#anyway a lot of my current tastes in character can be traced back to ''crazy bitch'' ryuga over here. he was the blueprint

[scalproie]

Metal Fight Beyblade (メタルファイトベイブレード, Metaru Faito Beiburēdo), is a Japanese manga created by Takafumi Adachi, serialized in Shogakukan's monthly magazine CoroCoro Comic between September 2008 and February 2012. The series is a spin-off of the original Beyblade manga series written by Takao Aoki. The manga inspired an anime production, retroactively named Beyblade: Metal Saga, which

[avengerscompound]

Mixology - The Morning After

Mixology - A Captain America Fanfic

Series Masterlist Previous //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count:  2952

Series Warnings:  Angst, Character death, Breaking up and making up, past trauma, pregnancy, talk of abortion, smut (vaginal sex, fingering, other things)

Synopsis:   Steve Rogers comes into your bar and after a night of flirting you take him home.  When he leaves the next day you never expect to see him again.

A/N:  This fic was written pre-Infinity War.  So while it follows canon for a while, it then veers off wildly at the end.

The Morning After

You wake up engulfed from behind by large arms.  The room is filled with light and you open your eyes glancing at your clock.  10.30.  Decent sleep in, in the end.  Steve stirs beside you.  His grip tightens around your body, pulling you against him.  He nuzzles his face into your hair and presses his hips against you.  He’s hard and his erection pushes against your ass.

“Good morning.”  You say.  You run your fingers down his forearms, tracing your fingertips over the prominent veins that lead down to his hands.

He hums and his hands start roaming over your body.  You don’t want him to stop, but your stupid bladder has other ideas.

He rolls away from you suddenly and sits up.  “I better call work.  Tell them I’m not coming in.”  

He picks his phone off the bedside table.  It’s one of those Stark Tech ones and he swipes his finger around the screen for a second before holding it to his ear.  

“Good morning.  It’s Captain Rogers.  I won’t be able to make it in today …  I injured myself on my morning workout … No, I don’t need medical attention … I am aware of that.”  He holds his phone out in front of him then looks back at you.  “Battery went flat.  That’s a shame.”  He carefully places the phone back on the bedside table and rolls back over, pinning you to the bed.

“Now,”  He says, kissing that spot just below your ear, “I think we should take a shower together.”

You wriggle out from underneath him.  “Okay, but I need to pee first.”  You squeak and dash into the bathroom.

After you’re done, you brush your teeth and let Steve use the bathroom too.  When you hear the shower start up you go back in to join him.  He’s already naked and standing under the water so you strip off and climb in with him.  When he turns to you, you nearly audibly gasp. You actually bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from making a sound.

He is literally the most perfect example of a human being you’ve ever seen.  Every single muscle on his body is huge and well defined.  His cock though.  His cock is a dildo creator's wet dream.  It is thick and long, and just perfect.  Veined without being too veined.  Totally straight.  You try and remember if you’ve ever seen cock as big as his before.  Not in person, that’s definitely true.  In porn?  Maybe.  It’s a little intimidating if you’re honest with yourself.

You wonder if you should compliment him.  Do guys like that?  Fuck it, you’re doing it anyway.  “Nice package you’re sporting there, pal.”  You grin at him like the idiot you currently feel like and mentally curse yourself.

He starts laughing.  “Thank you?”  He says.  

You shake your head and start giggling.  “I’m sorry.  I’m an idiot.”

He takes your hand and pulls you towards him.  He guides your fingers to his cock and moves them up and down his length.  He stiffens under your palm and you wrap your fingers around it.  As you pump your fist up and down his shaft he starts kissing you.  He spins you both so you’re under the water and pushes you against the wall.  His mouth moves down your neck to your chest.  Each kiss is accompanied by the graze of teeth on your skin.  

When he reaches your breast he teases your nipple with his teeth and the point of his tongue.  When your nipple hardens he moves to the other breast and repeats the process.  After what feels like a tortuously long time he sucks one nipple into his mouth.  It sends a jolt through you and you groan.  Your head falls back, pressed against the shower wall and you lift your leg and wrap it around Steve’s waist, pulling him against you.

