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whitewolfbumble · 6 years ago

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Needed Touch (Bucky x Reader)

Summary: They needed you, and he needed you most of all. You became his addiction until it was taken away, and then you were something else to him entirely.

Anon Request: Can you do a platonic!avengers x wolf!reader, maybe a specific ship like bucky x reader would be fine as well! Since the reader can turn into a big wolf, she often cuddles with the avengers to help them relieve stress, and they all really like her, and once they sent her onto a mission something really bad happens and really angsty stuff?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Wolf!Reader

Warnings: Angst and fluff!, things get intimate for a hot minute

Word Count: About 6k

A/N: Thanks for the request darling! One of my favourite Bucky lines I’ve written is in here, and it makes me weak my dudes. Still a lil wrecked from surgery/pain meds so sorry for any typos, I’ll come back a fix this sometime

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Tony had an anxiety disorder. Bruce had, let’s say, explosive anger issues. Steve struggled, however valiantly, with depression. Natasha was obsessively striving to undo a past that couldn’t be undone, losing her identity and life in the process. Thor- when he was here- was in denial of the brutal grief he had suffered. Sam had a crippling case of survivor’s guilt that would strike hard without warning and stop him dead in his tracks. That was just scratching the surface of your team members, and there were more damaged people where that came from.

And then they added Bucky. You couldn’t even begin to get into the near century of trauma there.

But at least they all had you.

However much love and loyalty there was among you, you were what was holding this team together. Mentally and emotionally they needed you as much as they needed oxygen, being the balm and breath of air to them, outweighing their combined trauma.

You were human and wolf in one, each side of you forming one whole. A mutation, curse, and gift wrapped together, much like the various parts of the others on the team. And quickly from week one you had found you belonged among them.

Maybe it was the protective wolf in you. Or the feeling of companionship you exuded with every encouraging word or soft smile. Or the loving brightly, happy feeling those around you felt when you laughed and played, young and free like those cute little puppies in those cute little videos. Or maybe it was the ferocity and barred teeth you showed on the battlefield, unwavering in your aggressive defense of your team. Or maybe it was your other ability that did it.

Whatever the combination, it had made you a perfect- and necessary- fit to this team.

Tucking back your hair, you absently brushed fingers passed your subtly pointed ears. Settling into to a grey afternoon and a cushy couch had been easy enough, with a half decent book in one hand and the other placed on Clint’s head.

He was lying down on the couch, head on a thin pillow in your lap, feeling the calm of your other distinct ability seeping into him like custard into bread pudding.

Your legs crossed, Tony pressed a pleasant pressure against your knees, his anxiety held at bay by both you and the focused energy of tinkering with a delicate piece of paper-thin metal and razor-thin wires in his hands.

The people changed, the positions changed, but the constant presence of your team- your pack- around you was constant and most welcome.

As the slow afternoon silence stretched, you flipped to the next page in your book but didn’t continue reading. Head shifting slightly you paused, brow raising up ever so little before settling back into place as you understood what your senses had zeroed in on.

“Wonder when they’ll be back,” Clint said lazily, eyes closed and breath easy in his chest.

“They just pulled up,” you said absently back, eyes back on the text in front of you.

“Hmm,” he replied. “Hope it went okay.”

“Yeah, seems like it went just fine,” you said, shrugging a little. “No blood anyway.”

But in the back of your mind and in your ears you felt a nagging. Something off. Something not exactly quite right.

The wolf in you wasn’t separate like Bruce was to the Hulk. Your appearance may shift as you directed it to something akin to a large and black apex predator, a wolf in body and eyes and fangs. But that didn’t mean you were any less you in that state. Even now, human form with only little touches of something slightly “other” marking you like your ears, you still heard and smelt and saw with the enhanced senses of the shadowy beast you formed into. Not exactly as enhanced as in your other form, but still there nonetheless.

And sitting on the couch, listening intently to the sounds of Steve and Bucky return from their mission while your eyes were down in your book, you thought you could hear someone... limping maybe? The metallic, distinct smell of blood was absent though at least. Or maybe there were just too far away for you to smell it yet.

“And how would you know that?” Clint said, stretching and leaning up a bit to lock those hazel eyes to yours.

You wiggled your nose at him from behind your novel in teasing exaggeration.

“I can smell them,” you said, though Clint well knew that by now, though he loved to hear it. He was endlessly fascinated by who you were. That or he had taken a knock to the head too many times and really was that forgetful. “Sweat and quinjet exhaust, but nothing else really.”

Sitting in wait while Clint moved off you, you heard one set of footfalls approach nearer.

Now, however terrible it sounded, you hoped it was Steve that broke his leg and had sent Bucky to find you to help him. That would make this easier.

So, so much easier.

But when the blonde walked in your lips ticked down with a bit of a frown for a split second. Steve sat down beside you, limpless stride firm and precise though clearly a bit exhausted. He grabbed your hand as he sat and the both of you broke out into a smile.

“How’s our resident second super soldier?” you asked, subtly squeezing and moving your hand in his, caressing his palms and fingers. Comfort visibly eased into the lines of his friendly face and liquid light blue eyes.

“Hurt, but not much help there,” he admitted. “Unless you want to try again…?”

“Try again” made it sound like you had only attempted to corral Bucky once to indulge in that other specific ability you had. The man was unwavering like a marble statue, though you’d find a way to whittle him down. Or maybe he would do that himself.

“You know I will, Steve,” you said, standing up with a last pat to his hand and pat to Tony’s head as you shimmied passed him. “He’s one of us, even if he doesn’t yet think it.”

Because Bucky wasn’t the only one who could be considered unwavering and stubborn.

______

The door was open slightly like he was expecting you. He always expected you because let’s face it, he was smart enough to know persistence when he saw it. They others saw it as caring, but you didn’t think Bucky was quite ready to use that word just yet.

His room was somewhat clean, low lamps on instead of the main overhead lights, exuding a softer glow and casting darker shadows. It was small and comfy and how Bucky liked it, despite those descriptors being the opposite of the man himself.

