#i don't go by jame anymore :pensive:

[accio-sriracha]

"What's it like?" Regulus asked quietly, staring at the stars from their hiding spot in the garden.

"What's what like?" Sirius replied.

Regulus turned to look at him, the grass tickling his nose, "Being in love."

Sirius' eyes never moved from the stars, "Why do you ask?"

Regulus shrugged, "Just curious, I guess."

There was a long pause, Regulus assumed Sirius was trying to find the right words.

"It's sort of like falling." He explained, "It's slow at first. You don't even realise it. One day you notice the colour of their eyes is deeper than you thought. Less plain brown and more... chocolate coloured. The next time it's hearing their laugh and feeling yourself smile without meaning to, like your body wants to react, like the sound is... healing, I guess."

He paused again, finally moving to face Regulus.

Regulus nodded for him to go on.

"Eventually, all of the things you used to do as friends feel... bigger. Every touch doesn't feel so casual anymore. Everytime they say your nickname it's less of a joke and more like a secret, something sacred between the two of you."

He sighed, "Then, one day, you look up and realise how far you've fallen. And it's like there's no turning back. Everything reminds you of them. Everytime you make a joke you look to them first, to see if they're laughing. Everytime they walk in a room it's like nothing else matters." He laughed softly, the sound was nostalgic, "You find yourself looking for reasons to talk to them. Anything to be close to them, to feel their touch. Nothing is casual anymore, there's always... meaning, always something more left unsaid. It's understanding someone so deeply, and having them know you too."

Regulus smiled, "That sounds nice." He whispered.

Sirius nodded, "Yeah, it is."

"I want to have that some day." Regulus sat up, playing with a blade of grass between his fingertips.

Sirius sat up too, his own smile reassuring, "You will." He nodded, "Anyone would be lucky to have you."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Regulus pulled away from the pensive, his eyes filled with tears.

"May I be excused, professor?" Regulus asked.

The professor nodded, continuing his lesson on finding a positive memory for conjuring a patronus.

Regulus walked out into the hallway. His hands shook as he scrubbed the tears from his face.

And, of course, a voice from behind him caught his attention,

"Reggie! Hey, I thought you had defense class this hour?"

Regulus turned, meeting the deep chocolate brown of Potter's eyes. His stomach flipped as it always did when they were together.

"I do." He sniffed.

Potter caught the look on his face and his smile dropped. At once he was standing in front of Regulus, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay, I'm here." He soothed, his hands rubbing Regulus' shoulders.

Regulus couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, because the touch sent sparks across Regulus' skin.

Potter frowned, leaning back to look at him again,

"Are you alright?" He asked.

Regulus shook his head, his smile appearing of its own accord,

"I think im in love with you." He whispered.

Potter's eyes widened, he leaned back a little further, "Do you have a concussion? You sound loopy. We should get you to the nurse."

Regulus stopped him mid-stride as Potter began to lead him down the corridor. He shook his head, tears filling his eyes again,

"I'm serious, Jamie. I'm in love with you."

Neither of them made the Sirius joke, Regulus had never once seen Potter speechless like this.

Eventually, he seemed to find his voice again,

"You're in love with me?" He repeated slowly.

Regulus nodded, "I am."

James took a while to process this. Regulus realised he probably should have waited to give the news when Potter wasn't on his way to the lavatory.

He was just about to apologise when Potter took both of his hands in his own,

"I've loved you for as long as I can remember."

The words hit Regulus harder than he could have ever imagined.

Before either of them could get out another word, Potter was pulling him into a sweeping kiss.

Regulus knew without a doubt this was the feeling Sirius had been describing all those years ago.

But he was wrong about one thing.

Regulus was the lucky one.

[frannziska]

singularjames > arcaneroomba

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The Twin Flame - Chapter 2: "The 1"

"And if my wishes came true, it would've been you..."

