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hotoffthepressfics · 5 years

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Broke But Not Broken

MASTERLIST

Part I

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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 2,629

Summary: The Reader escapes a horrific past. She meets new friends, but will she be able to trust them?

Warnings: Angst, implied physical and sexual abuse.

Inspiration/Chapter Soundtrack:

“Broke But Not Broken” - Artist vs Poet

“All The King’s Horses” - Karmina

A/N: My first fic ever. Still not complete but I’m going to finish writing this out and post it before I post anything else. ❤️❤️❤️

The Greyhound bus lurches to a stop, the massive vehicle hissing as the brakes are released. You jolt awake grasping the cracked seat in front of you for balance. Panic laces itself around your heart as your sleep addled brain attempts to orient itself.

Where am I?

You glance up at the message board and watch as the destination slowly loops across the screen.

3765: Brooklyn, Smith St.

Okay, so you’d made it to... Brooklyn? Isn’t that the stop you’re supposed to get off at? You run shaky fingers over your mussed braid of hair. The tight denim skirt you are wearing didn’t have pockets so you had resorted to keeping the ticket in your bra.

Trying to discreetly pull it out, you pull the slightly crumpled ticket out and check the city name on it. Yes. Brooklyn.

Clenching the ticket in your hands you get up and stumble towards the front of the bus. You keep your head down low, walk down the steps and onto the dark street outside. You stall, unsure of what to do now. Other people getting off the bus try to move past you, some pausing to glare or give you disgruntled looks. One elderly man nudges you between the shoulder blades.

“Get a move on, girl!” He grouses.

Startled, you shuffle to the side and out of the way as the remaining passengers exit. There is a chill to the night air. You shiver and hug your arms close to your body. The short sleeved, rather revealing blouse did nothing to protect you from the elements. Neither did the skirt. The ill-fitting, borrowed sneakers you wear are beginning to pinch now that you are standing instead of sitting in the bus chair. You didn’t care. You were finally beginning to feel it.

Freedom.

You breathe in deeply, hold it in for a moment, and release it. The air reeks of motor oil, stale cigarette smoke, and urine. It should bother you as it probably would most people. You watch the passengers as they head off to the depot or parking lot, some meeting family you supposed, others alone.

You began to follow where most of the people went, walking apprehensively down the sidewalk and passed the depot. The noise of the buses rumbling and faint talking gave way to more urban sounds.

Cars drove by, brakes squealed, a police siren is either coming or going from where you are. You weren’t too sure. Someone was throwing trash out in an alley as you walk by, causing you to jump when something like glass broke once it hit the bottom of the dumpster.

You’re beginning to shiver again, although this time it wasn’t from the cold. You had initially been elated stepping off that bus. However, getting on and off that bus had been your only goal in the wee hours that morning. You had left with two hundred dollars, now a little less than that after purchasing the bus fare.

You had no idea where to go from here or where to stay. You were safe only in the sense that you were miles away from where you ever wanted to be again.

There came a faint sound of a woman laughing. You lift your head up and see a small cluster of women, all in various revealing apparel, watching disinterested as cars pull up to the curb. You halt as one of them came up to a sedan and stuck her head in to talk to the driver. They had a short exchange and then she opens the passenger door and gets in. The sedan drove off with its newest occupant. You falter, attempting to decide if you should continue walking ahead towards them as you were doing or to turn and go another direction.

In your contemplation you didn’t hear the man’s foot falls coming up behind you.

“Hey there, sweetheart. How much to spend the night here with yours truly?” The man sidles up to you and snakes his arm around you middle.

You squeak and try to shove him off. In your attempts to extract yourself the man adjusts you in his arms until your facing him.

“Aw c’mon babe. I ain’t gonna bite ya... much.” He winks and guffaws, the acrid scent of beer and halitosis making you want to gag.

Balding and sporting about a day’s worth of beard growth the man gives you a particularly nasty, yellowed, toothy grin. He’s a good foot and a half taller than you, and although he didn’t look strong, as the spare tire around his middle suggested, he certainly has a vise grip on you.

You whimper and shake your head, wanting to scream the word ‘no’ but it feels like your throat is closing off. You gasp in short bursts trying again to shove him away.

No, no, no. This can’t happen again. This won’t happen again.

The man began to pull you further down the nearest alleyway. He backs you up to the rough brick wall and begins to paw at your breasts. You screw your eyes shut and try to push him back, placing your hand against his jaw and forcing his head back. He ducks and peppers your neck in kisses. You feel him slide something between your cleavage and hear the unmistakeable sound of a zipper. His hand trails up your thigh, under the skirt. The tightness in your throat finally snaps.

