#Sleepover time

[intrepidacious]

❤️ a good time!

tat!bucky’s favorite (or least favorite) thing about twelve

… why not both?

cause and effect

chapter summary: How Bucky fell in love with Twelve: Slowly, and then all at once.

pairing: bucky barnes x time witch!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: light angst and negative self talk (this is bucky y'all); some light pining 🤭please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: i've literally had this one in my drafts for about two years and i hadn't actually planned on posting it for a while yet but i did promise distractions. and i missed him. i always do.

this is part of the time after time universe but can be read as a teaser and/or a standalone 💚

Bucky’s relationship with time has been fractured ever since a cold day in January that stole away the life he was headed towards and turned him into the monster underneath a child’s bed.

It’s hard to feel good about the concept of time travel once a lot of your own time has been taken away from you. Even now, there’s only so many things in his life he has control over; like the fact that he’s actively choosing to go back to therapy now, or that he’s able to keep a pet for the first time since he was thirteen years old. Stupid little things, like what kind of food he wants for lunch or whether he should take the stairs or the elevator.

Every single one of these things he’s fought for tooth and nail, clawing his way out of the past and carving out his own space in reality again, struggling, trying, hanging on like he wasn’t able to all those decades ago.

He’s probably still failing.

Some days, clinging to the present is tense and brings him nothing but grief. Sometimes, it feels like he’s going to have to mourn the past forever, whatever might have been; and maybe that’s his sentence.

He wouldn’t have wished it on anyone. He deserves worse.

And then there’s you.

Flickering in and out of time, constantly moving, changing in the time it takes him to blink.

It’s infuriating to him, the way you get to use your powers. The way you don’t need to think about consequences, because they don’t have to be permanent, don’t have to be something you need to live with for the rest of your life. To you, time has always been something that can be changed with a single snap of your fingers. Whatever you do can just as easily be undone.

Once you decide you’ve seen enough, you can just take the scene from the top.

And you’re so stubborn.

You’ve already seen how this goes on if you let it, and so you’re always right, end of story. There’s an ease to your steps because of it, a nonchalance in every movement, and it makes Bucky’s blood boil to see it so plainly.

With all the good that you could do, you choose to do nothing instead; to stay out of the picture entirely and burn through your powers just because you can, wasting them all on things that don’t mean anything.

How many lives could you potentially save?

Instead, you consume disturbing amounts of caffeine and then continue to provide running commentary to the world around you based on things that, to him, never happen at all. "Do this", "don’t do that", "take the other one", or, his absolute favorite, "don’t make me fix that".

Why not? he wants to ask, say, demand. Why not fix all of it?

It takes a while for him to realize that all of your fire means you’re burning from both ends. In fact, it takes Becca.

"You should bring her by sometime," she tells him on a rainy afternoon. "While I’m still alive and kicking."

His little sister just turned ninety-eight. Her kitchen sideboard is filled with black-and-white pictures reminding him of all the things in her life that he missed, arranged in perfect little wooden frames.

"And why would I do that?" Bucky asks, scowling at his cards.

"Because you keep mentioning her," Rebecca says dryly and whisks the cards onto her pile with quick fingers.

"You gotta be kidding me," he groans, noting down her points. "And I don’t."

"Do, too. I don’t remember you being this terrible at this game."

"Because I haven’t caught you when you’re cheating."

"Exactly. It’s embarrassing." She wins the next trick, too. "How’s Tuesday?"

"Am I clairvoyant now?"

"I was thinking lunch."

"No." Finally, he gets a couple of points down. When he glances up at his sister again, she’s looking at him expectantly and he sighs. "What?"

"You can’t fault me for being curious," she says. She has just as many opinions as she did when she was sixteen. Her eyes are still the same, too, the same shade of blue as his and the same glimmer of archness as their mother.

"Don’t you think it’s weird?" Bucky says, finally giving in. "The whole … time thing?"

"I think it’s very weird, but so’s you returning from the dead and kvetching about it." Her eyes narrow when he starts to protest. His mouth closes again. "Besides," she continues, shuffling her hand around, "it doesn’t sound all that fun."

"To have the power to never make mistakes?"

"To have to live through every mistake twice without anyone knowing."

Something about her words strikes him like a match, and so he tilts his head and squints at her and thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s got it wrong.

That you carry not only your past, but all the futures you’ve seen that never came to be; all the what ifs having turned into answers.

And he thinks, how nice. And then he thinks, how horrifying.