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes Part of The Grumpy x Sunshine Universe

Bucky POV

“So Mr. Barnes, are you still having nightmares?” Bucky remains silent, pensively staring at the wall. Dr. Raynor speaks a little louder this time, finally catching Bucky's attention, “James, I asked you a question: Are you still having nightmares?”

“No.”

“We’ve been doing this long enough that I can tell when you’re lying," Dr. Raynor lightly scolds, examining the super soldier as he sits in the couch opposite her. He looks tired, exhausted even, and definitely more agitated than normal. "And, well, you seem a little off today. Did something happen recently?”

”No.”

This time he tells the truth. Nothing really happens anymore. His phone doesn’t ding with texts that he wouldn’t respond to either way. He’s accepted the silence. He welcomes it. Except for his amends, he's alone. And he's found a certain contentment with the loneliness. 

“You’re a civilian now. With your history, the government needs to know that you’re not gonna…” Dr. Raynor trails off, raising her first in insinuation. She drops her hand, giving Bucky an urging expression. “It’s a condition of your pardon. So, tell me about your most recent nightmare.”

“I didn’t have a nightmare,” he dryly insists. 

Dr. Raynor sighs in defeat, her eyes flicker up to Bucky’s stoic, unimpressed expression. "Did something happen? Have you talked to anyone?"

He shrugs, slightly raising his eyebrows.

"Let me see your phone," Dr. Raynor states, a firm finality in her tone that leaves Bucky no room to argue. 

A huff of annoyance leaves his mouth, reluctantly pulling the phone from his pocket to hand to Dr. Raynor.

She flips open the phone, tilting her head at Bucky in mild disappointment.

"You don't even have ten numbers on this thing, and I'm the only person you've called all week. That is so sad." She looks up from the screen to look at Bucky and the stone-faced expression still on his face, seemingly unaffected by anything she’s saying. "You're alone. You're a hundred years old, you have no family, no history-"

"Are you lashing out at me, Doc?" Bucky wryly retorts. "Because that's really unprofessional. I mean, when did that start with your clients-"

"You've ignored all texts from Sam. And let's not talk about Sunshine? I'm going to assume that's a nickname." This time Bucky unintentionally remains silent. Dr. Raynor notes the way Bucky's jaw ticks, clenching from the bittersweet memory of your short-lived emergence in his life. A tie that he himself cut without so much as a goodbye.

And though he really wishes that she wouldn't prod at the emotional wound, he's not naive enough to think she wouldn't to finally put a crack in Bucky's stoic, unchanging expression. 

And he has to commend her, because it's a very effective strategy.

His first curls in as she looks at the screen, reading aloud each unanswered message from you. Each text he can almost hear in your voice. He can almost picture the way your mouth would twist in disappointment as you realized he was never going to respond.

Each text read aloud just adds more salt in the wound. 

"I just wanna know if you're okay."

"Are we okay?"

"In case you see this, I miss you."

"Is that weird? Doesn't matter, it's the truth."

"I think I'm going to go with Sam to Louisiana."

"I don't think there's much left for me in New York."

"I'm leaving today."

"The sky's really blue here."

"If you see this, could you maybe tell me? No pressure."

"Okay, I think I should stop texting you now."

"Really hope that I haven't been texting a random trucker or something."

"Not that there's anything wrong with being a trucker, but you get what I mean. I think?"

"Okay, for real this time, if you don't respond I won't bother you anymore."

"Goodbye."

He's tempted to breathe a sigh of relief when Dr. Raynor finally finishes the chain of unanswered text messages. He keeps it to himself. He deserved to set that tight, burning sensation linger in his throat, constricting his airways and making his chest feel a million pounds heavier.

There was no point in psycho-analyzing it, it was done. You'd received his message loud and clear.

"You never even called her back, James. That's really awful," Dr. Raynor states like she's really trying to make him feel like an ever bigger asshole than he already felt like.

And he still remains silent.

Because, to him, there was nothing to say. He made his bed, now all there was to do was lie in his self-imposed exile.

It was better this way. He just needed to keep reminding himself of that. 