“Steve,”  You breathe, “Let me …”

He pulls away from you and you drop to your knees.  You run your tongue up his length, tracing it over the veins and ridges.  You take him into your mouth, sucking on the head.  His hips move forward and you allow him to push his cock further into you, opening your throat for him. It feels like the amount you can take isn’t as much as what you can’t though.  So you use your hands on his shaft and stroke him as you suck and lick and roll your tongue over his dick.

Steve places his hands on the bathroom wall and leans against it as you bring him to orgasm with your mouth.  

“Y/N, I’m gonna…”  He pants a warning.  You increase your speed, sucking harder, forcing as much of him down your throat as you can.  You want him to come in your mouth.  You want to taste him.  Swallow what he can give you.

He comes with a jerk and you drink him down.   He pulls you to your feet and crouches in front of you.  His tongue slips between your folds and as he runs it up towards your clit you put your leg over his shoulder.  He presses his tongue down on your clit.  You gasp and he grabs your other leg and lifts you from the floor.  You lean back against the wall and grip the shower head to stop you from falling.  Steve laps and sucks at your pussy.  It’s like he’s paying close attention to every move and sound you make because he goes from moving his mouth around your folds to focused directly on that little mound of nerves that set you off coming into his mouth.  

He adjusts you so that you slide down his front, setting you onto your feet.  “Wow.  That was crazy.”  You say.

Steve laughs.  “Thanks for trusting me.”  He says and kisses you on the top of your head.  He grabs your shower puff and squirts some of your blueberry shower gel into it.  Slowly and tenderly he washes you.  It makes your scalp prickle as he lathers up your body.

“I don’t think I’ve even had an actual boyfriend who did anything like that before.”  You breathe.

“I’m sorry to hear that.  You deserve to be looked after.”  Steve says.  

You both finish up the shower.  You put on a robe and Steve just stays with his towel wrapped around his waist.

“You hungry?”  You ask.

“Starving.”

You put on some coffee and start mixing pancakes.  It takes a while because Steve won’t keep his hands off you.  He stays close behind you, running his hands over your ass, gripping your waist.  He’ll kiss and nuzzle at your neck and randomly spin you to face him so you can kiss as he grinds into you.  Finally, you get the mixture ready and you turn on your griddle.

“I can add something to these if you want.  I have choc-chips and blueberries.”  You offer.

“I should say the blueberries shouldn’t I?”  Steve asks.  

You shrug.   “It’s already fat, sugar and carbs.  I think you can do whatever you want at this point.”

“Choc-chips.”  

As you cook Steve starts looking around your apartment.  “You like bartending?”  He asks.

“Not always. The job I have now is good.  I’ve just been using it as a way to see the world.  Means I can see a place for longer.”  You reply.

“How long have you been traveling for?”  

You pause and think, serving up a pancake and sliding it over your breakfast bar to him.  You pour him a coffee and put the creamer on the counter for him to add himself.  “About three years I guess.  I liked going around Europe a lot.  My visa ran out though, so now I’m just seeing as much of the states as I can. You must have seen a bit of Europe too.”

Steve laughs, but it’s slightly uncomfortable.  “It was a little different when I saw it.”

“Shit.  Sorry.  Of course.  That must have been horrible.  I couldn’t imagine having to live when you’ve been part of that.”  You say.  Your words seem to have made it worst though.  He darkens.  “Sorry.  Why am I bringing shit like this up?  I’m the worst one-night stand ever.”

Steve walks around the bar into the kitchen.  He turns you to face him and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into an embrace.  “Don’t talk about yourself like that.  You aren’t a one night stand.”

You shake your head.  “That’s not what this is?”

“It might be what this is.  It isn’t what you are.”  He says.  Why do his words both hurt and feel amazing?  You don’t feel bad about having casual sex but it’s like he sees you.  You aren’t just a hole he can stick his dick into.  He sees the person you are.  “The things I do…  My past…”  He pauses and shakes his head.

