Disclaimer: Do not own Marvel, DC, the 2014 movie, Lucy or The 100
Warnings for captivity, stalking, abduction, gang rape and murder
The wife of the bosses
Four years. Clarke still was reeling knowing that she'd been married to these women technically, for four years. Technically speaking, she couldn't marry all of them, since polygamy was illegal in Missouri. However, her technically marriage still counted to her. Even after everything she had discovered about them.
Clarke hugged herself as she stared down at the photos along the kitchen counter.
She had always known what her lovers were capable of. She wouldn't lie to herself about that.
But still? Seeing the photos? She knew she couldn't look away any longer.
Clarke's lovers were in the mob. Essentially, mob bosses.
All women. After they took over the mob, after the previous leaders had died in gun fights and from various ailments that came with old age, they had taken over St. Louis with great joy.
Their identities, however, were kept secret.
This was why, when Clarke formed a relationship with them, she had no idea who they were.
She had come to love them almost instantly, yet even then, she had realized that something always felt strange about them.
But she had dismissed her suspicions.
She knew better now. But it was far too late for that, wasn't it?
She probably had blood on her hands as well, for how long she had kept quiet.
Clarke Griffin had stayed in St. Louis for up to six years now, since leaving her home at the age of eighteen, as soon as she could get away from her shit mother.
Abby Griffin had always mistreated Clarke, as soon as she got the chance, after her husband, Jake Griffin, died.
She only showed Clarke affection when Abby required something, and when she didn't need something from Clarke? She never hugged her, never touched her, never even gave her a sweet or soft word.
And whenever Clarke did something that Abby deemed even remotely disappointing, Abby sighed and seemed to almost gleefully tell Clarke that Clarke was a mistake.
Clarke had loved her mother for a time, but not anymore. She had long since come to terms with the fact that her mother would never even try to make her happy, but would always demand that Clarke make her happy.
It was an unequal relationship, so Clarke left.
Now? She realized that she probably had gotten involved in the same type of relationship.
Though, even as she thought that, she knew that wasn't exactly correct.
Clarke loved her lovers and they loved her. If anything, one could argue that the affection they showed her all the time, wildly unbalanced the amount of affection Clarke gave them. Clarke, given her trauma, didn't give affection easily. That was what having one dead parent-Jake Griffin, who had died in a car accident when Clarke was eight, and having a very neglectful parent-Abby, who was happy to mistreat Clarke whenever she could, did to a person.
Clarke was withholding of affection usually, because she didn't trust easily.
But Clarke's nineteen lovers? They showed her so much love. So much damn love.
Throughout the years, they'd be so attentive and sweet to her. Whenever she was made love to by them, they would hold her afterwards, cradle her and whisper to her, one of them holding Clarke's face to their breasts, as they whispered to her gently.
They never tried to monopolize her time, though.
They knew she needed other interactions with people besides them. They never tried to get between her and friends. Never got upset whenever she was going to hang out with friends, were always happy for her when she met with people; be it at her college classes or clubs, or spoke with them on online groups or at her jobs or in her various hobbies around the city.
They never got in the way.
However, Clarke noticed certain things. Small things that she couldn't entirely pretend she hadn't noticed, even if she wanted to.
Money that would end up in her account from seemingly nowhere.
Men that harassed her at bars, disappearing the next day, okay that wasn't so small, but still.
Her pulling something honestly not that good off at her work, and theoretically, she really should've been fired. But she wasn't. In fact, when Clarke came in the next day, positive that she'd be canned, her employer had looked at her nervously and had said nothing.
There were things that added up, but she just hadn't wanted to word out what it was she suspected.
She knew that her lovers could be a lot. They loved her so much, but they kept secrets. And there was just something off about them that Clarke couldn't entirely put into words.
Finally, Clarke understood who they were, when she learned that there was a group of women that were at the top of the food chain in the world of the mafia in St. Louis. And Clarke finally figured it out, when she learned that her biological mother, Abby, was found dead in Clarke's old town, where she had come from in Missouri.
Abby apparently, was found dead in her garage; a round saw sliced through her stomach, letting her entrails spill out.
She hadn't died quickly.
And Abby's death was almost a year ago.
