#anyways sorry these r just horrid run on sentences | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

venusofthehardsells · 4 years ago

Text

Dreamgirl [part 6]

ReaderxBucky Barnes

[part 5]

Summary: Bucky tries to adjust to his new life in the Avengers compound. One day he meets a girl who might be everything he needs in order to move on, but is his past really that far away? Warnings: blood/violence-ish, therapy sessions, talk of mental instability, self-hate galore, Bucky is very distressed, what is plot (general series warnings include noncon and dark themes) A/N: Part 6 is here in record time and no one is more surprised than me. The chapter didn’t actually cover as much plot as planned, but I guess that’s the terrorbeauty of writing. Enjoy the tiny little glimpse into Bucky’s past as HYDRA’s Asset for now. Thank you as always for reading and being patient with my inconsistent self ♥♥♥ And a special thanks to @cake-writes for helping me out when I was stuck! You’re the best! ♥

When the soft sound of his shoes echoes on the hallway to Dr. Trevelyan's office in the westernmost part of the compound, Bucky is as always taken aback by how loud he is. No matter which shoes he wears, he just can't seem to walk silently down this particular corridor. He tried barefoot once, just to test it, and the floor still dutifully announced his arrival. It’s the only place in the compound he can’t seem to conceal his presence.

He’s not surprised when Dr. Nadia Trevelyan, at the sound of his footsteps, opens the door to her office all the way and comes out to greet him. She does that sometimes. What does surprise him is the look on her face.

“Mr. Barnes. I was afraid you wouldn’t come today.”

Bucky frowns.

“I didn’t think I had a choice.”

The side of her elegantly painted mouth twitches and Bucky is certain it’s not from amusement. The way she proceeds to cross her arms only solidifies that certainty.

“You know there’s a choice. I just thought the general appeal of a barred cell had finally surpassed that of my office. It seemed like a reasonable conclusion to make, given your usual punctuality.”

Her calm, dry words feel like the verbal slap that they are, but at the same time a slower, more blunt feeling is oozing from them like the raw, cloying smell of an infected wound: dread.

With a shaking hand he takes his mobile from his pocket and unlocks the screen. The dread explodes into alarm. Starkly outlined against the black background, the white digital numbers of the phone’s clock perfectly justifies Dr. Trevelyan’s annoyance.

It’s 12:21pm.

It’s happened again. Bucky feels as if an ice cold fist is squeezing his insides. He’s lost time. He left the coffee shop, he ran straight back to the compound and now he’s standing here more than twenty minutes late to an appointment he’s usually early for. As if the hours just vanished in the blink of an eye.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, blood rushing to his cheeks until they physically hurt. He can't quite meet Dr. Trevelyan's big disapproving eyes.

It's his own fault, he knows. If only he had been more forthcoming in their sessions, she might have been willing to cut him some slack. But he has persistently worn her patience down over the past few months and now he fears there's nothing left. She'll have to report that he is late for a mandatory session and he'll have to undergo another full psychological evaluation, questions will be asked about why he wasn't on time, his sentence might even have to be renegotiated, Stark will be down his throat about the forest that'll have to be cut down to cover the paperwork…

Nadia Trevelyan seems to be considering these facts as well and to Bucky's immense relief, she finally sighs and uncrosses her arms.

"Since it's the first time it's happened, I suppose I can let it slide," she relents. The hard stare that follows the words tells Bucky exactly how much she likes it and he knows he'll have to grovel. Quid pro quo.

She steps aside to let him into the office and he sits down in his designated chair almost timidly.

"Thank you," he manages and she looks at him for a long time before she closes the door and sits down herself.

"So why are you late?" There's the adjusted voice of a professional shrink he's become so accustomed to by now. Bucky tries not to cringe.

"I just… lost track of time," he admits tentatively. "I was out running and I… I thought of S… Steve," he quickly amends, clearing his throat. His mind hasn't actually been near Steve since he entered the park early this morning, but somehow it doesn't feel right telling Dr. Trevelyan about Sugar. He wants to keep her to himself.

Of course, as his therapist, Nadia Trevelyan is bound by doctor-patient confidentiality, but because the sessions are a part of his sentence, that confidentiality only stretches so far and Bucky doesn't doubt for a second that anyone he talks to outside of the compound will be submitted to SHIELD's meticulous scrutiny the moment they hear about them. Sugar didn't agree to that and she sure as hell doesn't deserve it. No, Bucky wants to keep her out of his world for as long as he can. Keep her all to himself. Just Sugar and James, no complications, no messed up baggage, or spies or super soldiers or the end of the world. Just a regular guy who met a nice girl in a coffee shop and asked her out. That's all he wants.

"Bucky?"

He looks up and realises Dr. Nadia is looking expectantly at him. Shit, did he miss a question?

