Clexa (Taylor's Version)🤍
I wanted an excuse to write heavy angst + messiness with lots of social media
Clarke and Lexa are celebrities in L.A.'s Hollywood scene, and have been broken up for a while, but can't quite move on from each other. Thei...
The ripple effects from game night resonated throughout the group for weeks after.
Raven has been unusually quiet. Clarke only heard from Octavia, who heard from Lincoln that she and Anya were very much on the rocks presently, which likely explains Raven not returning her numerous calls and texts looking to hang out.
At Clarke's urging, Luna had spent more time with Raven than Clarke the rest of the weekend she was in town, after accompanying her home the following morning to help her combat her massive hangover, Clarke reasoned that Raven seemed to need her a bit more after Anya's outburst towards and cold shoulder the next day.
The two had met up for dinner that night though, and spent the rest of the evening in the comfort of Clarke's bed masterfully avoiding the conversation they both knew they should probably have.
But ultimately it seemed an unspoken understanding on the drive back to the airport that their blossoming feelings for each other didn't need to be uprooted prematurely, and Clarke apologized for falling short of any expectations by way of kisses when she offered to fly out East soon.
With everyone in the group mostly keeping to themselves, Clarke has spend a majority of her time in her studios, both at her gallery and at her home, working out her tangled mess of emotions on canvas.
She's barely been sleeping, falling into the same dream over and over, still never able to feel anything from Lexa's touch. Sometimes she welcomed the dream, getting up to sprint down the beach immediately if only to fall into bed next to the brunette faster, then trying to draw it out as long as possible before being dumped back on the sidewalk, forced to watch Costia and her giant engagement ring parade alongside Lexa.
Every time she awoke more frustrated than the last trying to get a grip on herself.
For fucks sake Clarke, you don't want to go down this road again. Stop it.
She was making a significant dent in her paint supply in a very short period of time, going through canvases at a reckless rate painting for 10, 12, sometimes 14 hours in a single day. Yet the mess made with her hands still paled in comparison to the messiness of her mind.
Don't give her what she wants. It's just a game to her.
You'd still just be one of many.
If she hurt you once, she'd do it again.
Why would she give up all the others just for you now??
It was very unfortunate timing for Lexa's magazine feature to publish, because the images were nothing less than utter perfection and rendered her unable to focus on anything else. Lexa looked stunning... elegant... graceful.... like a goddess she had missed worshiping and Clarke had never been more bothered by the thought of Costia being the one getting to properly appreciate those lips and hands and perfect silky skin and every body line she stared at in those photographs.
There's no way she's doing everything Lexa really likes...
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