“You don’t have to…”  

“Sometimes the right thing to do isn’t the easiest to live with.  You live with it because you have to.”  He finishes.  He reaches past you, picks up the spatula and flips the pancake on the griddle.  “Now I didn’t take off work to dwell on bad things.  Happy talk from now on.”  His hands go to your face and you kiss. You never want it to end.  If you died right now, it would be happy.  

He lets you go and you serve up the pancake and make yourself a coffee.  You go sit down on the couch and Steve joins you.  

“What made you want to travel?”  He asks, taking a bite of pancake.

“The world is big, and my life experience was small.  I didn’t really have anything to keep me tied down, so why not?”  You explain.  “It’s been good.  You never wanted to travel?”

“I guess it would be good to see the world as a civilian.”  He says.  He opens his mouth like he’s going to say more and then closes it again.

“I spent some time in Australia.  I met these people and we went into the bush.  That’s what they call the forest there.  Did you know that?”  You say. Steve shakes his head. “It’s funny, isn’t it.  Going into the bush.  Anyway… we found this pond I guess you’d call it.  They said it was a billabong. Australian’s are weird.  We decided to skinny dip.  When we got out, some animal had taken half our clothes.  That was a fun return trip.”

Steve starts laughing and you move your feet so they are pressed up against his leg.  “What did you do?”

“Well we shared what was still there between us, and we hid behind trees a lot.”  You hook your toes into his towel and pull it so it falls loose around him.  He smirks at you.  “You ever go skinny dipping?”

“Me?  No, never.”  Steve says.  He puts his plate onto the coffee table.  He pushes your legs apart and starts kissing up your calves.  Each kiss ends with a soft bite.  Each bite gets harder the further up he travels.

“Maybe you should.”  You say.  “Live dangerously.”

He looks up at you.  “You don’t think my life has enough danger in it?”  

You stab a piece of pancake onto your fork and offer it to him.  He takes a bite and you put your plate down next to his.  “See that’s different.  You go out and do what you do.  Save the world. You risk your life sure.  Maybe you’ll get injured, maybe you die.  You’re still seen as Captain America.  You go out and get caught skinny dipping with some friends.  Or maybe some lovers even.  You can’t physically get hurt. But if you get caught, well then people get to see Steve, don’t they?  Maybe they don’t like what they see?”

“I’m not sure that Steve is the kind of guy who goes skinny dipping though.”   He says.  He runs his face up the inside of your thigh.  With his morning stubble, it scratches and you squirm a little.

“Steve?”  He looks up at you and smiles.  “They say you can’t get sick, is that true?”

“Yes.  One of the things the serum did for me.”  

You bite your lip and run your fingers down his jaw.  “Well, I’m on birth control.  If you want to forego any other protection.  I’m okay with it.  It’s up to you.”

“You’re trusting me with a lot.”

“You’re not trustworthy?”  You ask.

“I like to think I am.  But you don’t really know me.”  He pulls the tie on your robe and pushes it open.  

“You don’t know me either.  I could be lying about the birth control.  I’m not.  I think you’re trustworthy.  Now it’s in your court to decide if I am.  I won’t be offended if you decide I’m not.”  

Steve gets up.  He picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bed, placing you gently on the mattress.  You look him over again and feel real trepidation over what you’re about to do. What if he doesn’t fit?  What if trying to force him to really hurts?

He climbs between your legs again resuming the little kissing expedition up your legs that he’d started on the couch.  Each kiss is, lips followed by the graze of teeth.  They make your skin tingle all over, and when he reaches your pussy the last kiss on your thigh is not kiss at all.  He bites you, pulling at your flesh with his teeth.  You moan and heat floods your cunt.  

He runs his nose up between your folds.  Its point briefly touches on your clit and you hiss, the muscles in your legs tightening.  His tongue flicks over that swollen bundle of nerves sending wave after wave of pleasure through you.  Two of his fingers are inserted into your cunt.  He curls them stroking them over your internal walls.  Teasing over your g-spot.  He moves them like he’s trying to coax an orgasm out of you.  Beckoning it to him.