He was peeling off his thick leather coat, arriving just before you did for one glaringly obvious reason. He had been slowed down to a snail’s pace by the broken leg that had somehow managed to make his whole body scrunch up tight and coiled. It was supporting no weight as he stood, held at just slightly an odd angle. Not to mention what you knew to be a pale and pain-hardened face if he were to turn around.

You leaned against the door frame, arms crossed with a bit of a huff you weren’t sure was from sympathy or exasperation.

“I could help with that, you know,” you commented, nodding to his limp as he glanced behind his shoulder to you, though his eyes remained low and didn’t yet meet yours.

You were tired of playing this game with him, but you knew by the weary lines and stiff way Bucky held himself that he was always far more weary of it. He had the ability to end that weariness and strain, if only he would reach out and simply touch you.

“I’ll heal,” he said, short and gruff.

Not because he was mad which you knew, though a flash of something- maybe guilt- sprung up through the pained look, and he took the time and effort to swivel on his good leg to face you more.

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he said, trying again and sounding a little more like himself. Seemed to take effort though. “You don’t need to keep checking on me.”

“I’ll stop checking on you,” you said. “When you stop leaving the door open for me.”

You stepped in silently under his watchful eyes, moving and sitting on the bed, back resting against the backboard. You didn’t snuggle down or sprawl out, wanting to be just a little respectful of his space you were invading, but clasped your hands in your lap and crossed your ankles neatly.

Bucky waited for a time before, with a bit of pain crumpled look on his face, turned to the bathroom and closed the door. You closed your eyes as you heard the shower, tried not to listen to him struggle and groan under his breath. When the streaming sound of the water stopped, you flicked the switch beside you and the lights went off, leaving you in semi-darkness with blinds closed tight.

The tiny amounts of grey light that came in was like that of the moon, beaming in cool and gentle. That was his kind of comfort. Bucky still enjoyed the darkness, able to move and stay shielded by the black murky shadows. To hide away from enemies and people and pain.

When he emerged from the bathroom, the light from it shone bright before he clicked it off, his frame clad in a black shirt and grey sweats turning shadowy. Though it was the afternoon, the room itself looked like it was the dead of night, with just those soft beams pooling on the ground at his feet.

“Are you going to wolf out on me?” he muttered through the space between you, though it was good-natured in tone. As much for him as for you.

You snorted quietly under your breath, a smirk on your lips.

“I’m not the Hulk, I have some control over myself.”

There was some hesitation after that from him, wavering there with weight on the one leg. It heavied the air that had been briefly lightened with jokes and teasing a second before.

You didn’t push or pry more than you already had by simply being here, but just waited. After another few moments the pain of standing seemed to outweigh the emotions keeping him from you.

Very slowly, he walked to the bed as you moved up your feet, giving him space to sit awkwardly but firmly on the edge.

He faced out for a few moments before placing his hand in the small space on the sheets between you, eyes refusing to turn to your own. Gently you placed your hand on top of his, ever so carefully entwining your fingers in with his. A minute passed before your other hand moved slowly and measuredly to the middle of his thigh and was held still.

He tensed as you did, but for much different reasons. He flinched at the contact of your fingers brushing his thigh. You at the familiar feeling of this process as it hit you, stark and bare and shook a little bit of your soul as your ability begin to work within him.

“Why do you do it?” he said quietly, face hidden in the darkness. “Why care?”

Everyone here knew what your ability was, even Bucky, though he refused to speak it.

It wasn’t healing, exactly. It was just taking the pain, giving them time to rest for their muscles to ease, for their teeth to stop grinding as they gritted through the pain. They could rest and their bodies would better heal themselves.

They sensed it when they were close to you. Felt it when they touched you. Relief and comfort and freedom from torment.

But the pain had to go somewhere. It couldn’t just evaporate and you couldn’t push it out, you could only pull it into your own body. So you took on their stabs and wounds, feeling the invisible injuries on your skin and in your muscles. At least with you, the second the connection was broken, it was gone. So you just breathed and you bore it.

“You’ve got it all wrong, Bucky,” you started softly, taking a moment as you felt like your femur was snapped in half inside your leg. “It’s not “why care”, but because I care. I know that’s foreign to you. Uncomfortable. And that’s okay for now.”

Your words were met with silence as there was no real answer for it, and none needed. It was truth and that caring he would call persistence. Because you weren’t going to let him live a pained life. Not when you could take it away from him and even if at a cost.

But for now, this was was okay. You could go one step at a time and nudge him along with you.

You stayed long beyond that, until the troubled man unclenched his muscles and his eyes drooped where he sat. Until his breathing became slow and deep and his head lulled. Until you gently laid him down when deep sleep took him over, painless and free.

_______

From there on, things started to change. Bucky had a hard time with your ability at first, clearly. He wasn’t particularly touchy or trusting to begin with, however cordial, which was pretty essential for your ability to work.

The next time it was a broken arm. How a super soldier could keep breaking bones like this, you didn’t know.

You went to his room and waited in the doorway just like before but you didn’t fully enter, leaving him alone instead. He was probably confused as he clutched his lifeless looking flesh arm, probably wondering and hoping you’d be your usual persistence self and silently insist again. But you hadn’t been.

You had gotten through a little to Bucky, even if only once. He had felt it and accepted it. Felt and accepted you, in that moment, finally. It was his turn now, to make the next step and you weren’t sure he would do it. But later that next night you heard a knock at your door.

“Can you help me?” he had asked, quietly, still holding his arm which close up looked almost shattered.

After the next mission and the next injury, he asked when you came to his room as you always did, almost steely look like he was fighting himself on saying something so vulnerable again. But the second he spoke that melted from his face, as though the words would have killed him to say but he survived, relief flooding him once uttered.

“I’m in pain, Y/N,” he had said, gruff and almost desperate. As though through all the years of pain he had reached his limit now that he knew what real comfort felt like. “Can you take it away?”

Soon enough as the weeks rolled by, he was coming to you for everything.

You expected this really, it had happened to everyone for a time.

Everyone hit a point where they clung to you at first, however subtly or not, until they realized both consciously and subconsciously that you weren’t going anywhere. That you were here to stay and this feeling was too. That you could be a reprieve to their pain and demons.

