Disclaimer: Do not own Marvel or The 100
Warnings for self-hatred talk of violence and genocide and brainwashing and conditioning young girls to have sex at a very young age because of the Red Room.
Please don't be afraid
"Please don't be afraid." Those words had struck Clarke as bizarre. Why would anyone request that SHE not be afraid?
Wasn't that the thing she herself should be saying to someone who she didn't want to be afraid of her?
She was the monster here. So why was she being the one to be told not to be afraid of someone else?
Hearing those words coming out of the young, naïve mouth of Lila Barton just didn't sound right.
Lila was all sweet, loyal, warm and idealistic.
She was all soft and gentle. She was all warm jackets, flowers and hot chocolate.
Whereas, the person who Lila had said those words to? That person was all sharp surfaces, fire, rage, sharp fangs and claws, blue eyes turning black and full of hate.
While currently Clarke Griffin didn't have her fangs or claws out and her eyes weren't black, but bright blue, she knew that every single thing that Lila had just said to her was ridiculous. Lila shouldn't tell someone like Clarke that Clarke shouldn't be afraid.
That wasn't something Lila should say at all, really.
Clarke looked at Natasha in disbelief.
Clarke and Natasha had been invited over to the Barton household for the weekend, and while Clarke had snorted at the mention of the sleepover for the weekend, especially when Natasha told Clarke that the Bartons would be more than happy for the two of them to stay over longer than the weekend.
Clarke had told Natasha that Clint, Laura and their children really should know by now that Clarke wasn't something that should be allowed in their house. She had described it exactly like that. That she wasn't "something" that should be allowed in their house.
Clarke almost winced, remembering that. She had regretted those words. Because Natasha had made her regret it.
Natasha had sure as hell chewed Clarke out for saying something like that.
The redhead had had those narrowed eyes and had spoken far more firmly and her voice more hard when she had spoken to Clarke. She warned Clarke to never call herself a "thing" ever again. Ever.
After that, after Laura and Clint had told Clarke and Natasha that they'd be waiting for them to arrive the next day, that night, Natasha's incredibly dominant personality had taken a kick into gear, and she had ordered Clarke to go to the bedroom. Clarke had swallowed hard, recognizing the dark, burning look in Natasha's green eyes and went off to the bedroom, not saying a word. She had known that she could use her safe word anytime she wanted. But she wouldn't and she had known that Natasha would know that too.
So, when Clarke had gotten to the bedroom, Natasha had followed her in, had told Clarke to undress and kneel on the bed, facing the headboard.
Clarke had obeyed and then she and Natasha had begun.
Clarke had questions about why Natasha refused to acknowledge that her romantic partner soulmate was a monster, but she knew that Natasha never would bend from this particular issue. Which meant that Clarke knew that she couldn't refer to herself as a monster, an abomination, an "it," a freak or a "thing."
But still…why ignore facts?
And the fact was, Clarke was a monster. She knew she was.
She wasn't human, she drank blood, she had fangs, claws and her eyes changed color, she had incredible strength and speed, and she healed fast. And she had instincts. Her instincts told her to kill enemies, quite a lot.
But she was a monster.
Her actions certainly had proven that, hadn't they?
She had wiped out the Mountain Men, all of the children too. And everyone in the world knew it.
It was how she had earned her famous name.
Wanheda.
The Commander of Death.
It was why even the Commander of all the tribes, that ridiculously stupid woman, Lexa of the Trikru tribe, feared Clarke. Feared Wanheda.
So why couldn't those who were closest to her, her romantic partner soulmates, her familial soulmates and ally soulmates and close friends, get that she was a monster?
Why couldn't they just get that?
And they had heard of all the things that Clarke had done in the Ice Nation, surely. So they all knew what she was. They knew about all the horrible torturous deaths she had delivered.
They all knew, so why?
Clarke had stared at Lila, as Lila gestured for Clarke and Natasha to join her and the rest of the family in the house.
Clarke had looked at Lila and slowly walked after her. She had said, "You are truly naïve and idealistic, Lila. It probably isn't a good idea for you to trust me this much."
Lila smiled and stuck her tongue out at Clarke, "You shush," she said, "You know you and Natasha are family. You're always welcome."
