g r i f f i n

indie clarke griffin | loved by barb | established 4/17 | 30+ | mutuals only | low activity | canon compliant Here we go again. Bellamy, if you can hear me, if you're alive, it's been 2,199 days since Praimfaya. I don't know why I still do this every day. Maybe it's my way of staying sane, not forgetting who I am. Who I was. It's been safe for you to come down for over a year now. Why haven't you?

[pileofpapers]

[triedtobcgood]

my new fc for clarke 

[triedtobcgood]

my new fc for clarke 

[triedtobcgood]

They spent years apart. Years where he thought she was dead, that he’d never see her again, feel her again. Years he lost himself as much as he lost her. After that, he knows for a fact he’ll never pass up an opportunity to be with her. But he knows when he’s being used. It’s the same way they used one another when he got out of the bunker. It’s fucking. Distraction. Bliss in place of grief. He knows the trick well, and he respects her enough not to deny it to her. But it can only last for so long. Tyler smirks as she sinks against him, arms wrapping around her waist and keeping her where she’s draped over his chest.

His head turns, lips pressing to her temple as they both catch their breath. This can only last for so long. Her strength is endless, he knows that. But it has it’s limits. When she pulls back, he reaches up to trace his fingers along the curve of her jaw, thumb brushing over her cheek. She speaks before he can. Interrupting the same thought that’s been racking his brain for the past couple of days. Weeks. Months. Years.

Tyler gives her a half smile, brow lifting as he looks up at her.  ❝ Yeah, ❞  He murmurs, voice husky as he draws her in closer, pulling the sheets of the bed up around them both.  ❝ ‘Cause you seem totally fine. ❞ Which is the problem. Her mother is dead. Her other half is missing. Their group is fractured, and it seems to get smaller and smaller with every hell they go through.  ❝ You’re stronger than all of us combined. ❞  He comments, hand slipping to the base of her neck, fingers lost in her hair. Lifting his head a bit, he presses his lips to her forehead, letting them linger there for a moment before he speaks, breath fanning over her skin.  ❝ But I don’t believe you. You’re not okay. You shouldn’t have to be. ❞

Clarke sighs softly, curling tighter into Tyler’s arms as he tucks them under the sheets. Sheets. Forget the sex. This is what bliss feels like. How long had it been since she’d slept in a real bed? One with an actual mattress and blankets that slide against your skin like silk. “Tyler...” That thought dies as quickly as it springs up and she glances over at Tyler who is still looking at her with concern, expression softening. It would be so easy to give in to him. To breakdown in his arms and feel every jagged edge of her loss. “Sanctum is falling apart.” She reminds him, brushing her fingers against the stubble along his jaw. Her gaze travels up to meet his and she musters up a smile. “I have to be okay.” It’s the truth of the situation isn’t it? That is doesn’t matter what she feels right now. She can’t afford to fall apart when things here are still so rocky. And truth be told if she lets herself feel it; if she lets herself cry, she’s not sure she’ll be able to stop. 

[triedtobcgood]

hi, I was wondering if you're currently active and interested in rping Clexa? I've been struggling to find ppl to write/ship with.

hey there! i am active but i have to be honest, i’m incredibly low activity. my muse for other blogs has just been stronger as of late so while i do write on here, replies can take awhile to go out. 

that being said i absolutely ship c/lexa and am always open writing with new people. when it comes to ships i do like to make sure the chemistry is there and that our writing styles mesh. we can chat more if you come off anon.

[elizabeth-forbes]

[triedtobcgood]

“F u c k...” It’s the only thing she can manage to say as she slumps against him, a whimper falling from her lips as her toes uncurl from the mattress. Her head falls to the crook of his neck as Tyler eases back against the bed, shivering as his thighs rub against hers. She’d move from on top of him but she’s not sure her legs are working properly just yet so she just lays there, sprawled against his chest in a haze. Good thinking grabbing the master, she can’t help but think, chuckling softly before pressing a sloppy kiss to the inside of his shoulder. 

Downstairs she can hear the clatter of dishes as they prepare the meal for the evening. Raven has really taken to cooking now that they actually have a place to do so. Or maybe she’s just trying to take care of them. She seems to be doing that lately; and anytime Clarke catches her eyes her expression changes. Be it grief or pity Clarke’s not sure; either way it feels like a knife being driven into her chest. She’s gotten so used to murmuring back that she’s fine that it’s becoming like a reflex. 

