” Lexa said, automatically wrapping her arms around Clarke and pulling the blonde snug.

Clarke nuzzled her nose against the crook of Lexa’s neck, muffling her chattering teeth. “How are you not cold?”

Lexa shrugged, “I tend to run a little warmer than most.” And began to rub large circles across Clarke’s back.

“Mm,” Clarke hummed, closing her eyes. “That feels nice.”

Clarke must have drifted asleep because the arrival of the Uber startled her, causing her to suck in a cool breath of air as Lexa released their hug to get into the vehicle. Missing the contact, Clarke scooted close and Lexa draped an arm around her shoulders. The closeness was easily followed by more kissing, lots of kissing, as Lexa’s tongue met Clarke’s again and again, thoroughly exploring each other’s lips, teeth, and all. Kissing noises blended with the whooshing noise of oncoming traffic, street lights flickered by, and once, the siren of an ambulance. They were going across downtown Polis.  

Slowly, Lexa’s left hand on Clarke’s knee traveled north, nudging Clarke’s skirt up and caressing up and down her inner thigh. Sometimes, Lexa’s thumb would graze the outer edges of Clarke’s underwear, causing Clarke to squirm at the touch. Lexa would grin at this, making Clarke kiss the smile off her face. They were so involved with each other, neither noticed the vehicle had come to a stop.

“Ahem,” sounded the driver, which broke them apart.

“Sorry…” Clarke apologized and scooted out.

Hands remained interlaced as Lexa led them into the building. Walking through the lobby, Clarke concluded that it was a newer building. Luxury apartments staffed with an evening guard.

“Evening Ms. Woods,” he said to Lexa.

“Evening, Mark,” Lexa replied as they walked past to the elevator.

A distinct hand tug caught Clarke’s attention when the elevator doors opened. Lexa pulled Clarke close within their handhold and leaned in, expectant of a kiss. Smirking, Clarke closed the space between them and planted her lips on the brunette’s. Clarke hoped that this would be the first of many. Although doubt and hesitation began to creep the edges of Clarke’s mind—this could be a casual and routine act for Lexa. And Clarke wondered if she herself was also, just one of many. The worrying caused Clarke’s lips to trip and pull away before the elevator stopped.

“You okay?” Lexa murmured, showing slight concern in the furrow of her brow.

“Uh—” Clarke stuttered. “Yeah—I just um—”

The elevator halted, and the doors dinged open, which gave Clarke just enough time to question herself, yet, again.

Lexa stepped out in the hallway. “You were saying, Clarke?”

“Oh, nothing,” Clarke shook her head. “Never mind.”

“You sure?” Lexa said, retrieving a set of keys. Her door was the first one to the right of the elevators.

“Yeah—yeah, I’m fine,” Clarke nodded.

The door to Lexa’s apartment clicked open, revealing a considerably sized space. Too focused on Lexa, Clarke didn’t realize they were on the top floor and was pleasantly surprised by the massive skylight that occupied half of the ceiling.

“Oh my god…” Clarke said, gazing through the glass ceiling into the clear night of stars and sky.

 “You like it?” Lexa followed Clarke’s gaze. “It’s the sole reason why I chose to live here. I saw that, and I knew I had to have it.”

“Yeah, well, who wouldn’t with a view like that.”

“Understandable, but I have some um, specific hobbies and this was just too perfect.”

“Specific hobbies?”

“C’mon, I’ll show you,” Lexa replied, extending a hand for Clarke to take and lead her up the spiral staircase to an open loft.

This loft was clearly where Lexa spent her time. Unlike the tidy downstairs, it was a working space with open sketchbooks splayed across the table, books, half-completed canvases, and a frosted glass architect’s table littered with building designs and drawings. Amidst the artist’s supplies stood three telescopes. Very expensive looking telescopes.

“I um—have a slight obsession with the sky,” Lexa said. “Stargazing, so, I absolutely couldn’t pass up this loft when I saw it was for sale.”

“Stargazing, huh?” Clarke turned to look at Lexa, green eyes full of wonder and fascination. Clarke had a feeling they weren’t just talking about Lexa’s astronomical pastimes.