Bucky was different though. He had had no comfort, innumerable demons, and exclusively pain for much of the life he could remember. Now to be able to have physical hurts relieved and not inflicted, and with a simple touch feel comfort in his soul not anguish? It was massive for him.

He was addicted to you now. You were like the sweetest of drugs without overdose or side effects. Though you were beginning to wonder about withdrawal...

“This is really why you need me right now?” you said, in his bright bathroom on one late evening, months after that broken leg.

Bucky found quiet, intimate moments alone with you when he needed you close, always away from the eyes of the team. Pain he could admit to you now, but not them just yet, if ever.

But now whenever you walked into a room you saw the way he twitched, as though his automatic physical reaction was to reach out for you and it took his conscious mind a moment to stop himself.

But in moments alone with you he didn’t hesitate anymore. He let himself touch you and be touched, like a craving filled and peaceful contentment enjoyed.

“Yes,” he said simply, pleasant sigh on his lips as he sat on the bathtub ledge, head leaned up to you, standing in front of him. His eyes were still waters, glassy and serene, framed by those long lashes that matched his deep chestnut hair.

Your hand was placed on his neck, thumb moving across the line of his jaw. Just above your stroking was a small cut from shaving of all things, almost unnoticeable. You were surprised he had even felt himself do it.

This was a man who had been tortured. Shot. Stabbed. Forced to fight. Forced to kill. You would think one little nick would hardly be enough to call on you so late at night.

But a smug unheard purr settled somewhere in your soul, finally and truly having him trust you. The others could sit down beside you and hold your hand or give you warm smiles as your presence eased their soul. But from Bucky you had needed more. You had needed this.

And obtaining it was that same kind of hit Bucky got off of you.

“I think I’m just spoiling you now,” you smirked, his slow blink matching pace with your slow, caressing fingers.

“Then please keep spoiling me,” he whispered, leaning into you.

He rested his head on your stomach, nose and breath and lips pushing gently into the thin fabric draping your soft skin.

Steve had always ran hot, made into a super soldier in the warm New York summer heat. Bucky you thought was always deliciously cool, like the chill of Russian snow where he was made, clinging to him still. It reminded you of clean ice, fragrant pines, and a cloudless moon.

You could feel it all on his breath now, the cool air he sighed into your stomach making your skin tingle underneath. Without thinking your hands found their way into his hair, moving through the thick chestnut strands. Absently his hands moved up your calves to behind your thighs, hooking you lightly into him.

A slow sigh released from him into you, and you slipped one hand under shirt collar at the base of his neck, hand and nails lightly trailing down his spine. He clung to you all the more, a groan caught in his throat as you felt the delicate quiver of his skin under your fingertips. An arm wrapped around the small of your back, the other at the top of your thigh, constricting and binding you in.

You and he practically hummed in sheer contentment at this connection, a shivering pleasure between you both. Countless minutes rolled by, and also no time at all it seemed.

It was only when you pulled away that you saw his blissed and beautiful face, his hand moving up and bunching his shirt above his heart as he stared back at you. Those serene eyes were bright now, with a bright and beautiful smile to match.

“G’night Buck,” you murmured as you stepped back, voice with a bit of a wobble.

You turned, a little off kilter and touched down on the bathroom counter to steady yourself. As you walked out you caught a glance of yourself in the mirror above the sink, eyes half-lidded, a lopsided smile on your face. And it wasn’t from sleep-drunkenness.

It was from comfort.

It was from him.

“Then please keep spoiling me.”

The words ran in your mind like cool water lapping at a shore or warm fingertips trancing delicate lines on soft skin. That was what you dream of that night. It was only when you woke up, room filled with darkness and that comforting feeling gone did you respond to them.

Okay, you thought in silent response, I’ll keep spoiling you.

_______

“Good, we’re just about to start the new mission briefing,” Clint said to you as you walked into the small group by the couches.

When you entered the lounge the next day, several of the team had already gathered.

You expected that telltale flinch from Bucky where he said, wanting but stopping himself from reaching out to you. You had wondered after the closeness of last night if it would be worse. If your junkie would be craving you all the more now.

But he didn’t. He saw you, blue eyes behind brown hair sitting to himself on the side. But didn’t acknowledge you beyond those glassy ocean eyes connecting to yours. Not a flinch. Not a hello. Not a nod.

A frown fell on your face as your heart fell in your chest, and head filled with confusion.

Had last night gone too far? Should you have stopped it?

Well the answer to both of those was probably yes, but he had wanted it and you had wanted to give it, so why would have have been bad?

“We’re moving in on the Serpent Society tonight,” Steve said, looking out to everyone.

You achingly turned from Bucky, a shame and heat on your face now, looking instead to Rogers. Your eyes were intense and trying to hide it, focused on the blonde before you, but you weren’t seeing him.

You weren’t hearing the shuffles or sways of the team as they listened into the briefing. Didn’t smell the gunpowder coming off of Natasha, the steaming coffee in Tony’s novelty mug, or the clean crisp lemon of the freshly scrubbed floor. You didn’t notice anything outside of your focus: Bucky Barnes.

Steve talked on, background noise to you as you focused your senses to a sharp, steel point. Your body altered in response, the wolf in you showing in slight form little by little as you balanced walking the lines to stay on the right side of human-looking so as not to give yourself away.

A golden hue to your eyes began to shine, that liquid gold bright and deep. Nails grew and pointed, turning ever so like claws. You could hear and feel your body change just enough for your sense to enhance enough to zero in on the man you held last night. The one who had held you.

Then you heard it, a deep bass sound vibrating in your ear. A beating, low and rhythmic and pulsing.

A heartbeat, sped up and beating loud. In that moment you heard nothing else.

But you couldn’t feel eyes on you so you cleared your throat, and Bucky flinched, eyes snapping to you as you kept yours dead ahead on Steve, looking down and slightly away to hide the telltale glimmers of the something “other” always under your skin that was starting to show.

The moment his eyes were on you, the sound of his blood pumping and heart beating became thunderous, like the pounding beat of the drum. You heard him swallow, could almost hear his skin tighten, and lungs expand and deflate at a rapid speed.

All because he was looking at you.

