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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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The Lonely Souls Club 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Idk, something a bit different.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky

She doesn’t see him but he sees her. He’s not hiding. He’s right there. If she just looked up, he’d be caught. But she doesn’t so he remains.

The pointed led scratches over the thick paper. Beside the open sketchpad is a plate of orange chicken and lo mein. He hasn’t touched either. His appetite has wandered away like his mind.

Carefully he etches the line of her nose. She carries a lot of her character there, as she scrunches it at whatever she’s reading then wiggles it as she reaches to sooth an itch. She never quite stops moving, like a hummingbird, she’s aflutter.

Mrs. Zhao comes by her table to deliver her food. A plate of dumplings steaming amid a bed of bean sprouts and broccoli. A quiet thank you is uttered but her eyes don’t meet the elder woman’s gaze. He notices how she can hardly look anywhere but the pages beneath her fingers. Her shield against the world around her.

She closes the book and slides it to the edge of the narrow table for two. She grabs the chopsticks and slides off the paper sleeve. She pulls, struggling to pry them apart only for the left one to break in two, still stuck to the other. Disappointment shadows her features and she lays the chopsticks down mournfully.

He scribbles, trying to capture her expression. He has several crowded onto the page; her pensive stare, her scowling focus, and the shadow of a smile that dimples her cheeks. She takes the fork and pokes at a dumpling. The sharp tines release a small plume of steam.

She uses the side to cut into the tender shell of the dumpling. She blows over a small morsel before tasting it. Her delight is plain as she chews slowly, savouring the taste. As he watches, he recalls his own frigid food.

He lets the notebook close on its own. He leaves it by his elbow, setting the pencil down to roll against its spine. He pulls his plate close, twirling a knot of noodles around his fork. He takes a bite and peeks over at her.

He pretends that they sit together, that they’re eating at the same table. In some other world, they would be. This would be a sweet date he surprised her with and she would thank him with a smile. Her real smile, the one she chews on but doesn’t let free.

But this isn’t that world. This is reality and he’s just a stranger. She doesn’t know him. She hasn’t even noticed him sitting right there. He puts the fork down and sits back. His appetite curdles to hot bile.

The loneliness is what he hates the most about this new world. The people around him move too fast, they’re all lost in themselves, they’re looking with seeing, talking without listening. It’s like they don’t even speak the same language.

He asks Mrs. Zhao for a to-go box. Another pile of leftovers to go with the rest. It’s habit. He hates to see a meal go wasted. He remembers the days of mustard sandwiches, when his mother scraped every grain of flour to make a loaf. Nearly a century. A hundred years lost, a life stolen. From him.

He packs up the noodles and the saucy chicken and snaps the lid shut. He doesn’t leave yet. She’s still eating. Just as deliberately as before. Her careful bites are self-conscious as she dabs a napkin to her lips now and again. She doesn’t finish hers either.

She accepts a box and a fresh set of chopsticks to take with her. She slides the remnants of her meal into the container and closes it, fingers squeezing the edges as she checks to make certain it’s secure. She doesn’t leave either. She lingers as she resumes her reading, just a few pages before she finishes the chapter.

She counts out a tip on the table top and stacks it by her empty plate. He tilts his head. She’s a creature out of time. Sort of like him. He always sees the plastic swiping or the tap of a watch that has the machine chirping. She’s old-fashioned, he likes that.

She uses the table to leverage herself to her feet. Her hips are slightly crooked as she stands and pulls on her light baby blue jacket. It’s long and belted at the waist but she leaves it open. She slips her book into her canvas bag and hangs it over her shoulder. She cradles the container in her arm, leaning on the chair before she takes her first step.

He noted that before. One leg seems longer than the other as she limps across the quiet restaurant. She doesn’t seem bothered by her uneven gait, she simply goes on. She stops by the door and looks at the little figurine; a smiling cat waving an arm.

He puts his head down and listens to her departure. He looks down at his gloves hands, turning over his left as a glint of metal peeks out below the sleeve. Someone like him can be fixed but she’s there, with her small steps, forgotten.

He gets up so quickly, he hits his leg on the table. He hurriedly gathers up his sketchbook and clutches it against his leftovers. He waves to Mrs. Zhao as he marches out but can’t untangle his voice from his chest. He doesn’t want to lose her. He can’t lose another thing.