Clarke tried not to whimper at the word, "family." She heard Natasha approach them. How long had Clarke yearned to be a part of a family?
Her adoptive father, Jake Griffin, had been floated right in front of her on the Ark, when Clarke had been only five years old.
Her adoptive mother, Abby Griffin, had allowed her adopted daughter to be isolated in the skybox for six whole years, till Clarke had been eleven and had snapped from her beast like hunger and had broken out of her skybox in her bloodlust and started draining all the other prisoners of their blood.
And when Abby had seen what had become of Clarke, had been turned into a bloodthirsty beast, turned savage because of trauma from being isolated and so, so alone for years, what had Abby done? She had rejected Clarke, telling Clarke that she wasn't her daughter anymore and that Clarke didn't deserve her love.
Clarke had drained enough blood that time, when she had been eleven, to regain some control, and to understand what Abby had said-what the woman who had been supposed to be her mother, her support system had said. And it had destroyed what little confidence Clarke had left. She had howled with pain in her soul and had fled into the forest.
And only a month later, Clarke had been found by the Mountain Men.
And after that? Well, everyone knew what happened after that.
Clarke hadn't just become a murderer after the Mountain Men. She had become a MASS murderer.
And everyone to this day knew it.
Everyone knew it, including Lila and her family.
So, then, how could Lila and her brothers and sisters, and Clint and Laura and Natasha and everyone else be so damned naïve and trusting?!
Clarke just didn't get it.
Natasha stood next to Clarke as they got close to the house's front door.
Clarke snorted, "Natasha's your family. Your family's your family. I'm not a family member. I'm a mass murderer who just happens to hang out around all of you."
Natasha and Lila both gave Clarke an angered look.
"Stop it." Lila said, glaring at Clarke.
Clarke winced and looked away from Lila.
Lila's face was filled with regret then, and she said in a softer voice, "Clarke, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I just don't like hearing you talk like that. Like you're not a part of our family."
Natasha whispered gently to Lila, "I'll take care of this, okay? Go inside and tell your parents that we'll be coming in soon."
Lila looked at Clarke worried, hesitant to leave either of them.
Clarke sighed, looking back to Lila. "It's alright, Lila," She said, nodding to the young girl, "Just let us talk about this." She gestured between herself and Natasha.
Lila gave a hesitant nod and walked away, back to the house. She glanced back more than once, before entering the house.
When she disappeared into the house, Natasha turned to Clarke. "Clarke," She said, a warning in her voice, "We talked about this before coming here."
Clarke looked down. "I'm sorry." She said, feeling pain strike her chest, "But both of you need to get real. You're with a mass murderer."
"And you're with an assassin," Natasha said, stepping closer to Clarke and taking the younger woman's hand in hers, "Or have you forgotten how I grew up?"
Clarke shook her head, chuckling, "Obviously, I haven't," She said, "But that's different," She met Natasha's eyes sadly, "You genuinely thought you were doing the right thing. I just gave up after I was twelve. After the Mountain Men."
"You were traumatized," Natasha pointed out, "A child. You were twelve years old." She shook her head, face set in seriousness, "No twelve-year-old should have had to go through that."
"You went through way, way worse." Clarke pointed out.
Natasha chuckled, giving Clarke a leveled look, "It's not a competition. You know that. Besides, I think it's debatable on whether or not I had it worse than you. But again, it's not a competition, milaya devushka."
Clarke nodded, and said nothing for a while.
Natasha would debate in a second that Clarke had had it worse. Much, much worse. Having seen her father getting executed right in front of her at the age of five, being tossed into the skybox and isolated there for six years, till she was eleven, helpless and alone and abandoned, and then had snapped from bloodlust and loneliness and had broken out when the Ark had come down to the ground and she had drained multiple prisoners, who were going to be scheduled for execution anyway.
And when Clarke's adoptive mother, Abby had seen what Clarke had done, instead of trying to accept her already traumatized eleven-year-old daughter, she had abandoned Clarke further by rejecting her. Then Clarke had been lured into Mount Weather by the Mountain Men. And she had had to kill them all by pulling a lever and letting in air that was toxic to the Mountain Men.