You could feel his eyes detached from you, reluctant and pained like dropping a weapon in a fight. His breathing rightened, muscles unclenched just a touch in his shoulders, That modicum of calm was shot to hell when Steve spoke.

“Y/N,” he said, the shift in Bucky palpable to you, practically make you clenched your own muscles. “You’ll be on the west side with Bucky and Clint. They’ll sharp shoot if needed, you’ll watch their backs.”

At your name Bucky’s eyes were transfixed again, thunderclap heart beats almost filling the room and drowning out the sound of the others. You felt him swallow again, heard the creak of his chair as his hands gripped it tighter, felt the heat radiating off him like a heavy summer sun.

All because he heard your name.

You turned and left immediately once the briefing was over, under the excuse of prepping for tonight, but once out in the hall you rested against the cool wall. Again you eyes glinted gold, sense focused on the man inside that room.

He had walked closer to the door- perhaps following after you?- but had stopped. You heard a sigh, the wisps of fingers through chestnut hair as he stood on the spot, stopped by some thought or feeling.

You could hear the downturn to his voice as he answered a question, hear the shuffle of his feet where he stood. You could almost see his expression now, a miserable look, one trying to hide under a blank stare.

You walked down the hall, for the first time not knowing exactly what to do with feelings someone had about you.

This wasn’t about seeking your touch for ease. This wasn’t about comfort or calm. It wasn’t about a physical reaction to you at all, this was about you.

You could sense it, feel it, hear it, see it.

Bucky had feelings for you.

_______

“Are you going to stay like that the whole night?�� Bucky said, peering to his side.

The woods were quiet, and most likely through decades of practice, Bucky’s voice lowered and morphed into a tone and volume that matched his surroundings. The forest was old and dark, with near-black greens from the tree mixing with near-black ground and sky.

In this space both you and he found the familiar darkness reassuring, both battle tested and trained to the bone on nights just like these ones.

Right now this wasn’t training, but a mission. You were a sentry and guard for Bucky and Clint, either positioned a distance apart with a gun or arrow pointed towards their targets base.

Bucky had found a bit of a cliff to set up on, body on the ground with sniper rifle pointed diligently and ready.

“Not that I don’t like it,” he continued quietly. “But I did want to talk with you.”

You made no movement or even acknowledgement that you heard him, though there was no way you wouldn’t have.

Tonight you were the wolf in full form, changing into a black beast of the night as soon as was possible. The rest of the Team had barely stepped off the quinjet when you were feet into the woods, shifting with ease like the shedding of clothes.

Black fur, long and silken, lined your frame and blended like a shadow into the half mooned night. Only golden, glowing eyes could be seen now, some feet away from Bucky, half watching his back and half watching for an enemy to emerge.

“I had the distinct impression…” he started after a minute of silence followed, pausing briefly before continuing, turning from his position to look behind himself at you. “That you ran from me this morning, and have been avoiding me since.”

The shift was silent, the darkness still hiding you. A human form, still hidden, save those golden eyes, was your form to answer him. Claws were still out and extended, ears at a point, senses picking up everything.

“What makes you think that?” you said, low and quieter than the wind.

Bucky’s jerked back to you in surprise, trying to find your golden eyes in the black.

“Well, usually you at least acknowledge me.” At that your eyes narrowed a little, and he caught their gleam.

Was he upset like you had been that he didn’t even say a simple hello or give a nod to you this morning? Not communicating had not been you forte, as guards tended to come down around you, making speaking and opening up easier. So this may was just a small thing, but it didn’t feel like it. And that explanation didn’t seem like it was the whole picture…

Bucky’s finger went to his ear piece as he stood, eyes locked on yours. “Clint, I’m moving positions. I won’t have eyes on this for minute. Will confirm when I’m back in ready position.”

“I’m not… I know when…” Your sigh came out almost as a hiss, struggling with the words. You focused back up at him, his shadowy frame in the darkness just an arm’s length away. “I’m not exactly clueless about what… feelings and attraction are. I can sense when someone has them for someone else.”

“And?” Bucky said. You went sure if he said that cluelessly or brazenly.

“And,” you said, quiet and firm. “You have feelings for me. I felt it this morning- I feel it now as you look at me- your heart catching and beating like thunder in your chest when you hear me or sense me. Your breath quickens, your skin flushes, you can’t stop blinking, you can’t help but move to get closer to me… I can practically smell the rush or hormones and chemicals racing through you when I’m close. It’s- it’s overwhelming.”

“You can sense all of that?” he said, before stepping closer. “What about now?”

You swallowed, brows pulling together, confused. “I… well, yes.”

“And now?” he asked softly, taking another step. This time it set his body right against you, his framed pressed to yours.

You had touched him before. Held him. Felt his skin to yours in quiet moments together. But this was much different.

You didn’t respond, just watched with throat tight and eyes wide as Bucky gazed down, nose brushing ever so lightly against yours. You felt his hand move up, slowly and deliberately up your arm, across your shoulder until it rest on the pulse point just under your jaw.

“Your heart’s racing too,” he whispered, fingertips pressing into your skin.

Silently he dragged them down, slow and smooth, stopping in the middle of you chest.

“And so is your breath,” he whispered.

You almost had a mind to huff and roll your eyes at him, your once distant Bucky long gone. But that reaction was quite lost to the one that was overwhelming you. It burned and tingled you skin and in your soul, it poured out of you in hot breaths and every pounding heartbeat, it rattled your soul as much as his touch did to you now.

Moving back up, his hand held your face, feeling the heat there that was threatening to boil you over now.

“Your skin is flushed too,” he said, voice smooth and soft compared to the intensity of those blue eyes he had.

“You can stop there,” you managed to say, not exceptionally wanting him to go through the rest of the checklist.

A small smile escaped from him then, forehead leaning down to yours. You closed your eyes as he did, soaking in the feeling of him and the smell of him which somehow seemed more intoxicating than you remembered.

“So what if I have feelings for you,” he said eventually, so whisper quiet you could have dreamt it. “You have feelings for me too, Y/N.”

You could have said this wasn’t real, that this was Bucky just being addicted to a comfort he was deprived of. But someone like Bucky wouldn’t admit to feelings unless they were real.