“Yes,” Lexa replied with eyes locked on Clarke’s. “Stargazing.”

Slowly, Lexa leaned in to kiss her, this time with eyes open. Clarke watched the way her own eyes reflected off Lexa’s. It was mesmerizing, watching Lexa, watch her until Clarke began to feel self-conscious and slipped her eyelids closed. Their kissing intensified, and Clarke placed her hand on the back of Lexa’s neck, angling with the brunette and bumping noses. A squeeze of her freehand gave Clarke indication that Lexa was leading her somewhere—Clarke tiptoed forward as Lexa stepped backward and sat down on the couch. With Lexa looking up at her, the expression of astonishment on the brunette’s was unmistakable.

There’s no way Lexa looks at every girl like this, right?

Clarke stopped questioning Lexa’s intentions when Lexa guided Clarke down to straddle her lap.

“C’mere,” Lexa murmured and cupped Clarke’s face to reconnect their lips.

In the privacy of Lexa’s home, Clarke allowed herself to move with more want and need, actively grinding down onto Lexa’s laps. Lexa encouragingly gripped Clarke’s hips, gently rocking her. Small hums and moans escaped from Clarke’s mouth when Lexa slipped her hands under her shirt and groped over her bra.

Though, with the fading alcohol in Clarke’s system, it was all suddenly becoming very real. Specifically, Clarke’s inexperience with women. Then, Clarke’s overall scant sexual experiences topped with the knowledge, or lack thereof, about who Lexa is.

Apt hands popped the hooks of her bra and Clarke’s breathing turned ragged—the panicky kind.

I don’t know what I’m doing. What the hell am I doing? And who am I doing this with?

Those three thoughts spun like a centrifuge in Clarke’s mind. Desperate, she tried to push through her doubts, forced her lips to kiss Lexa harder when Lexa stopped.

“Hey…” Lexa cooed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“What?” Clarke replied, sucking in deep gulps of air. “Fine, why?”

“You’re um… shaking,” Lexa replied.

Clarke exhaled, disappointed by her body’s betrayal. “Sorry, I’m so sorry,” Clarke muttered.

Concern washed over Lexa’s face. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Sorry, it’s just—I’ve just…” Clarke huffed. “I’ve never done this before.”

Lexa squinted for details. “Never had sex?”

“No. Well, yes. I mean—no. Shit. I’ve had sex, just… not a lot. It’s just I—I’ve never been with a woman.”

“Oh.” Realization flashed in Lexa’s eyes. “That’s okay,” Lexa said. And slowly, Lexa drew her hands back up Clarke’s back to re-hook Clarke’s bra and rolled down Clarke’s shirt for her. “Uh… wow, I supposed I wouldn’t have guessed…”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you seemed very… forward,” Lexa replied. “The naked selfie, sexting, the um—” Lexa briefly darted her eyes, “—eye contact. My mistake, I—"

“No, it’s completely not your fault and all mine. I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said anything. I know, everything was going fine, and I messed it all up. I don’t know what I was thinking. You want me to leave now, right?” Clarke said, shifting to scoot off Lexa’s lap.

“Clarke, wait—no,” Lexa said, shaking her head. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Really? You—want me to stay?”

“Of course. We can just… take it slow? We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable doing.”

“Are—are you sure?”

Of course, I’m sure. Why would it be otherwise? It’s not like I have a raging boner that needs to be taken care of,” Lexa joked, purposely lightening the mood.

Clarke chuckled. “I—I suppose not, but I didn’t mean to lead you on, I’m sorry.” Nervous, Clarke was beginning to babble again. “I just got so caught up and it was fine in the club, I guess, because I knew it wouldn’t go any further, and plus the alcohol and I was a bit tipsy, but now I’ve sobered up and I don’t even know how I ended up here so quickly and—”

“Clarke, look at me. It’s fine. I mean, unless you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you. But, I’d certainly like it if you chose to stay. I was having a really nice time.” Reaching up, Lexa tucked a dangling strand of blonde behind Clarke’s ear. “Weren’t you?”

Biting her lip, Clarke gave a sheepish nod. She really was having a really good time.

