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Gaining weight after going through a traumatic event is completely normal.

Gaining weight after going through 70 years of traumatic events is completely normal.

Bucky knows this. His therapist told him it’s completely normal. Stark told him it’s completely normal. Even Banner reassured him.

But he still feels terrible looking in the mirror. He turns to face the front, groaning. He had started working with Stark a couple of months ago to try and fix his little brainwashed problem. He got a newer, sleeker arm, started spending time outside, and even started seeing a therapist. Everything was going so great.

Bucky had spent his free time exploring and trying to figure out as much about this new world as he possibly could. He explored how the city that he once knew had changed. He stopped in all the different shops, wandered all the new parks, and visited as many museums as he could.

Living in a new world came with trying all the new food. He was finally in a time in his life where he didn’t need to worry about money, and he could afford so much more than just boiled cabbage. So he took advantage of that.

He ate everything he could get his hands on. Stark brought in doughnuts, and Bucky just couldn’t leave those last two sitting there. That would be such a waste. Natalia made blini, and Bucky felt so guilty even thinking about throwing away the leftovers, so instead, he just ate them. Steve and he went out to eat together, and Bucky could not sit there and let the waiter throw away their food. There was a time in his life where he didn’t have anything to eat, and he was not going to let this opportunity get away. He may never get to eat food again, so he should enjoy what he has while he has it.

Bucky curses himself, pissed that he ever thought that mentality was ok. He squeezes his sides, feeling the lumpy fat between his fingers, knowing that this is all his fault and that he should have noticed his condition before it got to be too late.

It is already too late.

He’s lost the muscle definition he once had. He’s lost his sharps abs, his thick arms, and his razor-sharp jawline. Now all he has is flab. He hates that he ever let himself get this way because now he has to live with it. He has to live with the glances people give him whenever they think he isn’t looking. He has to live with the comments, the ‘oh, it’s such a shame’ and ‘how did he let himself get like that’. He has to live knowing how undesirable he has become.

“Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers is approaching.” Bucky jumps back at the voice, still not use to Jarvis despite living with the A.I. for multiple months now. He scrambles to pull on a shirt, grabbing the closest item. He turns around just as Steve walks in.

“Hey Buck,” Steve says, smiling as he rakes his eyes over Bucky. He’s looking at how undesirable you’ve become. He is seeing all the disgusting fat clinging to your worthless body and wondering why he ever wanted to be with you. God, he probably hates you. Poor Captain America, stuck dating the fat, ugly, worthless Winter Soldier. He just pities you. You know he doesn’t really like you, right? You know he is just-

“Natasha is finishing up dinner, so come down when you are ready. She’s making some weird Russian dish, knish maybe?” Steve gives him a kiss on the forehead and leaves the room, shutting the door tight. Bucky looks back up into the mirror, cringing. Of course Steve was looking at him. The one article of clothing he just had to have picked up was one of Steve’s ubertight workout tops. One of the ones that hugged Steve’s chest perfectly and left just a little bit of room around the stomach, so if he turned to fast just a glimpse of his abs would show.

On Bucky, it was hideous. The shirt hugged his stomach, and he could see the seams stretching to try and accommodate his disgusting fat. It fits tight around his chest too. He just feels gross looking in the mirror. He wants to rip off all the fat that holds on to him and become good again. Bucky’s chin trembles as he gazes at himself. How did he let himself go like this? In what world did he think it was ok for him to get this grotesque?

He refuses to let himself cry though. It is his fault he is like this. He can-no he will-do something about this. For himself. For Steve. For everyone.

“Bucky! Dinner!” Steve yells for him.

Bucky takes a deep breath in.

Game time.

Chapter Text

Bucky walks down to the common room one step at a time, trying his best to keep his breath calm and collected. After the whole ‘tight-shirt’ thing, Bucky had thrown on the biggest sweatshirt he could find. It was one that Stark had gotten him for a gag-gift, with Steve’s shield plastered big on the front. Stark had gotten them matching hoodies--Steve got one with the red star on it, and Bucky got the shield. Bucky had never actually seen Steve wear it. He didn’t expect Steve to want to advertise his relationship to a fat, ugly murderer.

Bucky shudders and shoves his hands into his pocket. He starts thinking about dinner, absolutely terrified. He knows he had to find a way to somehow not eat without any of them getting concerned. Not that they would be concerned. They would probably be grateful that you are finally losing some weight. Maybe then they wouldn’t be so embarrassed to hang out with you. Speaking of hanging out, when was the last time any of them actually asked you to hang out first? Exactly. Steve is always so busy with ‘missions’ and ‘work’ to hang out with you. You know that is just a lie, right? He doesn’t want to be around you. He hates what you have become, he hates what you have become, he hates what youhavebecomehehateswhatyouhavebecomehehates-

No one notices when Bucky walks into the room. Not that you should expect them to. Natalia is standing over at the stove, hitting Clint’s hand away whenever he tries to take a piece. Clint yells over to Sam, Natalia swatting him again for “being a nuisance”. Bucky pulls his hoodie tighter around him. He wants to disappear.

“Buck!” Steve sees him from the coach and waves him over. “There you are. We’ve been waiting for you.” Oh. Apparently his self-loathing had taken longer than he had expected. Or maybe it was the digging through his closet trying to find a piece of clothing that didn’t make him want to kill himself.

Bucky smiles at Steve and hopes it doesn’t come off like a grimace. It feels like it does. Steve gives him a weird look, and Bucky chooses to ignore it. He makes his way over to the table and sits down, curling into himself. He focuses on taking deep, slow breaths, itching to run his hands through his hair. It’s a technique he’s used since HYDRA made him grow his hair out. It grounds him and reminds him of when he and Steve used to sit in his mother’s living room and Steve would play with his hair.

Those were simpler times. When he was happy. When he wasn’t fat.

Natalia places the plates on the tables and whisks back into the kitchen to do who knows what. The food smells so good. Bucky’s stomach growls and he turns a bright red, looking around to make sure no one heard that. Luckily, no one noticed him. No one ever seems to notice him.

Slowly, the team (or what’s left of the team, half the time they are on missions or working or down in labs) joins Bucky around the table. They are all talking, and loudly. Bucky can barely think between the delicious (fatty, his brain supplies) smell and the screaming of his teammates. He wants the floor to open up and swallow him.

Natalia comes back, laying some sauces on the table.

“Dig in,” she invites them. Immediately, five pairs of hands reach into the middle of the table, trying to grab whatever they can. Bucky didn’t notice Stark or Banner enter the room, despite them sitting right across from him. Lousy assassin. You are actually fucking useless. Can’t even notice one of the loudest people known to man coming into the room. How are you ever going to be useful to the team? They have Clint and Natalia. They don’t need you.

Bucky shudders and looks around the table. Natalia has grabbed a reasonable portion of food, enough to sustain her but not too much. So has Sam. Steve has grabbed a normal amount too, or as normal as can be for a super soldier who needs four times the amount of food as a normal human. Clint, fucking Clint, looks like he has about double what Steve has on his plate, and he looks determined to eat it all.

“Watch out, Clint!” Stark yells from across the table. “You keep eatin’ like that and you’re gonna get fat!” Everyone laughs. Bucky’s breath is caught in his throat. They know. You know they know. Stark is talking about you. They know how fat and disgusting you are. Maybe that’s why no one wants to talk to you. Maybe if you would lose some weight and not always just eat, well maybe then they would actually want you. Pathetic little-

“James, are you going to eat anything?” Natalia eyes him.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, was just-just thinkin’,” Bucky murmurs, not entirely sure she can hear him. He serves himself some food (entirely too much food) and pokes it with his fork. He has absolutely no appetite, especially not with the feeling of his thighs touching each other. Bucky takes a deep breath and takes a bite.

Fuck, it’s good. The flavor explodes on his tongue, and he just wants to eat every single morsel he can get his hands on. It’s savory and tangy and absolutely perfect. He takes another bite quickly. And another. And another. And another. And another.

“Jesus Barnes, you look like you’ve never been fed before,” Stark laughs, nudging Banner with his elbow. Bucky’s face turns a bright red, and he puts down his fork. His hands are shaking with embarrassment. His eyes get blurry and he can’t focus on anything. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. The rest of the table is laughing. Laughing. Fucking wild animal. Jesus Christ. This is why they don’t like you. You can’t even eat right. Disgusting. Pathetic. You. Can’t. Even. Eat. Right. You’re a fucking joke. Steve doesn’t want you. He’s never wanted you.

Bucky keeps his eyes downcast for the rest of the meal. No one tries to talk to him. He’s not even sure anyone looked at him after what Stark said. He knows the rest of the team thinks he is disgusting. How could they not? He’s only gone maybe seven hours without food and he is eating like a wild animal (you can’t go without food for that long; you have the same metabolism as Steve, the logical part of his brain tells him. Bucky tells that part to shut up. If he had the same metabolism, why did he get so disgustingly fat so quickly?).

Bucky digs his nails into his thigh as they start cleaning up. Natalia took his plate without even asking him. His chin trembles. She knows something is wrong. He’s the only one left at the table. He digs his nails into his leg harder. God, you made a fool out of yourself at dinner. That was really, really humiliating. No wonder no one tried to talk to you after that. Why would anyone ever want to talk to someone who eats like an actual animal? Looks like all of HYDRA’s work trying to tame you has been for nothing. You should really just go back to them. It’s not like the team would ever care about you. You deserve everything. Bucky’s digging his nails into his thigh so hard he is scared he’s going to start bleeding. It hurts so bad. You deserve everything you dirty fairy faggot.

“Hey Bucky,” Steve lays a hand on his shoulder. His eyes are laced with concern. “You doing ok?” Bucky shrugs. Steve takes that as a sign. “Hey, it’s ok Bucky. You’re allowed to have bad days. Listen, the team was planning on watching a movie. Why don’t we go up and have just a quiet night in? Just you and me.”

When Bucky gets out of his chair, Steve is right there with his arms open. Bucky practically falls into the embrace. Bucky can’t really tell what Steve is saying to him, but it is so sweet and soft. He doesn’t even notice it when he starts crying. Weak. Real weak. Making Steve deal with all your problems. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want you.

Steve tells the team some bullshit lie about Bucky being sick, and before he knows it, Steve is leading him up to their room. He tucks Bucky in softly, wrapping the blankets around him. Steve climbs in bed and holds Bucky tight to his chest.

“I love you, baby,” Steve says quietly.

Bucky doesn’t say anything back.

Bucky doesn’t feel anything but numbness.

Chapter Text

Run. Run. Run.

Bucky’s feet pound against the rough ground.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

He doesn't know why he is running. He’s so scared. So, so scared. What’s chasing him?

Fear. Fear. Fear.

What’s wrong? What’s Wrong? WHAT’S WRONG?

He runs into a mirror. Where is he? All he can see is darkness. His feet smack against the hard cold floor when he takes a step back. When did he get inside?

The mirror is broken. Stupid.

Bad luck bad luck badluck.

He’s so tired. Exhaustion drains his body.

He looks up into the mirror. Fat Fat Fat Fat. His broken reflection is unrecognizable.

No one no one no one.

Steve’s behind him. When did he get here?

Bucky tries to talk to him. It comes out gurgled.

Failure failure failure.

“You think I would ever want you? I could have anyone in the world. I’m Captain America, and you’re nothing but a speck of dust in my way,” Steve spits. Bucky can’t see his face. It’s all blurred. Steve hates him steve hates him stevehateshimstevehateshimsteve-

When did Stark get here? Worthless assassin.