You start to writhe and moan under him.  Your orgasm builds and you grip the sheets squeezing your eyes closed as you focus on it.  “Steve, of fuck!  Oh god!”  You cry.

“Not yet.”  He growls.  

You open your eyes and look down at him startled.  He is watching you now.  He removes his fingers from your cunt only to quickly return them with a third.  He strokes them inside you and twists his hand so his knuckles grind against your g-spot.  You cry out arching your back.

“Do you like that?”  He asks.  

“Oh god yes.  Please.”  You moan.

He spreads his fingers inside you, increasing the pleasantly full sensation inside you.  “You feel that?”  He asks.

“Yes.  Please, Steve.  Please.”  You plead with him.

“I’m no bigger than that.”  He said.  “You don’t need to be worried.  I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Okay.”  You whimper.  He curls his fingers and returns his mouth to your clit, nibbling on it.  His fingers press down on your g-spot and you come, clenching around his fingers.  

He removes his hand and crawls up your body, placing kisses at random intervals as he approaches your mouth.  When his body is aligned with yours you grab his hair and pull him into a kiss.  Your tongue exploring his mouth.

He pulls away from you and you chase him, sucking his bottom lip.  He smiles at you and takes your hand guiding it to his cock.  He wraps your fingers around his girth.  

“You’re in control.”  He says, looking deep into your eyes.  “Guide me to where it’s comfortable.”

You line his cock up with your entrance and he slowly pushes in.  You sigh as he fills you, paying close attention to how his cock feels inside of you.  Your head tilts back slightly, your lips parted and he places small kisses along your jaw.  

His cock hits a spot where there is a slight sting and your grip tightens around him.  He stops pushing and he tilts your face back to his.  “There?”  he asks.

You let your body adjust and you shake your head.  “More.”  You breathe.

He pushes in further.  You feel him reach that limit where pleasure becomes pain and you stop him.  You let his cock go wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.  He allows you a moment to adjust to him and he begins to thrust.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.  He alternates between a gentle, pleasant rhythm allowing you to feel his cock run along the ridges of your cunt, to just pounding into you so you can’t even catch your breath.  You feel like you’re about to come undone.  Just when you think this is it, nothing can possibly feel any better than Steve Rogers’ dick inside of you, he brings his arm between your bodies and his fingers find your clit.  

You come.  Explosively.  Clinging to him as if he’s somehow stopping you from falling into an abyss.  You yell his name, and he bites down on your shoulder, grunting as he spills inside of you.  

He slips out of you and collapses down beside you.  You link your fingers with his and just lie on your back beside him panting.

“I think you just ruined me for all men, Steve.”  You say.  “I have to switch teams now.  Or maybe just give up sex forever.  Because that was it.  That was the best sex I’m ever going to have.” Steve starts laughing and he pulls you into his arms.  “Don’t say that.  We still have most of the afternoon available to us.”

// NEXT

[ediblenapkin-moved]

That’s The Thing About Dreams- Chapter 1

A/N: holy fucking shit why. Why am i doing this nobody asked for this

What the fuck

uuuuuuuUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHH i’m actually doing this

I’m almost 90% sure this idea already exists somewhere, but I can’t find it. If anyone knows who the fuck first made it then please tell me so i can direct people there. If not then holy shit i had an original idea????? (hahahahahahaha yeah no.)

Anyways, I don’t quite have any good names for this fucking fic so prepare for utter and complete BS no matter what I settle on. I mean, the entirety of this fucking AU is just summed up with the words What If Joey Got Drafted (i’ve officially called it the Animator Reversal Au but that sounds dumb) (someone with creativity: help) (the title is shit. sorry.)

And finally, i have no fucking skill in writing certain things. You know, like a proper intro and all that jazz. So i apologize ahead of time. I’ll probably go back later and edit this. maybe. whenever i can open my eyes for a minute.