"You said you were thinking about Steve?" she supplies helpfully, if slightly irritated, when all he does is stare at her.

"Yes, uhm, well…" Bucky tries to regain his footing. "He, uh, left this morning for… work-"

"Yes, I'm aware," Dr. Trevelyan says, making Bucky raise an eyebrow. "My clearance is higher than yours, Bucky. How else could I be of any use around here?"

She doesn't say it, but he can hear it clear enough in her voice. You might have thought about that sooner if you ever actually bothered to talk to me.

"So you… you talk to Steve as well?"

She sighs.

"You know very well that I can’t tell you that."

But the sound of her heartbeat speeding up just a little is all the answer he needs. If he didn’t know any better, he would think she even gulped ever so slightly.

He can't figure out why, but it surprises him. Somehow he can't imagine either Captain America or Steve Rogers talk about their feelings. Not to Nadia Trevelyan anyway. Steve might look like an underwear model now, but he certainly doesn't have the confidence of one when it comes to women. And this therapist happens to be undeniably gorgeous. Tall and elegant, with long shiny black hair, she's the type of woman that turns heads; Bucky knows he would have tried his luck himself if he had met her back in the day when he wasn't broken, wasn't a monster. How Steve even gets a coherent sentence out in her presence is beyond him.

"Do you talk about me?"

There's something in her eyes when she answers.

"Whatever I may or may not discuss with Mr. Rogers isn't something I can disclose without his consent. And definitely not to another patient."

"Oh, so you do talk about me." Bucky can't help the smug little grin when Dr. Trevelyan actually relents a smile.

"Doctor-patient confidentiality, Mr. Barnes. You'll have to ask him."

"When he gets back."

"Indeed."

Bucky sighs.

"Whenever that might be." He regrets the casually bitter words the instant they're out of his mouth. Dr. Trevelyan's eyes gleam.

"You're worried about him."

"Of course I am!" Bucky nearly hisses. "He's a reckless, righteous idiot with a saviour complex and a stupid star-spangled frisbee, who can't tell when to quit. If his bleeding heart isn't going to get him fucking killed, his heroic dumbassery will. And I just…"

The sentence dies on his tongue. This is one of the reasons he hates therapy. Dr. Trevelyan barely has to say anything and the outbursts line up like a firing squad inside of him. And then he ends up saying things he doesn't mean, not really. Or worse, he starts to talk about something he can't voice. Literally can't get the words out without choking and feeling like his throat is completely tied up and his eyes are full of memories that he doesn't want to have. If he starts to dig into all of those ugly, horrid nightmares in the depths of his mind, Bucky is afraid he's never gonna emerge again.

His fragile, desperate hold on reality is fraying with every hour in this office, every sleepless night, every second he's on his own, but he is sure as hell not going to let go.

“He’s my friend, so of course I worry,” he dismisses instead, looking at the wall behind Nadia’s chair. There’s a stark white square to the right of her head, as if a painting, or a picture, has been taken down after a long time, leaving behind only a faint outline of its presence in the shade of the original paint.

There is a tiny black hole at the center of the top of the white square from where a nail must have been. Bucky is surprised at the detail. He can’t quite believe something as low-tech as a nail exists in Stark’s shiny, new building.

“There are chinks in every armour if you know where to look.”

The nail is right in front of him. Held up close to his face between two silver metal fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky can see the Asset lean down behind him, lips close to his ear.

“It’s not like any of us wants to be here.” He twirls the nail in front of his eyes. “What do you say? We’ve gotten out of tighter quarters with less.”

Dr. Trevelyan nods sympathetically, but Bucky has already forgotten what he said. He barely even sees her anymore, his eyes are glued to the nail between the Asset’s fingers. For one terrifying moment, he sees the intent of his shadow self, sees Dr. Trevelyan on the floor with the nail sticking out between her eyes, blood silently trickling down her temple and he almost gags.

“Don’t,” he blurts out before he can stop himself and Dr. Trevelyan raises an eyebrow. The Asset just smirks and goes to stand next to her, leaning on her chair.

“What?” she inquires in an even voice.

“Yes, Bucky. What?” the Asset mimics mockingly.

"Just…" Bucky tries, fighting to regain some kind of control. He has to close his eyes and swallow, reaching back for the conversation Dr. Trevelyan is trying so hard to make him engage in. "Don’t act like you care. You don’t know what… how… what I’m like.”

Dr. Trevelyan sighs and rubs her temples, her long, elegant fingers uncomfortably close to the Asset.

“Believe it or not, Mr. Barnes, but I actually do care quite a lot. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. When your sentence was being negotiated, I volunteered to lead your therapy programme.”

That throws him. She normally doesn’t mention his sentence if she can avoid it and now she’s gone and done it twice in one day, but Bucky reckons he is being difficult, more so than usual.

