Disclaimer: Do not own Marvel, DC or The 100
Warnings for gun violence, trauma, execution involving the electric chair, and a character with the need to be hurt because of her issues, that naturally, being Clarke.
Cutting through the numb
The room was overcast with shadows. The curtains were closed, the lights off, at her request. Even if the curtains were open, there would be nothing but the darkness from the night that would come in through the glass windows.
She gasped into the mouth of the woman whose strap she was riding. It wasn't like there was much else she could do, considering she could feel a shattering orgasm begin to shoot through her.
She gasped as she felt the length of the toy stroke her clit with each thrust back and forth of the older woman's hips.
Diana held the young woman against her as she thrust her strap into her young lover.
She knew what was going on with Clarke better than Clarke thought she did. She knew what today was.
It was the anniversary of her father's death.
Clarke always got like this on today, June 2nd.
She would drift from one of her lovers to another, as she was in a polyamorous relationship with them, and would use them to try to fuck the pain and memories out of her.
Her father, Jake Griffin, was shot and killed eight years ago, when Clarke was fifteen. There was a mass shooting where Jake worked and the shooter just seemed to come out of nowhere and started firing.
Many, many people were horribly injured. And of the ten people killed, Jake Griffin, Clarke's father, was one of them.
The shooter, a man named Bellamy Blake, was tried and executed for what he'd done.
Clarke was laughing and crying at the same time, when she'd heard the news that he would be sentenced to the electric chair.
Clarke had used to live in Kentucky, one of the states that still had the death penalty. And they used the electric chair.
When Clarke had learned of the date of his execution, she had insisted on going. Clarke's lover, Diana and Clarke's other lovers; Natasha, Yelena, Melina, Wanda, Mari, Felicia, Helena, Dinah and several other women Clarke was involved with, tried to dissuade her.
But Clarke refused to listen to them. She had known why they hadn't wanted her to go. Because they feared how Clarke would handle seeing her father's murderer, even if it was enjoying his last painful moments in this life.
They wanted her to put it behind her, even though they had to know it was impossible for her.
Clarke had watched Bellamy's ass fry and she had felt a victorious joy at seeing the pain on his face. She was happy that he could see her face. Happy that she had told him who she was before they had strapped him to that chair. Happy that her daddy's murderer died in agony.
But when she had come back to her and her lovers' shared apartment in Michigan, she still had a grin on her face, but she'd been crying too.
When they had seen her, her girlfriends had taken her into their arms and held her.
She had asked them specifically not to come with her to witness the execution.
It wasn't just that she hadn't wanted them to see it.
It was because she hadn't wanted them to see her like that. To see that she was happy to witness that much suffering.
What would they think of her?
She was almost positive that they wouldn't leave her however, it would certainly trouble them to see her like that.
She hadn't wanted them to see the joy that another person's suffering could bring her, even if they understood it.
She was happy they hadn't come with her to Kentucky. But she missed them. Deeply.
The execution of Bellamy Blake had taken place two years ago.
Every now and then, Clarke would make jokes to her lovers that she was surprised she hadn't smelled the scent of burning bacon when "Bellamy got his piggy ass fried."
Usually, Clarke was slightly intoxicated when she made these jokes.
Her lovers would just stroke her back and speak softly to her when she was that intoxicated and in pain.
Right now? Clarke acting like this, was not a surprise for Diana.
Diana pounded the strap up into Clarke and Clarke growled at her, saying angrily, "Fuck me harder."
Diana held back. Diana worked out regularly, and while she didn't have super big muscles, she still was far more muscled than Clarke. And was why she was holding back.
And Clarke knew it.
But Diana would not thrust harder into Clarke, even if her lover insisted on it. She would not hurt Clarke.
Clarke always did this today.
When Clarke had begun her relationship with her various lovers, who all made it apparent that they'd be happy to be in a polyamorous relationship, it was four years ago, when Clarke was nineteen.
Diana and Clarke's other lovers, all had a taste of how Clarke got on June 2nd.
They knew that she wasn't in the best mindset on that day.
It wasn't a surprise for Natasha or Mari today, when Clarke had shown up at their work and all but begged them to fuck her over their desks.
They had happily done it after closing the blinds in their offices, making sure no one saw them; Mari, pinning Clarke down on her stomach over the other woman's desk and reaching down and fingering Clarke over her desk, and Natasha bending Clarke over the desk and pounding the younger woman with a strap-on.
They both had known what that all was about.
And when Clarke had practically bulldozed into Carol when Carol was doing workouts at the gym, Carol had understood almost immediately and led Clarke to the bathroom, where she'd had Clarke ride her thigh in one of the stalls, then finger the younger blonde twice.
Dinah and Helena had even predicted it, had strap-ons under their pants, and had texted Clarke to join them at the club where Dinah performed as a singer and where Helena was a bodyguard.
After Dinah finished singing and the next performer came up to sing, Dinah and Helena had taken Clarke into the bathroom and had taken their pants down and Dinah had fucked Clarke's ass with her strap while Helena fucked Clarke in the cunt with her strap.
You'd think that having this many orgasms in one day would be a great thing, but for Clarke it was on a mentally deeper issue. She wanted the memories to go away.
She didn't care how many times she had to cum or how hard she had to be fucked for that to happen.
Clarke's lovers, they all knew that she loved them. And they loved her. It was why they wanted to get her away from Kentucky, or really, any state that enforced the death penalty. They just wanted her to be away from anything that might remind her of death.
A difficult thing in this world of violence and cruelty, that had so little mercy for those with less power than others.