“I don’t want you in my tower. You stupid waste of resources. God, you eat so much! We could actually give all that food and money to a worthy cause, but instead it’s going to you and your worthless body. You killed my parents. You think I want you anywhere near me after that?” Stark laughs, the sound deep and terrifying.

It is coming from everywhere and nowhere.

He’s alone again.

Alone alone ALONE ALONE.


No no no no nononononononono


Please NO.

He’s crying. When did he start crying?


He’s been so good so good so good what did he do to deserve this?

No please he’ll be good so good so good he’s been so bad so bad so bad but he can be better.


Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sor-

Bucky wakes up screaming. His entire body aches, and he feels more exhausted than he did when he went to bed. He just wants to go back to bed.

He just wants to die.

He should kill himself.

Bucky holds back a choked sob. He wants to scream. He shouldn’t draw any attention to himself though. JARVIS will get worried and tell someone. He’s not allowed to worry anyone. Even though they really don’t care. No one ever cares about you. Fat disgusting fairy faggot. You don’t deserve love. You’ve disappointed everyone. Worthless fairy. Bucky takes a deep breath and looks around. Steve is gone. Probably on his run or training, because he actually wants to keep his body healthy. Or, you know he’s probably out with someone much better than you. Skinnier. Funnier. Prettier. Not a murderer. Bucky shakes his head.

The clock reads 9:57AM, and Bucky really just wants to go back to sleep. He knows he is on dinner duty tonight, and other than that, the team won’t be looking for him. Why would they ever go out of their way to spend time with you? Fucking pathetic, thinking anyone actually wants to be around you. He gets up from the bed slowly, muscles aching and shoulders heavy. Every part of his body feels weighed down. Probably guilt. Or the hundred pounds you’ve put on in the last year.

Bucky freezes. One hundred pounds? There’s no way, right? He couldn’t have gained one hundred pounds in less than a year? That’s ten pounds a month. He feels his breath speed up. His mouth goes dry. Bucky looks down at his body. His stomach stands out hideously. His thighs are gross and disgustingly big and horrible. He can feel the way his chin was sitting against his neck. Gross fairy.

The second Bucky gets into the bathroom he drops to his knees. It has to be here somewhere, it has to. Bucky doesn’t think he ever saw Steve get rid of it. He roots around in their cabinets, pushing aside razors, shampoo, and soap to find what he is looking for.

He holds the electric scale in his hands, it’s weight heavy and grounding. The cold metal feels smooth in his palm.

They had gotten the scale about seven months ago. Steve was scared he wasn’t eating enough and was losing weight, so he bought the scale to make sure he was on the right track. Since, Steve had become comfortable with his new body and knew the signs of undereating. He hadn’t had to touch the scale in seven months. Steve was able to lose weight without even trying. Imagine if he was trying. He would never let himself get to be such a disgusting weight. Steve takes care of himself. He works out, eats right, and actually makes an effort to try and look good. Unlike you. Why is he still with you? You should just break up with him to make it easier for him.

Bucky sets the scale down on the cold tile floor. He cringes at the sound of metal against tile. Bucky stands back up, towering over the scale. He catches a glimpse of his body in the mirror. His face twists in disgust as he rakes his eyes over the miles and miles of fat collecting over every pore of his body. He wants to scream. When did you let yourself get so utterly disgusting? No wonder Steve stays away from you. He doesn’t want to be associated with such a pathetic pig. Gross. Your body is gross.

Bucky juts out his jaw and looks up to the ceiling. He can feel tears collecting around the side of his eyes. Aw, is the pathetic little faggot going to cry? Is the little fairy going to be weak? Only weak gay men cry. Suck it up and deal with life. Pathetic. He steps on to the scale, fists clenched.




Bucky’s eyes aren’t focusing when the numbers pop up.


264. 264. Two-hundred and sixty-four. Minus fifteen for the arm. 249. Two-hundred and forty-nine. He weighs two-hundred and forty-nine pounds.

Bucky feels like he’s going to throw up.

He’s disgusting.

He’s going to be sick.

No you’re not. Suck it up. You did this to yourself.

He weighed 201 pounds when he first starting living in the tower (you were severely underweight at the time, you were working out so much and HYDRA wasn't actually feeding you enough, the logical part of his brain tells him; Bucky chooses to selectively not hear it, he doesn’t deserve the reassurance).

He’s gained 48 pounds. Forty-eight. That’s five pounds a week.

Bucky feels light-headed.

Disgusting faggot.

He doesn’t have the energy for this.

Bucky decides to go back to bed.

Chapter Text

259.3, the scale reads.

You only lost five pounds. It’s been a fucking week. With your metabolism, you should have lost so much more. Jesus, this is why Steve doesn’t want you. He’s been spending all that extra time ‘training’ just to get away from you. You are such a burden.

Bucky lets out a shaky breath as he steps off the scale. Carefully, he places the scale back in the cabinet right where it was originally. Though he knows Steve won’t notice the scale slightly out of place, there is this tiny part of his brain that is absolutely terrified of anyone finding out about his thing, especially Steve. He, under no circumstances, can burden Steve with any of his problems.

Bucky gets dressed quickly. He has a stupid press conference he has to go to because someone did something and now the public wants all the Avengers (even though you aren’t really a part of the Avengers; you are just a fuck-up they picked up on the way) to say sorry or something pointless like that. He hates press conferences. Everyone stares at him for too long. They yell at him. It gets too loud. Too loud. Too loud too loud too loud too loud tooloudtooloudtooloud-

Bucky digs his nails into his legs sharply, drawing him back to the present. He looks down to see like crescent marks filling with blood. He sighs and grabs a tissue, harshly wiping the blood off. Those marks have become more and more frequent, new ones appearing on his legs every day. You deserve pain. You should have never been rescued from HYDRA. Maybe then the Avengers wouldn’t have to deal with such a burdensome fairy faggot taking up so much room with his fat ugly body. It’s the least you can do, really. You deserve to feel as much pain as possible. You’re helping others by hurting yourself. It’s a small tradeoff, really.

Bucky does a quick check in the mirror to make sure his outfit hides everything. Of course, it doesn’t. He can still see his grotesque stomach fat pushing against his black sweater, but there is no way he has time to change, and he certainly is not going to find something that will flatter his atrocious body anymore. Begrudgingly, he decides his outfit will have to do.

Bucky lets out a quiet groan as he sees the flashy car-more like limo-parked out in front of Stark Industries. People are staring at it (they are really staring at you and your disgusting fat body). Bucky wants to curl up into a ball and die.

“Hey! Buckaroo! Get in before we leave without you!” Stark calls. Sighing, he climbs into the vehicle, silenting wishing they would just leave without him. Guilt bubbles up in Bucky’s throat. You made them wait for a fat fuck like you. You made them waste their time just so you could spend time looking in the mirror at your disgusting body. You’re so selfish. Pathetic.

Choosing the seat in the corner, Bucky nestles his body as tight against the wall as he can. If he can’t be thin, then he will take up as little room as possible. He’ll be as low maintenance as he can possibly be. Maybe then people will actually want to be around you.

The noise level in the limo is way too high. Clint and Scott are sitting across from each other yelling. Stark keeps trying to join the conversation, screaming his input whenever necessary. Sam and Steve are trying to talk over the noise level, but in turn, just making everything louder. Bucky takes a deep breath, trying to fight back the rising panic.

He hates noise. The screaming and yelling and talking is too too much. It reminds him of HYDRA parties. Those were the only times Bucky was ever paid attention to. Whether he liked it or not.

Bucky bounces his leg up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Something, anything, to distract him. Up and down. Up and down.

The sides of the limo are lined with food and drink galore. Bucky shivers. He hopes no one notices it. He begs to every deity no one offers him any. Why would they? They can all see how fat and disgusting you are. They can all tell what a monster you are. No one wants to be held responsible for that.

It’s almost like the higher powers are working against him. Of course, just as he notices the food, Clint reaches for it.

Up and down.

Clint rips open into a bag of chips with as much noise as he possibly can. He reaches his hand into the bag, rubbing his disgusting germs on what seems like every single chip, before pulling out a literal handful and shoving them all in his mouth.

Bucky wants to throw up.

Up and down.

Scott joins in., shoving his hand down into the bag next to Clint’s. When it comes out, the light catches on the thick patches of grease covering both their hands. Bucky can practically smell the calories from here.

Up and down.

“Jesus Barton! You are practically asking for obesity! Those things have so many calories in them you could practically feed a small village for a week!” Stark grabs the bag from their hands, the plastic crinkling. Bucky can see the grease patches reflecting in the dim light of the limo.

“Wait, let me see the bag,” Steve asks, holding his hand out. Bucky watches as Steve furrows his brows, face scrunching up as he reads the back of it. “150 calories for 10 chips?! No wonder America is having an obesity issue. These things could just ’bout kill you if you ate enough of ‘em.” Steve tosses the bag back to Clint and Scott, both of them laughing.

“Oh, like that’ll ever happen!” I’m not one of those fat fucks who let themselves get disgusting. I actually, ya know, care about my body,” Clint says, laughing.

Fat fuck.

Fat. Fuck.

You let yourself get disgusting.

Fat fuck.

Steve thinks you are obese.

You are obese.

Fat fuck.

Fat fuck.


Asking for it.

Fat fuck.

Fat fuck.

Fat fuck.

Fat fuck.

It’s all your fault. Everyone knows it is. You let yourself get like this. Don’t even pretend like you are upset. You did this to yourself. Fat fuck. You don’t deserve love. You should’ve died when you fell off that train. You should kill yourself. Do you know how easy it would be to just kill yourself? Everyone’s lives would be so much easier if you would just do it. Do it. Kill yourself. Kill yourself. Fat fuck.

Bucky digs his nails into his leg harder. Harder. Harder. You don’t deserve love. Harder. Harder. He is so happy he wore dark jeans. Harder. Harder. You don’t deserve love.

“Come'on Bucky. We’re here,” Steve says softly, helping the man up. The second they step out of the limo, lights are flashing. All around them. All around them. All around them.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok. I’m here. Focus on me. That’s it, there you go. You’re doin’ so good Buck, so good. ‘M here. That’s it,” Steve says quietly, pulling Bucky tight into his side. Bucky breathed in deeply, relishing the strong scent of Steve’s cologne. The smell of safety.

Bucky wraps his arms tight around himself, trying to block all of the people surrounding him. He hates noise so much. So so much. It’s so loud. Too loud. So much. Too much. Too loud too loud too loud too loud so much so much so much-

Bucky can finally breathe when the doors close behind him. Steve loosens his grip and Bucky moves away quickly. Jesus Christ, you are a disgusting fairy. So predatory. Steve doesn’t want you. He thinks you are creepy. He thinks you are manipulative.

They have no time to process where they are before security guards whisk the team into a room. The air is thick and stuffy, and Bucky immediately wants to leave. There is a door on the far side, and Bucky can hear the noise of reporters through the heavy piece of wood. There is food set up in a buffet line. Bucky moves to the other side of the room as fast as he can.

He doesn’t deserve to be near food.

After about five minutes, the door to the conference room is opened. The team slowly filters in, standing up on a raised platform at the front. Bucky shoves his hand deep into his jean pockets. He folds into himself. He wants to go home and sleep. He’s so tired. He’s always tired.

Tony steps forward and starts talking. The words bubble past Bucky’s ears, and he can’t hear anything. It feels like he’s underwater. He keeps his eyes locked on his scuffed shoes. He focuses on Steve’s body heat, his muscular arm pressed against Bucky’s. Not that you are muscular, you’re just kinda fat. Not even kinda. You’re fat. Everyone can see it too. Everyone is looking at you right now. They think you’re disgusting. They are all laughing at you. Right now. They hate you. Why are you even here?