“Okay,” Lexa said, smiling at Clarke’s apparent innocence.

Transforming her entire demeanor, Lexa moved slow and leaned forward, planting a delicate kiss at the corner of Clarke’s mouth. “Kissing okay?”

Clarke nodded and turned to kiss Lexa’s lips. “I like the kissing.”

“Kay.” Lexa dipped and traced her lips down Clarke’s neck. “And nuzzling?”

Clarke giggled at the tickle that ran down her spine, nodding.

“And… snuggling?” Lexa whispered, tugging Clarke close around the waist.

“Lots of snugging?”

“As much as you want.”

Clarke smiled, flattered beyond belief and cupped Lexa’s face. “Who are you, stranger?”

Lexa hummed a smile, “Someone who wants to know everything there is about Clarke Griffin.”

They continued kissing and switched to a snuggling position on the couch, alternating between kissing and conversing—from childhood stories to favorite foods.

“Speaking of food…” Clarke mumbled.

“You hungry? Wanna order some pizza?” Lexa offered, automatically reaching for her phone.

“Mmm, that sounds good.”

“Kay,” Lexa replied while scrolling up on her phone. “There’s a really good place that delivers right by here, what do you want?”

It was suddenly a moment of truth because Clarke’s favorite pizza is Hawaiian. Yes, fruit on pizza. Although she couldn’t image pineapple to be Lexa’s point of limitation, Clarke’s pizza choice has been the cause of serious friendship debates.

“I don’t know about you,” Lexa shrugged. “But I’m a big fan of pineapple.”

“Oh, thank god, ‘cause I was just going to say Hawaiian.”

Lexa laughed and placed the order. The wee hours of the night passed like minutes on as they shared a pizza and Lexa flipped on Netflix for the background. Clarke wondered if this was “normal” in female relationships because it was akin to a fun sleepover with a best friend, but with the added benefits of snuggling and kissing.

“Is um—this how it always is?” Clarke asked.

“How what always is?”

Clarke gestured between them, “This—you and with um… other women…?”

“Oh,” Lexa simpered, “I mean, it depends on the other person primarily—like all relationships. I know that probably sounds incredibly generic. But, there’s been times when I have been with some for physical comfort and others… more.” Lexa’s eyes lingered on Clarke as she said it.


Clarke replayed it in her head, making sure she didn’t hear wrong and dared to ask. “Were there um—a lot of ‘mores’?”

Lexa’s eyes darted for a moment—as if she were counting—and Clarke feared the number. Five, ten, fifteen?

“Well, a handful, but there was just one who stood out, particularly…”

Lexa’s voice tinged of sorrow; she wasn’t counting but recollecting a sad memory.

“Oh,” Clarke nodded, immediately dropping the subject. Though surprise and relief coupled Clarke’s breath—she had expected more than one but, simultaneously, felt special to have apparently be let into Lexa’s life so quickly.

The conversation mollified to lighter topics until dawn peaked through Lexa’s skylights.

“God, is it morning already?” said Clarke.

“Mm,” Lexa responded, just now closing her eyes and nuzzled into the thick of Clarke’s hair. They were comfortably spooned on the couch with Lexa serving as the big spoon.

Clarke twisted, peering at Lexa’s sleepy eyes. “I think maybe I should probably get going…”

Lexa nodded into Clarke’s hair. “Okay, want me to drive you home?”

“No, it’s okay. I can just call an Uber or Lyft. Lexa?”

Lexa had drifted asleep and Clarke didn’t have it in her to wake the brunette. Her ride was less than two minutes away and slowly, Clarke rolled out of Lexa’s arms and onto the floor, awkwardly crawling on all fours before standing. Instinctively, Clarke reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and placed it over Lexa. Lexa stirred but didn’t wake and Clarke took a moment to admire the brunette. Clarke studied the way Lexa slept from the way her hair fell to her rhythmic breathing. She was gorgeous. 


Clarke’s ride was here and quietly, she tiptoed downstairs and left the apartment.

Chapter Text

Despite Clarke’s efforts to make a silent entry into her apartment, sparing herself from the wrath of her roommates, she was surprised to open the door to find an awake Raven.

