A/N: So I haven’t written for Bucky in a LOOOOOOOOONG time, so this might be very very bad, but whatever, amiright?
Bucky stood in the vintage coffee shop, his coat wrapped tightly around him and his hat pulled down over his eyes. While he was fairly certain that the inhabitants of the café wouldn’t know who he was, he could never be too careful. There always seemed to be a person lurking around the corner, just waiting for him to lower his guard.
I need to buy two inhalers. I have really severe asthma, and it takes very little for me to have a bad attack. They cost about $80 and I’m running out of money–I have yet to find a job or find time to work a job. I have a Poshmark where I’m selling lots of cute clothes, free people, urban outfitters, etc. in fantastic condition and if you could reblog this or just take a look, I’d appreciate it.
broe I went to urban outfitters earlier and this shit was on the rack for $25 and I had to fucking look it up to make sure some poor dunkin employee didn’t just leave their fuckin uniform hat at the store. what the fuck