“Yeah, well, no one asked you to,” he finally mumbles and Dr. Trevelyan’s mouth sets into a hard, painted line.

As soon as the words leave him, Bucky wishes he could take them back, but with the Asset grinning at him, it’s almost impossible to focus. The nail between those silver fingers is still too close to her temple, but Bucky knows he can’t move. The Asset will be quicker.

Dr. Trevelyan regards him in silence for a long while then, before she sighs.

“Mr. Barnes, would you rather speak to a male therapist?”

Bucky’s eyes widen in surprise. What?

“Something is keeping you from confiding in me. Is it the fact that I’m a woman?” He has never heard her sound defensive before, but at this point he figures she’s well beyond caring.

“N-No, I…” He swallows when the Asset barks out a laugh.

“Oh, you’ve really charmed this one, Barnes.”

“Is it my skin then?” She gestures irritated with her cool light brown hand. “Or perhaps the accent? I realise things are very different from before all those atrocities happened to you, but that is why I am here. To help you adjust.”

“I thought you were here to cure me,” Bucky says slowly, willing himself not to look directly at the Asset.

“And I am trying, Mr. Barnes, but you have got to let me. If you don’t want my help, then there really isn’t much I can do.” She closes her eyes harshly for a moment. “Forgive me. That was very unprofessional of me. If, for whatever reason, you want a new psychologist, just say so. It’s very important that you feel comfortable with the person you talk to.”

Bucky winces so hard he almost thinks he can hear a few bones splinter beneath his muscles, but it has nothing to do with her words.

It’s the blood pouring out of her mouth as she speaks.

Down her chin it trickles onto her navy blue blouse, staining the silk black. The Asset has jammed the nail into the side of her throat. It's sticking out far more than it should given its size, as if it has somehow grown from the thin, clean, needle-like little tack into a rusty 6-inch coffin nail.

Bucky has to fight against at least a dozen different instincts telling him to run or to attack, to help, to defend or just do something other than what he does: sit still in his chair and try to think of something to say.

"Remember this?" the Asset asks, stroking Nadia's hair almost lovingly. She doesn't even flinch. She just sits there with her blood gushing out, waiting for him to reply.

Yes, Bucky remembers all too clearly. It’s as if the miniscule scar in the junction between his shoulder and neck pricks at the memory and if he didn’t feel sick before, he really does now.

The girl in his memory doesn’t look much like Nadia Trevelyan. She’s younger, with pale skin and even paler eyes, a mop of dark brown curls, tiny freckles around her eyes and nose…

But the coffin nail is exactly the same.

“I don’t need a new shr- a new therapist,” Bucky forces out as evenly as he can. “I… It’s not you.” He stops to swallow around a throat so dry and thick he’s sure it must be about to choke him. It’s nothing less than what he deserves.

“She was quite a little wildcat, that one,” the Asset reminisces and it’s all Bucky can do to not vomit on his running shoes. HYDRA’s dark soldier is obviously enjoying the torment his words are nurturing in Bucky. “Gave us quite the fight. Do you remember her name?”

Miriam.

Two of the three wheels under Dr. Trevelyan’s chair are now situated in a shallow pool of blood that only grows larger by the second. It’s covering the ground beneath the Asset’s feet and is creeping closer and closer.

He draws his feet back just a little.

“I just can’t talk about her. It! I can’t talk about it.”

Triumph at his slip-up is evident in Dr. Trevelyan's dark eyes, a sparkle of relief that she has finally gotten something out of her stubborn patient. Well, that's all she is going to get. Bucky clenches his teeth to the point of pain, vowing not to slip up like that again. No matter how badly the Asset rattles him, no matter what cruel tricks his mind is trying to play on him. Even if the bleeding woman in front of him is looking less and less like his doctor and eerily more like a girl twice buried many, many years ago.

"Who is it you can't talk about, Bucky?"

It feels almost worse knowing her sympathy is real.

"Doctor, please. I can't."

"Why not?"

His hands must have made indents in the arms of his chair with how tight he's grasping at them. Dr. Trevelyan doesn't push for an answer, but he's sure she captures and analyses every little movement he makes, most likely correctly too.

“I just… I wish that…” He has to swallow so hard his throat ought to rupture with the motion and his eyes are awash with the pressure of tears. “It’s too… too painful and I- I would rather be dead. If I’d just died back on that train, then… then everyone would be better off.”

His whole body trembles, but the words are out, hanging there between them as if he had shouted them.

“Would Steve?” The question is almost tender, as if she’s afraid to break the silence. It still feels to Bucky like a punch to the stomach.

“Steve’s fine,” he mumbles, not quite meeting her eyes. “He did just fine before I came and screwed things up. Should’ve just shot me on that bridge. Or let me drown.”