In the street, he catches sight of her blue coat. She’s not very quick as it is. He can easily keep up but he doesn’t want to meet her pace. She can’t see him. Not yet.

He rounds the corner nearly a block back from her. He pauses to feign interest in a window as she clutches her hip and slows. She stops not much further down as a bearded man sits against the brick with a cup jingling in his hand. She speaks so quietly, even the man on the pavement has to lean in. If it wasn’t for the laboratory torture, Bucky wouldn’t hear her either.

She’s sorry that she spent all her change but he can have the food. At first, the man’s face twists, he doesn’t seem happy with that. Then he accepts as if he can’t bear to deny her. Who could?

“Thanks, lady,” the man sounds like a buzzard.

She nods and wishes him a good day, as good as it can be, she adds. Then she’s off again.

As Bucky trails her, he’s reminded of someone else. Of someone who once needed him. His protection and care. Just another person who abandoned him. The one person who could’ve understood him. Gone, just like everything else.

He tucks his chin down, eyes narrowing on the woman. Target acquired. He shakes off that thought, that worrying echo of the past. He’s not the machine they made him. He’s still a man. Alone and broken, just like they left him.

Like her.

Her

Just along the crooked and cracked walk, behind the overgrown bush, there lays the peeling door behind the creaky metal grate. It’s a grim scene but sometimes you pretend it’s a hidden entrance and that you’re unlocking the passage to some fantastical world. You twist the key, wiggling it before it catches, and you pull as hard as you can.

The wrought iron is heavy and one of the bars juts out enough to catch your sleeve. You use your shoulder to hold the outer door open as you unlock the second. You stumble inside, your hip achy and overworked. You close both doors tight, cranking the deadbolts back into place.

The rain will come soon. It’s why you wore your jacket. You expected it to come earlier but you’re glad it didn’t. The change in pressure always wracks your bones.

You hang the baby blue coat as you put your canvas bag on the worn wicker seat of the chair beside the door. The apartment is small but it’s all yours. The single room is a kitchen, bedroom, and everything else but the bathroom. That is barely more than a closet.

There’s a thump from above. Several as the neighbours’ toddler barrels around. You should’ve waited until after nap time to leave.

You leave your boots on the woven mat and fish out the novel from your bag. You limp across to the folding couch, still a bed as you hadn’t bothered to roll away the flimsy mattress. You lower yourself onto it, pulling a pillow behind you as you recline.

Your pelvis is sore. The chair in the restaurant wasn’t very comfortable, though the food was good for the cost. You don’t eat out very often. Not really at all but it’s your birthday and you wanted to do something special.

You open the pages and quickly dive back into another life. A world where magic can weave miracles but tempts a dangerous darkness in its use. No good thing comes without a price.

You slump down as you read. The sunlight slowly fades as the clouds shift and the din deepens. You close the book as you look across the room at the floor lamp. The small distance across the room seems akin to Tolkien’s infamous trek. You don’t want to get up, you just want to sleep in the damp afternoon.

You sigh and put the book beside you. You rub your eyes and forehead and bend one leg, then the other. Your muscles are taut and protest with a dull burn. You can’t read in the dark, you’ll get another headache.

You groan and push yourself to sit on the edge of the mattress. The slender frame echoes you sharply as you stand. Your right foot comes down heavier than the left as you cross the space. You flick on the light and flinch as a storm cloud seems to pass over your very window.

You turn to face the gap between the curtains. How strange. You near the pane as rain speckles on the outside. You peer up at the slat of sky visible between the rooftops.

You twitch again as you hear something mulch. You whip your head to the side as you look towards the bush. It could be a critter hiding in the bin, no time to find their nest as the storm rises.

You back away, puffing out your fright. Living alone makes you paranoid, even if you prefer it. You live by your own rules, your own schedule, your own whims. The problem is, you’re finding it difficult to figure all those out. You don’t know what you want.

You sit again and rub your lower back. The only thing you can name, you can’t have. The pain is your eternal companion. The looks you get when you venture out are just as persistent. You felt those curious, somewhat dejecting, glances today. You don’t care if they think you walk a bit oddly, you just don’t like to be looked at.

You turn your head to gaze longingly at the kettle. It’s the perfect weather for tea and you forgot to get a cup of green at the restaurant. Yet, it’s a very far way to go, then back again to wait for the water to steam.

You relent. You stand up and go to the small counter set into the wall. You flip on the electric kettle and lean on the chipped laminate. The toddler’s footsteps rumble like thunder overhead and the shadows once more stir behind you.