“NO!”

You rear your hand back and swing it out and across his face in a satisfying slap. He stumbles back, releasing you and clutching the side of his face. Your fingers claw the brick behind your back as you gasp out sobs.

The man stares wide-eyed at you, pulling his hand away from his cheek. Blood collects in the corner of his mouth. He reaches back up to swipe at it and looks back at his hand. When his eyes snap up to you all the drunken humor is gone.

“You bitch! What’s the matter with you?! I paid ya, didn’t I?! Now I’m gonna get off-“ he comes at you again. You cry out cowering against the wall as he grasps a fistful of your hair.

You shut your eyes again and wait for the pain to begin... but nothing comes. You hear a loud thwack and the man’s hand loosens its grip in your hair. Strands of your messed up braid fall across your face as you look up to see the man doubled over with a slim, dark woman standing over him, a rather large handbag slung over one of her denim clad shoulders. Her pose exudes confidence and power, as does the crystal studded bustier under a cropped denim jacket. A form-fitting, hot pink, latex mini skirt is wrapped around her hips ending in long, cocoa colored legs.

“I do believe the lady told you no. And when a lady says no, she means it.” She says in a feigned high feminine voice. She turns and walks away when the man rolls to his side and mutters,

“Bitch..”

The woman whirls around and gives a swift kick to his groin with her stiletto heel. His groans double in volume.

“Who you callin’ bitch?!” The woman’s voice drops several octaves into a decidedly masculine voice.

She adjusts her cropped jacket and slings the handbag back over her shoulder. The woman glances down at you and offers her other hand. You hesitantly accept it with trembling fingers. Your eyes dart from her back to the moaning man on the ground.

“Now honey, if your gonna take a man’s money and then stiff him on the goods you gotta learn how to make a quick getaway.”

You gape at her, eyes wide and glassy. You shake your head vigorously attempting to force words out, but you could feel the words stick in your throat before they made it out of your mouth. She studies you for a moment. Eyes narrowing, she asks, “You ain’t from around here are you babygirl?”

Again, you can’t manage more than a shake of your head. The woman takes another appraising look.

“Word of advice? Dressing like… that will send the wrong message to folks ‘round here.” You look down at yourself and hunch forward, trying to cover as much of yourself as you can. The wind picks up and you shiver.

“Well then,” the woman says as she struts back down the alley. She turns on her heel and cants her head towards the street. “time to put you in some new digs hun.”

•••

Cici, as you learn is the woman’s name, takes you to a local thrift shop to find more suitable attire for the late fall weather. The store clerk looks a tad disgruntled as the two of you stroll in ten minutes to closing time. However, he doesn’t seem too put out as CiCi begins to pile some shirts, pants, and coats into your arms. Guess he can’t pass up a chance to make a buck. Every now and then she pulls out a top, clicks her tongue, then holds it up to you for inspection. Sometimes the shirt goes into the pile, other times back on the rack.

As far as you could tell CiCi was by all accounts physically a man, but for the present time wished to be viewed as a woman. You wonder a bit as to why being near her wasn’t becoming a stressor when the man in the alley and even the store clerk were making you want to crawl into a hole and hide. Perhaps it was because all she seemed to want from you was to have a dress-up doll.

Another pair of pants make it into the pile. Did she have a hobby of picking up random people and making them shop with her?

“Alright baby,” CiCi turns back to you as you make it down the small aisle of clothing racks and towards the back of the store. Situated between a men’s hat display and a small section of woman’s scarves sits a makeshift fitting room. Which was simply PVC pipes connected together and black fabric looped around all sides. She parts the fabric and stands by, “go on ahead and try them on. See what you like.”

You shuffle passed her into the small space. CiCi lets the curtain fall behind you. Inside there’s a full length mirror propped up against the back wall. Next to the mirror stands a small, fold out chair. You discard the pile of clothes onto it, a few errant pieces falling onto the floor. Slowly, you glance towards your reflection.

It had been a while since you’d seen yourself in full. Sure you could look down at your own body and had occasion to see your face in mirrors before, but this was the first time since your life had become the horror it had been for the past three years. In the stark fluorescent light of that shop it was like you had finally awoken and could see clearly. It was as though you looked upon a stranger. You were much thinner and paler than you could ever remember. Even the structure of your face seemed wrong. Much too boney and sharper; too dark circles ringing your eyes. They looked alien, much too round and large. You look back into your reflected eyes and see… nothing. No life. Just a defeated, broken thing that was barely clinging to life by the fingertips.