“Bucky, you have to stop thinking like that.” The genuine concern in Dr. Trevelyan’s voice is of a very different kind than the one he’s used to. Perhaps that’s what makes him listen. “I know there’s nothing I can say at this point to change your mind, but I still think you need to hear it. Whatever HYDRA made you do was not your fault. Now, we both know I can repeat that until I run out of breath and it won’t make a difference, but… I mean it. You are not guilty of what happened to you. What was done to you was vile. Cruel. You deserve this second chance more than anyone. The fact that you think you don't only makes it that much clearer."

She sends him a smile that would have been reassuring if it weren't for her bloodied exterior. If she weren't his doctor he's almost sure she would have reached out and squeezed his hand too. For a moment, he wishes she would. He wants to feel the touch of another human so badly he aches with it, but he doesn't deserve it. Right?

He recalls Sugar's soft, pliant lips and the comforting warmth of her skin. Would she have let him kiss her like that if she knew who he really is? What he has done?

The pressure becomes too much and before he knows what's happening, the tears have trailed warm tracks down his cheeks.

"It will take a while, but I can help you if you’ll let me.”

“I don’t want to feel this way…” The admission is so quiet and so soft that for a moment he isn’t even sure it has even left those hidden depths of his soul where it has stubbornly refused to be snuffed out by the heavy hands of his guilt. He’s almost ashamed of it. “But I don’t know… I just don’t know how not to.”

“It’s okay, Bucky,” Dr. Trevelyan assures him. “That’s why we’re here. So that you can figure it out.”

Bucky dares to look up and take in her face. Her lips and chin are still caked with semi-dry blood and the rusty coffin nail is jutting out from the softness of her neck.

But the Asset is gone.

Alhabor smiles at the tall Frenchman as he sits down across from her at the small café table. He's as handsome as ever, even with the bottle blond hair that drains him a little bit. It gives him a haunted edge that makes his face even more interesting. He looks like a lost Romantic poet, she thinks longingly when he sends her a smirk and lowers his small black sunglasses to look at her.

"Good morning, mon coeur." They haven't seen each other in over three months and she knows it's her fault. Her job always comes first. Sometimes she wishes it wasn't like that. Sometimes she wishes she could run off with Christophe and let him take care of her the way he always promises he will on those few precious nights of passion they manage to steal from time to time. Sometimes she wishes she wasn't such an idealist.

"Good morning, my love. It’s a beautiful day in Paris, don't you think?”

He reaches out and places a brief kiss on her knuckles over her lukewarm cappuccino.

“I prefer Marseille. Fewer tourists. One day perhaps you will forget about those secretive morons and let me take you there.”

“Can you even show your face there?” Alhabor asks with a raised eyebrow and Christophe chuckles, shrugging.

“Pictures get lost, money changes hands, files disappear… I wouldn’t worry.” The sly smile on his perfectly shaped mouth makes her heart beat ten times faster, but she tries to compose herself. This is work.

“You know that I do.” She takes a miniscule sip of the cappuccino. “Did you get what I asked for?”

Better to get this over with fast and get back on track. She tells herself she’ll have more time for Christophe and his charms once this assignment is completed. Deep down, she knows she’s lying to herself, but it makes her feel better.

“Most girls want flowers or diamonds or expensive perfume.” He grins as he reaches into the lining of his trench coat and retrieves a small box. She can’t help grinning in exchange when she takes it and quickly confirms its contents.

“Oh, you know I’m never one to turn down diamonds,” she teases, making the box disappear into her own coat. Their gloved fingers barely even touch at the exchange. “But as romantic gestures go, you’ve outdone yourself this time, my love.”

"Anything for you, mon coeur." His smile isn't as brilliant as it usually is and it makes her frown.

"What?"

"Is it true you have the Lazarus assignment?"

"Yeah, like I said." She tries to sound casual, but they both know she can't fool him. He reaches out and takes her hand before she can pull away. His grip is hard, insistent.

"Promise me you'll be careful," Christophe says quietly and she can feel her heart come to a full stop in her chest. "He's still dangerous."

She can't quite meet his eyes when she answers.

"I know. But the order is very clear. We need him back. The Wakandans may have tampered with his head, but there's no telling what might still be in there. We simply can't risk it."

"You really believe that, don't you?" He sighs and squeezes her hand, but he doesn't let go.

"Are you surprised?"

"I like to think I know you too well for that. Just please tell me you know what you're doing."

"Oh, don't worry, my love." Alhabor pats the inner pocket of her coat where the little box is now hidden. "It's all going according to plan now. And you of all people know how persuasive I can be."