The warm heat suddenly leaves the side of his body. Bucky looks up at Steve makes his way up to the podium. Tony walks back, standing in the spot where Steve once was. Bucky moves away from him.

Steve talks exactly the way fights: hard, strategical, and with no mistakes. His voice fills the room in a way Bucky has never heard. It makes him feel calm. It makes him feel safe.

Bucky scans the audience as Steve talks, gauging their reactions. Bucky has no idea what issue they are talking about today, but just listening to the familiar rhythm of Steve’s voice keeps him calm. His eyes catch on different faces, none of them sticking out to him.

He drums his fingers against his thigh.

His eyes stop on one particular face, and his blood runs cold. The man has a thick jawline, dark eyes, and hair slicked back tightly. He recognizes that face. He recognizes that man. He remembers that man towering over him. Holding him down. Pulling on his hair. Pounding into-

He can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe.

Why can’t he breathe?

He can’t breathe.

When did he get on the floor?


He can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe.

Who’s screaming?

He can’t breathe.

His throat is scratchy.

He’s screaming.





Too loud.


Too much.






Need hurt.

Need to hurt.



So, so scared.






Can’t breathe.

Can’t breathe.

Too much.

No more.

He’ll be good.

So good.

He’s a good boy.

He’s a good boy.

He’s a good boy.

What’s that noise?

He’s a good boy.

Smell. He smells something familiar.

Hold on. Hold on.

“You’re okay Bucky. I’ve got you.”

Bucky lets out a loud sob. His hands are pulled away from his thighs.

“Let it out, let it out.”

He holds on tight.

Soft. He’s holding on to something soft.

Smells so good.

Smells so safe.

So calm.

Smells like-

Smells like Steve.




“Stevie,” Bucky pulls on his shirt tighter.





No no no no no no no no no no no no nonononono-

“I got you Bucky. You’re safe. You’re here with me. You’re safe. I got you,” Steve whispers. Bucky feels fingers being run through his hair.




No one is going to hurt him.


He’s safe.

Stevie’s got him.

He’s going to be ok.

It’s going to be ok.

Chapter Text

The soft sound of Steve singing is what wakes Bucky up. He hears the melody, quiet and beautiful, and the words, soft and sweet. They run through his head, making him forget about any of his worries. Steve’s chest rumbles underneath his head, tickling him.

Bucky lays as still as he possibly can, evening his breathing to match what it would be when he sleeps. He bathes in the warmth of Steve’s body, not daring to move in case Steve realizes he’s awake and stops singing. It’s a skill he learned while he was with HYDRA.




Bucky lets out a harsh sob as his memories flood back. Steve hold him tighter, still singing. He curls into Steve’s side, crying into the man’s shirt. He sobs louder, trying to find the melody again. He can’t. He’s lost it.

Steve seems to realize this and starts to sing louder. Bucky can feel it again, the rumbling and the breathing. He knows Steve is here. He knows Steve is here. Bucky reaches down to scratch his thighs. He needs it. He needs the pain. He’s been bad, bad, bad. He deserves it.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart. None of that. You’re okay. I’ve got you,” Steve pulls Bucky’s hands into his, holding them tight to his chest. Bucky can feel his heart beating.

“No, no, no, no-need it, need it, need it,” Bucky murmurs, turning his face into Steve’s side again. He’s still crying.

“No you don’t. You don’t need to hurt yourself. You’re okay. You don’t need to hurt yourself ever, Bucky baby. You don’t deserve the pain. You don’t need it, either. I got you baby. You’re so good. I love you so much,” Steve says, pulling him and Bucky up into a sitting position. Bucky feels Steve start to rock back and forth, rubbing his back as if he were a baby. Bucky’s sobs have quieted down, and his head is clearing up. He focuses on Steve’s heartbeat--strong and powerful and safe.

Bucky tries to slow his breathing down to match Steve’s. He matches the soft rise and fall of his chest, trying to block out everything but Steve. He focuses on the cold air rushing into his nose and the warm air rushing out. He focuses on the way his heartbeat feels in his ears.

The door opens softly, and Bucky hears someone come in. He feels his face flush bright red and tries to hide from whoever just walked in.

“Hey Steve. Is he awake?” It’s Banner.

“Yeah. Woke up about ten minutes ago, but he’s been asleep since the conference,” Steve responds. He rubs his hands up and down Bucky’s back. Bucky turns his face out but keeps his eyes downcast.

He feels humiliated. He made an absolute fool out of himself in front of everyone. He knows that, by now, the clips and stories will be all over the news. It’s his fault. Of course, it’s your fault. You couldn’t have just reacted normally. Faggot. Everyone thinks you’re weak. The press will have a field day with this one. Maybe now the Avengers will actually drop you. They have a reason to. You have clearly just shown you’re the weakest link. You’re not needed. Why do you think Banner is here? They don’t want you anymore. No one wants you. Bucky sighs, folding his arms over his chest. If they are going to drop them, he just hopes they do it quickly.

“Hi Bucky,” Banner says, squatting down to talk to him face-to-face. “Do you think we can talk? It’s totally okay if you don’t want to.” Banner smiles softly. Bucky nods. He knows he has no right to refuse Banner. Bucky’s the one getting kicked off of the team.

“Do you want Steve here or no? Either way, it is completely fine,” Banner says, looking up to make contact with Steve. Bucky looks down. He doesn’t want Steve in the room to witness Banner telling him he has to leave. That would be utterly humiliating, and he under no circumstances wants Steve to witness that. Steve would be so disappointed in him.

“I-uh-I don’t think I-uh-I don’t want Steve here. Sorry,” Bucky says, staring off into the corner of the room. Steve stands up and kisses the side of Bucky’s head.

“I’ll be in the den if you need me. I love you,” He looks at Bucky, smiles, and then shuts the door. Banner gets up and pulls a chair over to the side of the-bed? Bucky looks around, just now processing the fact he is back in his own room. Or, their room, because he and Steve both sleep here. Not that it will be ‘our room’ anymore. Once you’re off the team Steve is going to kick you out. Steve doesn’t want you around any more than you already are. You’re such a burden on him. He just wants to get rid of you and actually find a partner who doesn’t require constant supervision. He wants to find a partner who isn’t a dirty, slutty assassin. If only he knew the things you had done. He would have never even touched you. Disgusting.

“Do you think you could talk to me about what happened this morning at the conference? I just want to make sure you are completely okay,” Banner says, pulling his sweater around his hands. Bucky swallows. He wasn’t expecting this.

“I don’t really know. I thought I saw someone from-someone from HYDRA. I just freaked out. It’s no big deal. It’s not important,” Bucky says. He knows he shouldn’t worry anyone. He has no right to pretend like anyone actually cares about him.

“Bucky, I don’t think that was just a freak-out. From what it looked like, I believe you just experienced a really, really bad panic attack. Steve and I are worried about you,” Banner says. He holds eye contact with Bucky, trying to gauge the man’s reaction. Bucky shifts uncomfortably. He doesn’t know what Banner is trying to do. There is no way either of them is actually worried about him. It has to be a joke or something. Or maybe Banner is just leading up to kick him off the team. Bucky wouldn’t be surprised.

“ ‘Shouldn’t be. “M fine,” Bucky mumbles. He knows Banner can’t hear him. You don’t deserve their sympathy. You don’t deserve their love. You don’t deserve any happiness. Everyone would be better off without you. Disgusting freak. Worthless. You don’t deserve anything but pain. You don’t deserve to feel anything good. You’re a waste of space and of life. You should just kill yourself.

You should just kill yourself.

Kill yourself.

He should kill himself. It would make everyone’s lives easier and happier. He’s just a waste of time and energy. Worthless.

“Bucky, Steve and I are also worried about another thing. We don’t know if you are doing it on purpose or what, but we are scared you might be . . . self-harming,” Banner trails off, looking down at his hands. Bucky scoffs.

“Self-harming. Yeah right. Listen, Doctor Banner, there is no way in hell I could be self-harming. I’m not weak enough to take a fucking razor blade to my arm. I may be pathetic, but I’m not that pathetic,” Bucky snarks. Once he sees Banner’s reaction, he immediately regrets it. Banner slumps down in his chair, bringing his hands up to his eyes. His ears are tinged red.

“Self-harming isn’t always cutting yourself. It can be burning, it can be forcing yourself to throw up, and it can most certainly be scratching yourself, especially to the point of bleeding,” Banner says. He sighs and pulls himself back up into the chair. Bucky studies the pattern of the carpet. Wow. You’re fucking disgusting. Gross. Banner is obviously hurt by that bullshit statement you just said. You’re such an asshole. You don’t deserve love or attention. You should take a fucking razor blade to your arm. Maybe then you would be actually doing something productive. Useless. You should kill yourself.

Maybe he should hurt himself. Not badly. Just enough to punish himself.

Bucky, we’re just worried about you. Please know you can talk to anyone on the team if you want. Doctor-patient confidentiality always exists between us, so please talk to me if you need to. I care about you and I want you to be happy,” Banner gets up and places the chair back in its spot.

“Thank you, Doctor Banner. I’m sorry,” Bucky says. He feels drained. He always feels drained.

“You’re welcome Bucky, but you have nothing to say sorry for.” He puts his hand on the door. “And also, you can call me Bruce. There’s no need for formality; we’re friends.” He leaves the room and shuts the door softly. Bucky can hear Steve and Bann-Bruce talking outside.

They’re on to you. You need to be better. You are burdening others with your useless problems. Useless faggot. Disgusting. You’re such a freak. No one wants you. You need to lose so much weight. So much. Maybe then you’ll actually be worth something.

Bucky falls back on the bed, huffing. He’s so tired, and he wants to cry.

Steve comes into the room and lays down next to him. Steve traces figures softly over Bucky’s chest. He can feel all your fat. He probably can’t even feel your heartbeat under all of that disgusting fat. Fat fat fat. That’s all you’ll ever be. Useless fairy. Steve’s started humming again, quiet and under his breath. Bucky tries to follow along with the tune, quieting all of his thoughts.

“It’s Tony’s turn to cook tonight. I can grab you a plate and bring it up or we can go down and eat together. Either way is entirely fine with me. What would you be most comfortable with?” Steve asks, placing his head right above Bucky’s ribcage. Bucky thinks for a second. He doesn’t want to confront the team in any way, but he knows if makes Steve go get him food he’ll be

“We can go eat with them.”

“Are you sure?” Steve looks up at Bucky. “You really don’t have to do it if you feel uncomfortable. I would feel perfectly fine just staying up here and hanging with you.”

“Really Steve. We can go eat with them. I’m sure,” Bucky says earnestly. You shouldn’t burden Steve. Just go down and don’t do anything. Don’t say anything. Don’t touch anything. Especially don’t eat anything. Be as low maintenance as you possibly can be. Maybe then they will like you.

Steve helps Bucky up, pulling him into a tight hug when Bucky stands up.

“I’m so proud of you Bucky. Really,” Steve says.

Bucky doesn’t say anything in return.

They make their way down to the kitchen. Bucky can smell the pungent garlic and warm bread the second they step out of the bedroom. It makes his stomach shrivel up. After that stunt you pulled, you really don’t deserve to eat. Not that you ever did. But now especially. Food is a privilege, never a right. You have to earn it. They make their way down to the dining room, the noise level increasingly getting louder. Bucky’s head hurts. He wants to go back to bed.