You turn to face the apartment, hands curled around the counter’s edge. The steady drip of the eaves form a tempo as the rain spatters harder against the window, rattling it in the wooden frame. The doors quiver too as the tempest blows into the alley.

You used to like rainstorms, before they made you hurt so much. Before they seemed so dark. You used to like a lot of things before you were broken. Those days seem very far behind you. Sometimes, you wonder if they ever were.

#bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #the lonely souls club #falcon and the winter soldier #captain america #avengers #mcu #marvel #dark!fic #winter soldier #series

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lubby-beez · 11 months

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Explaining the FNAF lore at 3 am

🚧 Wips

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andromeda3116 · 10 months

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all right we did the "underrated badass moment" and riza communicating to roy about selim's nature from right under bradley's nose won, so how about this?

#fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist #fmab #fma #look narrowing this down to nine options was Not Easy #i know someone is gonna be like WHAT ABOUT ED USING HIS OWN SOUL AS A STONE TO HEAL HIMSELF #or WHAT ABOUT OLIVIER TAKING A TANK TO SLOTH #or WHAT ABOUT ARMSTRONG VERSUS SLOTH #or WHAT ABOUT IZUMI SHOWING UP TO TURN THE TIDE OF BATTLE #or WHAT ABOUT MUSTANG ABSOLUTELY INCINERATING ALL THE PUPPET SOLDIERS #like there are so many choices here #it could honestly almost be its own bracket

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cyborg-franky · 15 days

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Hi OP I hope you’re doing well! ❤️ Can I request some hcs of one piece characters favorite video games?

Man this might seem so biased because I like/hyper fixate on only a handfull of games but lets see... [Yes, most of these are games I am into WOOPS]

Ace - Loves FPS - He plays games like Overwatch, TF2, L4D and Dead by Daylight. - He enjoys shoot first ask questions later type games. - DPS for life. - Borderlands is also a game he likes. - Saints Row, GTA, Duke Nukem. DOOM. Anything along these lines. - Action with a dose of horror element. - Explosions and fire are a huge bonus. Sabo - Sims - but on chaos mode. He loves to play God, and he’s the type of person who would build a pool without a ladder. - He might be against capitalism, but that doesn’t mean he won’t use a few cheat codes and pirate versions so his sims can live out their best lives.

Luffy - Pokemon games. He mostly plays Pokemon GO so he can go out and be social with his brothers and friends. He and Usopp do all the raids together. - Anything easy and brightly colored has his attention.

Nami - Mobile phone game queen. - Literally anything tycoon. - Where you can buy and sell and build. - Is like level 90000000 on every ‘swap something’ or ‘merge’ game. - Plays while making money at her job. Sanji - Dating sims, obviously. - Also, hentai games. - And Animal Crossing. Usopp - Minecraft, Strawdew Valley. Anything that's open and fun. - Also big into Pokemon and plays with Luffy, - He also loves point-and-click adventures like Monkey Island. Zoro - Pokemon sleep. - Streetfighter, TEKKEN, Mortal Kombat. All those sorts of games. - Shinobi games also.

Chopper - Cute, easy games or hardcore doctor simulators. - Animal Crossing. - Nintendogs, cats, anything silly and cute with animals.

Brook - Dating games - Hentai games - Among Us - Really dumb meme-bait games like I Am Toast and Goat Simulator

Franky - Minecraft, Roblox, anything that’s building and making. - Retro games, like Golden Axe, Sonic the Hedgehog, Streets of Rage, Toe Jam, and Earl. - Older platform and side-scrolling games.

Jinbei - Games you can farm and fish on. - Also racing/driving games. - Is a beast on Mario Cart Robin - Fantasy games like Skyrim. - Indie horror like FNAF, SCP, Zoochosis, I have no mouth, and yet I must scream. - All the really intense horrors like Silent Hill, Resident Evil, and Condemned. - Just anything with awful, horrible monsters and lore, and she is all over it and thinks the monsters are cute.

Corazon - Candycrush mom. Kid - GTA, Bulletstorm, the most bloody and violent games you can get your hands on. - Ones that are banned in countries. - Wolfenstein. - Also partial to the Guitar Hero/Rockstar type games. Killer - Cooking Mama - Guitar Hero/Rockband Marco - He doesn’t game alot, but if he sees an old-school arcade, he’ll go and play things. - House Of The Dead, Packman, Space Invaders, Time Crisis. He often gets dragged to the arcade by Ace.

