#feeltripping

trash!verse au | the early days

lexa’s gone, her people have all but signed their own death warrant, and clarke is prisoner in the tower. ontari taking the flame and feeling lexa in her head, enjoying taunting her as she whips clarke, turns her into her slave. using her and laughing while lexa screams in her mind.

clexa + d/s

trash!verse au | broken

clarke fights and is beaten, and starved, and left out to suffer in the elements. clarke submits, and is clothed and fed and sheltered and kept warm and comfortable. lexa goes from being a malevolent tyrant to a benevolent leader. clarke fights, and is tied to the back of lexa’s horse and made to walk until her feet bleed. clarke submits, and is given a horse of her own and a traveling cloak to keep her dry in the rain.

x x x

when they get to polis, lexa brands her. and it’s just. it’s a tender moment, at least. clarke lays herself out over lexa’s lap and tries her very best to relax and not focus on the iron being heated over the coals. lexa makes it easy, too. because she’s rubbing her back and sifting her fingers so very gently through her hair.

“we’ll go on ‘three’” she’d say, voice soothing and low as clarke buries her face into the couch cushion and ignores the shifting spark flare of the fire as lexa lifts the iron.

before it comes down though, the hand on her back presses between her shoulders, pushing her down, and lexa’s voice goes firm and hard, “don’t flinch, it’ll mess up the lines.”

“yes, heda.”

she screams, but she stays still. she follows orders. she behaves.

lexa calls her sweet cloying pet names while she cries. it burns, but there is a cool soothing salve applied afterwards and maybe they just stay there for a bit. lexa sitting on the couch and clarke laying across her lap, trembling with the pain of it all but still pressing into lexa’s touch when it comes.

trash!verse au | captured

“so,” the commander says, leaning forward, her head cocked to the side, “you’re the one who burnt three hundred of my warriors alive.”

she doesn’t want to die today. she really really doesn’t. so she doesn’t flinch away when fingertips touch against her chin, when the faintest scratch of nails brushes against her throat.

there is something in her eyes that makes her nauseous. uneasy.

she’s never felt more like prey than in this moment.

“how underwhelming.”

the commander sounds…disappointed. bored, almost. she tuts softy, pats against clarke’s cheek once, twice, before leaning back.

“i’d like us to be friends, clarke, and i imagine that you’d like very much not to be fed to my dogs, yes?”