It’s a thought that follows him over the next couple of weeks, and it starts reframing your interactions for him, in a way.

"Will you stop staring at me," you say without looking up from your book.

Honestly, he can’t. He’s still trying to pick up on it, the split second between before and after, that little change of your posture, your hair, your face, that tells him more time has passed for you than it has for him.

It’s more of a feeling than anything else, something right at the back of his mind telling him that something is different if he concentrates on it enough, but he’s never sure what it is. And he doesn’t like that; not one bit.

So Bucky crosses his arms and leans back. "Why?"

A flash of irritation makes your nose twitch, even though you still refuse to meet his eye.

"It’s rude, for one."

"Noted." He waits for the two that never comes. "Anything else?"

And there it is. A blink-and-you-miss-it kind of moment, like the air shifting around you ever so slightly, a certain knowing glint in your eyes when you roll them and get up.

"Annoying!"

He can’t help it. He wonders what your original answer was.

***

Bucky’s relationship with time changes slowly, the deepest cuts carefully mending themselves until looking back doesn’t feel like getting his bones ripped apart anymore, until he looks at you on a cold day in January and realizes he’s fucked.

At first, he hopes that it might be a fluke. A trick of the light, maybe, or seasonal allergies. That’s the reason why his eyes are drawn to your face as soon as he enters a room; the closest source of discomfort always the thing he seeks out first. That’s the reason why his chest constricts like that.

But the truth is, he knows this feeling has been building slowly; he’s just been unwilling to admit it.

Something soft and delicate has started to nestle in that gaping hole inside his chest, unbothered by the walls he’s so carefully built up.

He’d never planned on you.

Fuck, if he’d known in the beginning, he might’ve …

No, he thinks. He wouldn’t have changed anything.

Because you’re too good for him, anyway, and he knows it. Smart and strong and funny and gorgeous and capable of things he’s not sure he’ll ever fully comprehend; and it’s worse than that, because he knows you now.

You’re grouchy in the mornings and you make terrible jokes when you’re nervous and you have a strange feud with his cat and your smile makes him want to put his fist through the wall because what is he supposed to do with any of this?

He’s not made for this dance anymore. That part was taken from him so long ago, and he’s delusional to think that anything or anyone could return it to him after all the bridges he’d been made to cross and burn. Why would someone like him deserve to be given tenderness anymore in this life? Why would anyone want to try?

But that foolish thing blooming inside him feels a lot like hope, despite of what he keeps telling himself.

There’s just something about you that keeps pulling him in, and honestly, he’s tired of fighting it. Then again, the thought of you feeling the same is nothing short of ridiculous.

He’s not the same guy as he used to be. Hell, sometimes he’ll look at old photographs and barely recognize himself.

He remembers life before, and maybe that’s what makes this so hard. He remembers talking to pretty girls, their bright smiles, their soft skin underneath his hands. Good times were easy to come by, even though life was hard in a different way, then. But he was good at it; acting on his feelings alone used to be simple, fun, second-nature almost.

It’s different now.

It used to be different only once before, and look where that’s gotten him.

No, he can’t say anything. Not ever; or not yet, at any rate.

Sometimes, though, Bucky lies awake at night and listens to the rain knocking against his window, and he remembers how much easier falling asleep used to be when he had someone next to him and his mattress didn’t swallow him alive.

He’ll remember the dark circles under your eyes and wish it could be as easy as asking, too. He wonders if there’s a universe you remember where he tries, but he doubts it.

These days, he knows his mind again. And it’s not a burden he wants to share.

You have enough to carry on your own.

Maybe, he thinks as he stares up at the ceiling at three in the morning, maybe there’s still a certain comfort in your powers, in knowing all the possibilities, but it also means constantly losing something that’s real; always mourning the life that isn’t.

He can relate to that.

And maybe that means you can relate to him, too, at least a little bit.

It’s odd, how comforting that last little thought is to him.

When he does eventually fall asleep, you make your way into his dreams, too, sometimes. Those times are the worst.

You’re you, and he’s him, and there’s a sort of "us" in the both of you that doesn’t exist in real life. So when you let him lace his fingers with yours and press your lips to his forehead and it feels easy, that’s usually the point when he wakes up, heart tumbling over itself, right hand tracing the ghost of your touch, always too much, never enough.

He knows it’s not real.

He knows it’s just an indulgence; selfish, really.