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sanguith · 2 years

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I am a man of my word. Here’s ALL the mercs in crop tops, part 1: Scout, Heavy, Medic. (Part 2, Part 3)

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #NOT ONE SOUL SHALL BE SPARED #DEMO ENGIE AND SOLDIER NEXT #this is so much fun lol #yes scout is just a literal ctrl+c ctrl+v of the original cosmetics item sue me boil my bones over a fire idk #sangthart #click on the image to make it Not Blurry lol it's high res #tf2 crop top mercs #heavymedic #red oktoberfest #because i can't draw heavy and medic in the same picture without them being Gay. its my otp come on

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emotionally-clumsy-soldier · 6 months

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#soldier sure is having a time this halloween #i hear purgatory's nice this time of year #also first time posting my gmod work here!#had to use the hwm models for this post bc the cursed voodoo soul only works with them #they're not terrible #with the right tools that is #anyways #soldier's radio #tf2 soldier #rp ask blog #emotionally xyz mercs #emotionally bisexual soldier #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 gmod #gmod art #zoldier arc

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fantastic-nonsense · 2 years

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this came to me in a dream

#six of crows #crooked kingdom #shadow and bone #wesper #helnik #kanej #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #matthias helvar #nina zenik #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #grishaverse #the deepest irony of all time is 'bring me to life' being one of the most kanej songs I've ever encountered #in a time where this meme is actually a thing #otp: on the seas and in the city #otp: you can't kiss me from down there #otp: twin soul soldiers

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fleursfairies · 6 months

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was watching endgame and at tonys funeral wanda and bucky were standing together thats so funny actually

"he basically killed my parents so im gonna stand next to the guy who killed his parents" 💀💀💀

idk its just funny to me

#like obviously they weren't actually thinking that #but lets just say i dont think either of their souls were absolutely crushed #wanda maximoff #bucky barnes #scarlet witch #winter soldier #endgame #avengers #avengers endgame #tony stark #iron man #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu

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doodlebloo · 10 months

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I’m sure I’ve said this but Penelope Scott “Feel Better” is so c!Tubbo it’s actually insane.

#i think i might have died there twice and i would do it all again... im a nihilist a soldier an ocd machine... LMANBERG TRAUMA!!!#i guess i really loved you and now youre over there and im way over here what am i gonna do... EXILE TRAUMA!#i was worth something i fucking earned something i had a right to live a right to die a right to choose too... NEEDING TO FEEL USEFUL!#i dont wanna get over it id give anything to miss you again... REPRESSION OF EMOTIONS!#HE DOESNT MISS HIS DEAD LOVED ONES BC THEY ALWAYS COME BACK AND HE CANT AFFORD TO LET HIMSELF GRIEVE.!#all my filthy life i loved someone i barely knew... HE BARELY EVEN KNEW CRANBOO.!#DO YOU HEAR ME IS ANYONE THEREEEEEE #IF I COULD DRAW ID MAKE THE MOST SOUL CRUSHING ANIMATIC......#doodle.txt

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fem0ral-artery · 3 months

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Tonight's cooldown sketch

#my art #borderlands #roland the soldier #borderlands 2 #can you tell I'm thinking about Roland...#no cause i saw that poll where someone put him against rhys and he lost and it hurt my soul.#fell to my knees....#some of you are sick in the head i think sorry.#im not gonna post rhys anymore until either Roland gets more notes than any of my Rhys art and I mean that.#i love you guys tho i promise... i say this all with love

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madcat-world · 3 months

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Nito - AnatoFinnstark

#Nito #AnatoFinnstark #Gravelord Nito #Dark Souls #giant #skeletons #undead #soldiers #fighters #necromancer #game art #dark fantasy #digital art

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

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The Lonely Souls Club 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: we're almost through the week.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky

Bucky can smell her body soap as it wafts off her. Everything about her makes him giddy. Just walking beside her, getting to look at her, getting to talk to her!

And now, he’s taking her out to lunch. Almost like a real date.

He’s antsy to get to the restaurant. He tried to measure his patience as best he could as he fixed the lock. While she showered and dressed in the small bathroom, he paced her apartment, taking the chance to adjust a few of the cameras. Better, he can see the door.