Tags will be added in reblog ~

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #marvel fanfic #dark!bucky barnes #dreamgirl

34 notes · View notes

guardianofjunmyeon · 8 years ago

Text

Seven (Part 6)

Paring: All of EXO x OC

Genre: Romance; Angst; Fantasy Post-Apocalyptic AU; Smut; Drama

Description: For a girl who has difficulty distinguishing emotionally charged decisions from logic, being placed in the middle of a growing war is the last thing the world needs. She finds herself stuck in a world full of mutants, magic, and privilege. It’s up to her to decide where she wants to stand. Will she save those who need her most, or will she let her own selfish desires turn her into the thing she once hated most. A human infected with the Seven.

Warnings: Literally…everything. R*pe. Self Harm. Eating Disorders. Slavery. Violence. Abuse. Not for the faint hearted.

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Rest of the Story

I wake to the unpleasant feeling of the sun shining through my window straight onto my face. It’s as if it decided that perhaps if it fried me to a crisp I would leave the soul sucking attitude behind. Maybe it could fry it away; I wanted it to. The intensity of the rays of the sun, mixed with the cool air in the room was too much to sleep through. As much as I wanted to continue lying here, I knew that I had to get up.

Slowly opening my eyes, the first thing that I see is that there is another, very attractive, figure sitting on the ground right beside my bed just…looking at me.

My eyes widen.

His eyes widen, and we both stare in shock for a solid 10 seconds before we simultaneously jump up. I nearly topple off the bed trying scoot to the opposite end of the mattress and he jumps to his feet and presses himself against the closest wall, immediately casting his eyes down.

“Jongin…” I croak out in my horrid morning voice. I sound as if I’m not sure that it is him, and I’m not. Am I still dreaming? Why would I be dreaming about the boy I haven’t said more than 3 words to? Is this actually Jongin? I rub furiously at my eyes hoping that I can clear away my early morning sight and mental haze through physical means.

I see him opening his mouth to (probably) explain himself, but I decide to voice my own plaguing thoughts before he can find the words. “I’m sorry.” He closes his mouth and looks up briefly in confusion before looking back down. I sigh and scratch my head as I search for a genuine way to phrase what I want to say. “I was out of line. The other week when I called you a mu-” I catch my mistake and quickly change my phrasing, ��when I called you the M word. I shouldn’t have called you that, and I shouldn’t have addressed you so disrespectfully.”

He nods showing that he’s heard me, but he makes no move to leave or look up at me. I crawl off my bed and pad over to the boy, stopping a foot or so away from him. “Am I really that scary to you?” I ask quietly. He stays immobile. His silence says more than words ever could. I find myself swallowing down my own nervousness and ducking so that I can look at his face and force him to make eye contact with me. He continues to avoid and I place a hand softly on his cheek. His eyes stop wandering and finally look at my face; I smile weakly. He has a beautiful face, and his eyes are adorable.

I guide his face so that he can stand straight with his head forward, and so that I don’t have to be awkwardly ducked under him. I don’t miss how he seems to be holding his breath, and has been since I put my hand on his face.

“Jongin…look, you don’t have to be afraid of me. I am not going to hurt you okay?” I say softly. His eyes flicker across my face and when they land on my eyes I can see just how vulnerable and small he seems. Someone as tall and handsome as him shouldn’t have to be this afraid of someone as small and average as me. All of my prejudice disappears for a moment as I observe the male in front of me. Is this fear because of me?

I want to comfort him, but the only way I can think of is to hug him. That’s how Momm- she would comfort us, and that’s how Tao would comfort me. So I find myself wrapping my arms around the boy in front of me. He tenses almost immediately, so I squeeze him lightly and press my cheek against his shoulder.

Please don’t be afraid of me anymore. I think in my head.

He doesn’t hug me back, but he does relax in my arms and he lets go of the breath he had been holding in. I only hope that I hadn’t accidentally spoken my thoughts out loud. I can hear his heartbeat slowing and I exhale as I relax as well. Okay. This is progress.

The door to my room slams open and Kris’s right hand man and sidekick walks in animatedly, “Hey, it’s time for breakfast we’re having…Jongin?” His sentence changes to one of confusion, and Jongin and I break apart. 5 feet of space separate us and we both look down in embarrassment. The situation wasn’t compromising, and I don’t know why I feel as though I’ve committed some sin by doing what I did. Yet, I still feel as though I just got caught doing something wrong.

I look over to Jongin guiltily, and when pretty boy glances between the two of us as if trying to piece together a puzzle, Jongin nearly sprints out of the room vanishing in the process. I open my mouth to try to explain but he only holds a hand up with a smile that looks slightly angry and very forced. He only turns around and I run and grab on to the sleeve of his shirt to stop him. When he turns back to face me his gaze is blank.

His usually bright and flighty frame seems different, and even though he is only a few inches taller than me, I feel extremely small next to him in this moment. I forget what I want to say and blink a few times while just looking at him. He arches an eyebrow expectantly.