And Clarke, she remembered when she had at last told her lovers about how her mother had neglected her and mistreated her, for years. And where specifically, her mother lived.
It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened.
But Clarke still tried to deny it. Still tried to tell herself that she was imagining what answers popped up in her mind.
Because how could it be?
Of all the people that she had ended up with, it was the mafia bosses of St. Louis? What were the chances of that?
But apparently, that was the situation she was in.
The photos she was looking at, were the latest trophies.
And Clarke knew that there was nothing she could do.
When finally, after hearing about ten people; Dante and Cage Wallace, Bellamy and Octavia Blake, Raven Reyes, Jasper Jordan, Atom Worth, Marcus Kane, Nathan Miller and John Murphy being horrifically killed, and Clarke recognized the names, recognized them because they had harassed her and her friends and had threatened to kill them, a few days before, at their work, had wound up dead in a river, their bodies cut apart, Clarke could figure it out on her own.
And she knew that she could no longer be silent.
But it hadn't done her any good.
She had gone to the police, and nothing had happened.
Clearly, her lovers owned the police.
And now that Clarke knew? Now that she had gone to the police, word had gotten back to her lovers of what she had tried to do.
She knew that had to have happened, because when she was eating dinner on this night, her lovers showed up, smiling, and Clarke tried to ignore her unease, as they came in, bringing in some desserts.
Then Lucy came over with a manilla folder, opened it up and pulled out a few photos, tossing them down onto the counter next to where Clarke sat and ate.
Clarke stared down at the photos, seeing the deaths in the pictures.
She swallowed and stared up at her lovers.
Lucy and the other women now had absolutely serious expressions on their faces.
Finally, Wanda said, "Are you angry? Now that you know what we do for a living? You were willing to tell the police about who we were and what we've done. But we're not angry. Are you angry at us?"
Now, Clarke knew she had to be careful about how she answered. She swallowed and she tried not to let the fear show up in her blue eyes as she said, "No…..I just….need some time. That's all."
"We understand, sweetie," Dinah said, smiling, and Clarke knew that that wasn't all that was going to be to it, "We'll give you time. But you're never going to be in danger from us, alright? You're perfectly safe with us."
Clarke nodded, but felt her throat become dry.
Fear was the first thing she felt now, the moment she saw her lovers.
Her lovers carried on as if everything was normal. They'd hold her, kiss her forehead, stroke their fingers through her hair, cuddle her.
They had led her to the bed, hoping to have sex with her, but when they felt her shaking against them, they stopped.
Still, Hela looked at her calmly as Clarke's lovers stepped away and said, "You know, Clarke? We'd never actually hurt you. We all hope you know that."
Clarke nodded, but said nothing.
They didn't have sex that night. Or the night after.
Finally, the fear was too much for Clarke.
When her lovers weren't around, she packed all her things grabbed her clothes and ran.
St. Louis had become her home for four years. And it pained her to leave. But she knew she had to.
She didn't know what her lovers would do to her, if they decided they actually were angry at her for going to the police.
She drove up to the next town over, and stayed at the motel there, hoping to stay there until she figured out where she was going to go next. Where her new home would be.
She placed her luggage up against the walls of the motel, placed her coat onto the bed and started pacing.
It hurt. It hurt to leave. To leave St. Louis, her friends, all of it. Hell, it hurt to leave them; her lovers, as well.
As insane as it was, she missed them too already.
But she knew she had to stay away from them.
They were dangerous.
She breathed out in relief at getting away from the city, and tried to figure out her next move.
The first night she was there, she curled up on the bed under the sheets, hugging herself, fighting the urge to cry. She missed her home. She missed her lovers, so much. She missed their embrace.
It didn't take long before her lovers found her.
The next day? When Clarke returned from a park she was walking around and it was getting late, her heart almost stopped, as soon as she discovered that the door to her motel room, was unlocked.
She slowly opened up the motel door and stepped inside, trying not to feel her breath be caught in her throat as she did.
There they were.
All nineteen of them.
You wouldn't think that the small, pathetic motel room would be roomy enough for twenty people, but her lovers made it work.