Like now, as she turns her head to glance over at Tyler she knows what’s coming. He wants to know too. If she’s okay. What he can do to help. But she doesn’t want to talk about that. Bellamy and their friends are searching for the anomaly and will find who knows what. The rest of them have the task of keeping the peace in Sanctum and deciding what to do with Russel. But all she wants to do is this. Just more and more of this. But now that they’re heavy in the aftermath of bliss the look of concern is back on his face. Clarke frowns slightly, reaching up to trace her fingers along his furrowed brow. “Stop.” She whispers, giving him a knowing look. “I’m okay.”

// @lockpup​ gets season 7 things

[triedtobcgood]

Gods she’s going to kill him. With the soft whimpers of pleasure and the way she responds to him and the way she tastes —- he’d do anything to keep feeling her here. ❝ Tyler, ❞  He corrects, kissing her again, his hand coming up to curl along the side of her neck, thumb stroking beneath the line of her jaw. ❝ If you’re going to be my wife, I want you to call me by my name. ❞ He leans in again, forehead leaning against hers, voice husky as his hand curls around her waist, fingers curling into the ties at the small of her back, wishing more than anything he could pull them apart right then and there. ❝ My Queen. ❞  Her question makes him groan, audibly, and he leans forward again. More than anything, he wants to step forward, peel off the layers of clothes keeping her from him and taking away every last bit of apprehension she has about tomorrow night. Show her how it can be. How he can make her feel. Lord this woman will be the death of him. ❝ I have to. ❞  And no one sounds more begrudging than he. ❝ Unless you’re asking me to stay. ❞  In which case he’ll damn it all. Talk to them tomorrow when she’s busy getting ready, deal with the aftermath then. Be damned the consequences.    

She knows that he’s torn. He wants to make good on his promise for tomorrow but he also doesn’t want to stop touching her. A sentiment she very much shares. “Tyler...” Clarke tests the way the word feels on her tongue; studies the way he reacts when she says it. It feels strange being so informal with him given that until this very moment he hadn’t felt like anything other than her king. Shyly she ducks her head at his question, hands falling from his face to the strong planes of his chest. He feels sturdy beneath her palms; steady. “You should go.” She hates to even say it given that if it was up to her body, he’d already be halfway done with undressing her by now. But they’re to be married in the morning. Surely they can wait one more night. A sound of disappointment slips past her lips in response to her own statement and she leans in, brow pressed to his as her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. “I mean, I’d like you to stay. If I haven’t already made that obvious enough. You feel good. This feels good.” She admits, smiling softly to herself as her cheeks flush with color. She might have been bold a few moments ago but she’s still very nervous about all this. “But you should talk to the clergy tonight. And then tomorrow...we can finish what we started.”

[triedtobcgood]

She turns and hits him with tear filled eyes and he swears, right then and there, the last little piece of him cracks. But his pain has never made him break. It just makes him harder. Walls building higher. Thicker. Pain manifests as anger, which manifests with fists against walls, or flesh, or a bag of sand. In heated words and harsh movements. He’s too much like his father. He knows it. It’s what makes something like this dangerous. But if she leaves now, it’ll be better. Better than trapping her. Better than ruining her slowly like his father did his mother. He wouldn’t ever hurt her, not intentionally, but he knows himself. Sharp edges, high walls, barbed wire — she’ll hurt herself just trying to break through.  ❝ No see that’s the thing, Clarke. ❞  He steps forward, words spilling out before he can top them — he never really did learn to think before he speaks.  ❝ We both knew this wasn’t going to be something. You wanted a rebound, you wanted to make him jealous, we both knew that going in. You’re not changing the rules, I am. I’m the fucking moron that fell for you and now you’re doing what you were always supposed to. Going back to him. To your…your polished little life and your fucking internship. And then you’ll realize — maybe in a couple months, couple years max, that I don’t fit in with your shiny narrative. I’m not the guy you bring home to your parents, I’m the guy that gives you a good fuck. And while you’re there, and Collins is fawning all over you, being all tender and romantic you’re gonna go right back. I’ve played this game before. I know how it ends. ❞  And still, he makes the same mistakes. 