Here is the ff.net link.

Enjoy.

lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

“Joey? You doing alright?” Henry leaned into his friend’s office, but froze.

The man was sitting at his desk, staring at the wall. A letter laid loftily on top of all the varied sketches and designs that were scattered across the overused workspace. An inkwell had been tipped over, the ink dripping lightly into a puddle. As Henry spoke, he turned and stood, shoving all the paper further up on the desk.

“Ah! Henry! Yes, yes, I’m doing fine. I was just taking a break, as a matter of fact. Care to join me?”

Henry frowned. Something was off, but he couldn’t quite tell what. “Yeah…”

“Great! Come on.”

Joey walked off, but Henry stayed in the doorway, staring at the desk. Soon he found himself pulling down one fold of the letter, and scanning it. He knew it would probably be fine- Joey read most of the letters he got.

As he read, though, his face went pale. He folded the letter, slipped it back on top of the other paper, and walked to the break room.

This probably wasn’t going to end well.

****************

Within twenty minutes, Joey was slumped in a chair in the break room, and already the contents of the letter were out and already spread through at least three floors of the studio.

“You? You are getting drafted.”

Joey sighed. “Yes, I’m pretty sure that’s what it said.”

Henry shifted in his seat. As soon as he’d made it down to the break room, he’d pulled Joey aside and asked him about the letter. Of course, in an animation studio with this many people and only one break room every three floors, there were at least two people taking their breaks no matter when you checked. And it just so happened that Sammy was taking his break in the ground floor break room.

Currently, the music director was leaning against the wall, eyes shut. “So now what?”

“Yeah, now what?” Wally, sitting in a chair propped by the doorway, looked up. “How’s this supposed to work out? It’s already crazy enough with you here- if you leave, I don’t think we’re gonna be able to keep this place in one piece.”

A chorus of agreements filled the room from the various staff who had already made their way upstairs. Susie had been one of the first, and instantly she began firing off questions one after the other- but as more and more people arrived, it’d just gotten louder and louder- until finally Sammy got everyone’s attention and forced most of them to go back to work. Quite a few remained, though, and they were finally using up the chairs that had been haphazardly placed in the break room.

Something that Joey didn’t really enjoy, but….

“So, how many days?”

“Four. Four days.” He put his head in his hands. “And just when I had the perfect idea…”

“What, you were gonna give me a raise?” Several people chuckled, and Joey raised his head just enough to glare at Sammy for a moment.

“Seriously, though, what are we going to do? Are we going to take a hiatus…?”

Silence. Then, Joey shook his head. “No, no stopping now. We’ve gotten this far- even if I’m not going to be here, things shouldn’t stop here.” He stood. “Alright, here’s the plan- Henry is officially in charge.” The animator blinked as Joey pointed at him. “But, Sammy- you’re in charge of making sure Henry doesn’t screw up anything major. You know what, Franks- you’re also in charge of Henry.”

“Hell, just put everyone else in charge of Henry and call it a day,” Thomas muttered.

Henry groaned from his seat. “You don’t trust me to run this place, yet you call me the co-owner.”

“Don’t worry. I knew you didn’t want to really do anything business wise, so I’m pushing it on them.”

“And you’re the one who spent an outrageous amount of money on a whole toy factory, but I’m the untrustworthy one…”

“Hey, that toy factory’s got a nice profit.”

“And I don’t?”

*******************

Three more days saw Joey Drew on his knees, tracing ink onto the floor slowly and carefully with one hand, the other set against an open book.

Finally, he finished, and stood, picking the book up.

A fully drawn pentagram laid on the floor, still gleaming and fresh. It was surrounded by lit candles and a ton of uncapped, full inkwells.

Joey took a deep breath, bringing the book closer. He only had a little bit of time left. If this worked, it could keep the studio afloat while he was gone. It would last long enough for him to come back. Because he would come back. (He had to think he would because if he thought he might then that left room for doubt and that meant he believed, at least a little, that he could very much die out there and bleed out in a foreign place with nobody recognizable in sight and all his dreams stuck in his head where nobody can reach them-)

Joey would return.