Then she had gone out into the forest, alone, for almost a year, before being grabbed by the Ice Nation, and her eight years of torture and brainwashing, teaching her about violence and warfare had begun.
Clarke had been alone during all of it. Isolated. Tortured. And worse, she believed most of the time that she had deserved it.
Natasha wasn't going to debate whether she or Clarke had had a worse childhood. She knew Clarke had a worse childhood than her. Natasha might have been trained and conditioned to be an assassin and had learned how to seduce targets at a horrifyingly young age, but she at least had never really been alone.
She had had companions that were raised alongside her. And while Natasha had killed many of those "brothers" and "sisters" she had been raised alongside, she had done it believing it was for the good of the cause to stop evil, and she had always had guidance by Melina and Alexei, and always had Yelena by her side.
She had never really been alone. There had been plenty of trauma in her life. But rare moments of loneliness.
And there certainly hadn't been any after she, Yelena, Melina and Alexei had fled HYDRA and Natasha had met Clint and Laura.
Clarke undoubtedly had had the worst childhood amongst her and Natasha. But Natasha wasn't going to debate that, because she knew going more on this subject right now would only further Clarke into talking about how "horrible" and how "monstrous" she was. And Natasha wasn't going to allow that.
"Look, let's just get inside and join our family," Natasha said gently to Clarke and when Clarke looked ready to debate that the Bartons weren't their family, even though both she and Natasha knew better, Natasha's eyebrows lifted at Clarke, and Clarke quickly stopped herself from protesting.
Natasha said, her voice soft now, "We both know that you see them as your family. And they are your family. You love them." Natasha smiled at Clarke, and Clarke knew better than to protest. She read that smile well enough. Natasha's smile said, 'you can deny it all you want. But we both know you love them.'
Clarke grunted quietly, nodding, "Fine, let's just go in."
Natasha chuckled and gently guided the younger woman towards the house.
When they got inside, Lila was naturally the first to greet them, grinning and beaming as soon as she saw the two of them.
Lila hugged them both, Clarke first, then Natasha. Jillian and Cooper put the plates of food out, as Laura and Clint went over to their two adopted children and each hugged both women. Laura hugged Clarke close, kissing her forehead, telling her, "I'm so glad you came for dinner." Clarke stiffened up, still unused to so much affection given to her. In response to her stiffening, she felt Laura smile gently against her forehead, before the older woman kissed her forehead again, and then releasing her, allowing Clint to go over to Clarke and Laura to go over to embrace Natasha.
Laura hugged Natasha close, as Clint had, and Clint stepped close to Clarke, smiling gently at Clarke, hoping she wouldn't freak out. "Is it okay if I-?" He asked, knowing that she still was uneasy around some people hugging her more than others.
Clarke shrugged as she said, "Knock yourself out, Barton."
Clint smiled, despite wishing she'd call him either "Clint" or "dad," but he supposed "Barton," was better than "Hawkeye" or "Mr. Barton," which Clarke had called him a great deal before, and he stepped forward, wrapping his arms cautiously around Clarke.
Clarke leaned into him, resting her head against his neck.
Clint patted her back and slowly stepped back from her so as not to make her feel smothered. "We're all really happy you could join us." He said, smiling widely at her.
Clarke nodded. "Thank you for having me over." She said.
"Of course," Laura said as she and Natasha parted from their embrace, "You're always welcome here, Clarke," Laura made a point of looking at Clarke in meaning, "Never forget that. You're part of the family."
Clarke held her tongue, knowing that she would hear nothing but argument if she tried to debate what Laura had just said.
Soon they sat down and ate. Lila and Nathaniel sat the closest to Clarke and Natasha, always wanting to be next to them. Zachary and Jessie weren't much better.
Later on that night, after everyone had headed off to their rooms, after Clint and Laura both hugged Clarke and Natasha, again, telling them how glad they were that their two adopted children were here-and no, Clarke wasn't foolish enough to believe that they would have said this, had she not been in the room. Because Natasha didn't need to hear those words. Natasha was part of the family. Unlike Clarke herself.
But Clarke didn't utter those words. For Natasha and the rest of the Barton family's sake.
When Clint, Laura and everyone else had gone off to bed, Natasha led Clarke to their respective bedroom.