But they knew that Clarke hadn't healed. Probably hadn't even tried to heal since that day when her father was murdered.
Clarke's mother, Abby, was neglectful of her daughter, at best. That was why she was happy to live with her own small fortune in Arizona, and away from her daughter. She was never close with her daughter, nor had she wanted to be.
But Clarke's father, Jake? Was Clarke's best friend before his murder.
Anyone who listened to how Clarke talked about him or how Jake's close friends had talked about him, would know that Clarke adored her father, idolized him.
Clarke had apparently decided to draw out the pain for herself a year ago, when she'd learned that Bellamy's sister, Octavia, and Bellamy's friends, Murphy, Miller, Raven, Jasper; they all were killed in a shootout, when they had tried to get revenge with the cops for Bellamy's death.
Clarke had burst out laughing when she'd read that online, grinning at her lovers as she did, saying, "See? All of them, disgusting, right down to the core. They all deserved it." She then had added, "I just wish Bellamy had died more slowly."
Seeing Clarke that sadistic, that hysterical in her laughing, Diana had gently told her that there was lethal injection, and that sometimes took two hours to kill its victim, if not administered correctly, and she informed Clarke, that she would not wish such a death on her worst enemy.
Clarke had snorted, glaring at Diana. "Well," she asked, "What do you think Bellamy Blake was to me? He absolutely was my worst enemy. And I sure as fuck would wish that on him."
Diana had sighed, sharing a sad look with the other women that were Clarke's lovers.
Personally, Diana didn't believe that the death penalty should exist in the United States or in anywhere in the world. But that was her own personal belief.
Because the system made mistakes all the time. What happened if someone was innocent and they were executed, just because of circumstantial evidence? But again, that was just Diana's own belief.
How Clarke clung onto the pain of those who were involved with what happened to her father, was disturbing at best.
She had begun to go to therapy, but she clearly was against having to go to appointments more than one time.
And if the way Clarke was acting now was anything to go by? She severely needed therapy.
Clarke gripped at Diana's shoulders, and lifted herself up and slammed herself back down onto the strap, growling against Diana's ear, "Come on, Prince, fuck me. Fuck me, until I blee-"
Diana sighed and gently grabbed hold of Clarke's waist and lifted her up off of the strap, pulling Clarke off of her lap and placing the young woman down onto the bed, ignoring the feeling of Clarke's startled expression.
"That's enough for now, my love," Diana said softly, reaching to her right and turning on the lamp by the bed.
Diana saw the confused look on Clarke's face, where the naked and sweaty young woman lay on the bed, not understanding why Diana had stopped.
Diana reached down to her harness and unbuckled it, pulling the already cum slick pink toy out of her and dropping it to the floor. The toy hit the floor with a plastic plop noise.
"Diana?" Clarke asked, her voice wounded.
Diana smiled sadly at Clarke as she sat on the bed, only a few inches from her equally as naked lover.
Diana ignored the arousal between her legs as she spoke. Right now, she needed to comfort Clarke properly, not feed Clarke's desire to use physical pain as a distraction from her trauma.
"Clarke," she said, "This isn't okay. What you were trying to get me to do, is not okay. I am not comfortable with what you tried to get me to do to you."
Clarke's blue eyes widened and she glared. "Why?" She demanded, "It's my body. And I am perfectly fine with you fucking it hard."
Diana's expression never changed as she said, "Clarke, do you think I don't know what's going on?"
Clarke's eyes became harder as she realized what Diana was saying.
"Don't try to fucking therapize me, Diana," she said, her defenses appearing quickly, "I don't need it."
"You don't?" Diana asked, smiling sadly at her young lover, "And what is today? Why were you asking me to, as you so eloquently put it, 'fuck you until you bleed?' Why, when we both know that on any other day this year, you would never want me to do something like that?"
Clarke tensed for a few seconds. She then shook her head as she grumbled, "Fine, you won't fuck me the way I want? I could just go to some bar and let a random stranger fuck me until I'm hurting."
She got up from the bed, about to lean down to grab her clothes and make do on her promise of going to find a random stranger to fuck her and hurt her, when Diana jumped up from the bed.
She grabbed Clarke around the elbows, holding Clarke against her chest.
"Let me go!" Clarke cried out, struggling against Diana.
"No," Diana said, wrapping her arms around Clarke's waist, caging Clarke's arms too.
She held Clarke against herself, whispering into Clarke's left ear, "It's alright. You don't have to do this."
Still, Clarke struggled in Diana's arms.
After several minutes of Clarke struggling and squirming, she finally released a painful sob and collapsed against Diana, who held her tightly and whispered into Clarke's ear as Clarke sobbed into her lover's chest.
Diana whispered comfort to Clarke as Clarke cried against her and sat down on the bed, holding Clarke to her lap, letting Clarke let out all that pain that she tended to pent up inside her.
Diana just held Clarke as she cried, stroking Clarke's hair and letting Clarke scream.
When Clarke finally had tired herself out, eyes closing, drifting off to sleep against Diana's bosom, Diana glanced at her phone and at Clarke's phone, the two phones next to each other, when she saw the text sent to the group text from the others.
The text was from Felicia. She said, "Clarke, if you're at the apartment, wait there, okay, honey? We're on our way."
Diana smiled. They would always be here for Clarke, whether she asked them to be or not. Always.
Author's note
I know it's a bit counterintuitive to have this mainly be a Diana/Clarke Griffin fic and put it in the "Avengers" crossover section with The 100, but since there's already a lot of those fics here, I just figured I should.