You stifle a sob that threatens to break from your lips. Reaching down and picking up a discarded dress from the store floor you drape it over the mirror. It wasn’t long enough to completely cover but at least now all you can see is the lower half of your legs and feet. Taking a moment to steady your breathing you start to try on the clothing. You find disrobing difficult. Hard to make yourself feel vulnerable in a foreign place when that was all you’d known for so long. Yet, you knew you didn’t want to remain dressed in the clothes that he picked and forced you to wear.

Bolstering your courage you quickly shuck the blouse and skirt off your body and sift through the pile, looking for what will cover you the most. Thankfully, CiCi had snagged rather modest clothing. You try on a series of long sleeved shirts; a few that you rejected for being too low cut or falling off the shoulder. The pants faired better though most were too long and went past your feet. You bent and rolled up the cuffs, satisfied when they reached just to your ankles.

After trying on everything CiCi had given you, you settled on three of the long sleeved tops, two lightly worn jeans, and a tan trench coat. Opening the curtain you meekly shuffle out in one of your newly chosen outfits. You knew you probably needed to take the outfit off in order to purchase it but you just couldn’t bring yourself to change back into the clothes you’d come in. They remained in a crumpled heap with the other clothing.

With one long finger hooked under her chin CiCi assesses the outfit. After she finishes her inspection of you she nods her head once.

“Now don’t you look as pretty as a picture? Shall we go on ahead and buy these and get outta here?” You dip your head low and roll your shoulders forward. CiCi tsks.

“Oh honey, none of that now. We’re gonna have to work on that.” You flush, and hunch over even further. Cici merely shakes her head and begins back down the aisle to the front. As you follow her you glance up to the racks of clothing. Among some of the shirts labeled large you notice a light gray cable knit sweater peaking out, warm and inviting. You pause for a moment then set your items down and reach for it. It feels soft and thick. Pulling the sweater off its hanger you put it on. The woolen quality made it feel a little heavy, but that brings you relief. You feel… safe. This too would make it out with you. When you reach the cash register you hand over the clothes in your arms to the clerk.

The clerk eyes your attire with suspicion, as though you would try to make off with something without paying. He quickly glances towards CiCi, who simply reaches over and commenced plucking the tags off everything you now currently wearing. You tense a little as she does so. Finished, CiCi places the tags upon the counter between you and the clerk one eyebrow quirked in challenge.

The muscles in the clerk’s jaw twitch but he begins scanning the tags. As he totaled everything up you realize you’d have to get your money out to pay. Money that was still tucked away in your bra. You turn to begin fishing out the bills when he clerk says how much it all cost.

“Don’t worry baby, this one’s on me.” You look back over your shoulder and watch as CiCi drops the money into the clerk’s expectant hand. You marvel at her, standing there stupidly as the clerk hands you a plastic bag with your things. Suddenly a lump begins to form in your throat making it hard to breathe. Tears make your vision swim. CiCi pats your arm and rubs it soothingly.

“Now, now. There’s no time for all that nonsense. I am starving. Let’s you and I go get us something to eat.”

So you and CiCi once again make your way out onto the street. Your new clothes, the first real possessions you’d had in a long, long time, in tow.

EVERYTHING TAGLIST:

@booktvmoviefangirl @lowkeybuckyb @prettyyoungtragedy @mrsdaamneron @xxashy999xx @c-ly-g @coal000 @rroguebones @ghostlyrose2 @part-time-patronus @emelielwh @peaceinourtime82 @buckysforeverprincess @geeksareunique @amnahs9695 @v-2bucky @scarlet-skywalkers @lokilvrr @thisismysecrethappyplace @sacre-bluhm @tatertot1097 @until-theend-oftheline @amoonagedaydreamer @marvelouspottering

BUCKY BARNES TAGLIST:

@bloodiedskirtts @igotkatiepowers @misplacedorphan @superwholockwannabe @moonstruckhargrove @ladysergeantbarnes

BBNB TAGLIST:

@imaginecrushes @that-bearshark @jademox @theraputicwritings @marvel-fanfiction @aubri1313 @xcriminalmastermindx @regulusirius @ghostlyrose2 @jacquelineisawkward @lostinspace33 @directionerfae @rainbowkisses31 @marie-is-in-the-dark @msgrungie @mrsbarneswillseeyounow @getmedeacon @owhatshername1 @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @mizzzpink @aveatquevale- @sweetlydecaf @absolukeyrh

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