You could have said you were just reacting to someone being this close or happy with how much he was opening to you, and accidently maybe took things too far. But that also wasn’t true.

All you could do was nod your head up in agreement, your lips brushing delicately against his as you did so. You heard almost a sighing growl as you did, and before you could decide if it was coming for you or him, his lips connect with yours.

In that dark woods you were sure the spark that erupted inside you at his kiss could have been seen for miles. It was like a slow burning fire, bright and intense and eternally warm. The pressure and feel of him against you, his lips moving and sealing against yours heating your soul enough for this lifetime and the next. It was a bliss and comfort you had not yet known in another person and it made you see stars that his connection to you conjured up.

“I’m spotting movement, north west of my position.” The voice over your comm came, breaking the two of you part if only your lips. “Y/N, is that you?”

“No,” you said, sounding as breathless as you felt and hoped Clint would chalk it up to trying to be quiet. Your eyes remained on Bucky though, seeing the same burning fire and pleasant heat in his blue eyes that you felt. “But I’ll check it out.”

Wordlessly you broke away, the cold air seeping across your body where Bucky had just been. But the cold couldn’t penetrate into your soul. That remained a cozy, toasty wash of heat. Taking several steps back, you kept your eyes on him until it was time to go. He gave you a nod by way of goodbye, unable to keep the lightest of smiles on his lips. You reciprocated it quickly before you were off.

You vanished into the dark in a shadowy blur, the change from human to wolf happening in less than it took to take a step. A moment after, you were running.

The pines and trunks of tree whooshed passed you, your paws hitting ground for only the briefest of touches before bounding for the next step. You wove and maneuvered through the forest as though you had made this trek a thousand times, your senses focused and guiding you to where you needed to go.

But a gun shot in the dark, far away from where Bucky was or where Clint should be stopped you mid-sprint. Claws dug into the ground, trying desperately to slow yourself down, until slamming side first into a tree did the job, bruising ribs and jostling your head as pine needles fell down around you.

Ignoring the shots of pain and careening to your right, you took off again, paws stumbling to get traction for several paces until you were back up to speed.

Voices rang out in the comms, all teams checking it. They came concerned, questioning, all converging on the various shots they heard around their respective positions.

You heard it first. It was a snap and then scream that turned to a thunderous roar.

You could feel it in the ground, feel the vibrations in the air. Bruce was gone, and the Hulk had come out. In the distance that roar sounded again, furious and unhinged.

“Pull back!” Steve said in the comm. “No one move towards the gunfire!”

But it was too late.

You didn’t have time to slow down before you heard that snap again, this time at your own feet.

It was like a crack of metallic lightning, and you felt the exploding of your eardrums before you felt the exploding of anguish. The sudden assault stopped you dead again, sending your body rolling and tumbling out of control through the woods then down a short hill.

You slid to a stop on your side, unable to speak or move or scream. Wrapped from your stomach up to your back was a metal set of jaws, like a lethal bear trap with jagged, biting teeth as wide as you palm and as sharp as you teeth. The death trap practically encircled around your whole body.

The pain doubled, then doubled again, poisoned tips of the metal releasing into your bloodstream. That was when you shrieked louder and more torment-laced than you had ever heard. Unable with this trap around you to change back into your human form, the shriek came out as a howl, reverberating through the air loud, unbridled, and broken beyond what you thought you could stand.

The pieces stabbing into you made you howl til you felt you felt you could no longer survive it, the poison made you convulse until you thought every venom-burned piece of you would melt away, the anguish of it was beyond your capacity to understand or function.

But then you felt steps moving closer to you. You heard voices. And why set a trap if you weren’t going to come back for your prey?

Your eyes glowed bright, edged on by the pain and fighting instinct. Your jaw snapped and growled mingled into your whimpers and howls, a pitiful warning at best.

You heard voices you thought you knew, but you couldn’t make them out enough above your own pain. It overtook everything. You thought you saw through the blinding haze of torment a hand reach towards you in the darkness, a slow and soft thing, trying to reach out to you and connect. Maybe to help and comfort, or maybe to hurt you all the more.

Instantly a feral part of you lashed out in ferocity, trying with mad snaps of your brutally strong jaw and sharpened fangs to cut off the hand offering you the unknown. The basic, primal part of you needed to keep hands and touches away from you, terrified and railing against any more danger.

There would be no comfort from someone else, even through your pain you wouldn’t allow it.

But at some point sharp stabs took your breath away yet again before you felt a telltale sign of release. Someway and somehow once you were released, you were like a bat out of hell, running under some hell-driven necessity to try and out run this all-encompassing anguish.

It clung to you as you went. The faster your tormented steps went, the even worse it became. Eventually you were breathless, whimpering and howling all over again, collapsing onto the ground in a blacken, blood-matted mess on the ground.

Digging claws into the ground you tried to move forward, tried to get more distance between you and pain, but you just couldn’t. You whimpered and begged for the pain to end, but it didn’t. Relief didn’t come until the pain overwhelmed every single ounce of your body and soul, and unconsciousness overtook you.

_______

That primal part of you, that frantic and brutal part of your mind that refused to let in any possibility of danger, clung to you like a vice. It gripped you as fast and unrelenting as the pain that would not leave your body.

“Y/N, please,” Tony pleaded, coming up from behind Bruce, one of several in audience on the other side of the glass from you. “Let us help you.”

But you could still feel it. Even curled up on the floor in a small med bay room, you couldn’t escape it.

The feel of metal locking you in, poisoning your body and mind, stabbing so deep into you that it felt like it split you apart. It left you open and exposed and vulnerable, the jaws of the trap sinking down into intimate places that should never have been touched.

You had the feeling of waking up on the quinjet, restrained and furious and unable to fight it. You were locked down and unable to move or run. You were powerless to know what was happening, too out of your mind to put anything together. All you felt was pain and voices and hands touching you, digging into the intimate places all over again.

You felt it when they tried to get you to shift back to human form at the med bay, hands and metal holding you down while you struggled. You felt pressure on your open, bleeding body, hurting you all over again in attempts to heal you. But you didn’t know healing or rational thought, the poison and your instincts taking over and blaring a red alarm of warning and danger and the need to get away.

