peace [bucky barnes]

24

TW: SMUT / DESCRIPTIONS OF SEXUAL CONTACT, DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE

18+ ONLY

*reupload bc i couldn't see the collage - hope you guys can now lmao*

Silence had settled over the apartment in a comfortable, cloudy haze, a far cry from the hostility Bucky was met with when he'd first stepped inside hours before. They laid facing one another in Eden's bed, blankets bundled up to their waist, limbs entwined in every way possible to keep themselves locked together. The curved lamp in the corner cast a light orange glow over the bedroom, Eden insisting upon switching it on when they came inside; they'd both had enough darkness for the night to last a lifetime.

Nestled into the safety of the bed, Bucky slowly started to reveal himself, all of himself, to her, encouraged by the gentle circles her fingertips drew along his arm. He was apprehensive, tentative, throwing out tame anecdotes from growing up in Brooklyn, light stories he could remember before he had to unravel the deep-buried madness that came later on. He talked about Steve, about his family, laughing at the memories that remained clear in his mind, distance settling over his eyes when they started to become more and more blurry. When he moved onto his years in the army, he turned over onto his back, one arm tucked underneath his head as he stared at the stark white ceiling, unable to carry on looking at her in the same way. His animated voice became quieter, more subdued, a tremble in some of his words that he tried desperately to conceal, and failed.

He told her all that he could remember about his capture and the years he spent as the Winter Soldier, even the parts he wished he did not. Everything was a tangled mess in his brain, his recollections somewhat scattered and unordered, broken pieces of a puzzle that fit haphazardly together. It took everything he had left not to break, every last morsel of strength pulled from her presence, from all of the feelings for her that burned deep inside him, his eyes locked on the ceiling the entire time; he knew if he dared to turn to her and find the warmth that would blaze there, he would finally shatter.

By the time he got to Steve finding him again, he was crying, tears slipping softly down his cheeks and onto the sheets underneath. His voice wavered tremulously, but still he carried on, needing to get it out, almost aching to get it out after so much time hiding it from her. With every truth he felt the weight burdening his shoulders grow lighter and lighter, the hollow darkness inside his chest finally allowing some light to seep through. The words became easier, escaping recklessly out of his mouth toward freedom, craving honesty after he had denied himself it for so many weeks now.

When he reached the end of it all, leading her up to the point of his pardon and his subsequent mandate to attend therapy, the point where their impossibly divergent paths somehow became entwined, he finally crooked his head slightly to the side, eyes apprehensively meeting hers. Tears were still brimming at the corners, spilling in a steady stream down his pink-tinged skin, a terrified crease between his brows as he gauged the emotion on her face.

Eden's appearance held a deceptive stronghold, a facade of stability and composure across her unmarked features. Every part of her fought to keep the frontline secure, while inside completely crumbled under the weight of what she'd just heard: the soul-crushing images were breathed to life by the shaking of his hands, the tremor in his words, the sobs that swallowed in his throat and choked in hers. She wasn't sure how someone could endure that much and still be standing up, still fighting to be better and willing to allow any light to even touch the tips of their fingers - if it was her, if she'd had to go through even half of what he had, she would've shattered into ruins with a sigh of relief years before they met each other.

Unable to speak, a pain in her chest from all that she'd been holding in for him, she slowly brought a hand up to his face, palm curving along his jaw. Her thumb stroked softly along the angle of his cheekbone, bottom lip starting to tremble as his blue begged her to say something to quiet the stirrings of thunder inside his head.