“Clarke! You’re home!”

“Have you always been this loud?” Clarke pressed the bridge of her nose, she had a slight hangover, paired with the lack of sleep, it made Raven’s voice ring like a church bell.

“Oh my god, did you fuck? You had sex! You have to tell me all about it!”

“Wha—why are you… up so early?”

“Oh, Anya just left.”

Clarke nodded, unsurprised. “Where’s O?”

“I haven’t seen her either, which leads me to assume she went home with Lincoln.”

Also, unsurprising.

“Mm—” Clarke groaned, “I’m going to bed, we didn’t sleep all night—and no, before you go there. Nothing happened.”

“What do you mean nothing happened?”

Clarke shrugged, “I mean what I mean, nothing happened. Some kissing, talking, snuggling, we ordered pizza. It was actually really nice.”

“What happened with—what was it you said the first day, you wanted to, ‘ride her pretty face into the ground’?”  

“I did—and then I got all… nervous. I dunno, Rae. Plus, isn’t that just a figure of speech? Like no one actually hangs up the phone anymore or rolls down their windows.”

“Ahhhh, no, sweetheart. Bless your heart, but that’s a real thing.”

“What?” Clarke contorted her face. “Like people actually… sit on people’s faces?”

“Yes, and I highly recommend it.”

“Oh, god, Rae!” Clarke palmed her face, embarrassed. “Please, I don’t need the image.”

“Jesus, Clarke. And to think we dated the same guy in high school?”

“Ugh,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me.” And waved at the air. “Anyway, I’m going to get some sleep.”

“G’night babe!”

Closing her door, Clarke was looking forward to sleep. Sleep was not only a necessity in Clarke’s world but a hobby. Able to sleep past 12 hours and nap throughout the day, Clarke swore she was a cat in a past life. She surprised herself at the ability to stay up with Lexa all last night. It was fun. Like one of those nights they glorify in movies.

As Clarke curled into the bed this early Sunday morning, she sent Lexa a ‘goodnight’ text.

Clarke: had a great time

Clarke: can’t wait to see you again

Considering Lexa was asleep when she had departed, Clarke didn’t expect an instant reply back. But just before her eyelids slipped closed, her phone sounded a familiar ping.

Lexa: I have some work in the office today

Lexa: if you want to stop by later this evening, we can go for drinks?

The smile has become a permanent fixture on Clarke’s face.

Clarke: okay, sounds great

Clarke: text you later

Lexa: enjoy your sleep 


Without an alarm, Clarke woke with the warm glow of a low sun penetrating her blinds, sleeping much of the day away. Checking the time, it was just past 4 P.M., and Clarke was slightly disappointed there wasn’t another text from Lexa.

A quick, hot shower had her refreshed and ready for the ‘day’, starting a pot of coffee out of post-wake up habit when Octavia’s door clicked open, her other roommate emerging in a deep fog.

“Morning O, coffee?” Clarke said.

“Oh, thank god, yes. Where’s Raven?”

“No idea, I just woke up.”

This raised Octavia’s curiosity. “Just woke up huh?”

“Before you jump to conclusions, I’ve already had this conversation with Raven. But, nothing happened.”

“Christ Clarke, live a little,” Octavia said while pouring herself a generous mug.

“I am, we stayed up all night talking.”


“Yeah… it was… really nice.”

Octavia took a sip of coffee, mumbling her reply from behind her cup. “Only words I remember exchanging with Lincoln last night were ‘fuck’ and ‘I’m coming’.”

“Uhhhh—” Clarke smacked her face. “Why, why, why…”

“Because it’s amusing to get a rise out of you,” Octavia chuckled. “And it’s so easy. How did you make it through sex-ed? Actually, how did you even lose your virginity?”

“We’re not talking about this, O.” Clarke shot her a deadpanning look. “My sex life is my sex life.”

“Wait—wait, you have a sex life?”

“I’m not playing this game,” Clarke replied, walking away as Octavia smirked.