A part of her hopes that maybe he’ll soften; just a little bit. Maybe if they both just take a step back they can talk about this and work things out. But there is venom in his voice as he digs back into her and all Clarke’s hopes of reconciliation go out the window. She’s not even sure she realized just how far gone she was for him until he was ripping apart every piece of her until there was nothing left. She loves him but he’s never going to believe it. More tears spill down her cheeks and she inhales sharply, his words feeling like a blow to the gut. But this time when she levels him with her gaze she doesn’t even try and fight for him. Instead she tightens her grip on her bag, brushing the tears away from her cheeks so she can actually look at him before she leaves. “Goodbye Tyler.” 

Clarke waits until she’s down the stairs to let the tears she’s holding back let loose and as she stumbles out of the fraternity house her vision blurs. She doesn’t see Finn until she’s running right into him and with gasp she stumbles back, immediately pulling away from him when he reaches out to steady her. Even though it shouldn’t, Tyler’s words ring out in her head as he reaches for her shoulder and instinctively she pulls back again. “Clarke? Are you alright?” His brow knits together and his voice is soft and full of concern and while they’d come to an okay place with each other, he serves as a reminder of what Tyler was so worried about. “Just, leave me alone.” She manages to stammer out, pushing past him and walking as quickly as she can down to her house, ignoring him as he continues to call after her. 

She’s not sure how long she sobs in her bedroom for. It’s only when the sun begins to peek through her curtains that she realizes it’s the next morning. She glances at her phone and rolls her eyes at the various messages and missed calls from Finn and she quickly deletes them. Even if she was certain that Tyler was wrong, it doesn’t feel right talking to him right now. About anything. And it certainly doesn’t make sense to even think about attending his father’s program. Staying anywhere near here for her surgical residency doesn’t feel like an option. Or rather, an option she wants. All she wants to do is leave and get as far away as possible. Clarke sits up straight when another thought occurs to her, quickly scrolling through her contacts until her finger settles on her mother’s name. Her mother who was the chief of surgery at one of the finest hospitals on the east coast. Thousands of miles from here. Things were still strained between the two of them sure, but she knew that the moment Clarke called, she would immediately rise to the occasion. And before she can overthink it she’s dialing, holding her breath until the sound of Abby’s voice comes through. “Mom? I want to come home.” 

[triedtobcgood]

“So did you save some girl scout cookies for the rest of the neighborhood?”

// @lockpup​

[triedtobcgood]

He groans against her, and the urge to hold himself back is almost painful. Her lips just barely brush against his, and he remembers a moment too late that he should be gentle with her. Ease her in. But instinct grasps him too quickly and all at once, his mouth surges forward. Lips catch hers at a slant and his arm curls around her waist, pulling her up against his chest as he presses her back against the door. The thought that no one else has tasted these lips drives him insane. That no one else will ever feel the press of her body against theirs. She’s his. And he doesn’t want to ever be anything but hers. It’s a thought that takes him by surprise, but not enough so that he even thinks of breaking away. ❝ You don’t need to be nervous, ❞  He murmurs, mouth moving away from hers to kiss down the line of her jaw, her neck, fingers digging into the miles of fabric separating his hands from her flesh. ❝ You’re perfect. ❞  The words are hummed against her shoulder, lips pressing one more open mouthed kiss there before he forces himself to pull away. Clearing his throat, he looks her over, licking his lips at how perfect she looks. Skin flushed, chest heaving, lips swollen. He can’t help but smile, stepping forward to kiss her once more. ❝ You’ll have to excuse me, ❞  He mutters against her lips. ❝ I have to talk with my father. ❞  The clergy. Everyone who will — after this moment — undoubtedly have their worst fears about him confirmed. He’s too independent for this. He’s not his father. Doesn’t have the same mind as Richard. But he also won’t take no for an answer.

His hungry kiss catches her by surprise and a sharp gasp escapes her as her back collides with the door, body arching against his hands as his lips claim hers for his own. He’s as aggressive as she’d imagined him to be and when he finally breaks away from her mouth to cover her neck with kisses she’s panting with a need she’d never experienced before. Of course she knew what desire to felt like, she was still only human after all. But having no experience being touched like this, Clarke hadn’t realized the way it would make her feel. The way his kisses would cause her heart to rattle in her throat or the way his hands would feel engulfing her waist. Damn this dress and it’s thick layers. All she wants it to feel his skin against hers, to see what else he wants to do to her. “Your majesty...” Clarke practically whimpers when he stops, reaching to cup his face in her hands as her brow drops to his. She’s still trembling as they stand there, struggling to catch her breath as her breasts heave against the tight fabric of her dress. She’s so undone she can barely muster up the words. “You’re leaving?”