He is mindful not to walk too fast for her. She seems to be moving a little better. If it’s the short nap she took or the shower, he’s not sure, but he’s happy for it.

She’s shy. He knows she’s often alone and keeps to herself but she sends him sheepish glances only to quickly look away each time their eyes meet. Her heart continues to race just as it did when she awoke to the intruder.

He steps ahead of her and opens the door of the noodle shop. She looks up and her eyes scan the sign then the windows. She lifts her cane in ahead of her as she steps through, “this place is good.”

He smiles. He hasn’t been back since the first time he saw her. Now he’s with her and he can hardly believe it. He follows her in as Mrs. Zhao greets them. She shows her surprise with a clap and a squeal.

“You brought a friend,” she muses.

“Uh, yeah,” he answers as the woman leans on her cane, stuck in limbo between them.

“Let me get you seated,” Zhao speaks to her and ushers her along as Bucky trails behind. They sit in a booth as menus await them and Mrs. Zhao bows before she leaves them.

She, his companion, his date, nestles her cane against the wall of the booth and her eyes flit around. She peeks at the menu then at him. She folds her hands in her lap, making no move to peruse the options further.

“You come here a lot? She knows you?” She glances towards the kitchen.

“Ah, yeah,” he answers with a nervous chuckle, “I don’t always have the energy to cook so…”

She nods and shifts on the seat. He sees how her cheek ticks and she grips the edge of the table to adjust her posture. He flutters his fingers over the laminated menu.

“Is it okay? Are you uncomfortable?” He leans forward.

“Fine,” she ekes out and brings her fingertips to the edge of the menu.

“Right, um, well, if you want a little padding you could sit on my jacket,” he offers.

Her lips curve softly and her brows raise, “that’s really nice but I’m okay.”

She looks down again at the menu. He sees how she chews her lip and slants her mouth. He knows exactly what she’s looking at. Not the dishes but the prices. It's a habit. He’s been there too. Pinching every penny, darning every sock and sleeve until it’s too frayed to mend, stretching broth with water, and washing with no soap. His bad days are over and he wants to help end hers too.

“How about we do the meal for two special,” he offers as he sees her fixate on the sides section. Three spring rolls isn’t going to stop the growling in her stomach that awoke the minute they stepped inside. “It’s a good deal. You can pick the type of noodle.”

“Oh, uh,” she taps her fingers, “I guess… if it makes sense.”

“Yeah, I don’t mind,” he insists. He knows the portions are generous. They’ll get enough for her to take a box home, especially with the rolls and salad on the side. “Do you like Udon or chow mein?”

“I like both,” she says, “udon, maybe, if you like it.”

“Sounds good to me. Broth? I don’t really like the beef, it hurts my stomach.”

“Pork’s good,” she suggests, “if you want.”

“Sure,” he agrees, heartened that she didn’t push back on his idea. She needs a good meal, not half a cup of oatmeal with six raisins on top.

“Tea,” Mrs. Zhao interrupts, a tray in her hand. She sets it down, presenting a big slate gray pot and matching cups.

“Thanks,” he says as she echoes him in a small voice. He gives their order and Mrs. Zhao leaves them with a rosy smile, a definitive look sent from one to the other.

He pours tea into the cups and sets one in front of her. She looks at the contents then him. She thanks him and leans in to inhale the scent. Her stomach rumbles viciously and she winces.

“So, how long have you been in the city?” He asks, turning his own cup nervously.

“Um, since high school,” she answers, “so… a while. What about you?”

“Born and raised,” he says proudly. “Always happen to come back.”

She nods and blows across the tea but doesn’t drink as the steam puffs hotly. Her eyes flit over and her stomach grumbles again. She watches another table as they clink cutlery on their dishes. She’s fighting it but she’s starving.

“Uh, wow, didn’t even realise I’m so hungry,” he says, “I don’t even think I had dinner last night.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs and turns her eyes to the table, “and you didn’t get much sleep. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I’m a bit of an insomniac. Got a bit restless last night and good thing I did or I wouldn’t have been able to scare that guy off, huh,” he stills the cup and flicks his thumb around the curve of the rim.

“I guess,” she puts her hands to her neck and shivers, “that was really scary.”

“Well it’s a good thing I deal with scary people all the time,” he says, “lot of people say the same about me so I guess that helps.”

