Warning: Smut, Swearing, Angst, References to past psychological trauma
Summary: Bucky Barnes struggles in a world of violence and pain. But when she enters his life, he begins to feel new, beautiful emotions. He no longer feels crippled with guilt. He feels solace. He feels again.
A/N: Gif is not mine :)
It all started on a mission in Romania.
After a days worth of trekking through the dense, Romanian forest, you finally reached the small wooden cabin that would become you and the Winter Soldier’s safe house.
The cabin was a cute little thing, cozy and warm, with a large family room that boasted a beautiful, stone fireplace. It was the type of house that made you feel at home even though you had only been inside for five minutes. The four bedrooms were quite large and the master suite had a large, soft bed that felt as though you were sinking through clouds. This was definitely the place you wanted to be after a hike through the Romanian Alps.
After washing up, you sat by the fire Bucky had started and allowed your hair to dry. As you did, you slowly became transfixed by the hypnotic dance of the fames that flickered in a rhythmic beat, the heat of their passionate waltz permeating onto your skin.
A rustle at the door pulled your focus away from the fire and toward Bucky, who was carrying large logs of wood in his arms.
“Hey,” he smiled as he walked into the living room where you were comfortably perched.
“Hi,” you smiled back; just as Bucky crouched down to toss another log in the fire. You gave him a quick glance before your eyes turned back toward the fire.
You and Bucky had rarely exchanged words during the mission. He was a quiet listener and polite but he kept his thoughts to himself. It was when the two of you were trudging through the forest when he started to open up, as though the wild had awakened a part of him that helped him settle in the skin that he wore like armor. But he still didn’t divulge much about himself, and you found him mysterious.
It took the Witch Hunter four tries to even reach the front door of the midwife’s cottage. Every time he stepped toward it something more important seemed to come up in in his mind. Make sure the village had a Dovecote–it did, a humble dovecote, but one where he would be able to send word back to Adlersbrunn and the Bishop quickly if the need arose. He shook his head and approached the cottage again, and again found himself walking away. Best to check the other villagers, question around for other unusual phenomena—no he had already done that several times now. He walked toward the cottage again, found himself turning on his heel—he should check the other village gardens for blighted crops—no. Now, this was getting ridiculous.
It took him another try and he could hardly even remember the reason why he walked away that time, and by then the rain was coming down in full force and it really was a miserable experience. “Go back to the city,” he felt a whisper, “Go back to your Bishop and tell him there’s nothing out of the ordinary…” He shook his head. It was a perfectly reasonable suggestion, however the fact still stood that he had not yet checked the midwife’s house, though for the life of him he could not understand why he seemed to keep putting it off. The rain was beginning to soak through his cloak when he remembered an old wive’s tale. He took his cloak off and turned it inside out, shuddering at the wet exterior of the cloth now heavy on his doublet, and he walked up to the front door of the house with ease.
The Witch Hunter pinned his edict from the Bishop on the wood next to the door of the midwife’s house, then his hand went to the door. He felt it instantly. A whisper of magic. Nothing terribly malicious. It was a good-natured, “Nothing to see here,” “Nothing of value in this old place,” “The rain is so cold… wouldn’t you rather be in your own home by a nice fire?” “Don’t waste your time here.” A spell, he figured, that would do well enough against nosy neighbors and children and burglars, but not against him. He was, after all, a professional. He drew a consecrated iron rod from the interior of his boot and touched it to the door. There was a fizzing, burning sound and the whispers left his mind. So the midwife knew some of the old arts, but nothing malevolent yet. A week in the stocks at the worst. He tried the door handle, found it locked, sighed, gave a glance to his edict from the bishop, and kicked the door open. He gave a sharp glance over his shoulder at the villagers who were watching, slowed by the spectacle of his actions as they themselves hurried out of the rain, though at one glance from him they hurried on their way. With that, the Witch Hunter stepped over the threshold.
a playlist dedicated to that feeling you get – sometimes sad, sometimes comforting, sometimes both – during the last three emotionally-driven minutes of a cbs elementary episode. for all your little holmes and watson moments, sentimental exchanges at the end of a long day, or bittersweet insights as you sit before the fireplace.
1. land of talk - it’s okay // 2. rogue wave - chicago x 12 // 3. modest mouse - little motel // 4. the national & st. vincent - sleep all summer // 5. sea wolf - black leaf falls // 6. beach house - you came to me // 7. little joy - play the part // 8. city and colour - the girl // 9. bon iver - blindsided // 10. devendra banhart - something french // 11. monsters of folk - ahead of the curve // 12. the weepies - world spins madly on // 13. lambchop - what else could it be // 14. andrew bird & st. vincent - lusitania // 15. a.a. bondy - when the devil’s loose // 16. the velvet underground - pale blue eyes // 17. sky ferreira - sad dream // 18. okkervil river - a king and a queen // 19. the national - think you can wait // 20. tom odell - supposed to be // 21. laura veirs - july flame // 22. lana del rey - never let me go // 23. mazzy star - fade into you // 24. vetiver - more of this // 25. the last shadow puppets - the meeting place