Bucky sits down on a couch as far away from the rest of the team as he can be. Be low maintenance. He can smell whatever it is that Stark is cooking-pasta maybe?-and he wants to throw up. There is no way in hell he deserves to eat anything at all. He’s a fuck-up, and fuck-ups don’t eat. Everyone knows that. Good boy. You’re beginning to learn. You don’t deserve food. You’ve never deserved food. Fuck-up.

Bucky shudders. He knows he has to eat something, or else Steve is going to be concerned. He is not allowed to worry anyone on the team. They cannot figure out anything. He needs this. He needs to punish himself. He murdered people for 70 years straight. He doesn’t deserve love at all. He’s never deserved love. He should have died when he fell off the train. He should have died right then and there. Then Steve would never have to worry about him. Steve would never have to even pay attention to himself. He could go on with his life: find a cute, skinny boyfriend, settle down, and not have to pay attention to that boyfriend’s problems.

“Food’s ready!” Stark calls from the kitchen. Bucky manages to drag himself up from the couch and take a seat at the table. He’s sitting across from Stark and next to Clint. His two favorite people. Stark lays down the food on the table. A giant, heaping serving of pasta is put on his plate as Stark dishes out the meal. Bucky feels sick just looking at it. It’s so, so many calories. He can see the grease shining on the food, reflecting off the bright lights of the dining room. He can see the butter on the garlic bread weighing the center down. It is pooling in the middle. The pasta is thick, and there is so much of it. There is so much of everything.

He picks of his fork slowly, twisting the pasta around the prongs. He brings it up to his mouth slowly. Make sure you don’t get any pasta on your face. You wouldn’t want to look more like a fool than you already are. Fuck up. He bites down on the noodles.

Fuck. It’s good.

He goes in for another bite but decides against it. He knows he needs to eat slowly, so it looks like he has eaten more than he actually has. If he eats quickly and then stops suddenly, people will notice. He can’t have anyone noticing.

“Jethuth Chrith, Tony. Thith ith tho thucking good,” Clint moans, mouth full of food. Bucky watches as pasta sauce drips off his chin and flies out of his mouth. It’s disgusting.

“Did your mother not teach you anything? Have some manners Barton,” Sam says. Clint laughs, throwing his piece of garlic bread at the man. He misses.

“Yeah! My momma gave me off to the circus when I was little! Guess you don’t learn much from bearded-ladies and ringmasters!” Clint yells, laughing. The rest of the team laughs, too. Bucky ignores the fact he has to fake it. He has to fake a lot nowadays.

“What’s wrong with my food, Buckybear? Do you not like it? I’m offended.” Stark puts his hand up to his heart in mock offense. Bucky doesn’t know how to react. Everyone is looking at him. He can feel his chins pressing together. They think you look ridiculous. This is why Steve wants to leave you. You can’t even pretend that you like Stark. You’re so fucking rude. You’re so fucking gross. Disgusting. Pathetic. Faggot. You’re worthless. Absolutely worthless. They’ll be happy when you kill yourself. They’ll be happy when they no longer have to worry about him.

“Just not that ‘ungry,” Bucky says and shrugs. He twirls his fork around in his pasta, moving it around. Maybe if he plays with it enough the team will think he’s eating. But then you’re wasting it. You’re wasting so much food. That’s so disgusting. There are people who don’t have food and you are wasting it all because you ‘don’t wanna eat’. Pathetic. You’re a waste of air. Kill yourself. Kill yourself. It would do no worse if you just took all the pills in the medical cabinet. No harm at all.

“Is it because of your freakout?” Stark asks, leaning over into the center of the table to grab another piece of bread. “Because trust me, I would be embarrassed by that, too. It’s all over the news. And twitter. Do you know that hashtag-weaker-soldier is trending? Terrible word play, by the way. It’s hilarious, the news got all these videos-” “

Anthony Edward Stark. Shut the fuck up right now,” Natalia sneers. Her jaw is locked, and she looks like she just sucked on a lemon. Stark immediately reacts, sitting back in his chair sharply. Bucky takes a deep breath.

Of course, his little ‘freak-out’ was on the news. He wasn’t surprised by that. He was in a room full of reporters, who were all filming at the time it happened. He was surprised that Twitter had gotten his hands on it. He had heard Stark mention the platform once or twice, so he had signed himself up for an account. Shortly after, he realized how much he did not want to be involved with social media.

But now he is trending? The weaker soldier? Stark is right, and even though it is a terrible play on words, it still fucking hurts. He knows how many people are on those platforms, so he knows how many people must think he is weak for the idea to become trending. The thought stings.

The rest of dinner passes quietly, and no one says much. Bucky and Steve head right up to bed after. Steve hugs him and kisses him tightly before he goes to bed, falling asleep quickly. Bucky waits for Steve’s breathing even out completely before he pulls the tablet out from the bedside table. Punching in his password, he opens the device and quickly turns down the brightness. Grabbing his headphones, he sneaks out onto the balcony connected to the room.

He settles down in one of the chairs, popping his headphones. He taps on the blue icon, taking a deep breath.

It’s going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

The screen lights up a bright blue, before turning a stark white. A loading sign is displayed on the screen before tons of little boxes pop up, each saying something different. It doesn’t take Bucky much scrolling before he finds what he is looking for. Right there, on the side of his feed, is the trending box.

#theweakersoldier is number one on trending. There are 31k tweets using the hashtag. With a shaky hand, Bucky taps the button (you’re making a mistake, this isn’t going to help anything, the logical side of his brain tells him. Bucky doesn’t care. Bucky needs to read this).

The tweets pop up, one by one, and Bucky suddenly does regret doing this.


jesus. i knew barnes was way to fucking weak to be with the avengers. @IronMan kick him out. hes just holding u all back… #theweakersoldier #stevedeservesbetter


Bucky Barnes is the biggest mistake the Avengers have made since 2012 #theweakersoldier


Imagine being so weak you can’t be out in public for more than ten minutes LMAO my fav could NEVER #theweakersoldier


Poor Steve. He has to put up with that hot mess all the time. #theweakersoldier #dumphim #stevedeservesbetter.


Breaking! Bucky Barnes freaks out in public! Is it the Winter Soldier coming out? Are the Avengers safe? #theweakersoldier


bucky could afford to lose a few pounds… he looks kinda fat in every photo i’ve seen of him...why does steve even stay with him? he could have anyone, but instead he stays with that dumpster fire #theweakersoldier


lmao imagine having to put up with that mess every single day. no wonder steve is always on ‘missions’ lol. wouldnt be surprised if hes cheating. i would too #stevedeservesbetter #theweakersoldier


WTF is wrong with Bucky? Like can he not handle be out in public for more than three seconds? He was more useful when he was with HYDRA. #sorrynotsorry #theweakersoldier


Bucky Barnes Freaks The Fuck Out! #theweakersoldier LMAO!

There is a video attached to the last tweet. Bucky taps on it and turns the volume up. It is a shot taken from right in front of the stage. Bucky watches as Steve walks up to the podium and starts to talk. His eyes dart back to himself, and it’s surreal. He watches himself scoot away from Stark. You look so fat in these videos. It’s actually disgusting. On-screen Bucky’s eyes survey the room, and Bucky can see the exact moment he thinks he sees the HYDRA man.

On-screen Bucky lets out a cry, crumbling back against the wall. His knees collapse and he falls backward, scrambling to try and be as small as possible. On-screen Steve whips his head around, and Bucky can hear him gasp through the noise of the reporters. He rushes over to on-screen Bucky, pushing Stark out of the way.

ucky cringes as he listens to himself scream, the words unintelligible. On-screen Bucky starts to rake his nails down his thighs, over and over again. Steve starts to realize something is wrong and tries to shield Bucky’s body from the reporters. Not that he would be able to shield you from them. Look, you can still see your fat legs and your fat arm and your fat face. Look at how fucking ugly you are. You don’t deserve Steve. Everyone is right. Steve deserves better. You should just break up with him and make everything easier for the both of you. Maybe if you did that people would actually like you.

Break up with him.

Everything will be easier if you just break up with him.

He doesn’t want you.

You’re doing him a favor.

Bucky’s going to break up with Steve.

He doesn’t deserve the love that Steve gives him. Steve puts so much into the relationship and Bucky, well, Bucky doesn’t. Bucky drains the relationship. It would just be better for everyone if he broke up with Steve. Steve could find a newer, cuter, skinnier boyfriend. One that he wouldn’t have to invest so much time and energy into. One that wouldn’t be such a burden.

Bucky shakes his thoughts off, looking back to the video. On-screen Bucky is picked up by Steve, clutching his shirt so tight Bucky’s surprised it’s not ripping. Steve holds him tight, pushing through the other Avengers who have crowded around Bucky. The video ends right as Steve goes through the heavy wooden door.

Bucky puts the tablet down on his lap, taking a deep breath in. He feels so fucking humiliated that he ever let himself be that weak out in public. He knows Steve is embarrassed by him. Yeah, but once you break up with him he won’t be embarrassed by you anymore. He’ll be able to find someone more interesting and fun. Someone who he can actually like. Someone who’s not a disgusting, fat, faggot. They are all right. Steve does deserve better than him. He picks the tablet back up and clicks on the hashtag, watching as more tweets pop up. You deserve to have to read these. You deserve to be in pain.


lmao you can just tell how unhappy steve is in that relationship. its so obvious he doesnt want to be with bucky. like just drop him. #stevedeservesbetter


ok so no matter if ur team cap or team iron man we can all agree bucky barnes is a fucking train wreck #stevdeservesbetter


do the avengers just ignore the fact that bucky is an actual murder and assasain and killed a us president or what ??? maybe thats why he isnt at half the events lmao #stevedeservesbetter #fuckbuckybarnes


@danielstark i mean if ur boyfriend constantly acted like that whenever u tried to go out would u rlly wanna be with him? honestly dont think i can blame them… #theweakersoldier


@steverogersownsme ur not wrong. steves probably so embarrassed to be around him lmaooo wouldnt be surprised if they broke up #stevedeservesbetter #buckybarnesisoverparty


would any1 rlly care if bucky killed himself? rofl hes not rlly helping the avengers or anything. not like anyone would miss him, specially not steve lmao #stevedeservesbetter #theweakersoldier #justdoit


bucky barnes really out here making his boyfriend look like shit ok are we just going to let that happen or what? #stevedeservesbetter


steve is so pretty and fit and then bucky just looks so fat and ugly like someone put him on a diet istg #stevedeservesbetter


steve sleeps in the same bed as the most dangerous, unattractive, ugly man in the world ,,, steve stans how we doing? #stevedeservesbetter

“Bucky? What’ya doin? It’s late, come back’ta bed baby,” Steve mumbles, stumbling out from the balcony doors. Bucky shuts the tablet down quickly, shoving it away from himself. Steve slouches down in the chair next to him, scooting over to lean his head on Bucky’s shoulder. The blond man makes a content noise in the back of his throat, nuzzling against the other’s sweater.

“Nothin’ Stevie. Just couldn’t sleep,” Bucky says.

“Nightmares?” Steve seems more awake now, leaning up to look at Bucky.

No. Just haven’t been able to sleep. ‘ve been thinkin’ too much, that’s all.”

“Awh. I’m sorry baby. Wish I could help,” Steve presses a soft kiss to Bukcy’s forehead. Enjoy this while it lasts, faggot. ‘Cause you won’t be getting anything like this any time soon. “Why doncha come backta bed now? ‘S too late and we both need sleep. You ‘specially.”

Steve gets up, and motions for Bucky to do the same. Bucky takes his hand and pulls himself up, cringing at the idea that Steve has to even try to pick him up. Steve pulls him into a tight embrace, one that Bucky accepts immediately. He tucks his face into Steve’s bare shoulder, appreciating the way his warm skin feels against Bucky’s cold cheek.