You felt trapped. You felt locked in. You felt any touch, any subtle brush of feel against your skin would snap and instead you would feel the cutting, stabbing pain all over again.

Your breath came short and hard and shallow, trying desperately to get in enough oxygen to push out the pain, but it never did. You heart still raced, your blood still boiled under your skin, sweat dripping down it. Your claws, fully extended in your human form, matched your sharp teeth, with golden eyes swirled with blood red now.

Those eyes saw through the glass, protecting the others from you and you from escaping. You saw the massive needle with unknown liquid in Bruce’s hand, the braces and shackles in Steve’s hand, Tony suited up in his Iron Man suit. The pleading in their eyes you didn’t see. The pain in their eyes you couldn’t acknowledge.

You used to notice it before. You used to hold their hand when they looked like that. You used to comfort them.

When the door open your body shook with the simultaneous need to break free from this room and them, and recoiling back at the presence of someone approaching.

It was Bucky, hands up, feigning calm and submission, edging closer. He squatted down a few feet from the door while you growled and strained, claws shrieking out a high pitched sound as they scratched along the tile.

“You’re in pain, Y/N,” he whispered to you. “Let me help you… Please.”

There was second of giving in. A second where you would have agreed. But the pain inside you reared its head again, sending out shooting pains that spanned your whole body. Your eyes went red and deadly, snarling at the man.

“No,” you snarled, this time finding your voice, low and venomous, before the pain threatening to pull you into unconsciousness again. “I’m the family pet… and you should... you should just put me down like one.”

You felt the tears falling and the shaking sprouting out from somewhere deep, taking over you. You breathed faster as snarls turned to sobs, feeling him move closer. The darkness creeping on the edge of your vision kept you from moving or fighting him back.

You could feel him beside you, body so close he was almost pressed up against you. But before unconsciousness took you, all he did was place one hand over yours, and the other on your knee.

When you woke, it was more of the same torment.

And again, after that.

Soon you were functioning, but only just. The pain wouldn’t release you, not fully and perhaps not ever. You cringed when people came close. You yelled and snapped at them, you screamed for death sometimes and space from all of them other times.

The whole team was at a loss without you really, giving you the space you snarled and demanded out of pain.

Tony had more panic attacks. Bruce had a harder time reigning in the Hulk. Steve smiled less and frowned more. Natasha threw herself into more missions. Thor plastered on a fake smile and talked as though everything was fine. Sam was more withdrawn.

But Bucky stayed with you.

Once you were on the bathroom floor, claws scratching the side of the bathtub and teeth sunk into your lip to keep from screaming in pain. Bucky found you though, arms wrapping around you as you were hunched and crumpled. You fought him for a moment, struggling and twisting with your tears splashing over the bathroom floor and walls at the effort. But soon enough you gave into him and his gentle touch. In that moment he held you together while you broke apart.

Sometimes he couldn’t though. Sometimes you pushed him away, yelling at him and shutting him out, pain lashing bitingly and bitterly against every cell in you.

But you always left your door open. And he always came back.

To place a hand on yours. To whisper something soft and gentle in your ear. To gather you up off the ground and hold you close. To ease your trauma bit by bit in hopes it would eventually dissipate, just as you had once eased his.

_______

A/N: So if that ended too angsty for you, just reread the “Then keep spoiling me” part up until they kiss then just stop there lol. Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know??

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ernestsdesign · 6 years ago

Photo

After beginning my website in code, I realised some difficulties with how I would accomplish something similar to my wireframes.

I first decided to look at the issue of social media links, which I decided would be awesome to create myself! For this reason I will create new social media icons before my website goes live. I believe these links will be amazing because they will be capable of having colours which relate to my personal brand.

I then noticed that when putting in my background image, it blocked the content and so I researched websites which would help me move content downward so that the font wasnt on top of the main background.

https://stackoverflow.com/questions/10982465/css-moving-the-text-down-a-few-pixels-but-keeping-the-background-still

https://stackoverflow.com/questions/7750715/css-to-push-content-down-page

I looked at some css grid style navigation bars however I couldnt find any that would always be visible within the webpage and thus decided to stay with my original navigation style. In this navigation the user could access all parts of the website at any section or position within the webpage and by changing up the style and colours of this navigation I feel like it will make the website more amazing!

https://webdesign.tutsplus.com/tutorials/how-to-build-an-off-canvas-navigation-with-css-grid--cms-28191

I also learnt that the position of my logo can be made in a specified location and it can also be made static throughout the site to not disappear by setting a fixed position.

https://bytes.com/topic/html-css/answers/510785-how-do-you-position-image

http://www.css3.com/css-z-index/

https://smallbusiness.chron.com/create-logo-positions-css-45446.html

https://stackoverflow.com/questions/5587458/how-to-move-an-element-down-a-litte-bit-in-html

I also wanted to change the dimensions of the monogram to allow breathing room for the text which first appears with the background image. After testing, I realised that changing the width % helped in fixing the sizing issue.

https://www.w3schools.com/Css/tryit.asp?filename=trycss_dim_height_width2

I then decided to look at the bakground image which caused a lot of issues as it was way larger than the actual background which meant most of the actual illustration was lost. I fixed this by going into Affinity Designer and making it an A3 document with some pieces cropped off and the dimensions played around with.

I also wanted to add an internal hyperlink onto my monogram which would allow it to put the user back to the start of the webpage. I done this by looking at the following website and playing around with the code to make it operational.

http://hyperlinkcode.com/html-image-hyperlink.php

I then added the appropriate "Thasadith" font by embedding it into the CSS and HTML of my website.

https://fonts.google.com/specimen/Thasadith

My next goal was set in my sight, I wanted to make my website a bit more accessible and hence I set out to find text that can be responsive relating to the scale of the site!