He reopened the book, flipping to the correct page. The page he’d handwritten, having used well over thirty different books as a reference. The entire book was basically one giant reference for the varied things he wanted to do.Some pages filled with pentagrams, some with character sketches, some with rants and ramblings about anything he could think of.

Due to one of the thoughts he’d had when writing, it had the thought provoking title of The Illusion of Living sketched on with a bit of white pencil. Not that it would ever be published, of course.

Joey paused for a moment- allowing the doubt to seep in. It’s not going to work. It’s going to go wrong. Something doesn’t feel right.

Then. he shook his head. No, this would go right. It had to.

He took another breath and began chanting. As he spoke, he noticed the lines on the circle beginning to darken- and then the ink moved. He stuttered, nearly botching a word, but managed to catch himself and continue.

The ink pulled itself from the inkwells, gathering in a point in the middle of the circle. It began to rise, forming a shaky pillar that nearly reached Joey’s shoulders. As Joey spoke the final words, it sunk back down slightly- and began to form a definitive shape.

Joey finished the chant- and the ink paused.

Then it collapsed.

Joey cried out, looking at the page- then put the book down and kneeled next to the circle.

The ink broke the confines of the circle, but remained inanimate. It didn’t move any further, simply remained a pile of ink on the floor.

For a while, Joey waited. Maybe he’d said one of the words wrong. Maybe there wasn’t enough ink. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

But soon enough, a clock chimed- and he checked his watch. His shoulders sagged.

His time was up. This was his last day in the studio- his last chance. But it hadn’t worked.

He shut the book, and set it back on the desk. Blew out the candles. Then, silently, he walked out, not turning back, leaving the ink puddle on the floor.

He shut the door just as the ink rippled.

lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

A/N: So for some reason, whenever I think of an actual image of Joey now, all I can see is Cave Johnson. The younger one. The one that thinks he’s got all his shit together and he can test on Olympiads and astronauts!!! Yeah that one. That’s what I imagine Joey looks like. So when I write Joey, I can’t help but imagine this guy that looks a lot like Cave Johnson. If, ya know, Cave failed to raise enough money for Science™ and had to settle for cartoon business instead. And decided to dabble with magic because he couldn’t afford Science™. Because you know what, fuck Science™. what did it ever do for him.

So there’s that.

Anyways there’s probably a million and one errors with this but i cannot care enough to fix anything at this point so

On a side note, i sometimes regret putting certain songs in my playlist.not because i don’t like them, but because i really do not need that mood when writing this story. Like, i love the sound, but i do not need this mood. This is supposed to be a SERIOUS scene, not really silly. Stop making me crack dumb jokes with little taste.

Something serious. I’m pretty sure Henry knew the toy factory existed- where else could the plushies have come from- but never got to see it or anything. Just found out that it was there and was like joey why

So, there’s chapter 1. Who knows when chapter 2 will arrive????.... I sure don’t hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha sorry

[sebastainstantrash]

Oceans |Bucky Barnes x Reader| ~One-Shot~

Summary: A songfic loosely based on the song ‘Oceans’ by Seafret.

A/N: Okay so I know I should wait and post this, but I just can’t. I am so so proud of this fic. Even though it killed me to write, I absolutely love it, and I can’t wait to get feedback. I also kind of used The Fault in our Stars for inspiration if that gives you any type of idea what this is about.

Warnings: Character death, MAJOR angst, Cancer, sad Bucky Barnes.

*NOT MY GIF*

'I want you, yea, I want you. But, nothing comes close, to the way that I need you...'

"..you smile, and I see the sun in your eyes," He spoke calmly, as if he had been rehearsing for weeks.

"You laugh, so loud, and so passionately; like you want the whole world to know you're happy, yet you cry so softly; as if you never want to burden anyone with your sadness. You are kind, and funny, and everything I never will be.." His voice was barely above a whisper now, but she could hear him. Loud and clear, she heard him.