The topic of sex had always made Clarke uncomfortable. She was one of those people. Talking about it openly was not her forte; listening to others’ sex stories would cause her to blush, bright tomato red, and she couldn’t imagine contributing to the conversation—not like she had much to contribute to the conversation. And, to her embarrassment, Clarke’s first time had also been her last time. She let her roommates think what they wanted to think, but her first sexual experience with her boyfriend-at-the-time was nonetheless disappointing. Absent was the rumored mind-blowing orgasm. Actually, absent was an orgasm altogether and Clarke could only categorize her sole experience as “bad sex” that couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes. She broke up with him the following day. Since then—almost a year ago—she had yet to meet someone she remotely desired to be intimate with, woman or man. And then, there was Lexa.

Returning to her phone, Clarke sent Lexa a text.

Clarke: still want to get drinks?

Lexa: yes, I’m almost done at the office

Lexa: you can meet me here, there’s a bar I like around the corner

Clarke: k

The Uber dropped her off at the heart of downtown Polis and what used to be a quaint area with a “small-city” feel was transforming into a concrete jungle. Recognized as the fastest growing city in the U.S., soon will Polis’ skyline be masked with steel and glass, urban sprawl threatening the suburbs and transplants flocking from every direction.

Lexa’s office was situated in an old renovated warehouse, original red brick retrofitted with exposed steel, polished concrete, and blackout tinted glass, which gave the building a rustic, but modern look. And on this Sunday evening, the absence of bodies diffused an eerie sense abandonment. Corners just shy of zombies, Clarke shivered when she pressed for the third floor of the elevator. For a second, she questioned if this was the right building, but was greeted by the same TRIKRU cog logo upon elevator exit.

The power-save lighting produced a low glow in all surrounding directions minus the main office at the end of the hall, which Clarke assumed was Lexa’s. As she approached, she gave the open door a light knock but was wholly unprepared for the sight to follow.

Lexa in a full three-piece suit, jacket atop of tie neatly tucked inside a vest; Lexa looked dapper as fuck. Sure, people dress well for work, business casual was what Clarke expected, not a member of the Kingsman.

“Clarke.” Lexa looked up from her desk, a considerable set-up with three curved monitors. “Come in, I’m just finishing up,” Lexa said.

Standing to greet Clarke, Lexa gave a welcoming hug followed by a simple, greeting kiss. She had only leaned in for a light press but as she was parting, Clarke found herself chasing. Tipping inwards to recapture Lexa’s lips to initiate a second kiss, and with the swipe of her tongue, evolved into an encounter more heated than Clarke had intended. Something about Lexa set her aflame, an element Clarke could not extinguish. Another swipe and glide elicited a moan; Clarke’s not sure from who. Too easy was it to get lost in Lexa, it was natural, an effortless push-and-pull. She weaved her hand into the thicket of Lexa’s hair, the other, a stone grasp on Lexa’s lapel. Although winter was here, Clarke’s belly house a warm, crackling fire.

Minutes—long minutes—ticked by when Clarke briefly considered the couch in the corner of Lexa’s office but was rudely interrupted by the ring of Lexa’s cell phone on her desk.

“Mm…” Lexa pulled away, eyes equally blown as Clarke. “That was… unexpected,” Lexa murmured, continuing to ignore the call in silent awe until the phone buzzed itself off the desk. “Um—excuse me…” Lexa said, removing her hands from Clarke’s waist.

As Lexa answered the call, Clarke contemplated sitting on the sofa but worried they might never leave. So, Clarke spent her time wandering the edges of the room, studying the art that adorned the walls. Lexa’s collection was comprised predominantly of landscapes, forest interiors, a cabin tucked in the woods with a single tendril of campfire smoke, mountainous retreats. Fitting artwork that suited the name TRIKRU. The call was taking longer than expected as Lexa caught Clarke’s eyes with an apologetic look.

Ten minutes later, Lexa finished the call and returned her attention to Clarke. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh—no, it’s fine. You are at work. Do you always work on Sundays?”

“Sometimes, I had a client who was only in town over the weekend. Ever since my design at Reepers gained notice, I’ve been getting calls nonstop. I used to work out of my old apartment, but had to find a more professional setting to meet clients instead of Starbucks,” Lexa said, her youthfulness manifesting through both her words and sheepish smile.