I inserted a visual mark into the website however found a new difficulty; adding images that are centered on the website. After research on many website I finally found one which worked and tested it on the browser to make sure it is accurate.

https://www.w3schools.com/csS/css_align.asp

https://www.lifewire.com/center-images-with-css-3466389

https://www.w3schools.com/Tags/att_img_align.asp

https://html-online.com/articles/image-align-center/

After a lot of testing I found a big difficulty, when adding certain images into my projects the text had a large gap from below the image and adding bottom and top borders did nothing to solve this. So I tried changing the size of those images to no avail. I tried the "Inspect" action within Google to try get more understanding on why this was happening and still nothing came up that would cause issues. I decided then that re-inserting the images and entire text could help and it did work- until I added those specific images. It was then that I realised how the issue could lie in the actual "page preset" itself in Affinity Designer. And so I changed from A4 layout onto "Web" and conducted the test for my first image, I refreshed the webpage hoping for the best and after scrolling down I realised that it had indeed worked. Then I continued this trend for the rest of the images. In the end this fixed this huge issue which I was very happen in the result of.

I then faced another issue when I wanted to create a colour background as there were large spaces between each section of the webpage even though I checked to make sure all margin, padding and borders were set to 0, with no effect! Being frustrated I took to the internet where I found a trick to fill the colour background however when I tried to do it I seen no effect.

https://stackoverflow.com/questions/25329260/html-background-color-not-filling-whole-page

I wanted to make my images more interactive and so I went to my github account and read in my blog that the "max-width: 100%;" means that the images will resize to fit the parent container instead of just rendering at its native width and overflowing its containing box however it doesnt seem to be working properly on all the images on my website.

https://github.com/ESmaciej/John-Baskerville/blob/gh-pages/css/style-history6.css

I faced a new issue as my text had enormous spaces, and so this meant that once I added anotehr background colour lower on within the page then it had a huge gap from the initial making it looks really unprofessional and made it not suitable. I tried changing all borders, paddings and margins to 0 to counteract that with no effect.

I wanted to ensure that all content on the webpage is scalable and to ensure this is used the "vw" measurements for all my font ensuring it scales alongside the size of the display dimensions. I however had an issue with my monogram which took up more space than was necessary within the grid layout. This meant that the monogram displayed either went beyond the border of the grid or extended the grid to the point in which it looked ridiculous. I tried changing borders and padding and went into inspector to see what could fix the issue and i noticed that removing the specified "height" of the mongoram fixed the issue a little.

I noticed a small issue, once using my smartphone, the navigation text went onto a new line which made the appeal and accessibility less apparent. I then looked through the reasons of why this may be happening and thus added the "white-space: nowrap;" as this was mentioned in most blogs and answers. I noticed that this didnt really help except for adding some space on the next line of the navigation text, however, I found that reducing padding ensured that in all dimensions the navigation stayed in one line.

https://teamtreehouse.com/community/how-to-put-my-nav-li-in-one-line

https://stackoverflow.com/questions/5232310/htmlcss-how-to-force-div-contents-to-stay-in-one-line

https://stackoverflow.com/questions/28568711/how-to-make-a-navbar-stay-in-one-line

Another issue I faced was the size of the background colour for my first paragraph below the background image. I made this more appealing by changing the height from 20vh to "auto".

I was frustrated at how much the scale of the background image in accordance to the below paragraph changed once the website was scaled down meaning there was a huge visible space between the two. I tried making the background scaled at 100% however this was already applied. After loads of testing with the height and width %'s I tried adding sizingMethod='scale', which helped (sort of). I then realised that I could change the height from "vh" to "vw" and this, mostly, fixed the issue of scalability and although there was a tiny space between the two when on mobile, it was a huge improvement which I couldnt make any better.

https://stackoverflow.com/questions/7660931/responsive-web-design-how-to-resize-a-background-image-according-to-browser-w

https://developer.mozilla.org/en-US/docs/Web/CSS/CSS_Backgrounds_and_Borders/Scaling_background_images

https://www.w3schools.com/csSref/css3_pr_background-size.asp

https://stackoverflow.com/questions/15588091/how-to-have-css-background-image-scale-with-window-size-and-device

I then tackled the issue of paragraphs being hugely spaced out within the portfolio section and what I done was reduced the padding of the images and text itself.

https://www.lifewire.com/styling-links-with-css-3466838

#ixd103

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tinkdw · 8 years ago

Text

12x22: Dean Winchester is going to die

Well, when I was new, I wrote a whole post about this, about how early episodes but especially 12x11 foreshadowed that Performing!Dean was going to be deconstructed by the end of the season... Fans self.

The death of Performing!Dean in this episode was BEAUTIFUL. It was EXQUISITE. I couldn't have asked for MORE!

I literally grabbed and punched @amwritingmeta in the leg I don't know how many times as I paused it to point and shout.

1. The Grenade Launcher

So, the grenade launcher = performing!Dean metaphor. We had hoped and boy did they deliver! Did anyone else notice, while Dean was *ahem* knocking down the seemingly unpenetrable physical walls, that, maybe it was my weird link, but it seemed to me that the flashing ‘red’ lights in the MoL bunker were decidedly pinky-purpley in colour rather than standard alarm bells red and the flashlights glowed on the blue side of white... (the MoL HQ lights are also brightly pinky-purple to keep the theme going, I mean honestly what self respecting 1950s MoL guy chose this for the bunker instead of the usual red? Please!) Just saying.

“It wasn't long ago I thought we had it made. We had Cas back, we had mom back. I mean it wasn't perfect but still...”. This is it. Dean’s facade has been coming down all season, but at this point now, he just doesn’t see the point in holding it up anymore.

And what does Sam do? HE OPENS UP TO DEAN. He tells Dean how he feels, the reasons why he followed the MoL - that it was “easier than leading”, that he made a mistake. This enables Dean to be truthful himself, in the end, now. Again, they have had many times to reflect on their own deaths but this is another time similar to 11x23 where he can really reflect on what he has lost, and now what is that? Cas and Mary.