Steve leans down and kisses him deeply. All Bucky can smell is Steve (it’s not like he’s complaining), and he melts into the way Steve’s lips move against his. It’s soft and gentle and so, so perfect. Bucky kisses back but with not nearly as much finesse as Steve. Steve makes a soft growling sound in the back of his throat and pushes his tongue into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky’s practically putty in Steve’s arms and would probably have fallen back into the chair if it weren’t for Steve’s support.

Steve pulls apart, still holding on to Bucky.

“Bedroom. Now.” Bucky follows behind Steve like a puppy, not entirely sure what he’s getting himself into but happy nonetheless. Steve locks the balcony door behind them and practically pounces on Bucky.

“Weren’t you exhausted two minutes ‘go?” Bucky laughs as Steve kisses down his neck.

“”Dunno. You just look so good in that damn sweater. Fuck. It should be illegal how fuckin’ good your arms look,” Steve groans pushing Bucky back on the bed. Bucky’s back hits the bed, and suddenly all he can think about is that man. Him towering over Bucky. His strong fingers bruising Bucky’s hips. His loud grunts permeating the air.

Steve sucks another hickey on Bucky’s collarbone. Not that you have collarbones. All you have is fat. Fat fat fat fat fat.

Bucky doesn’t want to do this anymore.

He doesn’t want to.

But you have to be a good boy. If you say no then you’re bad. Bad bad bad bad bad. And bad boys get punishments. Bad boys don’t get lube. Bad boys have to pay for their mistakes.

Bucky stays still as Steve takes off his sweater, continuing to kiss down his chest and stomach.

“Fuck, what did I do to have someone like you in my life? God baby, you look so fucking good,” Steve says reaching to undo Bucky’s belt. He sucks a hickey onto Bucky’s hip, pulling his zipper down.

Bad boy. You’re a bad boy. Just let him do what he wants to do. Nothing bad will happen then.

Steve reaches into Bucky’s underwear.

"Steve, Steve wait-” Bucky breathes out quickly. “I-uh-not tonight. I just-I uh-I don’t wanna right now. Sorry.” Steve’s face looks crestfallen for a split second before it goes back to normal. Bucky feels so guilty. If you had just been a good boy and taken it like you should have then maybe, just maybe, Steve would actually want to be with you. “‘M sorry Steve. Really.”

“Buck, you have nothing to be sorry for. You don’t ever have to have sex with me. I don’t ever expect you to. I never want to make you feel like you’ve been forced into something,” Steve lays down next to Bucky, taking his hand and kissing it. Bucky looks away, not able to face Steve. Disappointment. This is why Steve doesn’t want to be with you. He just wants you for sex, and you can’t even give him that one thing. Break up with him. Tomorrow morning. Do it. He’ll be glad. He doesn’t want you around. Fat faggot.

“Com’ere. I love you so much. Don’t ever think you have to be sorry ‘cause you don’t wanna have sex. That’s not what our relationship is about. I love you so much, with or without sex,” Steve kisses the top of his head. Steve gets up to grab the sweater off the floor and hands it to Bucky. Bucky puts it on slowly, happy Steve isn’t looking at him and his fat body. But he was before. Before you decided you were allowed to make decisions. You’re going to be punished for that.

“Goodnight baby. Get some sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up,” Steve says softly, climbing into the bed and turning the lights off. For the second time that night, Bucky waits until Steve is fast asleep, his breath coming in little huffs.

Bad bad boy. You’ve been so bad. You don’t deserve happiness. Steve’s going to be so thankful when you break up with him. It’s going to be such a relief when you do. Maybe then he can finally be with someone he wants to be with. Maybe, after you break up with him of course, you could kill yourself. Yeah. Wouldn’t that be nice. It’s not like they would notice your absence. Just do it Buckybear. Just fucking kill yourself. Everyone thinks it. You read those tweets. You know what everyone thinks. It would be so much easier if you would just do it. Bucky turns on his side, tears rolling down his face. He can taste the saltiness of them as they trail down his cheeks. He knows it will all get better once he breaks up with Steve. It has to.

He lays in bed for an hour before he decides he’s not going to pretend that he can fall asleep any longer. He gets up quietly, tip-toeing down to the common room. He glances over at the kitchen. Oh you better fucking not. You better fucking not. You better not act like you even deserve to think about food. After that stunt you just pulled? No way. Only good boys get food. You are not a good boy. You don’t deserve food. You have never deserved food. You know what you deserve? You deserve to be as unhappy as you possibly can. You deserve to never feel anything good ever again. But you certainly don’t deserve to eat. You never have and you never will. You are disgusting. Maybe once you lose the weight, maybe then you will deserve to be happy.

Bucky settles for taking a spot on the couch. He curls up underneath a pile of blankets, the subtle weight feeling good on his chest. He wants to cry so bad, but he knows he isn’t allowed to. Instead, he tucks his hands underneath the blankets and scratch at his hips and thighs. He hits over the hickey that Steve left, feeling the pain shoot through his body and simmer. You deserve this.

He hears the soft footsteps before he sees the person: Natalia. Her feet sweep the ground quietly, with a grace Bucky could only ever hope to have. She has her hair clipped back, and is wearing one of Wanda’s sweatshirts.

“Can I sit here?” Natalia motions to the spot next to Bucky. He nods mutely, pulling the blankets tighter around him.

“What are you doing up, James? It’s two in the morning,” she says. He stares down at the floor and shrugs. He knows he can’t tell her what happened. She would only laugh. Besides, it’s not like she really cares about him. No one does.

"Dunno. Couldn’t sleep so I came down ‘ere,” Bucky responds. He avoids looking in her eyes; it always feels as though she is picking him apart piece by piece when they make eye contact. Bucky hates it. “Wha’bout you? ‘S pretty late for you to be up, too.”

“Same. I hate just lying there waiting for sleep to come. And I don’t want to wake Wanda up, so normally I just come down here and make myself a cup of coffee or hot chocolate,” Natalia says. “Speaking of which, would you like a cup?”

“No,” Bucky says, way too quickly. Natalia gives him a confused glance as she leaves but doesn’t comment on his weird behavior. He’s very, very grateful. She comes back two minutes later, holding a steaming mug. She takes her spot next to him.

“Are you okay?” She breaks the silence, and the air around them gets thicker. Lie to her. You don’t get to be honest. You don’t deserve love or care. Lie to her. Lie to her.

“‘M fine,” Bucky says quietly. He’s not even sure if she can hear him. He brings his eyes up to her face, avoiding her calculating gaze. It feels like she is looking right through his facade. He hates it. He doesn’t want to be here anymore.

“James, we all have problems. That’s okay. It’s okay to feel bad. But you’re not allowed to cut us off and start hurting yourself because of that. It’s not okay to pretend like we aren’t here. You are allowed to have bad days, but you are not allowed to take it out on anyone, especially not yourself,” she says, bringing her hand to rest on his shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot more than most of us. We have all seen your file, and we both know that barely scratches the surface of some of the things you went through while you were under HYDRA’s control.”Bucky’s breathing picks up, and he’s begun scratching at his thigh under the blanket again.

“Natalia, I’m fine. Really. Just tired,” he says gruffly. It’s not a total lie; he is exhausted, she just can’t know why. Natalia gets up, staring down at Bucky.

“We both know that’s a lie. But please, please, please understand that you can come to any of us when you need someone to talk to. We may not be able to help you much, but you shouldn’t be keeping everything bottled up inside you.” She makes her way over to the elevator. “And, James. Stop doing that. Remember what I said: you are not allowed to take your bad days out on yourself, and you are not allowed to hurt yourself because of it.”

Bucky waits until the doors to the elevator are closed before he starts panicking. She knows she knows she knows she knows she knows she knows-

He’s stumbling out of the common room up to the bathroom. He slams the door in, too upset to really care if he’s waking someone up. He locks the door shakily, not even bothering to turn on the lights.

She knows.

She knows

She knows.

She knows.

She knows.



Hurt yourself.

Hurt yourself.

Hurt yourself.

Bad boy bad boy bad boy-

Fuck UP!









Steve will be so happy when you break up with him.

So so happy.

You never deserved him.

You should kill yourself right here right now.

Kill yourself.

Kill yourself.

Bad boy.

Bad boys don’t deserve love.

Bad boys deserve pain.

You’ve never deserved love.

Hurt yourself more.


At least you can follow directions.







They hate you so much.

Why can’t you see that?

So, so much.

Everyone hates you.

You’re just a burden.

You’ve read the things people think.

They hate you

You don’t deserve happiness.

Bad bad bad-

You don’t deserve love.

You should kill yourself.

Maybe then you wouldn’t be a burden.


Bucky falls asleep sobbing on the bathroom floor, cold and alone.

Chapter Text

Bucky hisses as the cold cloth comes in contact with his thigh. He softly swipes the soft cotton over his leg, trying to remove all the blood he can. The coolness feels nice against his marred thigh, and he is mindful of the scratches running up and down the tops of his thighs. At least you’ll be able to hide them. Not like you’ll be showing your fat thighs to the world any time soon.

He cringes as the scratches are revealed under the blood. He had clawed the top layer of skin off of his thighs last night during his freak out. By the time he had woken up, the blood had soaked through his pajama pants. Luckily, none of it had stained the tile floor. You better hope none of it stained. Do you know how mad Stark would be if he knew you were ruining his things? He doesn’t even want you here! And yet, here you go, fucking up everything you can get your hands on: your relationship, your body, even the building you live in. Pathetic.

Pathetic. Bucky sighs softly squeezing all of the water out of the dark cloth. It runs red into the drain, mixing with the clearer water. He feels gross all over; he’s covered in blood, sweat, and tears. His hair is matted and his nails are caked with blood. He doesn’t even want to look in the mirror and see what he looks like. Do it. See what a fuck-up you are. You don’t deserve happiness. You deserve to see what you really look like. Disgusting. No wonder Steve doesn’t care about you. Poor little Stevie, being forced to stay with fat, ugly Bucky.

Bucky raises his head and makes eye-contact with himself in the mirror. His eyes are bloodshot and rimmed with redness and tears. His entire face is puffy and bloated. There are tear tracks streaming down his cheeks. His nose is crusted with snot. He feels disgusting.

He is disgusting.

Bucky stares at himself with hatred, picking over every feature. His too big nose. His ugly gray eyes. His mousy, tangled hair. His chubby cheeks. His disgusting chin. How his eyes are too far apart. How his jawline isn’t sharp. How his skin is dull and discolored around his mouth. How his hair sticks up.

He’ll never be enough. Not enough for Steve. Not enough for anyone. That’s why he is breaking up with Steve. It is doing him a favor really. Breaking up with Steve would save Steve the pain of actually having to do it himself. Yeah. He is doing an amazing thing by breaking up with Steve. Maybe then you’ll have time to focus on losing that disgusting fat. Maybe then you’ll have a chance at finding someone who tolerates you. But let’s face it, that won’t happen. Not until you’re the prettiest, skinniest boy who has ever walked.

He takes a shaky breath, tearing his eyes away from the mirror. As disgusting as he looks, he also feels disgusting. Sweat sticks to his armpits and the back of his neck. He can still smell blood lingering, and his thighs look like they took a beating last night. He can feel blood caked in every ridge in his hand. He needs to be clean again.

He opens the door to the bathroom as quietly as he can, shifting his weight in a way that makes him sound invisible. You are invisible. He evens his breathing out until even he can barely hear it. Chin up, солдат. At least you are useful for something other than fucking.