When they were inside their own room and Natasha closed the door behind them, and Clarke turned on the lights, they faced each other and Clarke almost immediately jumped on Natasha, pushing the assassin against the wall and kissing the older woman deeply.
Natasha cupped Clarke's face as Clarke kissed her, her tongue stroking against Natasha's, bringing a moan from the older woman.
Clarke pulled away from Natasha's mouth then, lowering her head and her mouth going to Natasha's neck, suckling hard on the soft, creamy skin there, sucking and licking.
She felt Natasha lean back against the closed door and heard Natasha's moans trail out of her.
As Clarke tried to lower herself more, trying to take some of Natasha's clothing off, Natasha's hands went to the back of Clarke's head and pushed her closer to her neck. Clarke paused. "Nat?" She asked quietly.
"Go on," Natasha said, "You can bite me. You know you can."
Clarke's eyes widened and she froze.
She stood up fully, meeting Natasha's emerald-green eyes and she shook her head quickly. "No, you know that I can't," Clarke protested, feeling icy fear suddenly slide in to join all her desire and arousal, "I can't bite you, Tasha."
Natasha's arms held Clarke more firmly, though they both knew that Clarke was the stronger of the two of them and could wrench free at any moment.
"I'm giving you permission to do it, Clarke," Natasha said firmly, "I want you to do it. You won't be doing anything wrong by doing it."
Clarke glared now at Natasha. "Actually, I will be doing something wrong. You're not fucking food, Tasha, alright?"
Natasha's face suddenly shifted from serious to amused. "I know that, Clarke," She said, "But that's not what I'm trying to do. I trust you."
Clarke's eyes widened as she comprehended what Natasha was trying to get her to do.
She stepped back, out of Natasha's arms and Natasha didn't even try to stop her-not because Clarke was stronger than her, but because she didn't want to pressure Clarke into anything.
Clarke shook her head.
"I'm not gonna bite you, Nat." Clarke said.
Natasha sighed, "Because you're worried about me feeling like food? Which you don't need to worry about. Or because you're afraid of realizing how much I trust you?"
"Clarke," Natasha said, causing the blonde to look at her lover and the older woman in front of her asked, "What are you afraid of? That you'll find that my feelings tell you somehow that I don't love you, or are you afraid that my feelings will tell you the truth? That I love you." Natasha stepped closer, her face inches from Clarke's as she said, her words sending a shiver down Clarke's spine, "Are you afraid that you'll find that my heart belongs to you? If that's what you're afraid of, Clarke, then you have reason to be afraid."
Clarke glared at Natasha and stepped back from the older woman.
"I'm not going to bite you." She said simply, shaking her head.
Natasha sighed, nodding. "You don't have to bite me," She said, "But do you still want to have sex, sweetie?"
Clarke nodded quickly, a relieved smile across her face.
Natasha smiled back and began walking towards the bed, sitting down on its edge and kicking her shoes off, beginning to undo her clothing, eyes still on Clarke, with a command in her eyes.
Clarke nodded and stepped forward, kicking off her own shoes and began undoing her own clothes.
She knew that Natasha would not touch her without Clarke's permission. And that was the same with getting Clarke to drink her blood. If that wasn't what Clarke wanted, then Natasha wouldn't push, and both Natasha and Clarke knew that.
So, Clarke always listened when Natasha beckoned her forth.
When her belt, pants and underwear were off, her jacket, her shirt and her bra off, Clarke looked at Natasha hopefully and Natasha smiled, now fully naked herself, and held her hands out for Clarke to take them.
Clarke nodded and took Natasha's hands and straddled Natasha's lap, and Natasha wrapped her arms around Clarke's middle, her and Clarke's cunts pressing flush against each other as Natasha embraced the blonde close, burying her face in Clarke's breasts.
Clarke groaned, wrapping her arms around Natasha's shoulders as she grinded her cunt and her clit against Natasha's own pussy and Natasha's own clit.
Clarke gasped at the sensation then said quietly against Natasha's left ear, "It's okay. We can do basically everything else. I just don't want to drink your blood. Okay?"
Natasha nodded against Clarke's breasts, and Clarke only had a second of warning, before a jolt of pleasure shot through her when she felt a mouth around her left nipple, sucking and a tongue flicking against that same nipple.