“Well, it’s a really, really nice office,” Clarke replied.

“Thanks,” Lexa said, putting on a coat. “Ready?”

Nodding, Clarke followed Lexa out the door. The outside air was chilly with a notable bite, but also, refreshing. Automatically, Clarke linked her elbow through Lexa’s before shoving her hands into her pockets, leaning into Lexa’s warmth. The walk was silent; smiles accompanied footsteps. Although Clarke was disappointed in its short duration, the bar truly was down the street—three blocks and around the corner. Known as Satellite, it was a relatively new establishment with a large, casual open space, a mixture of tables and couch seating, pool tables, foosball, and also, skeeball.

“Oooo, skeeball!” Clarke said excitedly. The adolescent game brought back fond middle school memories.

“Wanna play?” Lexa quirked an eyebrow.

 Clarke batted a challenging eye. “As an FYI, you are looking at a prior skeeball champion.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Mm-hm. Fifth-grade, Mrs. Kessel’s class. Are you up to the challenge?”

Lexa laughed, “Challenge accepted.”

Game tokens accompanied drinks and they each slotted the currency into their respective machines.

“Get ready to be demolished, Lexa Woods.”

Lexa paid little heed to the threat as the wooden balls dropped into the slots, focus and determination behind her eyes. Clarke missed the first two attempts at 100, but sank the third followed.

“Yes!” She cheered but glanced at the score next door. “How do you have 250, Lexa? You’re like, good.” Clarke picked up her pace, forgoing the cornered 100’s and racking up 50’s instead, but still trailed behind Lexa until her very last ball. Clarke lost by 10 points.

“Lexa you big liar, you tricked me,” Clarke huffed, placing her hands on her hips and feigning offense with a grumpy-cat frown.

“I did nothing of the sort, but merely accepted the champion’s challenge.”

“How are you so good, do you know how much skeeball I’ve played?”

“I have unusually good hand-eye coordination,” Lexa shrugged, “plus a bit of luck. Carnival games and sorts bode well for me.” Then sipped her drink casually with a smile.

“Best out of three?”

“Let’s go.”

Clarke won the next game, but lost the third. In totality, they played seven games of skeeball, Clarke upping the odds each time she lost until she eventually won.

“You know, you’re cute when you’re concentrating,” Lexa said, sitting back on one of the sofas and had since loosened her tie and unbuttoned the top collar. “You do this thing with your tongue, poke it out.”

“Oh shush,” Clarke nudged Lexa, though mostly using gesture to shift closer to Lexa. “This whole time, you were concerned with the placement of my tongue?” Clarke stuck out her tongue in a mischievous way but didn’t miss the way Lexa’s eyes dipped in thirst.

“Why don’t you put that tongue back where it belongs…” Lexa husked, leaning to capture it in a kiss before Clarke said another word.

Clarke cupped Lexa’s jaw as Lexa slide her tongue into her mouth. It was a deep kiss, undeterred by their public setting. Though Clarke had never been much for PDA, she was drawn into Lexa’s orbit. Enclosed in her gravitation pull where nothing else mattered; they were in their own universe.

Restraint faded in Clarke with each passing moment, wanting to straddle or otherwise press her body into Lexa, tangle her hands further in Lexa’s mane, or run them under her collar just to be a little closer.

“Do you— want to— come back— to my place?” Lexa finally verbalized, a kiss between every few syllables.

Considering how late they stayed up the night before, Clarke shouldn’t. Although she did not have class until the afternoon on Mondays, Clarke was part of a school working group that collaborated with the Army Corp of Engineers. Recognized for her academics, Clarke received an invitation into the group which usually resulted in an internship with the Corp, and if she was lucky, hoped to score a job post-graduation. The working group met twice a week, Mondays and Wednesday, at 8 A.M. Determined to maintain a good impression, Clarke did not want to risk being late.

“Sorry, I’d love to but I have this… thing at eight in the morning,” Clarke replied.

“Okay,” Lexa nodded. “Could I offer you a ride home then?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Together, they gathered their belongings and bundled back up for the short walk back towards Lexa’s office. Her car:

“Tesla?! You drive a Tesla, Lexa? These things are like a million dollars.”