Dean uses the grenade launcher, that he’s been dying to do since forever, blows down the impenetrable seeming wall, saves the day. How meta do we need to go? It’s BLATANT. The choice in the colour of the lights, the dialogue, his feelings... the walls are Dean’s facade and the grenade launcher is his way of breaking it down. YES. This has been building all season and much prior to this other meta writers have said that he grenade launcher is associated with Dean’s hidden side, his bisexuality, Destiel etc... this is meta gold, THIS is a meta aspect Dabb was talking about. Toni even then parallels the tearing down of Mary’s mental wall with Dean’s physical use of the grenade launcher, just moments after. It is so well put together :D

Also, I have long believed that the bunker had to go. It represents too much the MoL side of things and the whole ‘living below ground’ thing is way too underground / metaphorically bad. For me they need a real, healthy home which is in between Bobby’s hunter house and the MoL bunker. Hopefully they will find a nice modern MoL home with kit but that isn't so hidden above ground somewhere next season to take over and make their own :D

2. Sam the MoL leader

“Real hunting isn’t just about killing, it’s about doing whats right... I want you to follow me”. We have wanted this for Sam all season, the MoL story fits his personal arc so well (so did Eileen, still bitter), this is Sam’s endgame. Sam said just moments earlier that he didn’t want to lead, but now he is, because it is necessary and because he is good at it. I believe he will now see that this is what he wants and will work towards this for his endgame.

This then leads to...

3. Dean and Sam - ending the brodependency and Dean as Sam’s parent

Dean lets Sam go, the dialogue is amazing. “You’re ready for this... you got this” paralleled with an actual mom/daughter conversation between Jody and Alex.

Dean literally talks to Sam like a parent letting their child go off to college and I had to pause this for a long long moment to process and scream “they’re actually going there!” not even knowing what was coming next... man...

Then comes the Mary / Dean scene.

4. Dean and Mary

This was always going to be what Mary led to for Dean’s arc. After Amara had started this addressing of Dean’s facade in season 11 and Mary is basically an extension of Amara this season re: Dean (in the same way that she still has to influence Sam’s arc re: Lucifer, that is for next season). I LOVED how BLATANT and textual they made this, the actual lack of subtext because it was all in the ACTUAL TEXT!

Firstly, Dean considers letting Toni go, which I had expected, to show the difference between our boys (morality) and the MoL as monsters.

Then... “Dad was just a shell...I had to be a father and a mother to keep him safe, and that wasnt fair, and I couldnt do it, and you wanna know what that was like? They killed the girl that he loved, he got possessed by Lucifer, they tortured him in hell and he lost his soul...But I forgive you, for everything.” MY HEART!

Ok, yeah, they did the thing, they brought Jess up 30 mins before killing the guy that Dean loves after not mentioning her for.... A DECADE? And paralleling one of the few scenes we ever saw her in with Dean/Cas too? After we already had the parallel with Dean seeing Cas when driving along, same as Sam did? So, only the scene of Sam and Jess in the bar and the scene where Dean actually meets her haven't been paralleled now with Dean/Cas? I’M LIVING!

But seriously. The rest is exactly what we, the audience needed to understand Dean and to show casual viewers Dean’s inner angst in order to understand the facade coming down, this is exactly what Dean needed. He has come full circle, this is the start of the culmination of the end of Performing!Dean (which Jensen has no said at Jibcon will be furthered in season 13!).

Dean actually TELLS Mary in his mind that he hates her, but that he loves her. That he had to be Sam’s mother and father, and that it wasn't FAIR. This is so important, that he didnt just say that it happend and that it sucked, but that it wasn't FAIR and that he did not DESERVE IT.

This is Dean addressing not just his mother but how HE feels about it, how he feels about HIMSELF, that he is saying that he DESERVES MORE and has SELF WORTH.

These are all the words I have been using since 12x01 re: Dean . I’m so happy!

5. Ketch kills Toni, Mary kills Ketch after Dean beats him to a pulp, PERFECT, Jody kills Hess, again perfect.

This had to happen to keep our boys on the ‘don't kill humans unless they HAVE to’ side, especially after Dean considered letting Toni go. Thank you.

6. Winchester family reunion

Sam’s forgiveness of Mary, Dean’s reaction to the happy family hug (it’s great but someone is missing...). “Who we are... we kick ass. We save the world”

SAM AND DEAN ARE ACCEPTING THEMSELVES THIS SEASON. In 12x09 Sam said it, now Dean says it. After all the angst this episode and for Dean all season...

This whole episode was for me the culmination of the deconstruction of Performing!Dean this season, which has been the main theme carried through on the character - driven side of things, it was beautiful.

In many ways I view this as the character - led season finale and 12x23 as the plot - led season finale (which I will post my thoughts on right up next).

I cannot WAIT to see the result of this episode come across next season.

We have not only now Performing!Dean pretty much dead or on his way out, the Dean Winchester is going to die metaphor was fully used and was fantastic, but coupled with Cas being brutally taken away from Dean, the parallels with 2 key canon romantic couples (Sam/Jess and Cain/Colette) in this within SECONDS of each other, plus the Jibcon revelations that we will see more of Dean’s reaction to this in season 13, apparently crying (and Jared not even hiding Destiel jokes now) make me pretty much 100% convinced Destiel is really endgame now.

Aside from this we now have Dean accepting himself, his internal self acceptance arc coming to a close, Sam’s MoL arc coming up and I will touch on the other aspects of the story for Sam in the next post as they are relevant to Lucifer / Jack, and Cas’s arc too...

Season 13 is already set up for exactly the endgame I am wishing for!

Tink’s Endgame Wishlist :

- Mol! Sam (and Eileen, Chuck I’m still bitter about that though, I really hoped her death would turn out to be a misdirection). Pretty much CHECK.

- Hunter / Mol collaboration with Sam and Dean as leaders. Pretty much CHECK.

- End of the brodependency, Dean acknowledging he was Sam’s parent and letting him go. CHECK.

- End of Performing!Dean. Pretty much CHECK.

- Human!Cas and self worth and belonging for his arc. TBA probably next season, what happened this season makes no sense if not to lead to this.

- Destiel. Pretty much CHECK. (And now after seeing Jibcon and the boys just joking about it all the time? Yeah, I don't think they have an issue with this!).

- ALL THE RAINBOWS

#spn 12x22 #performing!dean #mary winchester #destiel #dean is bi #bi!dean #bunker #tinks meta #spn 12x22 meta

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