I clear my throat and let go of his shirt. “Is he like that because I yelled at him?” I murmur out. He analyzes my face before he shakes his head no. His lips press in to a thin line but I ask on, “Is it because he lives in the castle?” He nods hesitantly and I look out the door where the boy disappeared.

“Breakfast is ready.” He says softly before finally walking away. As he returns to the kitchen, I stay in my room with furrowed brows. Maybe it’s time that I talk to Kris to find out about…everything. A mix of sadness and anger (at who I can’t figure out) rushes through me at how scared Jongin is to look directly at me when I’m awake. He’s fine around the others, and yeah I had snapped at him but that was one time and he couldn’t/shouldn’t be this terrified just because of me. I push the fact that he was more or less watching me sleep to the back of my mind.

I’ll deal with that later.

Breakfast is lively as usual, and I stay reserved as I listen to them bicker and joke around. “Where is Jongin?” I ask while looking at the empty seat where he usually sits. I catch the pretty one glance at me before he returns his attention to fixing his coffee.

“He left to go to the castle. How’d you know he was here? He was only here for a moment.” Kris inquires.

“I just ran in to him before coming down …” I say dismissively. I fork a bit of scrambled egg in to my mouth and chew slowly. How do I even begin to ask him to explain? I don’t want to seem like I’m considering going to the castle, because I’m not even sure if I want to stay here much less go to another place full of strangers. I glance at the 3 of them as they chat enthusiastically.

Okay, it’s now or never.

I swallow my food and summon all of my courage so that I can push passed my pride. “So what even happens in the castle anyway…” I mutter half hoping that no one could hear me. When the talking stops I know that I wasn’t that lucky. I look up from my plate to see 2 shocked gazes gaping at me, and Tao looking at anything but me.

“Tao go upstairs for a minute.” Kris says forcefully. Tao quickly stands up and leaves without any opposition. Very out of character, and yet I feel as though around Kris he is usually this obedient.

Kris and the pretty guy have a silent conversation with their eyes, and they both stay seated as they turn back to face me. I look back at them cautiously and my heart pounds as I prepare for the worst. “What do you know about our society?” Kris starts.

“Nothing. I was born around humans, and after leaving the only thing I’ve learned is that there are humans and people who aren’t who can use magic. The mutt- sorry, I mean your people treat humans like shit. That’s all I know.” I tell him honestly.

“Do you know how or why things got this way? How things were before?” he prods. I open my mouth ready to tell him ‘what part of I don’t know anything don’t you fucking understand you absolute fucking mango?’ but I close my mouth and opt to just shake my head ‘no’ instead. His face hardens and his mouth turns in to a line as he prepares to dictate the history that I never learned.

“Okay…well where do I start?” Kris thinks aloud. He sits back in his chair, crosses his arms and looks thoughtfully at the ceiling.

“Probably at the beginning, you know where most stories start.” The other male says sassily. I smile for a fraction of a second at his statement before forcing a neutral expression. It was funny, but now isn’t the time for me to suddenly seem friendly. Kris glares at the other before turning his attention back to me.

“Hundreds of years ago the world was run by humans. Mainly human men for that matter. They didn’t know how to take care of the things and people around them. They weren’t able to put aside their own ideas and pride for the sake of the whole and ended up pushing the earth to a point where it was no longer healthy. So the world began to reject them; it began to reject all life.

“They damaged the planet beyond repair and sent it into a kind of reset mode. With all of the radiation caused by the humans, the genes of some of the women began to change. It turned on some kind of gene that was before dormant in your kind, and when they had daughters their daughters inherited the gene. I don’t know why it was passed down maternally, but only girls were experiencing this change at first. They found themselves able to manipulate the elements and their surroundings. These were the first Gaia…or I guess the first female mutants as you so frankly call them.” I flush at his statement.

“The Gaia were hunted, discriminated against, and feared by the human men. They tried to kill them off because they couldn’t understand how people were suddenly able to use magic. They thought they had disproved that theory years before, and that along with the rapid deterioration of the planet caused them to become even more afraid. The human women however, they protected the Gaia while their male counterparts tried to eradicate them. The women put their lives on the line to prevent the Gaia from having to experience a history and past that human women had experienced centuries before.

“The first Charmer came along when the first born Gaia mated with a human man and had a son. This son was able to manipulate the elements like his mother, but not quite as strongly. Other things happened over the next years, but they aren’t that important.” He waves his hand around and then skips forward in his story. “After a century or so The Cleansing happened and almost all of humanity was wiped out. The Gaia and Charmers were hardly affected.” Sensing my confusion Kris shakes his head. “We’ll talk about The Cleansing another day.

