Steve Rogers And Bucky Barnes Images

Eat

Warnings - Eating Disorder, body dismorphia, things seen as depressions, anxiety, mentions of torture, PTSD, recovery journey

This one was on a really personal level, and I thought I would just share instead of writing in my journal for the day because I think other people need to find the comfort, too.

*LONG CHAPTER*

It was no shocker that Bucky hadn't come out completely unscathed from Hydra's hold. It would be more concerning if he came out fine and not traumatized after the shit they had done to him for the past seventy years.

His mind has been wiped over a dozen of times, and you don't want to know the mind tricks they had played, or even the things they had done to him countless of times while he was in his cell. He trained Natasha with barely even a brain, and yet, she had been the one to try and get him out, so close.

Until they came right back in to take him away, make him go on a mission and go back under the ice. He when he came back out again, he was set to destroy all of Washington and call his best friend that had also been alive. Then, he was back on the run again, not finding himself until he explored further and realized he liked jazz and was over a hundred years old.

Then he met you. The light that shine in the literal darkness of his mind. You had ran into him on the street and picked up conversation, word after word sticking with him with you commented about your slight habit for not eating anything for awhile and offered to take him with you. From there, you showed him what plums were.

But then they hadn't set well. Bucky wasn't used to eating something at all during the day, and really, be couldn't once he saw everyone else on the street. He didn't like anything done to him, especially the hunk of metal weighing him down on the left side of his body. He had scars and bruises and just reminders that his freedom could be taken from him any time someone wanted him to complete a task.

So the minute he had ate the prune, he was feeling upset and puking in his barely running sink. How could he eat if he wanted to get better? He had asked himself. He could look at food without remembering that someone could take it from him in an instant.

And that's when he had realized something so special was ruined from one goal. His life was taken away, and now, he hadn't come back the same.

It wasn't until months later when you figured out everything about Bucky. He had started following you until you eventually picked up on it, led him to an ally, and pinned him against the wall demanding to know why he had been tailing you the minute you left the produce stands.

You had seen his face around, but didn't really care at the fact he was being tracked down. His aura was so calm and you couldn't help but really be intrigued by the few short responses he given back to you. And really, he was picking up smoothly, joking around and conversating well with you.

Once you invited him to your apartment, he was spilling most of his thoughts to you. Most the time he was sleep deprived and you were able to lay him down, but he insisted on not keeping secrets, so you were able to get most of his story before he was out cold. And he was sleeping for almost two days when he woke up again searching frantically for you until he realized you were in the bedroom, fast asleep.

Going back to his apartment had been a challenge. He hadn't felt anything like that from anyone, or even slept in weeks like that until now. You had massaged his temples when he was slowly switching the subject, fighting off sleep as best he could, but only because he couldn't protect you if he was out cold, or even himself if someone came in looking for him.