“They are not a million dollars, Clarke. They’re actually quite affordable and compete well with most mid-grade sedans these days,” Lexa replied. “I’ve actually only had it a few weeks. You’ll be my first passenger,” Lexa smiled and proceeded to open the door for Clarke.

The interior was dark and sleek, matching its owner in a handsome pairing. Every revealing aspect or asset of Lexa’s was contributing to her appeal at an exponential rate, Clarke wasn’t sure at what point she was simply going to throw herself at Lexa. Less than 24 hours had gone by since Clarke asked Lexa to wait, but now questioning the merit of her decision.

After starting the silent vehicle, Lexa reached for Clarke’s hand, weaving them together over the center console. A simple gesture that had Clarke’s heart leaping across for Lexa’s. And to think this was just the start. What will the next few weeks bear? The next month? Or even, years?


A steady month had passed since their first meeting and things had quickly progressed from seeing each other every few days to daily activities whether it was breakfast, lunch, or dinner, regardless of weekend or weeknight. Like tonight, Tuesday night, Clarke was in the parlor, sitting on one of the sofas with her books scattered and laptop open, doing homework. Never in a hundred years would Clarke have pictured herself studying in within the walls of a tattoo shop. Surrounded by a range of designs from simple zodiacs to detailed mystical creatures.

Less than twenty feet away, Lexa was with a client and Clarke often found herself watching Lexa work the buzz of the needle. It had a certain ebb and flow, which oddly enough, was conducive to learning. Further, Clarke enjoyed the look of concentration on Lexa’s face, eyebrows scrunched and lips pursed. It was adorable.

Being with Lexa was easy, as seamless as the lines Lexa was tracing.


Alibi number one, Clarke had noticed that Lexa was always unavailable on Fridays and hadn’t built up the courage to ask in fear of staining everything else that had progressed so fairy-tale like. And alibi number two, Clarke was ready for sex. Although, Clarke also feared that having sex would change the dynamics of their relationship. She didn’t know how to broach either subject or, which should come first.

The buzzing from Lexa’s needle had since stopped and Lexa was cleanly wrapping up her most recent artwork, providing the customer the standard post-tattoo care speech before flopping down on the couch next to Clarke and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“How’s the studying going?”

“Mm, good,” Clarke shrugged. “I’m not too worried.”

The last of her finals were on Friday, before winter break.

“I was thinking um—” Lexa paused. Something Clarke had learned over the past few weeks as a rare characteristic for her girlfriend.

“—Um, what?” Clarke pulled her vision from her books, turning to give Lexa her full attention.

“I was thinking maybe after your finals, we could— go somewhere this weekend?” Lexa’s voice raising an octave at the end of the sentence, uncertain, and then blurted, “No expectations—of course. I just… thought it’d be nice to go somewhere else. Maybe?”

For everything Lexa had. Everything Lexa was. Clarke noticed she had a unique shyness to her.  It made seldom appearances, but when present, made Lexa unbearably sweet, and dare say, soft.

Clarke grinned and placed a large mwah kiss on Lexa’s lips. “I’d love to. Where?”

A large, daft smile spread across Lexa’s face. “Well, there’s a cabin, out in the woods— sorry, that sounded like a precursor to a murder mystery— but um, it was one of my first builds. A couple hours from here. It’s primarily an AirBNB rental, but since I know the owner, they said I was welcome anytime.”

Clarke nodded, still smiling. “Yeah, that sounds great, Lexa.”

Evidently, Lexa solved Clarke’s dilemma of precedence. A weekend away gave Clarke the perfect opportunity to let Lexa know she was ready. Consequently, this also instilled a notion of unwarranted anxiety in Clarke that grew with each passing weekday. Until it was Friday and Clarke was ready to implode.

“Raven! O! I need your help!” Clarke shouted as she opened the door into the apartment. Though she had just finished her last final and should be elated, was in full panic mode. “I want to have sex with Lexa this weekend but I don’t know how.”

“Where is Clarke and what have you done with her?” Raven said.

“Please, you guys! It makes me so nervous, I want to puke,” Clarke replied. “Really.”