It was better this way. 

He only breaks the silence when Dr. Raynor scoffs and pulls out her small notepad. The loud clicking of her pen pulls Bucky out of his reverie this time. With an eye roll, he remarks, "Oh, the notebook thing, great. You know, that's really passive aggressive."

"You don't talk, I write," she reminds him, a slight smile on her face that annoys Bucky just even more. 

"And what would you like me to say?" he asks. 

“Why didn’t you respond?” she bluntly questions, setting the notebook down back down in her lap.

“There was nothing to say,” he dryly replies. She shakes her head, sighs, and picks up the notebook again. Before she can click the pen again, he interrupts, "Alright!"

"Good," Dr. Raynor starts. "Tell me about the nightmare."

"I didn't have a nightmare."

"Then tell me about the nickname."

His shoulders stiffen slightly. He can't remember the last time he willfully thought about you. Or the last time this particular emotional wound had been prodded in such rapid succession. Sometimes it crept up on him, little flashes, a kaleidoscope of memories. Most of his time was spent trying not to think about any of it. That was his goal most days: to repress and let go. He just hadn't figured that part out yet. And when he was being really honest about it, there was an even bigger part that didn't want to let it go. "What about it?"

"Did you give her the nickname?"

"No. Steve did," Bucky answers easily. 

"But you still use it?" Dr. Raynor correctly assumes. 

"Clearly."

"Why?"

"It's a nickname, Doc," Bucky defensively responds, clearly getting even more agitated as this line of questioning goes on. "Not much else to say."

"You clearly think it's appropriate. Or you wouldn't be using it."

"It is appropriate," Bucky admits. "But I'm not the one that gave it to her."

"Why is it appropriate?"

He thinks back to when Steve first explained it to him. He barely knew you. And he thought it was a bit of a ridiculous nickname for an adult woman, but Steve was adamant that it suited you perfectly.

-

"Sunshine," Steve calls, waving you over.

"Sunshine?" Bucky repeats, a slight disdain and question in his words. 

Steve dismissively shrugs. "It suits her."

"It's a ridiculous nickname," Bucky disagrees. 

You're in the middle of a conversation with Sam on the other side of the jet, you hold out your finger to Steve and Bucky telling them to give you a minute. 

"It just works. She's such a warm person. A freaking goofball. Especially after everything she's gone through, it suits her," Steve repeats. 

"Everything she's gone through?" Bucky cautiously questions. 

"That's a story for a different day, Buck."

Before Bucky can probe anymore, you make your way over to the two of them. 

"How can I help my Star Spangled friend and - " you stop, clicking your teeth together as you look at Bucky for a moment too long. You narrow your eyes at Bucky, rocking back and forth on your heels.��For a second, he thinks you're scared, hesitant because he did just try to kill you only a few days ago. "Nope, sorry, I don't have a nickname for you yet."

Bucky's eyebrows furrow and in spite of his best efforts, a small chuckle bubbles out of his mouth.

"Told you, Sunshine," Steve repeats, a warm smile on his face. 

"It's a ridiculous nickname," you playfully complain, taking a seat in between the two super soldiers. As the words leave your mouth, you lightly punch Steve's arm. "I've told you that a million times."

"You love it," Steve scoffs, throwing his heavy arm around your shoulders.

From underneath Steve's arm, you look up at Bucky with a wide grin, "Don't listen to him, it's ridiculous."

-

"She's a warm person, all right," Bucky finally responds, still a touch too defensive to not be noticed by Dr. Raynor. "Bright, smiley, a freakin' goofball. But she's warm, everything about her."

Dr. Raynor sympathetically exhales, placing the notepad and pen on the small table beside her. "One day, you're going to have to open up and realize that some people really do want to help you, to be there for you, and that they can be trusted."

"I trust people," Bucky argues.

"So why didn't you pick up the phone?"

There were a lot of reasons, so he decides on giving her the easiest response to articulate, "Because she's warm. So freaking warm."

Next Chapter

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