“I-I just don’t know what to do. He’s been acting so, so weird these past couple of weeks,” a voice filters through the air. Steve. Bucky freezes. “I don’t know what to think. Like there’s a part of me that thinks that something bad is going on.”

They’re talking about him. They have to be. Bucky presses himself tightly against the wall, thankful the bathroom is hidden around a bend.

“I agree. He has been acting really strange,” Bruce says. Bucky wants to curse. Of course, Steve is talking to Bruce. Bruce, the only person on this team that legitimately scares Bucky. Bruce is a fucking doctor. If he found out how morbidly obese Bucky is he would for sure kick him off the team. If Bruce was to discover the sheer amount of food Bucky has eaten he would be disgusted. Bucky doesn’t want to be kicked off. You were never part of the team though. Faggot. Ever thinking they would want you.

“You aren’t the only one who has noticed something, Steve,” Natalia says softly. Bucky is going to die.

“What do’ya think is going on? There has to be a reason he is acting so weird,” Stark responds, sounding more sincere than Bucky has ever heard him. Bucky curls his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms.

“I have this suspicion, and it is really bad, but just looking at everything, I-I think Bucky might be cheating on me…” Steve trails off. Bucky brings his hand up to his mouth and bites down to hold back his sobs. You’ve fucked this relationship up so much. No wonder Steve doesn’t want you. You’ve managed to convince him you don’t love him. You’re pathetic. Gross and pathetic. He would enjoy life so much more if you would just kill yourself. You don’t deserve love. You don’t deserve happiness. Just kill yourself.

“Steve, that’s a pretty big accusation to make,” Bruce says. Someone sighs.

“I know, I know. It’s just-when I look at all the evidence and stuff, like, I just think that he has to be cheating. It’s the only logical explanation. Out of nowhere he just started rejecting hy hugs and kisses, he doesn’t talk to me as much, he always seems to be focussing on something else. I mean, we haven’t had sex in weeks. Weeks! Not to go into too much detail, but that is not normal! And last night I walked out on the balcony to see him texting someone at two in the morning! He obviously didn’t know I was there, and when I finally said something, he shoved the tablet away with the guiltiest look on his face! After that, he left our room when he thought I was asleep and never came back. I just don’t know what to do. I love him so much and put so much energy into the relationship but sometimes-sometimes I just feel like he doesn’t want to be with me,” Steve sighs. It almost sounds like he is crying. Bucky feels terrible.

“Have you tried talking to him? Maybe there’s more going on than you think,” Natalia says.

“No, but every time I try to start a conversation with him it’s like he shuts me down,” Steve responds.

“Well, I think your best course of action would be to try and talk to him and see what is going on. I know James loves you. He really does. But I also see where you are coming from, and you have every right to be upset,” Natalia says. Bucky leaves before he can hear the rest of it, traveling up the stairs as gracefully as he can possibly be.

When he finally reaches their room, he runs into the bathroom and locks the door tight. He turns on the shower, setting the temperature as cold as it can be. You don’t deserve warmth. You deserve to suffer. What have you ever done to deserve anything? You can stand a cold shower. At least you aren’t wasting resources. He strips unceremoniously, chucking his clothes into the hamper in the side of the room. You’re making a mess. Bad boy. Steve doesn’t want you. He’s never wanted you. He wants you to break up with him. He doesn’t want to go through that by himself. He wants you to do it. Pathetic faggot. You don’t deserve love.

Bucky steps into the shower, letting the water run down his back. He shivers hard, hating the feeling of the slick drops dancing over his skin. He doesn’t deserve the warmth. He deserves to suffer.

It’s all he knows how to do.

He grabs the loofa and scrubs hard. The blood flakes off, leaving behind raw, ripped up skin. He needs to feel clean. He needs to feel clean. He runs shampoo through his hair, once, twice, washing it out between every lather. His hair is gross.

Maybe if he can clean himself good enough he won’t be such a disgusting person.



What is he thinking?

He’s always been disgusting.

No wonder Steve doesn’t want him.

Who would ever want a disgusting assassin? Steve probably keeps the shield by their bed because he’s too scared of Bucky. Who wouldn’t be? He’s dangerous. He’s disgusting. He’s worthless. He’s got no redeeming qualities.

He dries off methodically. Bucky pats each limb softly, not wanting to hurt himself more than he already has. You deserve it. Bucky tastes bile at the back of his throat. He’s so tired. So, so tired. He hangs the towel up softly, his hair still dripping on the floor.

He crouches down next to the cabinet and pulls out the scale. It clinks as it comes in contact with the tile floor. He steps on, his feet sticking to the glass top. Bucky holds his breath and counts one, two, three for the numbers to pop up.

257.4. Minus fifteen for his arm. 242.4.

He’s so fucking fat!

So disgusting!

He picks the scale up and hides it carefully back in the cabinet.

“Hey Buck, is that you?” Steve knocks on the door. Shit.

“Uh-uh yeah-it’s me,” he calls back shakily. You should so fucking stupid. No wonder he doesn’t want you.

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Bucky walks over to the laundry basket and grabs his clothes off the top of it. He shoves his pants back on quickly and chucks his shirt on. He grabs a sweatshirt of Steve’s sitting underneath, and it still smells like Steve.

He walks out of the room.

Here goes nothing.

Here goes everything.

“Hi baby,” Steve pulls Bucky in for a tight hug, kissing the top of his head.”How’ya doin?”

“M’okay,” Bucky mumbles into Steve’s shirt. “Um-actually Steve, there is somethin’ I wanted to talk to you about.”

Bucky feels sick.

Oh god.

He’s going to throw up.

Steve pulls away from Bucky to look him in the eyes. Concern is laced through his ocean blue eyes. Bucky already feels guilty. Fuck up fuck up fuck up fuck up fuck up-

“Bucky, is everything okay?” Bucky twists his hands around.

He’s so tired.

So, so tired.

You don’t deserve sleep.


“I was, uh-I think-um-I’m breaking up with you.”


Bucky’s going to be sick. He can’t look Steve in the eyes. He can’t. Bad boy bad boy bad boy bad boy.

“I-uh-I am breaking up with you.”

“Bucky what’s going on? Is this a joke?”

“No.” “

Can you at least look me in the fucking eyes if you are going to do this?” Steve snaps. Bucky looks up. Steve is so angry. So so so so angry. He’s going to hit you. You deserve it. “What the fuck has been up with you the past couple of weeks?”

“Nothing Stevie-”

“No. You don’t get to call me that. You don’t fucking get to call me that.” Steve laces his fingers through his hair and pulls. Bucky almost lets out a whimper. He doesn’t want Steve hurting himself because of Bucky.

“Listen, I just think that we will do better if you go our own separate ways-”

What? Bucky, we’ve been together since 1939! What the hell is going on?”

“I just think-”

“Have you been cheating on me?” Steve looks so broken. Bucky’s going to throw up. He’s going to throw up.

“No, no Steve I swear-”

“Because that’s what it fucking looks like. You don’t just break up with someone you’ve been together with for the better part of 70 years just ‘because’! What is going on Barnes? Why have you been so distant? Because if you’re cheating on me I would just like to know.”

“No Steve I would never! I promise! I would never cheat on you!”

“Then can you just tell me what is going on!” He’s crying. Oh God. Bucky made Steve cry. He’s a bad boy. He deserves to be punished.

“I just don’t think we are working together great anymore! I think it would be better for both of us if we just saw different people,” Bucky practically cries out. His breathing is harsh.

“I still love you Steve-”

“And I loved you.”


Steve doesn’t say anything.

Bad bad bad bad-

Bucky made a mistake.

“I want your stuff out of this room by tonight. Everything. Anything you leave here I’m fucking burning.” Steve slams the door behind himself and the room shudders.

Oh God.

What did Bucky do?

Chapter Text

Bucky can barely breathe as he threw his clothes into the duffle bag. His vision is blurred; tears streaming down his face so fast he can’t brush them away in time. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, HE CAN’T BREATHE, HE CAN-He deserves it. He doesn’t deserve love. Why would Steve ever want to stay with someone like Bucky? Fat, ugly, unlovable Bucky. Steve will sleep better at night anyways; he doesn’t have to worry about Bucky waking up and killing him. Bucky is a danger to everyone. He doesn’t deserve love. He’s never deserved love.

He sobs harder as he chucks shirt after pant after shirt into the bag. He doesn’t have much clothing (he never bothered to go shopping when he arrived at Stark Tower-there was already clothing there for him to wear), so thankfully he doesn’t have to spend much more time in their room.

In Steve’s room. Not their room. He doesn’t have the right to call it that anymore. He never had the right to call it that.

You should kill yourself.

He should. Maybe then Steve would be happy. If Bucky was just out of his life there would be no one he would have to worry about. Not that Steve ever worried about you. Steve has much better things to do than worry about you. No one ever worries about you. You’re not important enough. You were never important enough. You’re just a lazy, ugly slob who’s too high maintenance for anyone to ever want.

Bucky gets up and looks at the closet. It looks almost bare with all of his clothing out of it. It’s better this way. He turns around to his bedside table, looking at the photo of them sitting on top. Bucky is smiling at Steve while Steve takes the selfie. Bucky bites his lip. They had taken the photo on Steve’s birthday.

Bucky hugs the frame to his chest as he cries. Just kill yourself faggot. Steve never wanted you. No one will ever want you. Steve’s so thankful you broke up with him. You did the right thing. Bucky quickly shoves the photo into his bag and grabs the books he has stored underneath his nightstand. You don’t deserve love. He walks into the bathroom. Picking up his toiletries, he chucks them into the bag without caring. Disgusting. Immature. You’re too much of a hassle for anyone to deal with. He’s forgetting something. He has to be.

The scale. He crouches down and opens the cabinet, digging through the extra toilet paper and toothpaste until he spots the metal. He grabs it and takes it out slowly, too scared someone will hear the clink of the glass or the creak of the wooden cabinet. It fits snugly in his bag as he tucks it deep into the bottom, pushing his clothes over top it to cover it.

He walks out of the bathroom and does one last check around the room. His heart sinks as he realizes this is the last time he will ever be in here. You don’t deserve to have a nice bed. You’ve never deserved to have a nice bed. You should still be with HYDRA. He grabs a few items he missed on the first go-around-- including the tablet--and stops himself in front of the closet. His eyes drift over to Steve’s side. His clothes are neatly lined up, all folded and hung with military precision.

Steve wouldn’t notice, right? Bucky doesn’t think he would be able to live without Steve’s smell. It’s the only thing that calms him down. His hand ghosts over the shirts and sweaters, finally finding one in the back. Bucky hasn’t seen Steve wear it since he got to the tower. It’s a thick red sweater, the kind a grandmother makes for her grandson, and the material feels so soft between Bucky’s fingers. He shoves his face in it, taking in the smell of Steve’s cologne.

It just makes him cry harder.

He folds the sweater neatly and places it in his bag like it’s the most valuable thing he owns (it is).

He turns around one last time to look at the bedroom. His heart drops. He’s never going to be here again. He’s never going to sleep next to Steve again. He’s never going to kiss Steve again. He’s never going to be loved again.

He chokes out a sob. The door handle feels cold in his grasp.

He doesn’t want to leave.

He’s made a mistake.

He’s wants to go back.

He wants to be with Steve again.

He doesn’t want to be alone.

He just wants to be loved.

Is that too much to ask for?


He doesn’t feel anything as he closes the door to the bedroom. The door shut with a small thud, and he is facing the hallway. The duffle bag feels heavy against his shoulder. He just wants to go back into the bedroom and put all of his things back where they are supposed to be.