[triedtobcgood]

He knows, for a fact, that she’s anything but frail. The furthest thing from the small, meek creature standing in front of him. He doesn’t like it. He’d much rather have that fire, the passion, even if it is manifested as hatred in her eyes. He’s not sure what this is between them, but he knows that she’s his. And as her cheeks flush with red, he reaches up, fingers curling just beneath her chin, thumb brushing over the curve of her jaw as he slowly lifts her head so that she’s looking up at him. ❝ It’s easy, ❞  He murmurs, trying to ease some of the fears he can see in her eyes. ❝ Addicting. ❞  As he speaks, he keeps his voice low, easing forward until her back is an inch from her door. His movements are slow enough that if she wants to dart away, he won’t be stopping her. Dipping his head, he brushes his lips along the flushed curve of her cheek, then her jaw. ❝ I’ll talk to them. ❞  He murmurs against her skin. ❝ The only one I want seeing you like that is me. ❞

For a moment her heart actually stops. He’s so close that she can barely breathe. She’s certain that he’s going to kiss her as he leans in but when his head drops to trace his lips along her cheek Clarke releases a shaky breath. A soft whimper of disappointment slips through her lips and as she backs up to her door she reaches for him. Her hands settle against the top of his arms, grip tightening as she urges him to step closer. She’d always been made to feel as though relations with her future husband might be less than fulfilling, but every time he touches her she swears she’s going to burst at the seams. He makes her skin warm and her face hot and every nerve in her body seems to be at attention when he’s near. The way he’s so confident in his words makes the curiosity almost painful. Slowly she turns her face, nose brushing against his as she traces her hand along his jaw. She wants to ask him to kiss her. She’s certain she’s never wanted to be kissed this badly in her whole life. Her body practically vibrates with anticipation. “No matter what happens tomorrow, I’ve only ever been yours.” With newfound bravely she cups his jaw, tilting her head up so that she can every so lightly brush her lips against his. 

[triedtobcgood]

❝ Jesus christ — ❞  He swears, laughing humorlessly as he shakes his head. Because really, does she hear herself? ❝ You don’t even see it, do you? ❞  He knows guys like Collins. The nice guys. The ones that always end up getting the girl because they have the most noble of intentions. Because they show up, and apologize, and fuck up again, and then apologize. And girls just eat it up. Until they’re left with nothing but the realization that they wasted years to someone who wasn’t worth shit. Not that he’s much better. He knows she’d be better off with someone like Finn. Or maybe that’s what makes this whole thing worse. Knowing that he was never going to be her choice. Knowing and still doing whatever it was that they’d been doing.

❝ He comes in here because he saw you with someone else and got all jealous. Plays nice guy for a couple of minutes, probably tells you how awful he felt, how he just got caught up in the few times it happened with her, that you were really the love of his life. ❞  He knows the speech. He’s seen it given a million times at this house. And every fucking time they seem to fall for it. ❝ And then he comes up with this job offer, right? Totally out of the blue, just…his dad mentioned it and he happened to think of you, right? Cut to six months from now and you’re working with Daddy Collins everyday, sitting down to dinner with his family, having the rich little life a guy like Finn was meant to give you. ❞ His words are heated, gaze following her as she storms around his room, gathering her things. ❝ Well congrats, Clarke. It looks like all your dreams are coming true. Glad I could be of service. ❞

It would be so easy for her to just storm out. To turn her back on him and never look back. Tyler is practically begging her to do so and each word drives the knife deeper. With her bag slung over her arm and tears in her eyes she stops a few feet from the door. Her entire body trembles and she knows that when she turns back it’ll be nearly impossible not to cry in front of him. “I guess you’ve got it all figured out huh?” Clarke manages to utter as she turns, a few tears spilling out over her cheeks. She reaches with shaky hands to wipe them away and takes a deep breath. “You know everything don’t you? How i feel? What I want.” Her teeth sink into her lower lip and her vision blurs with fresh tears. “So what if he’s jealous? So what if he’s only pretending to be sorry? Does that mean he gets to be with me? No. And for your information that hospital happens to be my top choice. And not just because it’s got an incredible program. But it means that I wouldn’t have to leave. I could stay here. With you.” Her stomach twists painfully and she takes in another shaky breath, mascara now staining her cheeks. “But that doesn’t matter does it? Because you’ve already decided how this ends. It doesn’t matter how I feel about you. Don’t pretend like I’m the one that ruined things Tyler. You want to act like we would have broken up six months from now, be my guest. But the only person to blame for this is you.” 