“Afterwards the Gaia took over. They used what few human men they could find left as sex slaves for a while, to procreate and repopulate the Earth, until there were enough Charmers to compensate for their needs. Human men were then demoted to the lowest slave status while Charmers took on servant status and took on the brunt of Gaia sexual favor.

“Human women became rare since the human men were taken in as slaves and were unable to raise families with your women. So your people went in to hiding. They formed societies separated from the Gaia so that they could live in solitude away from the new social order. Human women became more valued by the Gaia as their numbers dwindled due to their help before The Cleansing. Many people, human men, Charmer, and Gaia included, didn’t like how high up human women were on the social ladder since there were so few of you.” Scenes of my own life flash before my eyes as I connect his words to my experiences. I had only met one other human girl while at the orphanage and I just assumed it was because not many were on the streets; I had female friends before the fire. The girl at the orphanage vanished a year after I arrived. I was a toy to many of the people I dealt with when I was out on a run. The boys at the orphanage experienced more or less the same treatment, but it was obvious that people took more satisfaction in buying from me, abusing me, or forcing themselves on me.

I never assumed that it was because I was a girl.

“Because of where you came from, people in the 3rd ring were able to manipulate and abuse your ignorance. They would never have been able to do that to a human girl who was aware of the social order. When it comes to human boys they’ll kill or throw them out without much hesitation…but because of what your ancestors did they like to…torture human girls. In the castle males experience the same as they would on the outside more or less, whether they are Charmers or human their status doesn’t change. Humans are used for physical labor, and Charmers are used to attend to the household, to fulfill sexual gratification, and to carry on the race. Other than that we serve no higher purpose to the Gaia…” he says while gauging my reaction. I can’t respond. I don’t know how. I stay stone faced and let him go on. “Most Charmers are abused by their Gaia. Beatings are normal for the Charmers. They are sometimes starved for making mistakes, and they are injured for following the orders of someone who they don’t belong to. A lot of Charmers are tortured for any number of reasons…it really just depends on the Gaia…or human over them.”

“We aren’t supposed to make eye contact with or touch the Gaia…or the human girls that are ‘aware’ of the social order unless explicitly told to do so. If we disobey…” the pretty one looks me in the eyes, “…let’s just say that we don’t disobey our orders.”

“He’s right. You and Tao are just examples of the naïve humans who don’t know about how things are run above you. A lot of people will and have taken advantage of that, so they take their own anger out on you. As for the Gaia, when they find a human girl they usually take her in and treat her like a pampered pet or a spoiled daughter. It doesn’t take long for the human girl to start to treat Charmers and other humans the way that their Gaia ‘mothers’ do. They become just as bad as the Gaia who oppress those under them.” I stand up in shock and my breathing hastens as if I am about to hyperventilate. The blood rushes from my head and I collapse back in to my chair. What…this has all been going on and I’ve had no clue? It feels like I’ve just been given a huge piece of the puzzle that is my life. I didn’t understand why these things were happening…I didn’t realize the reasons were so…petty.

The pretty boy rushes over to my side and forces me to drink some water. He stands guard as I finish it and then makes no move back to his seat. I guess he wants to make sure I don’t stand up again just to pass out. Kris looks tentative about finishing his story after seeing me in the state I’ve suddenly fallen in. My heart is pounding. My head hurts. I feel like I’m not taking in enough air and the sharp inhales are doing nothing to help. “Maybe we should continue later.” He offers. “You should lie down for bit.”

��Wait. Does Tao know about all of this? About why the both of us have been treated the way we were?” I ask shakily. I stand up on wobbly legs and the pretty one grips my arm to steady me. Kris shakes his head. They must be trying to “protect” him from the truth. A quick mental image of Jongin pops up in my head. “Is this why Jongin is so afraid of me? Does he think I’m going to hurt him like they have?” Kris only nods and my legs buckle. They must think the same then…

I feel like shit…and weak…and helpless. The tears start to pool and I’m guided to the stairs so that I can lie down. My limbs feel like steel as the weight of my situation fills my veins. I trip going up the first stair and I’m barely being held up by the hand around my arm. He lets go as I let my body kneel on the ground and it starts to shake as my body goes through the motions of crying, but no tears fall.

The pretty boy hesitates before he decides to just pick me up and carry me to my room. He cradles me to his chest as he treks back to my little safe haven. My hand clutches the light blue fabric of his shirt and I feel like this is the only thing keeping me grounded in reality. Like it’s my last slip of sanity. He sets me down on my bed but I can’t get myself to let go of his shirt. He looks into my eyes unguarded for the first time and all I can see is pity and confusion swimming in his large dark irises.

“Have you been through that same stuff when you’re in the castle?” I ask him. He doesn’t answer as he wraps his hand around my own and softly pulls it off his article of clothing. His deer like eyes show a damaged man and he holds eye contact and my hand for a few seconds. He doesn’t need to verbalize what his eyes are confirming. He pats the back of my hand uttering a quiet, “Rest up.” before leaving the room.