It’s his fault, though.

He’s not allowed to be upset.

He’s a disgusting faggot.

He doesn’t deserve love.

Bucky bites his fist to hold back his sobs. He can’t let anyone know how he is feeling. He isn’t allowed to worry anyone.

“Jarvis?” Bucky says, voice raspy.

“Yes Sergeant?” The A.I. responds.

“Where’s the nearest guest bedroom?”

“It is just down this hallway. Follow the lights and I will lead you to it,” Jarvis says. Bucky watches as the hall lights turn on, leading down to a door a little ways away. He walks slowly, careful not to let any of the floorboards creak. He can’t let anyone know he is here. They already hate him. No need to remind them that he’s here.

He can hear the teams’ voices rumbling on the floor beneath him. He knows that if he takes a wrong step or makes a wrong move they’ll hear him. Then they’ll kick him out. The only thing keeping them from kicking him out was Steve. And now that Steve is no longer obliged to be around him, the team has no reason to keep Bucky around.

He knows he should start looking for a job and another place to live. They are only going to let him stay around for so much longer before they get sick of him. Now that Steve doesn’t love him, there is no one who actually wants him here (Steve never wanted you here. Steve always thought you were a burden. He has always and will always hate you).

The handle of the guest room -technically his room now-is freezing cold. He pushes open the heavy wood, coming face-to-face with darkness. He chucks his duffle bag on the ground and climbs into the bed, exhaustion weighing his body down. -

Bucky wakes up disoriented. His shoulder is screaming in pain, and he has a terrible headache. His entire body is thrumming with pain. He groans into the pillow, shoving his face into the soft cotton.

“Jar’is, wha’time is it?” Bucky mumbles. It hurts his throat to talk.

“It is currently 6:58 p.m., Sergeant,” Jarvis responds, his voice crisp and clear.

6:58. That means the team is probably eating dinner.

Bucky scrambles up, pulling hair out of his mouth. “Hey Jarvis, what time did the team start eating dinner at? Did anyone try n’wake me up?”

“No Sergeant Barnes. They started dinner at approximately 6:45. No one tried to wake you up.” Jarvis’ words linger in the air. No one tried to get him. But they never forgot to get him for dinner? Maybe it was just a simple mistake? They couldn’t have forgotten him, could they? Bucky knows he isn’t really an integral part of the team, but could they completely forget to get him for dinner?

They know you don’t deserve to eat.

“Jarvis, could you please pull up the live feed from the dining room?” Bucky says. The A.I. doesn’t respond but projects the feed onto the wall. Bucky can hear the clinking of their forks against their plates.

“-such a fucking asshole! Why in hell’s name would he ever do that to you? You’ve done so much for him, and he just fucking drops you like that? You put up with him over all those months, ever panic attack, every sleepless night, every little freakout, only for him to just break up with you? The guts that takes,” Stark says, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Did he say why he was breaking up with you?” Bruce asks.

“No,” Steve says. Bucky feels his heart skip a beat at the raspy tone in Steve’s voice. It’s because he’s been crying. You made him feel like that. It’s your fault. “He literally just told me he thought we needed a break. That was it.” Steve puts his fork down and cradles his head in his hands. “I just don’t know what I did wrong! I gave him everything he wanted and more. I tried so hard to be patient with him even when he was being difficult. I finally was starting to think that our relationship was stabilizing and then he just dropped me.”

Bruce gets up and walks over to Steve, pulling out the empty chair next to him (the one Bucky normally sits in-not that he’ll be eating dinner with them anymore; he knows they don’t want him around anymore, and he is not allowed to bother them).

“Steve, it’s not your fault-”

“Damn right it’s not. I wanna give that piece of shit a piece of my mind. It’s that fucker’s fault for even thinking he can treat you like this. You do so much for him-” Stark starts.

“Tony, baby, stop,” Bruce says, holding his hand up. He turns back to Steve. “Steve, I think you might just need to give him a bit of space. From what you’ve told me and from what I’ve seen, it looks like Bucky is in a bit of a rough patch. He probably didn’t mean any of the things he was saying. Give it a week and you two will be back together happy.”

“I don’t know Bruce. He seemed really serious, and he’s been acting so weird lately. What if we are really done? I don’t know-”

“Jarvis, turn it off.” Bucky’s heart hurts so much watching Steve. You did this to him. Faggot. You’re disgusting. No wonder Steve doesn’t want you. Just wait. In a week he’ll have a cute new boyfriend. Everyone will have forgotten you exist. You should kill yourself then. No one will even notice you are gone.

Bucky knows he should kill himself, he just doesn’t know when. He doesn’t want to put more pressure on the team by doing it now, but he also doesn’t want to make them put up with him any longer.

He regrets ever even getting back in a relationship with Steve. He heard what Steve said; he knows how much pressure he put Steve under. He was so unfair to Steve. He expected Steve to put up with him even though Steve definitely didn’t want to spend his time trying to help Bucky. Steve didn’t deserve to have to put up with Bucky. Bucky was just holding Steve back the entire time.

Bucky falls back on the bed and groans as his sore body comes in contact with the bed. He has no idea why he is in so much pain. It doesn’t matter. You deserve it. He’s so exhausted. He just wants to have one day where he doesn’t feel so bad. Everything hurts.

Tears stream down his face as he tries to breathe, his shoulder screaming with the rise and fall of his chest. He rolls over and shoves his face into the pillow. He can’t make any noise. The team can’t know he’s crying. He has to be good. He has to be good.

He knows he’ll never be good enough, though.

He falls asleep, face shoved in the damp pillow and mind full of angry thoughts. -

The door slams open, jolting Bucky awake. It crashes into the wall, and the light from the hall fills the dark space. A figure is standing in the door.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Barnes?” Stark steps into the room. The light behind him illuminates his angry features. “The fucking nerve you have to break up with Steve. The fucking nerve it takes. After everything you put him through. After piling your problems on top of Steve, after forcing him to care for you as if you were a fucking child, you have the nerve to break up with him and drop him? Not only that, but you have the nerve to eavesdrop on our conversations? Newsflash, it’s my A.I. It is going to tell me when you pull stunts like that. There was a reason you weren’t invited to dinner. But, no, you just had to listen in. Fucking pathetic Barnes.”

Bucky is frozen. Piling your problems on Steve. He can’t move. Forcing him to take care of you. Why can’t he move? After everything you put him through. He can’t move, he can’t move, he can’t move. You weren’t invited. HE CAN’T MOVE HE CAN’T MOVE-







“What, are you just going to sit there in silence expecting everyone to feel bad for you? You’ve already guilt tripped us enough, it won’t work this time soldier,” Stark sneers. Bucky can’t feel his hands. He can’t feel anything. Why can’t he feel? Is he dying? He thinks he’s dying. It this what dying feels like?

“S-s-s-orry,” Bucky stutters. Fucking pathetic.

“Sorry? Sorry! That’s all you have to say? You ruined Steve, Barnes. You ruined him. He loved you-notice the fucking past tense here!-he loved you so goddamn much, and you just fucking ruined it all. You don’t deserve him. You never did. You are a murderer! Why Steve even wanted to be with you in the first place is beyond my comprehension. You’re lucky I’m even letting you stay in this tower. Lord knows you don’t deserve it,” Snark spits. He shakes his head one last time, eyes trailing over Bucky’s body with a look of disgust so fierce it makes Bucky want to throw up, before walking over to the door.

“And let’s face it. You never should’ve been with him. I don’t even know why he took pity on you and started dating you. You’re so fucking subpar it hurts. You never deserved him,” Stark slams the door shut again, the room shaking.

Steve never wanted you.

You’re subpar.

He just took pity on you.

Bucky needs to hurt himself.

He needs to hurt himself.

He needs it, he needs it, he needs it.

Fucking Pathetic.

You’re a murderer.

Why did Steve even want to be with you?

His nails aren’t enough.

He needs to hurt more.

He needs to hurt so much he can’t think anymore.

(Kill yourself).

You don’t deserve love.

He just took pity on you.

Disgusting faggot.

Bucky stumbles into the bathroom. He knows Stark keeps the bathrooms fully stocked with every kind of toiletry imaginable just in the case of emergency. He digs through the cabinets until he finds what he is looking for.

He holds up the pack of razors. He peels the plastic away from the cardboard, pulling one of the razors out. It’s the disposable kind. The kind that is travel friendly.

The kind that is easy to break.

Bucky pulls the top off from the handle. He chucks the handle in the trash, cringing at the dull thud it makes.

He holds up the head. Even in the low moonlight from the window, he can see the blades glinting. He smashes the head hard against the sink. The blades shoot out from their plastic cage and settle in the middle of the sink.

He picks one up.

It feels heavy in his fingers.

He holds it to his flesh arm, feeling the cool metal press against his warm skin.





He can’t do this.

He can’t do this.

He can’t do this.

No no no no no no no no no no-

Bucky turns around and chucks the razors into the toilet, hitting the handle before they even touch the water.

He’s crying now.


He can’t do this.

Fuck up. Why did you flush them?

He can’t hurt himself.

He can’t.

He’s not weak.

He won’t slit his wrists.


He’s not that desperate for attention.

Don’t slit your wrists then.

Slit your thighs.

Your hips.

It’s not like anyone is going to be seeing you undressed anytime soon.

Bucky wants to scream.

He isn’t in control!

Why isn’t he in control?

Everything feels terrible.

Everything hurts.

Why isn’t he in control?

Bucky screams into his hand. He can’t take it anymore. He can’t take it anymore. He just wants to die. No one cares for him. It’s not like he’ll matter in 50 years. He’s never mattered.

Bucky stumbles back onto his bed and sobs. He sobs and sobs and sobs until his body is out of tears. His eyelid droop shut. He falls asleep, throat sore and hands shaking.

Chapter Text

Bucky stares at the wall in front of him, eyes unmoving and unfocused. Every limb on his body weighs him down, leaving him stuck on the mattress. He hasn’t moved in two days. He can’t find the energy to care.

He knows once he leaves the room he’ll be confronted with reality. The Avengers will ask him to move out. Stark will kick him to the curb with nothing but the clothes on his back. You deserve it. It’s not like you matter.

Stark had already made it clear to him how little he mattered. Why are you so upset by that? He was just telling you the truth. You already knew how little Steve wanted to be around you. This just confirms it. Useless faggot. You don’t deserve anything. You don’t deserve a house. You don’t deserve friends. You don’t deserve food. Maybe then you would actually be skinny. Be attractive. Maybe then Steve will even consider for a second taking you back. But let’s face it. He never wanted you. He always viewed you as a burden. The only reason he kept you around was because he pitied you. Now he’s free of you. He won’t ever want to go back to you.

Bucky falls back on the bed, tears sliding down his cheeks. No one cares about him, and these last few days have confirmed it. Since Stark visited, not a single person has tried to talk to him. He’s heard them walking past his room, laughing and joking with one another, but no one even stopped outside his door to try and check on him. He knows he doesn’t deserve that, though. He ruined their lives and forced his problems on them. They’re probably just happy he’s out of their way.

He reaches out onto the desktop and grabs his tablet. He’s been looking through twitter more and more, gouging himself on the nasty tweets people have been writing about him. It makes him feel good, in the sickest and most twisted way, to know how much people hate him. He knows he deserves the pain of having to read all these tweets. He isn’t allowed to be happy.