She stiffened up and gasped, arms tightening around Natasha, but not applying enough pressure to harm Natasha-she could never allow any harm to come to Natasha, ever.
When Clarke's nipple was stiff and hard, Natasha pulled her mouth away from it and went to Clarke's other nipple, doing the same to it.
Clarke gasped, shaking as Natasha held her, sucking her lover's right nipple hard. When it was also stiff, Natasha turned her body, dropping Clarke's body onto the mattress and Clarke went onto her back and Natasha quickly crawled on top of her.
Natasha held Clarke down by the younger woman's waist and kissed her way down Clarke's stomach and waist, kisses going down to Clarke's outer thighs, then the younger woman's inner thighs, and eventually, she reached Clarke's cunt, and Natasha straddled Clarke's right thigh, grinding herself against Clarke's thigh, mouth lowering then to Clarke's groin, mouth wrapping around Clarke's clit, tongue darting out and stroking out all along Clarke's clit.
Clarke's moans and whines quickly became cries and then screams as she thrashed and clawed at the sheets and covers under their bodies.
After several sucks from Natasha, licking along the younger woman's clit, lashing her tongue and flicking it about, and riding Clarke's thigh hard, grinding her own clit against Clarke's thigh, Natasha felt her pleasure hitting her hard, as she felt Clarke getting wetter by the second-Clarke's cum slowly dripping out of her cunt and dropping onto Natasha's mouth and tongue.
Natasha groaned, thrusting her hips hard as she felt herself cum, soaking Clarke's bare thigh.
Perhaps that was the final thing that Clarke required, because she could smell Natasha's pleasure filling the room with her advanced sense of smell, making her groan, before she came, bucking into Natasha's mouth as her cum flooded out, thrusting back and forth again and again, sobbing weakly as she did.
Natasha pulled her mouth away from Clarke's clit, retrieving her tongue, smirking at the younger woman, licking her lips hungrily.
"Moya lyubov'," Natasha almost purred, "You're soaked, milaya."
Clarke groaned weakly, giving a small laugh, "Well, you sure know how to flatter a girl. You know you don't have to, right? I'm already in bed with you."
Natasha smirked. "You know I'd say those things," She said, "No matter how many times we have sex."
Clarke sighed, lifting herself up just slightly on her elbows, looking down at Natasha, smiling, warmth filling her chest as she and Natasha locked eyes.
Clarke's sky-blue eyes, that had previously been all black, now back to their usual color, locked with Natasha's beautiful, vibrant, green eyes.
They said nothing for a few seconds, just sharing a look, a look of warmth, tenderness, affection, and adoration.
Clarke saw something else in Natasha's eyes, and she hoped it wasn't the emotion she was thinking it was. She hoped it wasn't love.
Because if it was? Clarke knew that Natasha was doomed. To love a monster like Clarke?
Clarke pushed that thought aside and reached down for Natasha, pulling the redhead up by the older woman's shoulders and pulled Natasha up over her body, arching her head up and kissing Natasha deeply.
Clarke hugged Natasha tightly, kissing the older woman's neck. She loved this woman so fucking much.
But she hoped, desperately hoped, for Natasha's sake, that Natasha wouldn't love her too.
Because Natasha deserved so much better than her.
Clarke tore her mouth away from Natasha's neck and arched her head up then and kissed Natasha deeply. Clarke felt Natasha smile into the kiss, and Clarke shivered at the smugness she could practically feel coming off the older woman.
She then gasped into Natasha's mouth when she felt Natasha's right leg slip between the younger woman's legs, rubbing her leg against the blonde's clit.
Clarke groaned, feeling her pleasure coiling up inside again, and just when she felt the clutch of her pleasure taking hold of her again, the sound that she let loose into Natasha's mouth was a scream.
Clarke started bucking her hips into Natasha's leg, screaming into Natasha's mouth as she orgasmed again, cum flooding out all over Natasha's leg.
Clarke slowly lowered her back against the bed and Natasha looked down at her lover and asked softly, "Clarke, do you trust me?"
Clarke paused, having an idea of what was coming.