“Oh,” she bats her lashes and her eyes meet his, “I didn’t mean–”

“I know, I’m joking,” he assures her. She’s so jumpy, he wonders if that has anything to do with her limp. If maybe she’s afraid of everyone and everything for a reason. Well, she won’t have to be, not with him.

“Ah,” she forces a smile, “right.”

“Hey, you held your own,” he sits up straighter, “you swing that cane like a champ.”

“Yeah, ha,” she laughs, just a small one as he reaches for the tea cup again, “I… I hit that guy.”

He chuckles too, “you did. Honestly, I think after that, there’s no way he’ll be back.”

Her

You try to eat slowly and it doesn’t take much before you’re painfully full. You put the chopsticks down and take a napkin to wipe your mouth. Bucky smiles at you, a noodle hanging from his lips as he slurps it up.

“Sorry,” he covers his mouth, “caught me at a bad moment.”

“It’s good, I… I’m full,” you look at the noodles still left in your bowl.

“Oh, no worries, we’ll just ask for a container,” he says, “be good to have some leftovers in the fridge… just in case.”

“Uh, yeah,” you agree. You wonder if maybe he saw inside your empty fridge or he just means well.

“I’m getting there myself,” he stirs his bowl with his chopsticks.

She nods and he raises his hand as he sees Mrs. Zhao, the namesake for the restaurant, “excuse me, hi, sorry, whenever you have a chance.”

She acquiesces and rushes off. He sits back and smacks his stomach, “mm, did you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s very good,” you agree.

Mrs. Zhao returns and offers the bill to Bucky. You look away, embarrassed.

“I forgot to mention, can you add a box of tea,” he hands it back.

She agrees and whisks off again. You sit in silence, awkwardly searching the restaurant. You would offer to pay for your own but you can’t. You’re dirt poor. You can’t help but think he knows it too. No one is that nice. It only takes one look around your place to see it.

Zhao returns once more, sets a box of tea before him and some containers, then the bill. He pays in cash and tells her to keep the change. She chimes thankfully and wishes you both a good day. You pour your noodles into the container and seal the lid. Bucky does the same.

You grab your cane and turn on the bench, dragging yourself across to plant it on the floor. You brace the table and stand as he does so much easier than you. He takes his container and yours, stacking them atop each other, then the tea on the very top.

“Oh, thanks,” you utter as you get your feet set.

“No problem,” he grins.

He waits for you to go first. You make a slow, uneven advance to the door. You keep your eyes straight as you refuse to notice the glances sent in your direction. The lucky cat by the door waves in farewell as you approach.

Bucky reaches past you and opens the door before you can. You limp out into the street. Your hip burns from the thin cushion of the booth bench.

“That was nice,” he says as he walks beside you, again patiently keeping pace with you.

“It was,” you agree, “it’s really kind of you.”

“You act like having lunch with a pretty girl is a chore,” he jokes.

You scoff, “please.”

“Please what,” he tilts his head.

Your chest pinches and your face heats up, “you’re just being nice.”

“No,” he argues, “I don’t lie.”

A sudden flash glares to your left and your toe catches in the sidewalk. You stagger and land on one knee, the pavement dinging the bony cap harshly as you catch yourself with a hand. Your cane clatters beside you as you look around in confusion.

“Hey, what the hell?” Bucky barks, his voice deeper and scarier than before. “Don’t do that.”

You glance over at a man with a large camera. He blanches from behind the lens but takes another photo. Bucky shifts as if he might lunge at the photographer and he runs off.

Bucky sighs and reaches to grab your arm, gentle but firm.

“Hey, you alright?” He asks in concern, his other arm hugging the containers.

“Yeah, I didn’t see him. I’m sorry, I must’ve stepped on a crack–”

“That jack– guy should be apologising,” he sneers, “so rude.”

“Yeah, I…” you hiss as you grab your cane. He holds onto you, helping you rise, but not too quickly, “I… why would he…” you peer over your shoulder then back to him, “are you famous?”

He huffs and shrugs, “I guess to some people.”

You furrow your brow and let your shoulders sink, “oh.”

“I don’t really think about it, you know? I got a job and I do it. All the attention, I hate it,” his hand slips down your arm and reluctantly falls away. You swallow and turn back down the sidewalk. He walks with you, quiet for a moment before he speaks again, “does that mean you don’t wanna be friends?”

You think as your cane taps between your footsteps, “I didn’t… No, I just…” you take a breath, “I’ve never known anyone famous.”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he sighs.

“Yeah, seems like.”

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