Can I get blanket hoarding with Bucky and/or Steve, and make it sweet and spicy, please! Your writing always makes my day! (I also would never say more to the Doctor Who au!Bucky.) Thanks! ❤️
Hello again!! There’s not much to do with this prompt (even though I love it sm) so I hope you don’t mind the smaller story! I also don’t really write smut, so I kept that section more brief/vague. Regardless, I hope you enjoy and happy reading!!!
Hoarder of Warmth
Summary: You wake up freezing in the middle of the night, only to find that Bucky has hoarded every single blanket on the bed. But when you try to reclaim even one, he pulls you under him with a wicked grin and proves he's the warmest thing you’ll ever need. (Bucky Barnes x reader | Disclaimer: Brief NSFW/Suggestive at the end.)
Word Count: 500+
Main Masterlist
You didn’t think you’d have to fight a super soldier for blankets.
But here you were at three a.m., freezing and glaring at the massive pile of fabric clutched to Bucky’s chest like national treasure. He had most of the comforter, two throws, and at least one of your favorite knit blankets. The only thing left on your side of the bed was a single, traitorous corner flapping in the breeze from the cracked window.
You poked his back. “Bucky.”
A groggy grunt.
“You’ve taken everything, babe. I’m freezing.”
He didn’t move, not even a twitch.
You sighed, sitting up on your elbows. “Okay, Sergeant Blanket Snatcher, let’s try this again.”
When you yanked the blankets, gently at first then a little more forcefully, Bucky finally rolled halfway toward you, eyes still shut, and looking far too pleased with himself.
“You’re warm,” He murmured, voice still thick with sleep.
“Yes, and I would like to stay that way,” You huffed. “Sharing is caring, Barnes.”
He cracked one eye open, smirking. “I am sharing. I’m hoarding them for both of us.”
You stared. “You’re wrapped up like a damn burrito. I’m over here in Antarctica.”
Bucky shifted lazily, not releasing a single inch of blanket. “S’not my fault you’re cute when you pout. Makes me wanna keep you cold just to see it.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, that’s how it is?”
He grinned, sleepily wicked. “Mmhm.”
You grabbed the edge of the comforter and gave one hard tug. In an instant, Bucky purposefully rolled on top of you, pressing you into the mattress with a lazy, heavy sprawl of muscle, blanket, and warmed skin. His leg slid between yours, arms near your head, and one hand dragging the covers with him as he pressed a kiss against your neck.
“Got a better idea,” He whispered against your throat.
“Bucky,” You groaned, but your body was already reacting, heat blooming beneath your skin. “I just wanted a blanket.”
“You’ve got me,” He murmured, grinning against your pulse. “I’m warmer than anything else in this room. And I’ll keep you hot all night.”
You gasped softly as his lips found that sensitive spot near your ear, then your neck again, then lower. “Bucky–”
“I’ll even let you take one blanket,” He offered with mock generosity, pulling one throw up and tossing it over your bodies. “You know, in case we somehow get cold.”
Your laugh turned into a breathless moan as his hand dipped lower. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m efficient,” He corrected, mouth trailing lower, tongue brushing your skin. “Why waste time arguing when I can heat you up the fun way?”
Later, you’d end up tangled in every single blanket, limbs locked together, your back tucked against his chest while he whispered sleepy promises into your shoulder. He was a furnace, and you didn’t even care that the blankets were now wrinkled, half on the floor, and mostly his again.
Because Bucky Barnes might be a blanket hoarder…
…but he always made sure you were warm, one way or another.
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The shape shifting doppelganger is not copying you to take over and steal your life, it's trying to be your twin
The douchebag jock does not become a horny asshole alpha when he turns, he actually becomes an esteemed British gentleman that has a specialily made suit so his wolf cheeks are not in the nude
Your blood, instead of being sweet and delicious to the vampire that bit you, is actually super disgusting and down right toxic, you accidentally paralyzed that man and now he's foaming at the mouth
Guardian Demons that protect the pure of heart from angels that are trying off them and bring them to heaven far too soon
Speaking of demons, Ascended Demons, opposite of fallen Angels. Basically demons that were kicked out of hell and onto earth for not being evil enough
The old Victorian house at the end of the block is haunted, not by 18th century ghosts, but by a bunch of 90s-modern ghost kids who are having an afterlife smoke session
young looking old ass vampire meets a young woman that looks just like his human lover, who he had to leave to protect. Shes not a reincarnation, but actually his great something X granddaughter, and he is enthusiastic that he has a grandbaby
for the reverse tropes - I would love to see some bat related nursing home au, that just sounds amazing lol
"If you steal my favorite checkers game one more time, Hood, I will personally make sure the staff finds your switchblades."