She nodded at Natasha, smiling, "You even have to ask?" She said, chuckling.
Natasha smirked and nodded. She slowly reached her strong, nimble right hand towards Clarke's neck, that very hand wrapping around the blonde's throat carefully. "If you need to stop," Natasha said, "Pull my hand off your neck." Clarke nodded. Normally they'd depend on a safe word. But since what they were about to do would make it difficult for Clarke to use one, she would have to depend on Clarke's strength that was superior to Natasha's.
Natasha's hand squeezed around Clarke's neck, as the redhead's left index and middle finger slipped hard into Clarke's pussy, thumb rubbing up against Clarke's clit and the rest of her fingers kept thrusting in and out of Clarke's cunt.
Clarke gasped, the pressure Natasha was applying to the younger woman's throat making it harder for Clarke not to be plunged hard into another growing orgasm.
Natasha stared down at Clarke, staring with possessiveness and love. She was waiting for a certain word to spill from Clarke. She was hungry for it. She knew Clarke was self-conscious about using the word sometimes, if not often. But she knew Clarke loved using that word.
Natasha knew she wouldn't be able to get Clarke to drink her blood tonight, so that was one way, unfortunately that Clarke would know Natasha's love, but wouldn't allow herself to know it that way tonight.
However, if Clarke wasn't going to acknowledge her love that way, she'd have Clarke feel it another way.
"Come on, malen'kiy," Natasha urged, voice cooing practically, "Give me what I want, malyshka, just a little more."
Clarke whimpered, head tilted back as Natasha throttled her carefully, shaking her head as she groaned, hips rolling into Natasha's fingers, until Natasha stopped her thrusting fingers, her thumb no longer stroking Clarke's clit.
"Oh?" Natasha asked, smirking, "No?"
Clarke shifted her desperate, now black eyes to Natasha, her fangs sticking out of her mouth. "Please…," Clarke whimpered.
Natasha shook her head. "Sorry, malen'kiy," Natasha remarked, "I'm not continuing till you give me what I want," Natasha's smirk widened, "You know what you gotta call me for me to continue, don't you?"
Clarke winced and groaned out, feeling the agonizing need drive the next words out that she couldn't stop, "Mommy, please, I need it."
Natasha grinned. Ding! There was the magic word.
All at the same time, Natasha pressed her hand against Clarke's throat again, and again, thrust her fingers inside Clarke's cunt, thumb stroking Clarke's clit yet again.
Clarke didn't last long, as Natasha resumed her actions, this time applying those actions with a brutal speed.
Clarke felt herself unable to last, being thrown off the proverbial ledge of pleasure and screamed as she clenched around Natasha's fingers, her cum spilling out all over those fingers and spilled down the blonde's inner thighs.
Natasha smiled and released Clarke's throat and pulled her fingers out of the younger woman.
She then leaned forward, kissing Clarke deeply. When they parted their lips, Natasha whispered to Clarke tenderly, "You did so well, my love. So well."
Clarke swallowed and nodded, the haze of pleasure over her vision beginning to clear up.
Natasha smirked and said, "We're not quite done yet, milyy."
She then lowered herself down the length of Clarke's body and her eyes locked with Clarke's as Clarke watched her descend and Natasha held Clarke's legs open, lowering her mouth again to Clarke's cunt, and Clarke shuddered at the primal glint in the redhead's eyes as Natasha's tongue darted out and thrust into Clarke's cunt, lashing against the younger woman's vaginal walls, the width of it grinding against the bottom of Clarke's clit, causing Clarke to throw her head back and cry out loudly.
Natasha wasn't willing to settle for that, and her right hand raised up to Clarke's clit, her thumb rubbing Clarke's clit.
Clarke's screams filled the room, writhing around on the mattress and Natasha kept watching Clarke thrash around, smirking as she felt her own pleasure rising again, heat shooting into her stomach.
Clarke perhaps might have been unwilling to accept her romantic partner soulmate's love, but Natasha would give the younger woman all her love-whether her little girl liked it or not.
Even if Clarke's fear of what was to come-of the conflicts of their relationship, Natasha knew that she wouldn't waver in her affection and adoration of her young lover, ever.
Author's note
This is very early on in Natasha and Clarke's relationship.