My body wants to shut down. To sleep. To stop being conscious. But my mind is wide awake and I end up staring at the all too familiar ceiling for God knows how long. All of my thoughts start to piece together; each thing Kris said pairs with a memory of my own.

“Many people, human men, Charmer, and Gaia included, didn’t like how high up human women were on the social ladder since there were so few of you.”

The fire set on my village. He wanted to kill all of us in one shot…there were a lot of women and girls in my home. The people in the third ring treated me like I was the source of all of their issues, and I let them because I thought that I deserved it. Maybe I did deserve it. I didn’t do anything to them, but there’s no telling what they’ve experienced because of the Gaia and because of other human girls.

“...when they find a human girl they usually take her in and treat her like a pampered pet or a spoiled daughter. It doesn’t take long for the human girl to start to treat Charmers and other humans the way that their Gaia ‘mothers’ do.”

Momma.

She took me in willingly, but I had seen how boys would beg to work for her and how she would kick them out without hesitation. I’d seen countless boys be beat and then cast out for being caught while running an errand for her…and maybe that’s why I was so shocked when she actually sold me off. I thought that I was different. I thought that…I deserved better. Somewhere in my mind I knew that she wanted me more than the others. With as much as I fucked up, I should have been long sold off or killed or something. The first time being caught should have been my last and my only…

*8 Years Prior*

“Yah! What did I tell you about getting caught?” She spat as she held me by the collar of my worn t-shirt.

“You said not to.” I replied back simply.

“Are you being smart with me you little fucker?” Her grip had gotten harder and my nose was almost touching hers. I shook my head quickly and she scowled before pulling back her hand and striking me across the cheek with the meat of her palm. I was almost sure that I had been given whiplash and the stinging in my cheek was growing stronger with each passing second. I reached a hand up to cradle the tender flesh and everything in me was in flight mode. I was ready to make a run for it. As soon as I made an indication that I was going to move, I was stuck in my spot.

My head turned back to face her and I found myself kneeling on the ground. My mind was doing all it could to fight, but my body wouldn’t listen. It was as if she had control of my limbs. When she knelt down to my new height she gripped me by the chin and dug her nails into my cheeks.

“If you get dragged back here because someone caught you again…expect much worse than this.” She whispered. She spat next to me and then let go of my face. Once she was out of the room my body suddenly became mine again. I fell onto my side and swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall. I wouldn’t let her see me cry.

That first time should have been the last time, but I did get caught after that, and every time would be worse than the last. She tortured me when she could have easily killed me off…

“You and Tao are just examples of the naïve humans who don’t know about how things are run above you.”

Tao has no issue looking people in the face, especially not me. The boys in the orphanage either. Skinship and eye contact was the only thing we had when it felt like the world was trying to kill us off. And they were. We just didn’t know why.

We aren’t supposed to make eye contact with or touch the Gaia…or the human girls that are ‘aware’ unless explicitly told to do so.

Jongin…

He hadn’t looked me in the face at all in the month I’ve been here except for today when I more or less made him. That poor boy. Kris and that other guy would look me in the eyes, but they always looked apprehensive. Like I’d explode…like I would suddenly turn in to the other human girls. And wow the way that I was acting at first did nothing to help. How negative a view do they have of women after all they’ve been through? My home was often attacked by their kind and I was never told why people kept bombing and raiding our village. They said it wasn’t important, and I didn’t care then because I was young. They hated us and they killed my family…but while we lived happily in the woods we were the reason that they had their own shitty lives.

Just as I had grown up to hate them, they had grown up to hate…me. All of the boys at the orphanage were there because of me and my ancestors. All of the boys in this house are in pain because of me. It’s all my fault.

And here I was acting like they owed me something while I sat here and did nothing. Refusing to help. Being an enormous asshole. I was the only one who could save them, and maybe if I can’t save them…I can do even just a little to help.

The guilt is eating me up, and yes I know I don’t owe them this because I didn’t choose to be born a human girl and I didn’t personally put them in the positions that they’re in, but I kind of do owe this to them. I can help.

I could die in the process…

But I could help them. No one deserves to be treated like filth regardless of what they’re born as and no one should be entitled to abuse their privilege. Watching others suffer is my own kind of personal hell, and I can’t just sit here and let the Gaia treat boys like shit when they don’t deserve it. When there are shitty Gaia out there like Momma. When there are kind hearted human’s out there like Tao.

And I can’t go around despising all of the Charmers when there are kind ones like Kris. And suffering ones like Jongin.

I won’t just stand by knowing this is all happening.

It’s about time that something around here changes, and I think I might just be willing to jump in to help.

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo stroy #exo reverse harem #reverse harem #tw

9 notes · View notes