𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒. ( 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 ) ✓

xlviii. PRETTY

[REQUEST]

To say you were insecure was an understatement.

It was hard not to be when you were surrounded by people like Nat and Wanda. You loved them to pieces and you knew they meant no harm in their occasional teasing. They'd joke about how you never came to work out with them, knowing it just wasn't something you'd ever want to do. At first it was quite funny. You knew yourself well and when they invited you to go on a run with them, you'd laugh so hard that tears welled up in your eyes.

But then you began to wonder whether your lack of gym days was your downfall. You saw how Nat and Wanda had much more athletic builds than you. It got worse. You would stretch in front of the mirror to see how far off of a toned, flat tummy you were. It got worse. You would have a constant routine of checking your legs in the reflection of shop windows as you walked down the street. It got worse. You threw out clothes that you thought hugged your body a bit too well. It got worse. You would almost never sit down without grabbing a pillow to set down in front of your stomach. It got worse. It made you unhappy. It got worse. It became natural to evaluate your entire appearance. You imagined what it would be like if you could change your facial features. The proportions of your height.

You wished that you could let go of these toxic habits but you couldn't. It had become so constant that it was almost second nature to weigh yourself a couple of times a day. You caked on layers of makeup; not because you wanted to or because you enjoyed doing your makeup but because you felt insecure about how you looked otherwise. You didn't realise how much it was affecting you until now. When you sat back on your bed, crying. It was out of frustration and withheld pain. And you couldn't stop.

"(Y/N)?" The familiar voice of Bucky Barnes made you jump. You hurried to wipe your tears and act as if you'd been busy cleaning your room for the past hour in which you'd been missing.

"Dinner's ready. Steve told me to come find you." He placed a kiss on your temple as you rearranged the pillows on your bed, doing your best to avoid eye contact. "Okay, I'll be down in a second." You cringed when you heard your voice break midway through the sentence.

"Hey, doll, are you okay?" Bucky turned your body so you faced him and although you tried to let your eyes wander, he placed his hands on either side of your head to ensure you were focusing on him. "What's up?"

The caring tone of his voice sent you straight back into tears. "I can't, I'm sorry-"

"Listen, you can tell me what's wrong. It's okay."

You inhaled sharply, trying to gather your thoughts and wipe the tears that were now wetting the surface of your cheeks. "I'm not like them, Buck."

"Who?"

"Wanda...and Nat... and Sharon. None of them. I'm not as perfect. Not my body, not my face, not my height, not even my hair; none of it compares to what they have. I'm just not... pretty."

Bucky listened intently. Your words pained him and you could tell from the way his face screwed up into an expression of confusion, then almost anger. "Why would you say that about yourself?" Bucky whispered with a sense of surprise. "Don't lie. You, (Y/N) are the most perfect person I have ever known. You are beautiful and you always will be. Especially to me. My love, you are pretty."

And after hearing all of that it got better.