Helena was leaning back against the wall opposite of the motel room door. Lucy and Dinah were seated on the foot of the bed. Diana was seated on the side of the bed. Natasha and Wanda were standing next to the desk. Mari was seated at the desk. Beatriz and Tora stood at the other side of the desk. Brunnhilde and Yelena sat up on the bar stools near the kitchen. Hela was leaning up against the wall across from the small fridge. Melina was getting the plastic pitcher of water out of the fridge and pouring some water in a few of the plastic cups. Sigrid, Shayera and Carol were near the right-hand wall next to the door to the motel room. And Pepper and Niylah were seated on the couch next to the door.
"Hello, Clarke," Niylah said, as Clarke closed the door. Her instincts told her to run, but she knew she wouldn't get far.
"What are you doing here?" Clarke asked cautiously, eyeing all of them, trying to ignore the racing of her heart.
Freaking out wouldn't help her and she knew it.
"You left us," Hela said, staring at Clarke from across the room, "Why? You know we'd never hurt you."
"Do I know that?" Clarke asked, feeling fear hitting her chest over and over again, "You have killed lots of people in the past. What if you decide you don't want to be with me anymore?"
Yelena scoffed from where she sat. "Really?" She snorted, "That's what you're fucking worried about? That we might kill you after breaking up with you? Like we'd ever do that."
Clarke asked cautiously, "Then…what are you doing here?"
"Clarke," Diana said, getting up from the bed, "We've been together for four years. Do you really think we're just going to let you go? We want to be with you. You want to be with us. There's no reason to try to leave us. We'd never hurt you."
Clarke backed up against the door.
"I left for a reason," she said, "If you keep me against my will, that's wrong. What are you going to do? Rape me until I submit to you?" Icy fear overtook her. She was positive that that was exactly what was about to happen.
"To be completely honest?" Lucy asked as she and Dinah both also got up off of the bed, "Yes."
Clarke tried to turn and try the door, but all four Niylah, Pepper, Brunnhilde and Yelena shot up from where they sat and ran to Clarke, grabbing her and pulling her away from the door.
Clarke gasped, crying out, "no," as she was dragged to the bed, placed down onto it, Diana, Dinah and Lucy moving away from the bed.
Clarke was forcefully pushed onto the bed and felt her clothes being pulled off against her will.
Clarke cried out and struggled, but it did no good.
Her clothes were torn off as she was pinned to the bed. As soon as her shirt and bra were off her body, her breasts were groped and squeezed by Wanda and Yelena.
As soon as her pants and underwear were off, saliva slicked fingers of Diana thrust into her cunt and Lucy's hungry tongue licked out along Clarke's clit.
Clarke screamed and arched as pleasure was dragged from her against her will.
Later that night, she was brought back to the house where all the mob bosses lived.
She was unconscious by that time, drained and fucked until she had collapsed against the bed, prone.
Back at the house, the bosses placed Clarke down onto their large bed, and gave her water as she slept, awaiting for when she would wake up.
The mob bosses sat near the bed, looking over at her, staring sadly.
Those of them that had each taken turns fingering Clarke, had already licked their fingers clean in the cars.
"Do you think she'll ever forgive us?" Wanda asked, her voice soft and sad.
"No," Carol said, shrugging, "Probably not. But it was worth getting her back."
Diana and Tora both got up the stairs from where they had been, rummaging through the kitchen for water and some food. They placed the plate of food down next to the unconscious young woman and placed the glass of water there too for when Clarke woke up.
Natasha perched at the left-hand side corner of the bed, next to her half-sister, Lucy and adoptive sister, Yelena as she said, "We're obviously going to have to make sure Clarke doesn't try to leave us again."
"And what would you suggest," Maria asked, "A leash? That would just humiliate her. We've already broken her trust."
"I don't mean that," Natasha said snorting, her green eyes still on Clarke, "But we should keep her here, until she's willing to stay with us and not run. Then we can loosen the metaphorical leash a bit."
Pepper tried not to huff. It really didn't matter what they did. This was going to be a shitshow, no matter what.
They had raped Clarke. Their girlfriend.
There was no taking that back.
Yes, they loved her. With everything they were, they loved her. But they just couldn't let her go.
"You know, if she decides she wants to shoot us because of what we've done," Pepper said quietly, "I don't think I'd blame her."
Several of the other women chuckled.
None of them were going to disagree.