The problem is that whatever small hope has decided to settle in his very core is impossible to kill, no matter how much he pushes it down; and he’s not sure he wants to lose it again.

Secretly, silently, serendipitously, you make him have faith in the future again.

But it’s not time for it yet.

if you want to read more about these two (plus a lot of time related shenanigans), read the main series here. or check out the rest of my bucky fics, that's also an option 💚 i don't do tag lists but you can follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications

[tableintheteacherslounge]

And when barb’s over at melissa’s and drinks too much pinot grigio and now there’s no spare room to stay in what’s a girl to do

Her back can’t take the couch, Gerald’s out of town and can’t pick her up

Uh oh looks like there’s only one place to sleep

[lilblossom5294]

I used to have a cute unicorn pillow pet from around five years old to eight+ 🥺🤍 I miss her so much , I dunno where she is , but I have no doubt she is having the most fun adventures ! 🥰🌸

What kinda pillow pet did you bring to our sleepover ? This is mine , isn’t she pretty ? 🦄🤍✨

[trion-revolutionary]

Evening the Score, page 387

[eternalmayfly]

I have acquired 1 (one) Freya

[torsrighteye]

*telephones to ur house* SLEEPOVER

ignore my weird ass clothes its 3:11 also. slightly face reveal ig i look like a mildly disgruntled stray cat

[sweetietoppartandthoughts]

I'll bring all the blankets and pillows !

@axyl-otl @skyspersonalhell @dragontiger357 @soemthingsparkly @prismartist @alecs-potatofarm @whole-bilk-milk @ruffboijuliaburnsides @oh-snapperss

Moot Sleepover Starting Now

@a-fucking-tornado

@silentlydying

@fairyb0ii

@tori-spring12

@survivingmyownlife

@spir4nts-lun4r

@back-totheoldhouse

@aloserwholikesheartstopper

@moomoomwahaha

@xoxonxo

[bubblybloob]

What if Greenpath Vessel survived their encounter with Hornet?

Masterpost

[noelles-legacy]

Attention all Hogwarts Legacy MCs!

I am starting an MC Sleepover! Everyone is welcome!

To participate just Reblog with an image, drawing, or even a sleepover story with your MC to THIS post

Sharing and “nominating” others is definitely encouraged! I would like as many peeps at this sleep over as possible!💜💙

I look forward to seeing everyone’s MCs in there pjs! 🌙✨

Edit: you do not need to be tagged to participate! Plz do not feel left out if you haven't been tagged, you are still welcome to come!!!

[intrepidacious]

this writing blog of mine is turning three next week and on the same day, i'm officially entering my charlotte lucas era. i frankly don't think there's ever been more cause for celebration so join me on this perfectly themed and not at all last minute sleepover 💛

whether you're new to my blog or we've been mutuals forever, all are welcome!! i'll be answering your asks starting on my actual birthday (and blog birthday) wednesday 7th august until sunday 11th august!!

details and no pressure tags below the cut <3

THE DISNEY YEARS

🧜🏼‍♀️ we're out to discover! ask me my top 5 anything, would you rathers, or fmk

🌴 ohana means family i'll cast my mutuals in categories of your choosing

🦆 fate/destiny/a horse mutuals only category <3 let me shower you with love and praises, friends!!

IT'S A MUSICAL

🥖 do you hear the people sing i'll put my playlist on shuffle and tell you what song it lands on

🪞 kitsch send me a character and some vibes and i'll create a moodboard

🖋️ hard to be the bard ask about my wips, my posted fics, or come whine with me about writing in general

HEROES AND VILLAINS

🧸 on your left send me a character and a prompt and i'll write you a seven sentence drabble - or i'll write a what if scenario for any of my posted fics!

🦾 i understood that reference … and so will you!! let me recommend something to you

🍩 close the book with a flourish naaah just kidding, this is the headcanon category!! let's make up fun things together <3

WITCHERS AND PIRATES

🏴‍☠️ a story is (un)true let's play two truths and a lie!! either you send some in or you'll have to guess mine

🫙 guess what's inside it! send me a word and i'll see if it's in one of my wips <3

🎻 toss a coin to your blogger give an anonymous (or not) shout-out to another tumblr person and i'll give them some love!!

💜 what my heart just yearns to say come chat with me about anything and everything!!

thank you all for being here and i'm looking forward to celebrating with you!!!