“Oh my god,” Octavia’s voice dropped. “You’re serious?”

Yes. I’ve been thinking about it all week and thought I’d be okay, and now I’m just—bah!”

Her roommates turned to each other in a beat of silence in an apparent mind-meld.

“Porn?” Raven quirked an eyebrow.

Octavia scrunched her face. “Hm… maybe a step below that? A lighter introduction?”

“So, soft porn?”

Octavia teetered her head, weighing Raven’s answer while Clarke stood idle, watching the situation unfold before her.

“Oh, I got it,” Raven said. “Soft lesbian porn.”

“Perfect, I’ll get the popcorn ready,” Octavia said.

“Woohoo!” Raven outstretched her arms. “Roommate porn party!”

“Is—that—even a thing, Rae?” Clarke asked.

“Not sure, but it is now!” Raven said, grabbing the remote for the television.


10 minutes later

Clarke was peeking behind the couch blanket as if watching a horror movie. Forced to sit between her two roommates, Clarke had no escape.

“Stop hiding behind the covers, Clarke!” Raven swatted, pulling the covers of the blanket down. “They’ve barely even started.”

This was true, so far the actresses had been only kissing. But with each passing minute, Clarke felt more and more anxious, bouncing her knees and wincing her eyes.

“I dunno you guys…” Clarke said, eyes awkwardly avoiding the television. “Maybe this isn’t really necessary.” On screen, a bra is undone. “Oh god, there’s a nipple. Uhh—yeah, you know what, I think I’m good!” Clarke said in a cheery tone and popped up from her seat.

“Nope,” Octavia reached for her shirt and yanked her back down, “sit,” and squishing Clarke tighter between them.

“No really, I’m good. Please!” Clarke begged, closing her eyes as she caught sight of another boob.

“Dammit, Clarke, open your eyes!” Raven said, turning to try and pry Clarke’s eye open. “We’re doing this for your own good!”

“No! I take it all back! Ahh!” Clarke collapsed down, curling into a fetal position as her roommates both wrestled her to watch. And from the slurping, popping sounds from the television, Clarke was becoming ever more uncomfortable. “Please! Mercy! Uncle! Whatever!” Clarke exclaimed with a hint of more desperation in her voice.

With that, both her roommates relented. “Uh—Clarke, you did ask for our help though.”

“I know, I know… I just can’t—can somebody turn that off please?”

“Fine.” Octavia picked up the remote and flipped off the screen. “Seriously though, how did you lose your virginity?”

“Ugh,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “That question again? I don’t understand this need for every detail. Can we please talk about something else?” Clarke said, crossing her arms.

The evening dissipated to significantly lighter tones, the roommates settling on Harry Potty, movie number six, though both Octavia and Raven each had later plans with Lincoln and Anya, respectively.

“You going to see Lexa tonight?” Raven asked.

“Um, no. Lexa’s not available on Fridays.”

“Oh, she works Friday nights?”

“No—she doesn’t…”

“Where is she, then?”

“Actually… I’m not entirely sure.”

Raven tilted her head in curiosity. “That seems odd… doesn’t it?

Clarke shrugged, “Well… kinda, but I don’t want to like… pry. Plus, everything else has been going really well.”

“Want me to ask, Anya? I mean, they are cousins.”

“No, no. Don’t do that. I want to respect Lexa’s space.”

“Alright, well, see ya later Clarke!”



The heavy apartment door shut with a thunk, leaving Clarke home alone. Though she did have some packing to do for the upcoming weekend, sat on idle thoughts surrounding Lexa’s Fridays. Theory after theory raced in Clarke’s mind, fueled by modern television and brash media. Maybe Lexa was a drug dealer and dealt with it on Fridays? Maybe she lived some crazy double life? Or, Clarke gasped, maybe it was something less malicious. What if Lexa was sick and required weekly treatments? Considering Clarke’s mom was a doctor, Clarke drew on her background medical knowledge, now running down the path that Lexa had some terminal illness she was concealing. Plagued with this suspicion, Clarke wanted to spend every last available moment with Lexa.

Clarke: excited for the weekend together

Lexa: me too