"But I love you. I love you, (Y/N). It hurts to love you this much. And I wish I didn't because I don't deserve to love someone like you, b-" She shook her head, dainty pink lips meeting his chapped ones. His self-loathing falling on deaf ears.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). I know this isn't what you wanted to hear. Just.." She could hear the older woman's lips part, a quiet sigh slipping between them. "..call the office back when you're ready to set up an appointment." With that, the line went dead, and the girl slipped into her happy facade as she saw Bucky's face peek around the corner.

They'd been watching a movie when her phone rang, and he was wondering if he should make some popcorn while he was waiting. 

"Sure, Buck'. Sounds fine to me." She gave him one of those half smiles; The weak and clearly forced ones. She had never been a good liar. But, like the loving, understanding boyfriend he was, Bucky didn't push it. 

She let out a relieved breath when he smiled back and disappeared around the corner. She didn't have the strength to lie to him, not now. Not today.

Doctor's Offices had never bothered her, she didn't mind the smell of alcohol pads and latex, or the ugly cartoon scrubs the older nurses chose to wear. But today, she felt sick. She was sick of the smell of latex and alcohol, and the horrible sound of that paper she was currently forced to sit on. 

The doctor's voice droned on, talking about treatment options, certain experimental drugs. All the tests she'd have to take to truly determine what would be the best route of attacking the malignancy.

"It's Cancer, Doctor. Please just call it Cancer. I know what it is, you know what it is. You don't have to use your fancy words to make me feel better, I've already been through this once if you weren't aware."

It was getting harder to ignore the symptoms of chemo, or rather; the symptoms of dying. Small clumps of hair littered the shower floor, and the taste of bile was a constant. She was tired, so tired. She could barely find the strength to get out of bed in the morning. Yet, she refused to tell him she was sick. 

A month-long mission had caught his attention, right before she had begun treatment. That month had turned into three. And here she was, calling him on the phone, feigning happiness while Natasha glared at her from the other side of the room. 

Everyone knew; their friends, her family, the neighbors. Everyone except Bucky knew she was dying. She was staring the Grim Reaper in the face, and she couldn't work up the courage to tell the one person she truly loved, the one person who truly loved her, that she was dying.

Bucky knew something was wrong when he arrived at the tower and everyone was gathered in the common room. Everyone but (Y/N).

"Where's (Y/N)-" His gut wrenched as Steve stood, warily making his way over to his best friend. Eye contact was avoided, frowns had found their way onto each one of the Avenger's faces. The Captain led him to a seat, finding a place next to him.

"She's in the hospital Buck, It's-" He sucked in a breath, running a hand down his face, trying to comprehend the correct way to handle this.

"Did the Cancer come back?" 

Silence has a way of consuming a room.

"You once told me that when I smile, you see the sun in my eyes.." Her pale fingers made their way to his cheek, tracing over each line, every curve. "And that when I laugh, it sounds like I want the whole world to know that I'm happy." She sucked in a breath, wincing as she did so. 

"I didn't smile like that until I met you, and I definitely didn't laugh like that until I loved you." She told him, wiping away a stray tear that had slipped out of his eye. 

"Don't cry, Baby, please don't cry. I'm okay." She sniffled, blinking back her own tears. "You, the sweetest, most amazing human being I've ever met, are the only person who can make a girl smile so hard the sun shines in her eyes, and laugh so loud the whole world hears. Promise me, promise me you won't ever doubt yourself again."

All he could do was nod. Speaking could cause the dam to break, he had decided that before he had even entered the room. 

"I want you to be happy, that's all I've ever wanted. Bucky, I know it seems sad right now. It'll seem sad for a while. But one day, be happy again. You have to let me go, eventually."

He shook his head. "I can't be happy without you.." His voice cracked, and more tears slipped down his weathered cheeks. "Please don't go," He begged.

She wiped his tears away weakly, whispering I love you before her hand went limp, her eyes fluttering closed. 