@brandycranby @scrumptious-delusion @aphrogeneias @barnesafterglow @marvelettesassemblenow

@persephoneceleste @gxrlcinema @sanguineterrain @fandoms-writings @krirebr

@demxters @youremyfriend-youremymission @nickfowlerrr @sweetdreamsbuck @wildlivelychild

@obsidianvibranium @targaryenvampireslayer @thornsnvultures @levans44 @idkitsem

[the-noted-collector]

Ooo sleepover? I'll grab some craft stuff! Also books and notebooks too! Games might not be for everyone and they're pretty covered lol

@wantedbythemasters @letters-of-fire @porceliancrusader @light-lost-logs @werefeathers

can we

can we do another moot sleepover

@sombrathedragon @myfairkatiecat @ham-cheese-toastie @nowjumpinthewater

@imnotskyguy-remake @thishumanformislimiting @aspenaspenaspenaspenaspen @permanently-stressed

@alaydabug2 @willoillo @scrollwyrm @imobsessed123

[mamawasatesttube]

the whole "jason rules crime alley and none of the other bats are allowed there!!1!" thing is so funny like. tim LITERALLY lives in the theater where bruce's parents died,

[shyaringan]

THEY ARE TRUELY SO IMPORTANT TO ME. THEY

[lnfours]

“Person A taking Person B home after they fell asleep at a friends house.“ 🥹🩵🥹 definitely picturing the reader falling asleep at max f’s house and Lando carrying her home

stop because i can so see this happening 🥹

jordan’s birthday sleepover!

you hadn’t meant to fall asleep during the movie, but you were so comfortable. being cuddled up into his side, his body heat keeping you warm under the blanket pietra had given you earlier. add in the fact that your boyfriend was genuinely just the most comfortable pillow ever, it was bound to happen.

you had a long week, between work and just life in general, it had been tiring. you thought you would be able to handle a simple movie night, however, you were so wrong. the minute max turned down the lights and within the first half hour of the movie, you were out like a light.

lando smiled softly down at your sleeping frame when he realized you weren’t talking about the movie with them, that you hadn’t reacted to anything playing in front of you like you usually did. he brushed the fallen hair from your face, pulling you a little closer as you slept peacefully. your face was squished against his chest in the cutest way. how was he supposed to disturb you?

when the credits rolled and the lights came back on, max’s voice was quiet as he questioned your state, “was she asleep the whole time?”

lando nodded, gently playing with your hair, “just about,”

max nodded and pietra audibly ‘aw’ed at the fact that their friend was so in love. how he gently moved your limbs, your face nuzzling into his neck as he situated himself to pick you up.

“need some help with the doors?”

“please,” lando said, carrying you bridal style. he smiled at the blonde girl on the couch, “goodnight, p.”

“goodnight,” she smiled, “get home safe.”

max opened the front door, “where’re your keys, mate?”

“left pocket,” lando said, turning to let his best friend fish the keys for the mclaren from the pocket of his sweatpants, “can you unlock it and get the door? i’ve got her,”

his best friend nodded, opening the door as he situated you in the passenger seat. you hummed softly, leaning against the window once he got your seatbelt on, ready to fall back to sleep.

he bid a goodnight and a thanks to max for having the two of you before climbing into the car himself. he turned the volume down on the radio so it wasn’t loud enough to wake you, taking occasional glances your way. he couldn’t help it. you looked so pretty, curled up in the passenger side of his car while you slept.

when he pulled into the driveway, you stirred awake as he leaned over to unbuckle your seatbelt, “how long have i been asleep?”

“a few hours,” his voice was soft, “didn’t even make it through the first half of the movie.”

he chuckled softly as you pressed a hand to your forehead, your giggle sounding through the car, “i’m sorry,”

“nothing to apologize for, baby,” he said, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your knuckles softly, “let’s get inside and go to bed, yeah?”

with a simple nod you followed him inside the house, kicking your shoes off and changing into one of his t-shirts before climbing into bed next to him. the minute your head rested on his chest, you knew it’d be only a few more minutes until you were back to sleep.

[mirrorball-leclerc]

what the fuck do you mean drivers can get a RACE BAN or get docked CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS (of an undisclosed amount) IF THEY CURSE??? apparently they also can't make political statements without getting reprimanded, fined, and forced to make a public apology. but the president of the fia can hang out and publicly congratulate a convicted felon and rapist but god forbid that the grown ass men who get interviewed when they are full of adrenaline say fuck or shit or call the stewards stupid.

[saltsig]

They should've been best friends. No, you know what? They WERE best friends.