Dick "Nightwing" Grayson leaned back in the most comfortable armchair in the common room of the Batmania Nursing Home in Gotham City. Across the table sat Jason Todd, often referred to as Red Hood, since - according to his own fairy tales - he used to be a feared gangster, back before the second hip replacement and the accident on the ice skating rink.
"As if. Nobody's afraid of you, twinkletoes. Just because you used to do gymnastics... doesn't mean jackshit now." Jason pointed the cane leaning next to Dick's chair, an elegant thing made from mahogany, it's handle shaped like a bird about to take flight.
"Gentleman, let's try to get along, yes? Anyone up for a game of chess?" Barbara Gordon's white hair was bound back into a stern up-do, the young nurse wheeling her towards the table barely visible in the presence of Batmania's very own Oracle. Rumor had it that there was nothing Barbara didn't know - and so far that had held true.
"I don't think we have time for chess today, Babs."
"Why? Are you scared, Grayson?"
"No, today is Thursday."
"Ah, you're right." Barbara smiled, all three of them having come into the common room for a reason after all. Jason had even put down his book (some brick by David Graeber), another weapon surely hidden somewhere on his body, in anticipation of what was to come.
Because on Thursdays all three of them welcomed their favorite visitor.
Young Timothy Drake, almost twenty by now. He'd started coming around some years ago, as an afterschool project his parents signed him up to, and now he visited once a week just to see his three favorite old-timers.
And it was quite obvious why they enjoyed his presence so much.
He talked to them.
Better yet, he told them stories.
"Okay, so last time I was here, Red Hood had just returned from the dead to lay claim on Gotham and take revenge on Batman, yes?"
"Finally someone appreciates how badass I am."
"You're not, Todd."
Dick grinned, leaning forward as if to hear Tim better, even though his hearing hadn't left him yet. Jason flipped him off, not daring to loudly interrupt again out of fear that Tim would stop his story.
"Well, the Red Hood is certainly trying to appear daunting in this particular story."
"And where am I in this, Tim?"
"Oh, Oracle is busy in her tower. Have I never told you about the Birds of Prey?"
Timothy Drake was smiling, the rapt attention of his audience invigorating. Barbara shook her head, and he took her hand, ready to guide her into the favorite part of this majestic and heroic universe he had created specifically for them:
Batman. Nightwing. Red Hood. Robin. And, of course, Oracle.
A story just for them.
~
I hope you enjoyed that :D It was certainly fun to come up with!!!! And thank you so much!! <3 <3 <3
(send me a Reverse Trope Writing Prompt with a fandom and a set of characters and I'll write something small for you)
Reverse trope clegan accidentally kidnapping mafia boss. Like I can totally see Buck as the mafia boss that no one knows is the mafia boss because he looks so angelic
No full story idea has solidified, so let's go to me just rambling this idea out:
Bucky's an expert kidnapper. Don't ask how. Don't ask why. If you want someone kidnapped, and it seems good enough reason to him, that guy is kidnapped.
So when he gets, "Grab the head of the Meatball crew," he spends two weeks observing the Meatball crew (named so because the crew is known to own a series of Meatball sub restaurants that are absolutely fronts but also fucking delicious for the hour a day they are actually selling subs), and the hierarchy seems very fucking obvious. The lieutenant to the boss is one Gale Cleven. The boss is clearly Demarco, so obvious in his pleasure at being a boss he named his fucking dog Meatball.
This is not the first time Bucky's seen a boss name a dog after the crew name, but does Demarco have to be so Italian as fuck on top of it?
So he kidnaps Cleven, and he decides to really annoy him from the beginning by saying, "Shit, you look like a guy I know from back home. I'm calling you Buck."
"My name's Gale."
"Nah, not now it's not."
It takes exactly one set of questions for Bucky to realize he's been played. The lieutenant is Demarco. The boss is Buck. He doesn't give it away. It's too much fun to watch Buck come up with further lies. It's too much fun to watch Demarco run wild all over the city terrified he's about to get caught.
Finally, four days in, Buck says, "Look, John--"
"Bucky."
"No, I'm not doing that. John. You know who I am, and I wouldn't mind spending even more time here, but no one in my organization called for this kidnap, and I need to launder some cash so a few different community orgs that the rich fuckers in my neighborhood won't fund can have enough funding can keep a few kids from joining a group like mine."