"Buck?" It was Steve, he realized. But he didn't bother to turn over or acknowledge his friend's presence. 

"I.. There's something (Y/N) wrote me before she passed. I wasn't supposed to tell you, but I think maybe it'll help. In some way." He waited for any reaction, but the room was filled with silence. 

"I'll just leave it on your desk, okay?" Still nothing. He sighed, his lips settling into a frown as he exited the room.

It was hours before the note was touched. He gingerly touched it, noticing her handwriting on the front of the envelope. He sat down at his desk, his eyes avoiding the framed picture of her, and carefully opened the white envelope.

Steve,

By the time you will have received this, I will be gone. Long gone, hopefully, if Friday followed my instructions properly. Anyways,

I'm sure you're confused as to why I'm writing you, rather than a particular someone who I'm sure you believe deserves a letter much more than you. And maybe he does. I just can't bring myself to write a death note to the person I was supposed to make happy. I can't do that to him, can I?

The truth is, Bucky deserves nothing but happiness. Nothing but sunshine, rainbows, love, and care. I won't be around to give him those things any longer, clearly. But I think you did a pretty good job of taking care of him before I came around, I'm hoping you can handle the task now that I'm gone. 

I knew I was sick long before I told any of you, long before I even went to the doctor. I kept having these horrible headaches, and then my vision got blurry in one eye for a few hours. Those aches spread all over my body. Eventually, I knew I had to call the doctor, I'd die in my sleep, and no one would know why. I wouldn't get to say goodbye to anyone.

So I did, and a day later they had the results back. Not like it mattered, I knew what I had. It's not good when it comes back, ya know? 

I didn't want to tell Bucky I was sick for a lot of reasons. He was so happy, we were in love, Steve. Unconditional love is a drug, and we were addicted. When I met him, he was so sad. I couldn't take that new happiness away. So I lied and lied. Maybe more to myself than him.  I told myself I would be fine, and I stopped going to my chemo appointments.

I stopped trying. And now that I'm here, in the hospital. Waiting for you to tell Bucky that I'm sick, I wish I hadn't. Do you want to know why? It's not because I'm sad or in pain. It's because Bucky will be. He'll feel betrayed, and empty. I should've tried harder for him, Steve. I wish I had. 

You know how I know he'll feel betrayed? Because I did, when my dad sacrificed himself so I could be happy; 

When I was little, I always wanted to see the ocean. Of course, I could read books, and look at pictures, and I did. Trust me, I did. But I wanted to see it, in person. I wanted to feel it, the water rushing up over my legs as the waves met the sand. My family lived too far from the Ocean, though. and We were far too poor to travel there.

My dad was sick, just like I am now. So my mom was the only one bringing in income. My little brother and sister were less understanding of our situation, so to keep them from complaining, I gave them more of my meals. I didn't want them to be hungry, and I didn't want them to complain to my mom or dad, who could barely eat themselves. 

When my mom asked me what I wanted for my twelfth birthday, I said a book. A two dollar book, on the ocean of course, that I had seen at the dollar store. My dad was in the room at the time. He was still okay, at that point. He was wheelchair bound, but he was my dad nonetheless. 

He cleared his throat and told my mom and I that I was going to the Ocean for my twelfth birthday. My mom looked at him like he was crazy, and I just laughed lightly. He told us that he would sacrifice his next few Chemo treatments so that I could go to the beach for a few days.  I shook my head and told him I would never want him to do that, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. He promised me he would be fine.

I went to the beach, two weeks after he told me that. I swam in the ocean, felt the sand between my toes. My dad died because I took that trip; because he sacrificed those treatments. The best part, I didn't even like the beach. The ocean was salty and it burned my eyes, the sand was scratchy.

I think now, that maybe, my ocean wasn't an ocean at all. 

Bucky has met all my hopes, all my expectations of a man, of someone to love. He's made me smile and laugh, he has seen the good in me when I can't see it in myself. He's beautiful, he's wonderful. He is my everything, Steve Rogers.

James Buchanan Barnes is and will forever be, my ocean.