[triedtobcgood]

His fathers eyes bore into the side of his skull and he can feel his words echoing in his head. Be a gentleman. Women are frail, it’s up to them to protect them. Keep them intact. He’s had it beat into him from a young age. And from the sidelines, his mother stands as a constant reminder. Quiet. Subservient to his father’s every whim. He’s always known that’s not what he wants, has sought after something more for his entire life. And now she’s here. Standing in front of him. And the feelings she stirs in his chest are nothing close to comfortable. ❝ I’ll escort you, ❞  He murmurs, standing, offering her his arm before he leads her out of the hall. It’s the only time they ever get alone. That he ever gets to see the mask slip from her features for more than the length of a glare or a scoff. And he finds himself wanting to pry the rest of it back, see what there is beneath. Who she is. Once they’re out of the hall, and away from the majority of prying eyes, he turns to look at her, voice quieting so only she can hear it. ❝ I could make it easier. ❞  He states abruptly, watching her carefully. ❝ Tomorrow evening. The clergy. I could… ❞  He hesitates, unsure of how to be delicate about all of it. ❝ If you would wish for your dignity to remain intact, I could arrange it. Just say the word. ❞  He doesn’t exactly want prying eyes either. Not on her. No, he’s entirely selfish in that regard. Whatever happens, however she looks he wants it to be for his eyes and his eyes alone. Besides, he’s to be king. People are required to listen to him.

He’s walked these halls with her more than a dozen times and yet this time somehow feels different. Weighted. Like it’s the last moment of privacy they’ll have with each other. Clarke hadn’t expressed her nervousness about their wedding night with him but it would appear there’s nothing she can hide from him. It’s both unnerving and comforting at the same time. “I don’t...” She manages to stammer out, blushing profusely as she refuses to look him in the eyes. No doubt the color has made it’s way to her neck at the way her whole body warms at the insinuation. A nervous lump forms in her throat but something about his earnestness makes her pause. She’s not even sure if he could do as he offers but it’s very tempting. Clarke knows what her duties as a wife are and she has every intention of fulfilling them. But having it be in private, away from prying eyes; she wants that more than anything. “It’s tradition...” She murmurs, slowly lifting her head to meet his gaze. His dark eyes seem to look right through her and a shiver runs down her spine. “But if you could, I would appreciate that very much.” Clarke admits, her expression softening. And perhaps it’s the wine or the nervousness that compels her next words but before she can stop herself she’s admitting to him... “I’ve never been so much as kissed before, let alone touched.” 

[triedtobcgood]

It’s hard not to smile when she says it. Mostly because, at this point, he could pretty much recite her speech before she even inhales.  ❝ Yeah? ❞ He lifts an eyebrow, sitting up as he reaches for his jeans.  ❝ Nothing, ❞  This time it’s impossible not to hide the small smirk, his head shaking as he watches her.  ❝ Just that you said that last time. And the time before. And…the time before that. You know, you could just spare yourself the denial and admit you like me. ❞

She grimaces as he continues and she holds up her hand, eyes pleading with him to not remind her that she says this a lot. “I get it okay. Yes, I know.” Clarke rolls her eyes, rifling around through the mess on his floor in search of her tank. The one he’d pulled off of her with his teeth. “I mean it this time.” In theory she did. But he wasn’t wrong about one thing, he was starting to weasel his way into her mind. A lot. Plaguing her thoughts with memories of his hands...and other things. “I like parts of you.” She counters, giving him a knowing look as she tugs her shirt back over her head. Their eyes meet and after a few weighted moments her expression softens and she releases a sigh. “Besides, you and I both know you don’t do relationships.”

[triedtobcgood]

“I know I said you could hide out in my apartment whenever you wanted... but this is a bit excessive don’t you think?”

// @lockpup​ semi plotted thing

[triedtobcgood]

“Okay, yes, but would you perhaps reconsider?” 

“I don’t know. I’m not sure we’re cheesy enough for a couple costume.”