"Oh, you're a criminal for altruism?"
"No. I'm a criminal because I'm a criminal. Same as you. I launder the funds because people who tried their best to get away from being criminal don't know how to file for grants and even when they do, still live on the edge of losing one. So, I help."
"I'm a criminal because it's fun," John says.
"Oh, it is," Buck agrees. "But on my side, you also get to annoy the rich people by keeping the non-profits open that keep the poors in the neighborhoods they deserve to be in anyway."
"...Can I work for you?"
"Sure. If you also want to date the boss, just say the word."
got inspired by MXTX Reverse Trope Fest event (numbers 1-12 are borrowed from their official event trope schedule) and wrote down a bunch of reverse/slightly different prompts from those we know and love—some you've probably already heard about.
(not all of them make sense so they're 100% open to interpretation - there’s a 50/50 chance i don’t remember now (3+ years later) what the tropes were based on. i'll update this post if i think of more)
[eta: there’s now another fun reverse tropes post floating around!]
there were only two beds
fast burn
accidental elderly acquisition
anti-sex pollen
communication
soulhates
anti-mind reading
lovers to enemies
college dropout au
anti de-aging/becoming elderly
lovers to idiots
fake not-dating
break up/trouble for hire
fake enemies
there were no beds
speedrun slowburn
roommate swap
enemies with benefits
lovers with detriments/losses
home switch
accidental marriage
accidental relationship
regular employees
break-it fic
comfort to hurt
fake/fictional world
stealing a bed
forced to say the opposite of what they mean
lost enemies
lovers out of spite
relationship/marriage of inconvenience
health fic
invented memories
sudden fast age progression
take-apart au
commoners/servants au
last time fic
falling out of love
love at third sight
1+5 times fic
minor character birth
make up fic
hate triangle au
lovers to friends to enemies
meddling enemies
light fic
hate potion/spell
nopreg or alternative offspring acquisition options
cloudfolk
life after the birth of the world au
sad beginning
chosen distance
forced distance
happy beginning
lose the family/friends
oblivious af or everybody else is oblivious af
ordinary day fic
confession turned fight
eat the flowers
hate at first sight
refusal of the call to action
object- or animal-to-human transformation
next-to-story/side story fic
before-life
cold fic
offline goodbye
insomnia
unmake the wish
real estate agent au
the unchosen one
shared vision(s) au
dying every day
return fic
inanimate object pov
supernatural/extraterrestrial being pov
misused ability
farewell
taken for strangers
bad at keeping secrets
safety fic
devotion fic
spare the pairs
unflirty & confident
collaborators
online rivals/enemies
early morning confessions
short lifespan
author insert
full life fic
fast destruction
bring self to life
wake up in a different world every day
middle-aged
story told via the same one day of the year at a time
pre-relationship
doppelganger/lookalike relationship
snowed out
touch of destruction
born in the same body
previous generation
crushes to friends to lovers
bad at everything
meet ugly
the right place at the wrong time
the wrong place at the right time
rumours become reality
street musician or street artist or local theatre actor
take your coworker/boss home
temporary character reappearance
cuddle buddies to friends/lovers
cuddle buddies to enemies
enemies to cuddle buddies
cursed to miscommunicate
they make everybody crush on their partner
stolen identity
nobody remembers them
journey through (gender/sexual) identity exploration
The prisoner looks up from his game of cards and frowns. He hasn’t had a single visitor since he was first imprisoned, in all his years behind bars, not a soul has cared to come see him. Why now?
He gets up, brushes a hand over his slicked back hair, and shakes out his shoulders. Probably nothing, but that sense of confusion still eats at his stomach. It can’t be... no, they wouldn’t come back. They chose their freedom. Of course Yancy had joked about visiting day, but that didn’t mean that he really thought... No, it couldn’t be them.
He saunters into the visiting room with the row of chairs on one side of the glass, phones at the ready. There are few prisoners here already that he recognizes, a few of his pals that seem as surprised as he is that he’s here.
Yancy is shown to a seat, told to sit down, and then he waits a moment--nervous energy bubbling up. His knee bobs beneath the table. It can’t be. It can’t be. It can’t be.
Someone sits down across from him.
Then his eyes light up. He snatches the phone from its holder, and leans forward. He could press his face to the glass, sing a thousand songs, dance across this room right into the office of the warden himself. Because somehow, against all odds, it couldn’t be, but it was.