The tweets generate, popping up one by one. His eyes flit over to the trending tab. Right there, listed next to the number three, is the hashtag stucky-is-over. Bucky’s eyes widen as he looks at the words. His heart speeds up. He has no idea how anyone would know about their relationship being over. Bucky can’t help but let himself click the button. The screen flashes white before it pulls up even more tweets.




finally someone knocked some common sense into steve and got him to let go of bucky! steve is going to do so much better without that deadweight weighing him down. #stuckyisover


omg steve and that new boy look so cute together ahhhhh! #ishipthem #stuckyisover #finally

Bucky stares at the screen for a second, confused. Steve and what new boy? Had it really taken Steve so little time to find a replacement for Bucky? His heart sinks to his stomach. Of course you’re replaceable. Steve was probably already seeing someone when he was ‘with’ you. Now he’s just allowed to be open about it. Bucky knows how much Steve hated being with him. Steve is probably so thankful Bucky broke up with him. Bucky continues to scroll down through the tweets, hoping to find photos of Steve and his new boyfriend together.


Breaking News! Steve Rogers seen cozying up with an unknown man? Could Stucky be over? #stuckyisover

Attached to the tweet are four photos, each one from a slightly different angle, of Steve sitting next to a boy (man?) at a restaurant. He couldn’t possibly be older than 25, with a baby’s face that made him look even younger. Bucky stares at the tablet intently, slowing swiping through each different photo. Steve is close to the man in every photo, either leaning in or touching him.

Finally, in the very last photo, Bucky gets a good look at the man’s face. He has a strong bone structure, his nose thin and his cheekbones sharp. His hair is a soft brown, and it curls slightly around his face. He looks lean.

He’s more attractive than Bucky could ever hope to be.

Bucky can tell by the way Steve is looking at the man that there is something going on. It’s the same way he looked at Bucky, it’s the same way he looked at Peggy, hell it’s the same way he looks at Stark! His eyes are filled with mirth and admiration. He’s laughing in half of the photos, his face bright and happy.

It hurts to know Bucky has been so easily replaced. It took Steve all of three days to find a new boyfriend. A better boyfriend. One that is skinnier, prettier, and more handsome than Bucky could ever hope to be. One that won’t drag him down. One that won’t burden him with unnecessary problems.

Bucky knows how much he burdened Steve. Now that he isn’t with Steve, Steve seems so much happier. He’s happy because he doesn’t have to worry about your pathetic ass every second of the day. He’s happy because he can finally get a full night’s worth of sleep. He’s happy because he can finally be free of you. He’s happy because he doesn’t have to pretend to be attracted to some fat piece of lard. Bucky shivers. When he scrolls down on the tweet, he can see all the replies to the original tweet.


@AvengersNews steves new bf is so much more attractive than bucky lmao


@AvengersNews Bucky wasn’t a good fit for Steve. You could see how unhappy Steve always was with Bucky. He looks happy now, though! #stuckyisover


@AvengersNews And? We don’t care if stucky is over. Bucky was never and will never be good enough for Steve. Periodt. #theweakersoldier


@AvengersNews i bet u that freakout ended their relationship. u could see how uncomfortable steve was when he had to deal with bucky. it was the straw that broke the camel’s back :/

The scroll of tweets goes on and on, and Bucky reads every single one that generates. Most of them are nasty, calling him out for being not good enough in one way or another. The nice ones are few and far, and most of them aren’t even nice; just pitying him. They shouldn't be pitying him. He doesn’t deserve it.

Bucky slams the tablet down, surprised by the tears running down his face. His chest constricts again and again. He doesn’t feel anything. He knows everything he’s reading is true. There’s no reason to be upset about the truth.

It’s simple science. Steve wasn’t happy. Bucky broke up with him. Now Steve is happy. The only variable that was changed was Bucky. Now Steve is living his life to the fullest. Who cares what Bucky is feeling? He knows he doesn’t matter. As long as Steve is living his life to the fullest, Bucky can be content in whatever situation he is living in.

He doesn’t matter. He never has, and he never will.

He lets out a harsh sob, hands clawing down his thighs. He doesn’t deserve to be happy. He’s never deserved to be happy. Steve deserves everything. Bucky deserves nothing. He has never done anything to deserve love. He’s fucked up so much. He is always fucking up so much. Steve is perfect. Steve doesn’t make mistakes. Steve is beautiful and attractive. Bucky is ugly and disgusting.

Steve took pity on him.

Steve never wanted him.

He will always be subpar to Steve.

He will never matter.

He doesn’t deserve love.

Bucky is scrambling out of bed, legs shaking from not being used. Weak. Pathetic. Disgusting. Steve never loved you. No one has ever loved you. Worthless burden. He rushes into the bathroom, flicking the lights on.

It’s in the exact place he left it.

The razor stands out against the stark white granite. It’s tiny, but he can see the way the light reflects against the edge. With unsteady hands, he picks it up, nicking his fingertips in the process. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel it.

He doesn’t feel anything.

He pulls the side of his sweatpants down, exposing his pale thigh. His hands shaking.

Do it.


Do it.



He swipes his hand down quickly against the side of his thigh. Pain blossoms like a morbid flower. It hurts so much. His thigh is throbbing. He drops the piece of metal and grips his thigh, his entire body shaking too much to gauge the damage he’s done.

It hurts so much it hurts so much it hurts so much-

His hands are covered in blood as they hold his leg. He grits his teeth, trying to calm his breathing enough to see if he needs to see a doctor. Weak.

His breath is coming out is short, sharp jabs, each one physically hurting. His looks down to see a deep slash across the outside of his thigh. The skin around it is red and angry, blood pouring out and covering a decent chunk of his leg.

He knows he needs to see a doctor. He’s bleeding way too much. It’s everywhere, covering his hands, his leg, and dripping down on to the floor. His breathing is quick and erratic.

He needs a doctor, he needs a doctor, he needs a doctor!


He needs Bruce.

Somewhere in his drunken-like state, he manages to pull his pants up, hand still tightly wrapped around the outside of his leg. Blood soaks through his pant, tye-dying the side of the fabric. He hobbles out of the bathroom, clutching everything he can on his way out.

He stumbles into the elevator, biting his lips to not scream out in pain. He has no idea why he is in so much pain; he’s taken much more and never reacted this way.

“JARVIS, please, I need to see Bruce now,” Bucky pleads, sitting down against the side of the elevator. The elevator lurches down, moving at a pace faster than Bucky remembers it going. His hand is covered in blood, his sweatpants not looking much different. It hurts so much.

The elevator dings open, and he doesn’t have much more energy than to groan. He pulls himself up, metal plates shifting to support his weight.

“Bruce,” he calls out meekly. He can see the back of the man’s head, bent over a stack of papers. He calls out again, this time louder.

“Bucky?” Bruce turns around still looking at his papers. A pencil is tucked in his curls, glasses resting on his nose.

“I-uh-I think I need your help.”

“What can I-oh my God Bucky!” Bruce looks up, yelling. He rushes over to the limping man, leaning Bucky on his shoulder. They stumble over to a metal table, Bruce swiftly pushing everything off of it. “Sit up here. There you go.”

Bruce pulls over a chair.

“Bucky, I need you to take your pants off. Can you do that for me? Or do I need to cut them? Either way, they’ve got to go.” Bruce explains, trying to stay as calm as possible. Bucky makes a weak scissor motion with his hand.

Bruce cuts up the pant leg, exposing Bucky’s wound. His leg is covered in sticky blood. Bruce reaches into a drawer below him and pulls out a hefty first-aid kit. He roots around in it, pulling out various packages and tools.

“Bucky, I’m going to clean your leg. This is going to hurt, but please bear with me,” Bruce says. He grabs a bottle of disinfectant and squirts it on a towel. He presses the towel against Bucky’s leg softly. Bucky lets out a harsh hiss. Pathetic.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re doing great Bucky,” Bruce says softly. He dabs the blood away, revealing the wound.

“Jesus Bucky! What did you do? This thing has to be nearly an inch deep.” He leans in closer, taking a better look. “Looks like this thing is a full thickness wound. You’re lucky. I think you just missed one of the perforating branches of your femoral artery. I’m going to have to stitch this thing up. I’m going to numb the area, okay?”

Bucky nodded, eyes glazed and unfocused. His hands twitch as they grip the edge of the table, knuckles a sharp white. Bruce grabs a small vile and inserts a needle into it, filling it up. He spins around in the chair and faces Bucky again, glasses falling down his nose.

He administers the lidocaine and grabs multiple blue packets from the first aid kit. He unwraps each other the tools and lays them out next to Bucky.

“Hey Buck, can you tell me how this happened? This is a really deep wound, and I just want to know what caused it,” Bruce places his gloved hand on Bucky’s calf.

“I tripped. On a piece of metal. Wasn’t watching where I was going and next thing I knew I had a sheet of metal halfway into my leg. First person I thought to come to was you,” Bucky lies.

“Jeez Bucky,” Bruce shakes his head. “I’m going to have to stitch this up. It won’t hurt, I promise, but you’re going to have to sit extremely still for me.” Bucky nods.

The stitches, 10 in total, took around 20 minutes. Bruce wraps the wound carefully securing the bandage.

“You doing okay Bucky?” Bruce says, looking into his eyes.

“Did he ever love me?” Bucky blurts out, quickly covering his mouth after he realizes what he said.

Oh Bucky. Of course, he loved you. He still loves you. He’s loved you for so much longer than any of us could even fathom,” Bruce’s eyes filled with sympathy.

“What if-what if he was just lying to you?” Bucky looks down at his hands again.

“It would’ve been impossible to lie about his feelings for you. The way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about you, the way he smiles when you walk into a room, you can’t fake that stuff.”

“But, wasn’t I just burdening him? I know he never really wanted to be around me. I know he just always thought of me as an obstacle. I mean, you can’t love something that’s always holding you back.”

“Bucky, where the hell did you get the idea that you’re a burden?” Bucky shrugs.


Tony told you all that?”

“I mean, he didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“Bucky, no. You never burdened Steve in any way. You’ve never burdened us in any way. We love you. Steve loves you,” Bruce says, standing up.

“Not anymore.”

“Bucky, if you ever think that Steve could stop loving you-you are insane. That man loves you more than anything I have ever seen. You matter so much to him. You matter so much to us,” Bruce pulls Bucky into a tight hug, cautious of his leg. “Whatever, whoever, is telling you these things is lying. Every single one of us loves you so much, with or without your problems. You are allowed to be human, Bucky. You are allowed to make mistakes. None of us hate you for that. None of us.

“I know things are really hard for you right now. We are all here for you. If you need to talk to anyone, please don’t be afraid to. We all care for you so much.” Bucky nods mutely.

“Thank you,” he rasps out.

“Anytime, Bucky. Really. I want to be there for you,” Bruce says softly. Bucky pulls away from the hug, gently letting himself down from the ledge.

“I think I should go. I’m really tired,” Bucky says. Bruce nods.

“Of course. Please come down if your leg is hurting too much. It should be all healed up by tonight, so I want to see you before dinner to take the stitches out,” Bruce explains.

“Uh-yeah. Thanks, Bruce. Really, I mean it.” Bucky smiles, just the corners of his mouth turning up.

“Anytime Bucky. Please remember, I love you,” Bruce says, hoping he comes across as sincere as he feels. Bucky gives him one last smile before leaving. Bruce falls back into his seat and lets out a sharp breath. He pulls his gloves off, disposing of all of his tools properly. He walks back over to the piece of fabric sitting on the table, looking over it.

There’s no rips anywhere on it.

Nothing could have cut Bucky from outside the pair of pants.

Now that’s he’s thinking about it, the cut was straight.

Too straight.

“Shit,” Bruce whispers, tossing the pair of pants onto the table. “JARVIS, call the team. I need to talk to them, now. Tell them it’s an emergency.”